#i turned on the lights and our dog is covered in blood like??? hello???

[iknowwhereyousleepatnight]

:(

[ai-luni]

Virago

David “Hesh” Walker x Fem!Reader 

HELLO! It’s a blue moon and I return with a fic to cope with my random obsessions! Part 2

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: Blatant misogynistic comments and touches, canon typical violence, suggestive sexual content (which honestly might be illegal given the setting of the scene whoops), and of course bad writing. I’M NOT A WRITER! No Y/N

A/N: I’m in a massive COD Ghosts phase and there are barely any fics for my boy Hesh. So I had to fix that. This basically just follows the plot of the campaign. I got lazy and haven’t finished writing sin city but I want to write a part two so hang tight :)

Reader’s nickname is Virago

June 7th - No Man’s Land

It was a rescue mission when you met the Walker’s boys. You had heard about them a couple times, Elias wasn’t shy about sharing his once very domestic life with you. But now there was little time to think about it. In fact you thought about the dog more than you did the boys that day. But this mission wasn’t like your usual, Ajax wasn’t gonna last forever. 

“Alright, we don’t have a lot of time. You can stick with us but you do what I say - when I say it. Understood?” Merrick said to the boys. You joined Keegan’s side before heading out.

- 

“Got some stragglers on the road. Could be trouble.” The lot of you looking over a road through tall grass. 

“Keegan, Virago. Post up and keep us covered. You Walker boys are with me.” Merrick ordered and immediately you went off to find a position. Gun fire reigned loose and in a flurry of adrenaline and muscle memory, you found yourself at the gates of greenway park “Fireball Charlie” - what once was a baseball stadium - in under a couple minutes. 

“They’re moving him, we should go now.” The state you found Ajax in was enough to make your blood boil. You hadn’t served with him as long as the rest of the ghosts but you knew him well enough and you’d always fight for your team no matter what. 

“They’re moving Ajax, so our windows closing fast. We’ll hit him at home plate and work our way up from there.” Further orders given by Merrick once acquiring a vehicle. You sat in the back aside Merrick and Hesh. One hell of a ride, you often questioned if Keegan even had a civilian licence. 

“Weapons free!” Once more the hell fire began and you ran through another gate. The German Shepherd who stared at you with wide adoring eyes only moments before leapt through the missing windscreen onto a federation soldier. 

“Holy shit.” A comment of fear and intimidation and excitement all swirled together at the sheer ruthlessness of that dog. It was the first thing Hesh heard you say all mission.

“Yeah.” You turned to see Hesh by your side. You figured he was the dog’s handler. He seemed proud, he should be. 

“Ajax is through this atrium! Move! Move! Move! Hurry before more guys get in.” Merrick took cover behind a barrack, “Virago, get ahead as far as you can, weapon hold. We’ll keep you covered, keep us posted.” 

Jumping into action, you took yourself along the edge of the open aired arcade to a flight of stairs. The fastest steps your tactical gear would allow you to take without winding yourself. Gun held close to your chest with light steps avoiding fire. You could hear the team, slowly but surely following in your steps. 

Through a roofed arcade and another flight of stairs you made it to a closed set of double doors, chatter coming from the other side. 

“This should be where they were holding Ajax, one flight of stairs, shouldn’t be a difficult run.” You notified them while waiting beside the door hinges ready to take cover or fire. 

“Almost at target, let’s mop up!” Merrick’s yelling could almost reach you over the gunshots. You took out a couple soldiers out over the railing, covering the boys as they made their way up the stairs. 

Logan pulled out the remote sniper, the moment you heard a fire, Merrick sent the go signal. 

“Twelve o’clock! Twelve o’clock!”

“Runner on the left!”

“Clear right!”

“Clear left!”

“Room Secure!”

Once cleared, you passed the soldier left on the ground. Poor guy got Keegan yelling at him by the balls. You knew he’d take this harder than anyone else, he and Ajax were close. 

“Where is he? Where did you take him!”

Careful and ready for fire, you tread through the blown out room. Logan by your side as you halt before a steep slope. There was an obvious trail from that slope through the stand and down another tunnel entrance. You turn to your team noticing the other walker boy pulling his dog away from the soldier for Keegan to finish off. You beckon him over.

“Bring the dog, there’s a trail.” You turned to the youngest Walker boy, “I’m going down, use the remote sniper to cover me. Follow under merricks instruction.” 

He gave you a curt nod before you were off. 

“Riley’s got a scent!.” The team followed suit. Riley leading the lot of you to an almost closed  garage door. Multiple pairs of feet seen pacing inside.

“We don’t have time for this. Gas masks on.” 

Again through another tunnel, a conference room, another tunnel. This place was starting to piss you off, reminding you why you never really liked baseball in the first place. You’d later refer to it as the nightmare labyrinth. 

Eventually you found Ajax, Riley sniffing him out first, Keegan on his knees by his side second. 

“How is he?” Not an ounce of effort was made to hide the fear in your voice. 

“It’s bad.” Keegan was cradling the man as he coughed. 

“Son of a bitch.” In a quick but necessary moment of solidarity, you placed a comforting hand to Merrick’s shoulder. “Hang in there Ajax, Hang in.” 

“Rorke. It was Rorke. He’s targeting…” Ajax let out a cough from deep in his chest. Keegan held him tighter in shallow breaths. “Look… the wall.” 

“Come on, hang in there Ajax.” 

“He’s gone.” The room fell silent, you took to distraction. You look for the wall and your eyes grow in momentary panic at what you found.

“Merrick, he was right.” Your voice barely showed any sign of grief you were trying to swallow. No time to think. You stood by Hesh. He held out a flare for you to see, his free hand consolidating you with a gentle pat to the shoulder. 

“Get him ready to move.” Merrick ordered, Ajax’s body already hoisted over Keegan’s shoulder. Then by your side.

“It’s a kill list.” You told him. 

“Rorke’s targeting ghosts.” He resolved. Hesh’s eyes widened as he looked over the photos of you lot on the wall, his eyes drifting to one of a girl in tactical gear only realising once meeting your glassy gaze that it was you. You were smaller than the others sure but half your face was covered by a cloth, the other grease paint and your voice had been so gravelly and focused.

“Who the hell is Rorke?” He asked after clearing his throat, clearing his mind. Merrick had already collected Ajax’s mask and was heading out of the room for evac. You patted Hesh’s arm as a signal to move it. 

“No time to explain.”

-

Everything was one fight to another. You’d only truly catch a break in your third helicopter of the day.

“Alright, get us outta here!” Keegan yelled, clearly as over it was you were. 

“Hey, we’re not going anywhere” The eldest walker boy stood from his seat, he was frustrated, looking to pay it out on someone and Keegan was in his line of fire. You interjected with an assertive hand to his vest. 

“Hey, calm down.” Your cloth was pulled down to your neck now. Eyes wide as they met his. For a moment it actually worked, like you had covered the space in a blanket of silence to give him a moment to breathe. He glanced at the hand on his chest then met your eyes again. You were almost smiling. If he wasn’t panicking over losing his father, he probably would’ve smiled back. 

“Hey! We just saved your asses!” Merrick shoved the Walker boy to the wall, one arm holding his tactical vest fueled by his impatience and a hot head. 

“We didn’t need your help!” The boy fought back. By this time you had retreated to the front of the helicopter, hands held up in mock defeat towards your commanding officer with an amused smirk. He shook his head, hung in the slightest tint of embarrassment or nostalgia. Boys will always be boys.

Merrick will always be a testament of that. He was the same now as he was and will continue to be.

“The hell you didn’t!” Merrick had shoved the Walker boy down next to his brother on the bench. 

“Stow it! All of you!” Finally your commanding officer decided to step in.

“We have to go back! Our dads down there and we’re not leaving without him!” 

“That’s real admirable of you, but your father’s not there anymore.” He sat them down, really laying the act on thick. You remembered the bastard being dramatic but not this theatrical. He pulled the mask off. 

“Dad, this whole time? You were one of them, you’re a ghost.” 

“Try the Ghost! That’s your commanding officer.” Merrick was in a mood. He joined you where you stood next to Keegan. You welcomed him by holding a palm out as if asking him to calm down.

“Cool it. Stretch your legs.” You spoke softly, mockingly at him. Fake concern. He returned with a sarcastic smile. There was never a right time to push his buttons - especially not when he got in a mood… and he had many moods - but that never stopped you from having your fun every now and then. 

You waited for a moment, you could faintly hear your commander welcoming his sons to the Ghost squad. It warmed your heart, though you would never admit outloud. 

Elias had become like a father to you over your time being a ghost, the respect you worked hard to earn from the man radiated from him when addressing his children with unconditional love. 

You weren’t surprised seeing his sons often labelled as ‘natural born leaders’, they had the best of the best taking them through life from the very beginning. They held your respect for that alone. 

A genuine smile grew on your face as the eldest turned to caught your eye. He finally did return the smile. You found it sweet how his feet became restless in the moment of excitement. 

“We’re ready, We won’t let you down.”

June 15th - Federation Day

It had been approximately 9 days since you had met the Walker boys. They were everything you imagined Elias’ children to be. Determined, well mannered and well… handsome. This has been your first mission with them since. Your goal: To gain intel of Rorke's current location. 

It had been somewhat of a quiet mission up until this point, you knew all hell would break loose when you make your evac but for now, you almost had your hands on the federation soldier and “friend” of Rorkes, Victor Ramos.

“Dammit, he’s not here! Hesh?” Keegan calling into his comms when busting into Ramos' empty office.

“I got him.” Hesh dragged him in and pushed onto the office chair with a gun pointed to his head.

“He knew you would come.” Ramos’ words echoing off the gun metal.

“Where’s Rorke? Where is he!”

“I don’t know!” Ramon interjects, hands in the air “no one knows!”

“Vig.” Keegan gave you the ‘go ahead’ look. The one step in front of Hesh and Ramos was pushed onto the desktop by the lapels. Hesh now standing to the left of the man, his pointed gun in clear view. Light vibrations rushed through your body by the man’s trembling. He knew what he was getting into the moment he befriended Rorke. There was no remorse to be shared. 

“You have five seconds to deliver the coordinates on Rorke.” Keegan's voice rattled through the man’s skull, suddenly restless.

“Four.” Ramos yanked his arms out of your grip.

“He’s not here!” “Three.” You looked to Hesh.

“Two.” With a subtle nod your way, he readied his feet for fire. Ramos’s left arm dove across the table. 

“His location is in there! In an encrypted file!” Before you could follow the vector of his finger out the door, the screen fizzled awake behind you. Grabbing Ramos's loose arm, you turned the best you could to glance at the screen behind your tactical helmet.

“Well, well, well, if it ain’t the walking dead.” It was Rorke, you've heard his voice only once before in a recording but you’d never forget it. “Hm, I knew you’d follow the breadcrumbs.” 

“You tried to kill my father, you piece of shit!” Hesh haphazardly lept towards the screen. Sending the now half conscious Ramos into the desk chair, you met Hesh halfway.

“Hesh.” Your hands holding him back by the chest.

“The sons of Elias Walker. Boys sent to do a man’s work.” Hesh’s mouth went dry, his eyes fell from the screen to your gaze, then his shoulders dropped. He finally backed off, targeting his gun back onto Ramos.

“Enough games. Where are you, Rorke?” You turned to get a good look at the man on screen, your patience running thin. 

“Ha! Vi Ra Go. Talk about a man's work. Nice to put a voice to the face but where I am doesn’t matter.” He mocked. Your eyes narrowed out of frustration. “What matters is a decade ago they left me to die in this city. And from this night forward, Elias lives with the knowledge he sent his own sons to their death.”

“It was a set up.” Keegan said under his breath. The screen shut off and you locked eyes. 

“Let’s move!” You yelled, stepping with a heavy foot. One tap to the shoulder of the boy to your left and he followed behind you. Subconsciously pairing off as you knew Keegan would have Logan’s back. The building was collapsing, you could hear it before feeling it. 

“Command, mission is compromised! Attempting an aerial exfil from the 52nd floor!” Keegan was last to leave the room as he barked into his comms. You led the boys down the stairs, the concrete cracking in trails after your steps. Alarm raging. Scaffolding bare. 

-

You had your head resting on your hands, these trips after a mission were never a highlight for anyone in particular. People have different responses, Merricks paces restlessly, riding on leftover adrenaline like a drug high. Keegan sits still, to the side, not quite giving into exhaustion but with more of a level head then you reckoned someone should after jumping out of a collapsing building. 

You, however, are much smaller in frame and when you sit down, it tends to hit you quicker than everyone else. They’d called you a lightweight, especially when you share a drink with them. Keegan’s a hard one to make laugh but when Kick and Ajax continue to get you shots of water, the whole table shits their little cargo pants. So they let you bathe in the sound of the helicopter and regain a little strength. 

“You know him?” Your eyes barely opened as you turned to the boy who just sat next to you. You’re confused eyebrows egging him to elaborate “Rorke.” 

You shook your head and rested your head against the wall. One large exhale and you met his eyes again.

“They brought me on a long time after him. Knew the stories though,” Hesh watched with expecting eyes, ready for you to continue. “But he’s after me too and he took Ajax. That’s personal enough for me.” 

He gave an understanding nod and rested his head against the wall beside you. In the corner of your eye, you catch Keegan and Logan share a side eye glance. You can tell Keegan thinks you're getting soft but this job gives you little comfort. You’ll clench your balaclava as tight as you were now to stay cool in front of this boy whenever just to keep feeling the way he makes you feel. 

-

The next few days pass slower than usual. You could blame it on the same fact everyone else did. That Rorke was still out there. You almost had him and then was sent back a couple steps. 

However, you really knew it was because in the back of your mind, the idea of you, a boy and his dog, sat peacefully. 

Every mission, you kept your eye on him. Covered his back when you could and every mission he’d cover yours. Every mission you were sent to scope an area by his side. In between missions you would sit and chat. Chat about how you became a ghost, talk about his life before the military, talk about how he started to think of Riley after being away too long or how the other ghosts have become like father figures to you. The latter being a secret you thought you’d take to your grave.  

Sometimes Logan sat with the two of you, sometimes everyone else. In a group you would discuss sport and women and combat. Your plights and fights. Hesh watched as you grinned everytime Merrick rested a casual arm on your shoulder, you watched as Hesh beamed whenever Elias would place a proud pat to his back.

June 23th - Passage to Antarctica

Sure there were things to do, meetings to attend, plans to go over. But for the most part, on these kinds of days, you had more time to yourself then you would get in a while. Time you well needed when in constant close proximity with people like the ghosts. 

Once you were done on deck talking with the force, you made your way below deck to the sleeping quarters. You knew for a fact Merrick and Keegan would stay above deck for a smoke and Logan wouldn’t stray too far from Keegan no matter. But Hesh?

Something inside of you almost wished he would join you. You’d spend hours in the dark questioning if it was wistful or if you just felt guilty for having these thoughts cross your mind more often than not lately. 

When you had shared your plans of sneaking off to nap to the guys, every one of them shared a knowing look when Hesh was soon to follow you a few minutes after. It bothered Merrick more than he thought it would - feeling almost protective over you - but Keegan and Logan had already started the betting pool days before. 

“Just in time too.” Logan was quick to add. 

Hesh was quick to catch up to you. He stopped you in the hallway below deck, hand on your shoulder and a sentimental look in his eye. One that almost took your breath away at the sudden vulnerability. One you’d only seen him share with the likes of his family or with Riley. 

“Virago.”

“Hesh.” 

Let the games begin.

“Is there a reason you have me stopped in the hallway or?”

“Yes.” His chest rose with a deep breath. You had to rip your eyes away to look into his eyes. He continued his confession, “Virago, I think about you.” 

“You- what?” Spoken like you’d been punched to the gut. Your ears boiled. He had both hands on both shoulders now and at some point had steered you off to the side of the hallway with him. 

“Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t feel it too.” 

“This is highly inappropriate, I-” You awkwardly shimmied his hands off your shoulders as you tried to brush past him. He stopped you again, a hopeful, charming smile plastered shamelessly on his face. 

“It’s ridiculous, I know!” A boyish chuckle escaping through his words.

“Hesh.” The way you called him sent shivers down his spine. Had the situation been any different, had he not spotted the hope in your eyes everytime you looked at him, he would’ve given up by now. But he was already your weakness, as you were his. One more crack and he knew you’d be his. “I have to go.” 

That last crack was following you directly into the female berthing room. He greatly enjoyed your stunned state, it filled him with a sense of pride to influence your emotional responses so strongly. 

“Lieutenant! This is highly inapprop-” You’re scolding was cut off by a pair of lips and two hands gently holding your head in place. The final push. 

You melted in his warm, calloused hands. This is what you were afraid of, being so completely and utterly in the palm of his hand. You’d thank the stars for months that the room was currently unoccupied. 

His kiss was slow but hungry. Like he’d been dreaming of it but forced himself to savour you. Once you had relaxed into him, he moved his hands down to your waist, pulling and pushing. Chest to chest, back to bunk. Any gasp or sigh you let out, he returned with a quiet sound of pure bliss. Lips skimming each other but not locked. Open mouth pants, warm breath with a haze of mint below your nostrils. 

When you pressed your chest further into his, hands caressing his buzzed head to the nape of his neck. He shook his head, pulling away with a breath he struggled to take.

“You tell me no now because I may not be able to stop if we keep going like this.” 

“Hesh.” You said feigning a scolding tone. 

“You can call me lieutenant again.” He joked but sounded so out of breath. He could barely keep his eyes open when you ran your fingernails over his shoulder blades. 

“David.” You retaliate in a real scolding voice. A warning. He only groaned as his head fell onto your chest. 

“Yeah, that’ll do it.” He groaned. His grip on your hips got tighter, pulling you against him in a way that made you gasp. Showing his appreciation of the sound by latching his lips to your neck.

The boy fell just as deep as you had. You wanted him so bad but the adrenaline running through you wasn’t entirely from him either. You couldn’t pull your eyes away from the door even when you tried. 

You took a loud gulp and pulled him off you. His confused face soon daring as you guided him into your berth on the floor and pulled the curtain shut. It was tight, you laid on his chest, your back touching the roof if you arched your back. You didn’t care. If you had the chance to, you wouldn’t have ripped yourself from his chest and just stay this close forever. 

It was dark, his hands on your hips gave you butterflies. Your knees tingled as they laid either side of his thighs. He was breathing just as hard as you were. 

You started taking off your shirt and his eyes widened.

“Take your shirt off.” You didn’t ask but it also wasn’t an order. He was taken aback by your forwardness all of a sudden but didn't hesitate to wiggle his way out of the confining khaki material. “If these things start to smell, someone will know.” 

His hands were already exploring your bare waist, your lower back, upper back, the curve in your spine to the hanging stomach over him. Over your upper arms and shoulders to your chest. He memorised every curve, the feel of your soft skin. The way you’d cringe when he touched a certain point on your waist. The way you’d gasp when he cupped your breast and brought it out of your bra. 

“Hold me up.” He obliged with no hesitation. You desperately wanted Hesh out of his pants and needed the hands that were keeping you up to do so.

“May I?” you asked, hands resting over his belt. His eyes were desperate. 

“Please.” Who were you to complain? He brought you close to him, arms wrapped around your upper back pressing your chest against him. His lips rested next to your ear, determined to at least let you hear him if nobody else could. Arm reaching down between your bodies, you soon had in him his hands. 

“Holy shit.” He moaned in your ear. 

“Yeah.” You moaned back. 

-

“Did you get your nap, Vig?” Keegan's deadpan voice almost makes you think his question was genuine.

“What nap?” The words spilling out before a single thought could be put into them. You froze once you noticed your mistake, eyes wide in panic. There was no coming back from this but you could try. “Yes. Yes I did.”

He only raised an amused eyebrow and left your side with a “I didn’t think so.” 

June 28th - Sin City 

“Commander Walker, may I have a word with you.” Your fingers were fidgeting, eyes to your feet. He’d never seen you this way. You were a strong woman, Elias knew all too well. What other men called annoying - one well read man’s attempt to unknowingly call you a shrew - Elias taught you could be a sign of courage and strength. Virago. A word his wife used to love. 

This demeanour was different though. From you, almost uncanny. 

“Is everything okay Sergeant?” You took a gulp. He couldn’t stop the amused look on his face. He had a creeping suspicion of the topic you wanted to discuss, the whole team was starting to catch on. Hell, even kick could’ve guessed it. 

His suspicions were true. You knew you had to bring it up to him. The incident on the way to Antarctica consumed your every waking thought. It was almost dangerous, never have you had something come close to waning your focus on missions but this. This made you worried. It hasn’t even been a month of knowing this boy and you were worried. 

“Sir, this is very difficult for me to talk about. I’m afraid this is very inappropriate.” He let out a sigh, shaking his head. His expression was shielded by a thumb and pointer finger holding his nose bridge. Your stomach dropped.

“It’s okay Virago. Take your time.” He raised his head to look at you, giving out an involuntary chuckle. You stared at him, not sure what to do next. You were certain everything you said came out in a stutter. 

“For his sake and your sake and the ghosts sake, I will stand down if need be. It was never my intention to cause an issue like this, I know how inappropriate it is but i’m afraid of how it may develop and what will-”

“Virago.” Breathe. 

You follow the hand on your shoulder up to his eye. With more vulnerability than you were anticipating.

“Sir. Your son makes me feel like a giddy school girl.” 

After a long, uncomfortable beat, he lets out a genuine, hardy chuckle. It turns into a laugh. 

You brought your hands to cover your face in mild embarrassment. After all the chaos you endure in your job, admitting a little crush is what finally brought you to your knees. All you could do was share the laugh with Elias. It’s only when the moment settles that he gives his response. 

“As your commanding officer, you two work together better than a lot of teams I’ve seen out in the field. I am happy to overlook it as long as it doesn’t cause any problems. I see no reason for you to step down; however, if you think it’s the best decision for you, I won’t stop you. You’re an excellent sergeant, that's why you’re on this force.” You’re certain your face is red but his shoulders drop and the warm, a paternal smile returns to his face. 

“As a father, you’ve brought a sparkle to his eye I haven't seen in him since he was 18. I couldn’t feel any more pride if my son had chosen someone lesser than you.” Were you crying? A grown ass woman and you were crying at your commander’s words. You didn’t think his validation meant this much to you but you had always worked hard for this man’s respect. “He’s a stubborn one. You’ve got your work cut out but at least I know he’ll be in good hands.” 

“Thank you sir.” Was all you could get out without allowing your voice to crack. You took a quick glance at the boy standing by his younger brother. Elias walked to join them allowing you a moment to recollect yourself before the landing in vegas. With a quick but hot walk, you made it to the previously known luxor, now safe house. 

-

“JSOC’s going to want to move fast on this, so load up before you get any shut-eye. We got six hours until Keegan gets back.” 

You were already by Merricks side, guiding Logan to stock. Elias had been stopped by Hesh and dragged to the corner. 

“Dad, I need to talk to you for a sec.” Elias could feel the same smile growing on his face from only moments before. He was starting to think something must have happened on the last mission for the both of you to bring your feelings to his attention with this kind of urgency. 

“David, if this is about the girl, I already know.” Hesh stopped in his tracks. The boy was too stunned to speak! Perhaps he was meant to say a comprehensive sentence, instead he let out a series of “uh”s, “oh”s “wha?”s, “ how?”s. 

“She got to me first. A bit out of your league.” With a nudge to his gut from his father’s elbow, the tension slowly started to expel from his body. In fact he even gave out a laugh. Sheepish but true, you were out of his league. 

“You’re not mad?” Suddenly he felt like a child again, his worst nightmare would be disappointing his father. 

“Fuck no son. She is a warrior, that one.” Whatever Elias was fiddling with was dropped momentarily as he met his son’s eyes. Expression dropped to a deadpan. “If you started fucking the rest of my ghosts, well then we’d have a problem.” 

All Hesh could do was laugh out of shock and relief. He caught a glimpse of you beckoning Riley to follow you and he felt his pupils turned to hearts like an old cartoon. 

“I could marry her, dad.”  

“Hey, hey. Steady on Hesh.” Elias chuckled out, passing Hesh with a pat to his back to pull him out of the little trance you put him in. He couldn’t help but laugh - not in a judgemental way but in a nostalgic ‘young love’ kind of way. “You keep each other alive first and then you can start getting all cosy. You copy loverboy?” 

“Copy.” Hesh replied with a goofy little smile. 

“Hold up.” Merrick stopped. “Something feel off to you?” 

“Security’s working.” In a matter of seconds you were on the floor. Elias’ faint yelling at Riley in the distance played you off as you closed your eyes and took another deep inhale of gas. 

- 

They say hearing is the last to go when you die. You figured this might be it. You could hear Merrick’s voice yelling - how he usually used his voice - and figured you wouldn’t be mad if he were the one to send you off. 

What they never say though is that you’d feel hands grab you before you die. Now that sobered you. 

You were being picked up off the ground, grey federation gloved hands steadying its grip on you in places that were entirely necessary to lift you up onto a chair. After a minute of having your hands brought behind your back and met with a rope, your vision could finally focus in front of you. 

Merrick sat across from you, hands tied behind his back like your own. He watched the soldier behind you intently before locking eyes with you. You wondered what time it was, how long had you been out, how long had he been awake? You could have sworn he gave you a mocking look as if to say “lightweight” but it was short lived. You might have even laughed in any other situation.  

With a quick surveillance of the room, you noted there were only a couple of soldiers by the door. You could only just make out another figure in the hallway those soldiers were talking to. The soldier behind you was struggling with the rope as your hands started to fidget out of them. You gave Merrick a wink, devising a quick plan with a wordless exchange in under a few seconds. 

An eyebrow raise and a slight nudge of your head indicating the soldier behind you. ‘I'll take out the one behind me.’ 

A head tipped to his chair, then to the door behind him and two very exaggerated blinks. ‘You take the two at the door.’

He gave a curt nod and your expression stopped him before he counted the leap into action. You took a short moment to contemplate how to relay this information without your hands, it was never going to be a very dignified attempt.

A head nudge back to the door, a defeated eye roll then the most comical, clear attempt you could express talking by flapping your mouth. ‘The two at the door are talking to someone.’

He raised an eyebrow best he could. ‘How many?’ 

You returned a disparaging look and a subtle shoulder shrug. ‘I don’t know.’

He took a breath, shot a determined look then tipped his head to a count of three before you both jumped to your feet.

Whipping yourself around, you sent your tied hands slamming to the exposed neck of the shoulder behind you. He stumbled over the back of the chair, giving you a split second to seize the opportunity and kick his ass over his head. A clear thud paired with an echoed crack as the man’s back hit the concrete. His attempt to reach for his gun was unsuccessful when a boot trod on his wrist and a wooden chair smashed to bits off his vest. 

With what leverages your tied hands could give you, you tugged out the unresponsive soldier's pistol and finally turned your attention to Merrick.  

One soldier was on the ground, the other was giving him some little trouble. Two shots was enough to have the federation soldier on the ground. Whoever those soldiers were speaking to in the hallway were no longer there but would obviously return soon with back up. Merrick made quick work pulling the rope off your hands. You gave them a moment to roll them out before beginning on Merricks ties. They were untied enough for him to shimmy the rope off but you were yanked into the room by the waist before you could assist him further.

You’d retell the story with what you’d call more than a dozen federation soldiers surrounding the two of you. One holding your legs off the ground, vest to vest. Another soldier retying your wrists together while the rest had their guns pointed. Struggling was getting pointless. A quick glance to Merrick and it seemed he was in a worse position. Pushed to his knees and having life punched out of his gut. 

You followed suit, being pushed to your knees by a grip in your hair. The soldier in front of you lingered in this position, enjoying the view more than anything. If there weren’t so many soldiers posted, you could’ve sworn that man would have a world record for the quicked murder. 

“She’s a fiery one huh.” There was that voice again, you should have suspected it was him all along.

“Rorke.” Merrick's voice was gravelly, an evolved stage from the angered yelling to something further. 

“Vi Ra Go,” Every single time. Each syllable paired with an indolent step, his gaze never faulting from you. He didn’t want to acknowledge the man he once called friend beside you. 

“So we finally meet. The woman they sent to fill my void.” The word ‘woman’ was spat out with a misogynistic type of venom. A discreet disgust painting his features until his eyes started to wander down. His eyebrows raised shamelessly. 

“I tell you what, they don’t make soldiers like you in the federation.” His hand gripped your jaw. Resisting the urge to give him any satisfaction of a reaction, you stared past his head. He only relished in it more, with a thumb running up the skin of your neck. “Many of my men have your photo on their wall but to have the whole thing here is something else huh.”

The soldiers in the room started to holler and you could’ve sworn you felt bile being sent up your throat. You’d had comments like this before, about being a woman in the force but this man was something else and Merrick had had enough of it.

“Enough of this Rorke.” His roar rippled through the room and finally Rorke released his grip on your chin. Head dropping immediately - if not to stop it from cramping in your neck, then to hide the tear you fought hard to stop welling. Fuck him for making you feel weak. Fuck all of them.

“You know what they did to me sweetheart?” Still he refused to acknowledge the man next to you. You kept your head down.

“I know you killed Ajax, that’s all I need to know.”

“They left me to die. I’ve sat through things that’ll make your little limbs fall off darling.” He moved behind you, left hand situated on your neck, right hand on Merrick’s. Two soldiers accompanied your fronts. “Your whole team isn’t even here for you, darling. Where’s your quiet friend?” 

His grip on your neck guiding you to face him. His eyes anticipated more than he was going to get. 

Warm spit and a fuck you.

The last thing you saw was an unimpressed Rorke wiping his face with a palm before a fist connected to your stomach. 

“Bitch!” He spat. Jolted his head to the door and before you knew it, you were being dragged out the door by two soldiers. “I bet it doesn't take much to make her scream! As for you-”

“Virago!” Merrick roared before Rorke's frame covered your sight. The further you were dragged away, the less you could make out of blunt objects connecting themselves to his frame. 

The two soldiers carrying you shared a couple words, bringing you back to the foyer. And for what felt like hours, one held your head up by the hair while the other had his crack leaving bruises that’ll take at least a month to heal. 

Then finally relief.

Black.

[scarisd3ad]

To the end and back [daryl Dixon x reader]

Chapter five - everything has changed

Masterlist

Taglist

Previous >> next

Summary - after the world ended you were sure you’d never find love again but a certain archer catches your eyes and changes the entire trajectory of your life.

A/n - Last chapter of season 1, season 2 coming soon.

Tw- death, mentions of suicide, suicidal thoughts

'Ts-19'

Season 1 ep 6

edited

tw - death, mentions of suicide, and suicidal thoughts.

It opened it actually opened, I was sure no one was in there, that not one part of the government was left. We all walk in ready to see hordes of walkers, ready for this to be a trap set by some sick fuck that broke into the CDC. "Daryl, you cover the back" Shane orders. We walk in with Rick leading the way. He's got his gun pointed forward, ready to fire "hello? Hello?" he shouts as he walks forward.

"Close those doors. Watch for walkers." We slowly walk through the building. We're all alert, ready to see a horde of infected former CDC workers but there isn't its clean and pristine there's not one drop of blood in sight it looked like the world hadn't ended. every other building I've been in since the world ended had been littered with bodies, and blood stained the walls, but this looked like how it probably looked in the old world. like it was ready to be filled with doctors and scientists trying to figure out cures for diseases in the world. "Hello?!" Then we see him, a guy, a doctor, he has light brown hair, and he looks at least in his forties. At first, we think he's a walker, so we all get ready to shoot. "Anybody infected?" The guy shouts we put down our guns. "One of our groups was...he didn't make it" Rick answers.

"Why are you here? What do you want?" The guy asks as he walks a bit closer, he sounds tired like he's ready to give up. "A chance" Rick replies breathily. "Thats asking an awful lot these days." The guy inches a bit closer. Rick shakes his head agreeing "I know." a chance is a lot to ask for, sometimes even got a hefty price on it these days.

"You all submit to a blood test. That's the price of admission." rick nods and replies "We can do that". The guy lowers his gun "you got stuff to bring in, you do it now. Once this door closes it stays closed." Some of us end up running out grabbing anything we might need.

Dale, and t-dog close the two main doors and the man says "vi, seal the main entrance. kill the power up here" the rolling door closes back. "Rick grimes" Rick says sticking his hand out "dr. Edwin jenner."

-

The elevator hums as it descends. We're packed in it like sardines. "Doctors always go around packin' heat like that?" Daryl asks referring the the large gun dr. Jenner carried. "There were plenty left lying around. I familiarized myself....but you look harmless enough." He replies. "Except you, I'll have to keep my eye on you" he says to Carl which makes Carl grin a bit.

-

We're walking down a white hallway; it reminds me of the somehow eerie hallways of a hospital. "Are we underground?" Carol asks, with her brows furrowed up in confusion. Jenner turns around "Are you claustrophobic?" Jenner asks, "a little." Carol replies "try not to think about it." He says Turning back around and continuing to walk.

"Vi, bring up the lights in the big room." Jenners voice echos as he shouts. We enter a large room with bunches, and bunches of computers. computers that are supposed to be occupied by doctors. The lights flicker on. "Welcome to zone 5."

Where is everybody? The other doctors the staff?" Rick asks confusions flooding his face. we hoped for there to be more staff, more doctors trying to figure out what the hell was going on, but it seemed like Jenner was the last one left. "I'm it...it's just me here" Jenner replies which is disappointing to most of us. "What about the person you were speaking with? Vi?" Lori asks as we all come to a stop. "Vi, say hello to our guests. Tell them...welcome." Jenner shouts.

A computerized voice comes over the overhead speakers "hello, guests. Welcome."

"I'm all that's left. I'm sorry" Jenner says as he turns around. We all get blood test. Since we haven't ate properly in the past month or two, we're all a bit woozy afterwards. I'm sitting across from Jenner watching as my blood drains into a small vile. He takes the vile out and retracts the needle. "All done" he says. I dizzily stand up from the chair. Glenn's stood behind me. He grabs both my arms stabilizing me. I've lost a lot of blood in the last few days. "You, okay?" Jenner asks. I nod slowly. "She's lost a lot of blood already; she hasn't eaten in days either. None of us have."

Jenner offers us dinner. He's got so much food and drinks. I haven't seen so much food in my entire life. We all seem happy, for the first time in the last few months. We're actually happy. We're all laughing and chitchatting like we're old friends.

"You know in Italy; children have a little bit of wine with dinner" Dale says as he hands a cup of wine to Lori. "And in France" Dale adds. "Well, when Carl is in Italy of France, he can have some then" Lori says covering up the cup that sat in front of Carl. "What's it gonna hurt? Come on" Rick says trying to persuade his wife to let there 12-year-old have some wine. Lori turns her head towards Rick with a small smile on her face "come on" Rick laughs.

"What?" Everyone's giggling as Lori shrugs. Dale hands Carl a cup with just a little bit of wine in it "there you are, young lad" Carl puts the cup up to his lips and takes a tiny sip we're all staring at carl waiting for his reaction. "Eww" Carl says as he scrunched up his face in disgust. We all burst out laughing again. I'm pretty sure we all remember our first drink and our reaction was pretty much the same as Carls.

"That's my boy. That's my boy" Lori says as she takes the cup from Carl and pours it into hers. "That tastes nasty" he says as he shakes his head. "Well, just stick to soda pop there, bud." Shane says. Glenn hasn't drunk much tonight. Probably doesn't want to be as hung over as he was this morning. I've had myself a few cups. By few I mean like five but I'm fine. "Not you, Glenn" Daryl says. Daryl's drunk as fuck. He's going to be fucked in the morning. "What?" Glenn asks raising his head, a little embarrassed that he's gotten called out. "Keep drinking, little man. I want to see how red your face can get." Daryl says which makes all the men start laughing. The clinking of glass makes us all stop and turn our attention to Rick. "It seems to me we haven't thanked our host properly." Rick says standing up. "He is more than just our host." T-dog says raising his glass.

"Hear hear!"

"Here's to you, doc. Booyah!" Daryl says raising the bottle of wine he had been drinking out of.

Booyah!"

"Thank you, doctor." Rick says quietly. "So, when are you gonna tell us what the hell happened here, doc?" Shane asks. Which subsequently makes everyone's smiles fade. "All the uh..other doctors that were supposed to be figuring out what happened, where are they?"

"We're celebrating, Shane don't need to do this now" Rick hisses as he sits back down. "Whoa, wait a second. This is why we're here, right? This was your move—supposed to find all the answers, instead we uh..we found him" Shane chuckles as he points towards Jenner. "Found one man. Why?"

"Well when things got bad, a lot of people just left, went off to be with their families. And when things got worse, when the uh military cordon go overrun, the rest bolted." Jenner explains. "Every last one?" Shane asks as he sinks down in his chair a bit. "No, many couldn't face walking out the door. They...opted out. There was a rash of suicides" that definitely killed the mood. What Jenner just said confirmed my suspicions, this was never going to end. We were just going to have to adapt, adapt to this new harsh reality, adapt to the monsters that have now taken over. If we didn't then we're dead. There was no end to this shit, this was just how we were going to have to live. One day hopefully when we get used to it we can have normalcy, homes, families, pets, but not now we have to learn first. Learn how to survive, learn how to live in this new world, learn how to live amongst the monsters, if we didn't, we'd never live.

"That was a bad time." Jenner whispers solemnly "You didn't leave, why" Andrea asks. "I just kept workin', hoping..to do some good."

"Dude, you are such a buzzkill, man" Glenn groans.

-

Once we were finished with dinner Jenner shows us around. We follow him down a hallway "most of the facility is powered down. Including housing, so you'll have to make do here." Jenner explains. "The couches are comfortable, but there are cots in storage if you like. There a rec room down the hall that you kids might enjoy." Jenner turns around addressing Carl, and Sophia. "Just don't plug in the video games, okay?" Both kids nod. "Or anything that draws power. The same applies—if you shower, go east on the hot water." Jenner says before turning back around and leaving, Glenn turns to all of us eyes widened "hot water?"

"That's what the man said" t-dog says with a laugh.

I decide to take a shower. I haven't had one in so long; I can't even remember the last time I washed my hair. Yeah, at times we'd go and bathe in the quarry but that was only sometimes.

The hot water feels like heaven. I'm so glad I had collected up shower supplies just hoping one day I'd be able to have a normal shower. I haven't shaved my legs in God knows how long. it's not like I miss having to shave my legs every day, but I do miss the feeling of bare legs under freshly warmed sheets. I miss the soft feeling of my legs after lotion. I miss the aspect of life that us as humans wouldn't think we'd miss. Things we found a hassle at the time but now we long for it. Like washing clothes, or dishes. At the time I hated slaving over the sink washing each dish, but now I miss it.

I shave my legs, and arms just to feel like the world was normal again. I'm sure I spend at least 2 minutes just smelling at the bottle of shampoo that smelt like strawberries and cream. I'm sure I stunk of sweat beforehand, I'm sure we all did. But we eventually didn't smell it our brains tricked us into not smelling it like our brains makes it seem like we can't see our nose even though we can.

-

I find myself a room to settle into, it's an office but it's got a couch so that's fine. I pull my blanket out of the bag I had brought in it's not clean and kind of smells like wood and fire, but it's a blanket.

Knock, knock, knock.

I sigh as I walk over to the door and unlock it. It's Daryl stumbling over his words like he's trying to practice what to say. His eyes widened as he sees me. "I- um I really fuckin' like ya" I peek out the hallway to see Glenn, and t-dog peeking out from behind a corner. All three are drunk (I'm probably just as equally drunk but we're not going to talk about it). "You like me?" I ask raising my eyebrows teasingly. I don't know when I started liking Daryl, I was scared of him for the longest time, but when did that fear turn into adoration. Maybe when he stayed with me when I was hurt in Atlanta. Maybe when he gave me that package of ramen noodles. "Yeah, I really f-fuckin' like you" I smile as he slurs his words. "I like you too Daryl" I whisper as I place my hand on his cheek and lean in kissing him. He wraps his arms around waist pulling me closer. I can hear Glenn and t-dog trying to quietly celebrate down the hall (there not, there actually really loud) I pull away my hand still on his cheek. He's blushing, it's kind of cute seeing a man so big, and tough be flustered. "You wanna come inside?" I ask he nods rapidly, and I pull him in closing the door behind us.

What I've learned is that drunk Daryl and sober Daryl, are two completely separate people. Drunk Daryl is way more open about his feelings, softer, nicer too.

-

I wake up in the middle of the night my body halfway on top of Daryl. He's got his arms wrapped around me while he's snoring quietly. We were lucky this couch was able to fit the both of us. I lay my head back against his bare chest and listen to his heartbeat.

The next time I wake up is when Daryl wakes up.

We're both sat on the couch, discussing what had happened last night. "So do you really like me, or was it like something Glenn and t-dog made you say?" I whisper. His brows furrow as he looks at me "it wasn' a lie. I wouldn' lie bout somethin' like that." I nod as I inch closer to him. "Do ya really like me?" He asks I nod. "Yeah, I really like you" he smiles, I've never really seen him smile much. He's always got this stone-cold serious look on his face, but not now.

He leans in close and presses a kiss to my lips. After a while of just sitting soaking up each other's company we get up and head to the kitchen area. Almost everyone's already there, I guess it's a little harder to estimate what time it is being underground and all. Glenn's moaning and groaning about his hangover which makes me laugh. He probably drank more than he'd even drank in his life yesterday.

The rest want answers about the walkers, what's causing it, and shit like that so Jenner takes us back to the big room with the computers. I don't wanna know much about them, I like to know as little as I can, if I know too much it makes me paranoid. I'm happy living my life just trying to avoid them at all costs. He presses a few buttons and then says, "give me playback of ts-19."

"Playback of ts-19"

The big screen in front of us starts to show a video of a brain "few people ever got a chance to see this. Very few." Jenner says. "Is that a brain?" Carl asks, "an extraordinary one...not that it matters in the end." Replies Jenner.

"Take us in for e.i.v" Jenner says. "Enhanced internal view" the video then zooms in. We watch as we get closer and closer into the brain until we see the neurons. "What are those lights?" Shane asks. "It's a person's life..experiences, memories. It's everything. Somewhere in all that organic wiring, all those ripples of light, is you, the thing that makes you unique. And human." Explains Jenner.

"You don't make sense ever" Daryl says. "Those are synapses, electric impulses in the brain that carry all the messages. They determine everything a person says, does or thinks from the moment of birth to the moment of death."

"Death? That's what this is, a vigil?" Rick asks as he approaches Jenner. "Yes" Jenner says "or rather the playback of the vigil." We all watch the screen so interested in what Jenner is saying as well as the neurons. "This person died. Who?" Andrea asks "test subject 19. Someone who was bitten, and infected...and volunteered to have us record the process."

"Vi, scan forward to the first event."

"Scanning to first event."

It zooms back out and fasts forward. the brain stem begins to darken. "What is that?" Glenn asks "it invaded the brain like meningitis. The adrenal glands hemorrhage, the brain goes into shutdown, then the major organs." The brain goes completely dark. They died. "Then death" Jenner whispers to himself. "Everything you ever were or ever will be..gone."

"Is that what happened to Jim?" Sophia asks "yes" her mother replies nodding. It's what happened to Jim, Amy, my brother, and possibly us one day too.

Andrea tries to blink back tears, but it just doesn't work "she lost somebody two days ago. Her sister." Lori explains to Jenner who is looking at her with his brows furrowed together.

"I lost somebody too. I know how devastating it is." Jenner says to Andrea. it is truly devastating, losing someone to this, watching them slowly lose their lives and then become the very monster that took it from them. "Scan to the second event!" Jenner shouts to vi as he walks away from Andrea.

"Scanning to second event."

"The resurrection times vary wildly. We have reports of it happening in as little as three minutes. The longest we heard of was eight hours. In the case of this patient, it was two hours, one minute...seven seconds."

The brain stem flickers back on. "It restarts the brain?" Lori asks. "No just the brain stem basically, it gets them up, and moving." Jenner says it just brings back the basic part like walking, biting, grabbing but not the human part. "But they're not alive?" Rick asks. Jenner walks back to rick pointing up to the screen "you tell me." Rick shakes his head "it's nothing like before. Most of that brain is dark."

"Dark, lifeless, dead. The frontal lobe, the neocortex, the human part that doesn't come back. The you part. Just a shell driven by mindless instinct." Then something goes straight through its brain. "God. What was that?" Carol asks, "he shot his patient in the head, didn't you?" Andrea asks.

"Vi power down the main screen and the workstations."

"Powering down main screen, and workstations"

The lights shut off. "You have no idea what it is, do you?" Andrea asks as she walks towards Jenner. "It could be microbial, viral, parasitic, fungal" he doesn't know. No one does. There's not going to be a cure we're just going to have to suck it up and learn to live this way because life will never go back to what it used to be.

"Or the wrath of god?" Jacqui asks. "There is that." Maybe it was the wrath of God, or Mother Nature, or maybe our time was just up. Maybe human lives time was up, just like the dinosaurs. "Somebody must know something. Somebody somewhere" in times like this when I know I'm destined to die, and I just want to go back. Maybe do something different, maybe it's my fault I'm stuck in this situation. Maybe I did something as a kid to deserve this. I wish I got bit in the early days, died, became one of the walkers in the city because this is hell. Trying to survive, but also keep some kind of normalcy was hell. I don't know what day it is, or the time I'm just going on day to day, an empty shell of the person I used to be. I'm no longer that bright lively person, and I know it. how can you when you're living through the apocalypse. I'm not truly happy I'll never be, not anymore, I don't think I can. No matter how many people I have around me, how many of those I love are around me, I'll always think about the people I left behind, my roommate, my brother, my granddad. They're all dead, they're lucky they got the easy way out. I wish I did too.

"There are others, right? Other facilities?" Carol asks. "There may be some. People like me." Jenner replies. "But you don't know? How can you not know?" Rick asks. "Everything went down. Communications, directives, all of it I've been in the dark for almost a month." Jenner explains. "So, it's not just here. There's nothing left anywhere? Nothing? That's what you're really saying right?" We came here for no reason, we came for answers, and Jenner had none.

Andrea scoffs, we're all finally realizing this is not going to end. "Jesus" Jacqui mutters. "Man, I'm gonna get shitfaced drunk..again" Daryl says as he leans himself against a cubicle "dr. Jenner, I know this has been taxing for you, and I hate to ask one more question but...that clock it's counting down. What happens at zero?" The clock is at 59 minutes. "The...basement generators they run out of fuel." He seems uncertain or as if he's lying. He's not telling us the full truth, and I know that. Jenner begins to walk around "and then?" Rick asks. Jenner doesn't answer he just walks away. "Vi what happens when the power runs out?" Rick asks.

"When the power runs out, facility-wide decontamination will occur."

-

I sit in the office I had claimed as my sleeping quarters the previous night. Facility wide decontamination. Decontamination, we're going to die. The doors won't open back up that's what Jenner said at the beginning, once they shut, they aren't opening back up. So, if we wanted to leave, we can't. We'll have to die. And I'm fine with it. I'm fine with dying, I'm not sure if I even want to live this life anymore.

The air conditioner has shut off.

I'm becoming more and more comfortable with the thought of dying. If I died, I wouldn't have to do this anymore, I don't want to do this anymore.

The lights shut off next. There's not much time left. Am I convincing myself I'm ready to die or am I really ready to die. I don't really have an option anymore, do I? So, I shouldn't think about it. If I think about it, I'll panic, so I should just not think about it. If I don't think about it will be fast, without any struggle, or crying just death in a flash.

I can hear everyone in the hallways asking what's happening. They're probably talking to Jenner. I'm staying curled up on the couch, I'm not moving.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Come in" I say meekly.

The door opens, and in comes Glenn. "Come on" I look up at him brows furrowed. "I want to stay in here" he sighs "come on just..please come with me" I begrudgingly get up and follow Glenn into the big room where everyone else is. Everyone's confused, and scared.

"Jenner, what's happening?" Rick asks as he power walks after Jenner. "The system is dropping all the nonessential use of power. It's designed to keep the computers running to the last possible second. That started as we approached the half-hour mark. Right on schedule"

31 minutes 28 seconds.

Jenners got a bottle of alcohol in his hands which Daryl snatches from him. "It was that French" I furrow my brows "what?" Andrea asks "they were the last ones to hold out as far as I know while our people were bolting out the doors, and committing suicide in the hallways, they stayed in the labs till the end. They thought they were close to a solution." Jenner answers. He begins to walk father away from us "what happened?" Jacqui asks. "Same thing that's happening here. No power grid. Ran out of juice." Jenner explains. "The world runs on fossil fuel. I mean, how stupid is that?" Jenner says with a chuckle before turning back around. "Let me tell you-" Shane says trying to run after Jenner. Rick grabs at Shane "to hell with it Shane. I don't even care."

Rick turns towards his wife "Lori, grab our things, everybody, get your stuff. We're getting out of here now!" Rick shouts most of us start scattering when an alarm starts blaring "what's that?" Shane asks.

"30 minutes to decontamination" vi says.

Jenner walks over to a desk "doc, what's going on here!" Daryl shouts. "Everybody y'all heard Rick. Get your stuff, and let's go! Go now! Go!" Shouts Shane. Just when everyone was about to run out the door shuts.

"Did-did you just lock us in?!" Glenn stammered out. Jenner sits down not answering Glenn. "He just locked us in!" Glenn shouts fearfully. Everyone else begins to run back towards Jenner.

"Carl!"

"Mom!"

Daryl begins to run up to Jenner angrily. "You son of a bitch." Daryl barks as he sprints at Jenner. "Shane! Shane!" Rick shouts. Shane chases after Daryl "you locked us in here!" Shouts Daryl as he grabs onto Jenner. "No, stop don't!"

"You lying—"

"No, no, no, no!" Shane says as he pulls Daryl away. "Wait, no! No, don't do it." Shane and t-dog has to hold Daryl back as he angrily punches and tries to wiggle out of their grip. Rick marches up to Jenner "hey, Jenner, open that door now." Rick demands.

I'm leaning against one of the desks my face buried in my hands with my fingers spread so I can still see what's going on. "There's no point. Everything topside is locked down. The emergency exits are sealed." Jenner replies. "We'll open the damn things!" Shouts Dale.

I can't talk, I won't talk to anyone if I do, I'll cry, and I'll change my mind on being okay with dying. "That's not something I control. The computers do. I told you once that front door closed, it wouldn't open again. You heard me say that." Everyone else is stressing, carol especially she doesn't want her little girl to die this young. She wants Sophia to have a life, live a long life even during this mess. "It's better this way" Jenner says. Rick turns his head towards Jenner a little offended "what is? What happens in 28 minutes?" Rick says through his teeth as he walks closer to Jenner. Jenner doesn't answer just begin to type away at his computer. Shane begins to walk up. I guess he could see some tic in Rick because one second later he's shouting, "what happens in 28 minutes!"

Jenner stands up "you know what this place is?! We protected the public from very nasty stuff! Weaponized smallpox! Ebola strains that could wipe out half the country! Stuff you don't want getting out! Ever!" Jenner shouts in both Shane and ricks faces before sitting back down. "In the event of a catastrophic power failure—in a terrorist attack, for example H.I.T.s are deployed to prevent any organisms from getting out." Jenner explains. Rick walks over to Jenner "H.I.T.s?" Jenner doesn't want to explain so he shouts to vi "vi, define."

"H.I.T.S high-impulse thermobaric fuel-air explosives, consist of a two-stage aerosol ignition that produces a blast wave of significantly greater power, and duration than any other known explosive except nuclear. The vacuum-pressure effect ignites the oxygen at between 5,000, and 6,000 degrees, and is useful when the greatest loss of life and damage to structures is desired."

"It sets the air on fire no pain." Jenner says. Carol is crying while holding her daughter close. "An end to sorrow, grief...regret......everything." Jenner whispers. He's right, this is the best way to die, death is almost instant. It's an end to all the grief, and sadness I've felt since the moment this thing started.

-

Daryl's throwing shit at the door trying to...I don't know break it? "Open the damn door!" Daryl shouts. I stare at my feet, what was there to live for anymore? "Out of my way!" Shouts Shane before he hurdles towards the door with an axe. It makes a noise similar to when you run your fingers nails down a chalk board. Blugh, it makes me want to puke. Both Daryl and Shane are pounding these pickaxes maybe regular axes I don't even know anymore. But they're just hitting, and hitting, and hitting, and all I want to do is curl into a tiny ball, and cry. My brain isn't working, and sound is starting to blur, fizzle out as I stare at my feet.

There was no need to live anymore, we were just going to be stuck in this mess of a world anyways. So why not die right now? Why does everyone but me want to get out? Is something wrong with me specifically? Am I just that fucked up in the head, that I don't want a second chance at life? I'm ready..but I'm not at the same time. Every time I convince myself I'm ready I just begin to think about what I could have in the future, but then I think about what I could've had, then I'm right back at the beginning. I don't want to live my life in constant fear of getting bitten, I don't want to live in the constant cycle of grief, and regret.

I'm not paying attention to anything that's happening. I'm ready, I'm ready. I keep telling myself that. I'm re-

"Come on, hey y/n he opened the door." Glenn snaps me out of the trance I was in. I shake my head "it's for the better" I whisper. Glenn furrows his eyebrows "what?" I let out a shaky breath "I-I don't want to live like this anymore Glenn, I want to stay" he shakes his head. "No, no I'm not leaving you here! I don't care I'm not leaving you here." He says I shake my head again. "I don't want to go" I whisper "I love you y/n, I can't just leave you here." I don't reply.

"Daryl!" He shouts waving him over. He runs over kneeling down next to me. "She doesn't want to leave, help me convince her to leave." Glenn whispers. I shake my head. I don't want to leave, I want to die. "We don' have time" Daryl says picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder. I kick and punch at Daryl begging him to let me stay but he doesn't do anything.

"Let me go Daryl" I cry "I want to stay."

We end up stopping at the door. "Hey, we've got four minutes left! Come on!" Shouts Glenn. "Daryl please, please, please. Leave me" I sob. "No, no, no m'not doin' that" he mutters. I can barely hear anything over my thoughts.

You need to stay. You need to stay. You need to stay. it was like a virus infecting my brain telling me that I needed to die.

Then we're running again. That's what snaps me out again. The only thing I notice is that dales, Andrea, and Jacqui are staying. If dales staying, I want to stay too, but Daryl won't let go. He's got a tight grip on me, that I can't wiggle out of.

We're going upstairs, and then we're on the top floor. I'm placed on the ground as Daryl, and Shane try to break through the windows. It won't work. This is a government building the windows are only able to break if there's an explosion. It won't break for axes, chairs, or gun fire.

"The glass won't break?!" Cries Sophia. "Rick, I have something that might help!" Carol says running up to Rick as she dug into the bag she held in her hands. "Carol, I don't think a nail files gonna do it." Carol ignores Shane's misogyny and continues to talk to Rick. "Your first morning at camp, when I washed your uniform, I found this in your pocket." She says showing Rick a grenade.

Rick takes it from her, and everyone begins to take cover.

"Oh shi—"

Boom.

The windows broken. I'm still set on staying. I'm hoping Glenn, and Daryl will forget about me and leave me here. "Come on" Daryl's kneeled down next to me. I shake my head. "No, I want to die Daryl why can't you just let me die" I cry. "God dammit women ya can't just do this to me" he mutters before picking me back up and throwing me over his shoulder again. I'm being stupid, and stubborn I know, but why can't he just leave me here. I already said I want to die.

We're running towards the cars. Rick, and Shane shooting at walkers at the same time. The bomb definitely was bringing a bunch, so we had to hurry.

We make it to the cars unscathed. Daryl places me in the passenger side of his truck instead of the SUV I was originally in with Rick, and his family. We brace for impact.

3, 2, 1. Boom.

I think it's the most fire I've ever seen in my life. Jacqui's dead, but Dale, and Andrea made it out. Jacqui was a sweet lady. She cared for everyone even people who had wronged her. She didn't deserve to die, but she just ran out of hope. Hope, how can we have hope when we're going through this.

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Taglist

@e1d0lonk3k @soul4death @furiousheartpoetry @silicone-bonez @nezukos-number1fan

[the-fiction-witch]

Where am I?

Media TMR AU

Character Newt

Couple Newt X Reader

Rating Spooky

I woke my mind fuzzy and confused, my whole body felt strange and numb. I couldn't think what was happening or where I was. I forced open my eyes being faced with a strange sight, all I could see was a grey sky the smoke swirling thick, blocking out any light. I slowly pushed myself up my whole body ached, everything stiff and sore. My body was laid in the bottom of a black wooden boat, But as I saw up I saw what lay beyond the boat. Waves of bright red fire, dark shadows of creatures and hellish monsters. I wanted to scream but my blood ran cold panic set in, not a soul came from my mouth, and I froze up in fear of accidentally leaving the boat. I nervously turned to try and see what was causing the boat to move and I wish I hadn’t. Stood at the edge of the boat a creature covered from head to toe in a black robe, an ore in their hand the robe so long it concealed if they were… human, monster or anything else. 

“Uhhh… where am I?” I asked 

But no answer came, 

“Okay” I nodded in fear 

The boat finally arrived at a tall building of slimy black stone, with a thick metal door, on either side demonic creatures made of muscle with red skin and large horns. 

No words were exchanged each one grabbed one of my arms and forced me out of the boat and inside the building, I tried to resist, to argue but it was no use my attempts didn’t even seem to stress them or even cause them to move in response to me as they dragged me through the stone halls before dropping me on a hard mosaic floor of black and purple my body hurt as they threw me hard onto the floor, and they left me alone. I slowly pushed myself up getting to my knees before I basically had a heart attack.

To my left, was a large jet-black dog with three large snarling heads, with large sharp teeth, drool dripping down their mouths, claws as big as their teeth, glowing red eyes, barking and snarling looking like they were to eat me. But the only thing stopping them was the spiked collars around the neck of each head chained with heavy thick chains into the wall. 

I screamed in fear as they were only a few inches from biting me and they barked aggressively 

“Ohh cerbi” A voice spoke up 

She came from another hallway stroking her hand across each of the dog's heads calming them down, She was… beautiful. She was tall, with a body sculpted and slightly skeletal, tall black dagger heels with knives for the heels, bare smooth legs, a silky black dress with a high slit and purple lace, a low neckline with intense cleavage, a silver chain belt, long black nails filed to a point, black lipstick and purple hair far down her back with bouncy curls.

“Be nice to our guest” She cooed even if the dogs still looked like they wanted to eat me “Hello” He smirked resting her hands on her hips 

“Uhhh hi,” I answered “Please, where am I? What am I doing here?”

“This is to be your home” she smirked 

“Where exactly is here?” I asked 

She smirked stroking my jaw as she walked past and headed up the stairs “This is the underworld darling” she cooed 

“The- The underworld?” I stuttered “So, what does that make you?”

“It’s Queen” She smiled over her shoulder “Abaddon dear. Take my new guest to his room. Make sure he’s comfortable and clean while I go and deal with the Master” 

“Yes Your Highness” A voice came from behind me I turned and saw a huge creature with horns, goat legs and green skin, he was like three of me tall and maybe like four of me wide I gulped as he simply lifted me like I was a teddy bear and carried me off elsewhere. 

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Hey 👋

I swear I'm addicted to your writing😁 Thank you for the amazing post❤

Can I request a usually calm reader coming home to Hanni and Wil with n bruise on their cheek and/or blue knuckles from n fight. And when they question reader they find out reader defended their relationship.

Or

Them reacting to reader with cigarette burn scars from childhood or self harm scars.

Sorry if it's specific I had a dream about the first one and I'm insecure about my scars😅 Also if it makes you uncomfy ignore me🤣

Have a wonderful day/night/afternoon💕

Hey anon, sorry it took me a hot minute to get to this. Hope you enjoy!

Gender neutral y/n comes home covered in bruises. Their lovers Hannibal and Will need to know why.

trigger warnings: blood, threats of violence, mention of firearms, stalking

You spit a mouthful of blood into the snow before you even thought about turning the doorknob. Any random passerby would look at you and think you were attempting to rob the place. You couldn't say you disagreed, though: your hood was pulled over your head and you held a tire iron in your singular non-bleeding hand.

You knew it wasn't wise to let the old-money Baltimore socialites catch you in such a compromising position, but you had to double-check your mental map of the house one more time. Hannibal would undoubtedly be cooking; hopefully so in his element that he wouldn't notice you slipping by. Will was the one you had to worry about. When it came to you, he'd become as alert as a German shepherd with protective instincts to match. Where he was in the house was anyone's guess, so you needed to be on guard.

You removed your heavy boots and opted to leave them outside. You then tossed the tire iron behind a nearby planter and slowly, quietly turned the knob. The door creaked as it opened, making you cringe. The sight of neither of your partners immediately running up on you was a bit of a relief; you hadn't been discovered quite yet.

You just needed to make it upstairs so you could barricade yourself in the master bathroom and use that oh-so-rare sliver of privacy to cover up your bruises. Then you could climb down the trellis, grab your shoes and make a proper entrance with hello kisses and whatnot.

"[F/N]?" Hannibal called out before you could even breach the threshold.

With no thought on your mind other than "fuck", you turned your head away from the direction you heard him. "Yeah, I'm home."

"I'd rush to give you a kiss, but I'm a little tied up at the moment." He said, undoubtedly grinning to himself as he trussed a chicken with sturdy cooking wire. "So you'll have to come to me."

"Oh, yeah." You called back. "Let me just get cleaned up first."

"If you insist." He said with a dramatic dip in his voice. "But hurry right back. Dinner is almost ready."

Hurdle one was cleared. Now all you had to do was clear the second, much higher hurdle.

You ascended the stairs, but forgot to skip that one consistently creaky step that always alerted the dogs. A small army of dogs came pouring into the upstairs hallway, blocked only by the baby gate Hannibal had installed as a compromise. Enthusiastic barks filled the foyer as you desperately tried to calm them down from the top step.

"Winston! Max! Harley!" You rattled off as many names as you could remember. "Hush, please!"

"[F/N]?" Will said, turning the corner.

You momentarily considered throwing yourself down the stairs. It would be easier to explain the bruises and you could still soak up that sweet, sweet throuple affection without having to tell a story that even you didn't entirely believe. Common sense, however, kept your feet firmly on the ground.

Will appeared in your line of sight. You pulled the brim of your hat down and stuffed your hands into your pockets. "I, uh- forgot how to open the gate again."

The dogs parted in Will's path and he looked at you with suspicion as he effortlessly opened the gate. "Is everything okay?"

You turned your head to the side. "I'm fine. It's just really cold outside."

"I'm sure those wet clothes aren't helping." Will cocked his head. "We can start by throwing that hoodie in the dryer-"

Before you could pull away, he pushed your hood and your hat off in one fluid motion. He knew what was going on.

"I'm no doctor, but I don’t think busted noses and black eyes are side effects of low body temperature." He said, folding his arms.

You put your hand up, unintentionally revealing the bruises on your knuckles. "You learn something new every day."

You tried to scoot past him, but he grabbed your hand and pulled you back.

"[F/N]--" Will said, a blistering fury beginning to percolate in his chest. "Who did this to you?"

"I ran into a bus stop." You lied, not even trying to make it sound believable.

"That bus wouldn't have happened to be headed to Dacula, would it?"

Your silence spoke louder than any excuse you could think of.

Will sighed. "Right. I think I know what happened."

"Will, I-" you protested.

"Save it for dinner." He scolded. "I'm sure Hannibal would love to hear this."

You'd been found out it was much worse than anticipated. You felt like you were on trial, which, given the circumstances, you could have actually been on trial in a real court of law on the charge of aggravated assault. However, that didn’t make you feel any better.

Hannibal demanded an explanation and couldn't wait until dinner. He was willing to let one of his culinary masterpieces burn in the oven, knowing of course that a much rarer delicacy was in the cards once you gave him a name.

He brushed his finger over an open cut under your eye. A light click of his tongue reached your ears as he examined your face.

"Give us a name, love." Hannibal probed, holding your jaw between his fingers and following the trail of bruises down your neck. "Who did this to you?"

"It's not a big deal, really." You assured him, squirming against his grip. "I started it."

"Now that, I find hard to believe." Hannibal contested. "You're not a preemptive strikes kind of person."

"Nor would you go all the way to Dacula to throw a few punches." Will added, approaching you with an ice pack.

"Okay, so maybe I finished it." You corrected.

Hannibal smiled proudly to himself. "That's more like it."

"What exactly did you finish?" Will asked, gently placing the ice against your bruised knuckles.

You sighed. You mentioned Dacula once and they already knew the answer. They were just waiting to hear you say it.

"My ex-boyfriend, Sidney." You leaned back on your one good wrist. "He was a being a completely irredeemable shit, as usual-"

"Details, darling." Hannibal said in too singsongy of a voice than was really appropriate while wrapping your hand in gauze.

"Acting entitled, talking like I belonged to him-"

"You have no idea how little that narrows it down." Will shook his head.

You were compelled to agree, but couldn't bring yourself to admit that and the fact that you ever dated Sidney in the first place. "Right."

"That isn't out of character for him." Hannibal said.

"And certainly not enough to make you willingly drive back out to cousinfuck nowhere to beat him up." Will finished.

"I didn't go out there with the intent to beat him up!" You contested. "He said that if I could meet him for coffee he'd never speak to me again. I know it's a lot of gas money, but I really was gonna hold him to the whole 'never speaking to me again' bit."

"So what happened?" Will asked, growing impatient.

You looked at the ground, embarrassment stopping the words at the tip of your tongue.

"Somehow, he caught a whiff of our... arrangement." You tightened your hands into frustrated fists. "And he made some really shitty comments about... you."

Hannibal and Will exchanged looks. They let the silence linger, urging you to fill it.

"He went into obscene detail about how mmf threesomes are his favorite category of porn," you tried not to gag as you recalled the disgusting details. "And then said if I 'let him watch', he wouldn't tell the local baptist church that I was a whore-"

"The man is a pig." Hannibal said, matter-of-factually.

"I got up to leave." You continued. "Obviously. Then he said he knew where you lived. Announced it to the whole diner. Started to go through his list of semiautomatic weapons. So to make sure he knew I meant business-"

"You threw the first punch." Hannibal finished the thought for you.

You nodded. "Naturally."

Will smiled to the floor and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I would have loved to see that."

"As much as it pains me to say," Hannibal began, resignedly agreeing. "It's only fair that you stand up for us the way we stand up for you. From time to time."

Will brought your bruised knuckles to his lips. "Though we desperately need to teach you how to dodge. Because the next time you come home covered in scratches, someone will pay."

You took both of their hands. "I should get beat up more often."

[royallyjoon]

nephilim (cinq)

you know where the cred goes 💙

cult au, supernatural creature au

yandere bts x f! reader

warnings: yandere themes, physical assault, graphic descriptions of violence, manipulation, (slight) gaslighting

you were left, abandoned by mortals and immortals alike. darkness knows no bounds, and neither does punishment. there is no refuge in neither blood nor flesh from its wrath. if darkness welcomes you, should you open your arms to it in return? if darkness turns you away, does that mean you’ve won? should you choose to cast aside this lonely path of yours, and your conviction along with it, regardless of whatever other horrors lie in wait, you will be saved. 

——————————————————————

What is one to do when they hear the words they’ve feared the most leave someone else’s mouth?

The moment they graced Jin’s eardrums, he gripped his phone so tightly he could hear the glass screen crack. 

He and Yoongi had been assisting their father in the woods with preparations for the next meeting, the ominous hour approaching in no less than ten days.

He ignored Moonsik and Yoongi for a moment to answer his phone. 

“Hello?”

He could barely make out any of Jimin’s words--the boy’s blubbering masked too much of the information.

“Robotics...bathroom...”

“Jimin, I can’t hear anything over the sound of you crying. What’s going on?”

“(Y/N)...rooftop...Aemilia...”

“What are you trying to say?” Yoongi stopped talking to the older man, shifting his gaze toward his elder brother as he noticed Jin’s voice raise in irritation and concern.

“Blood...”

“Blood?!”

——————————————————————

Jimin had walked out of robotics a little early today, bored to tears.

He had felt much better after getting rid of the idiotic gaggle that dared to threaten you, and threaten him into abandoning you.

He should have known it wouldn’t be enough. He should’ve never left your side, he thought as he kneeled on the rooftop, staring forlornly at the pool of partially dried blood on the concrete.

“She was bleeding, hyung. Aemilia or her people must have taken her, but I have no idea where they went.”

Namjoon had been in the middle of a meeting with the school board, representing the student council.

Hoseok had been in the dance studio, barking orders out at somewhat competent underclassmen.

Jungkook and Taehyung were holed up in the younger’s room, playing games rather than doing any actual work.

In short, none of them were prepared. None of them had been there for you as they had promised.

You trusted them when you needed them most, and they left you high and dry.

Jimin felt like he would never be able to get the disappointment and guilt off of his chest.

——————————————————————

Namjoon bounded into the clearing, his usually polished exterior uncharacteristically tarnished. 

Hoseok appeared not long after him, having raced to the woods the moment he received the news.

They were met by Seokjin and Yoongi, who stood with their arms crossed over their chests, near a miserable Jungkook and a pacing Taehyung. Both boys had been in the house, so they were the first to arrive.

Jimin got there last, his hands and uniform pants stained red from the puddle he had kneeled in on the rooftop.

Six pairs of eyes landed on him and his appearance, confirming the worst.

“Three!” Seokjin cried incredulously. “Three of you were on campus, surrounded by a bunch of humans, and not a single one of you managed to keep an eye on her!”

“She could be anywhere,” Jungkook groaned in fear. 

“By all means, please don’t start caring now. It’s too late.” Yoongi snapped at him. “You and Taehyung drove straight home to do absolutely nothing. You could at least have offered her a ride home and ensured that she was safe. You’re just as responsible as they are.”

Jungkook’s eyes grew glassy, but only because he knew his brother was right. 

“As much as you enjoy playing the blame game, we have more pressing matters to address.” Namjoon interjected in an attempt to calm them down.

“That doesn’t even begin to cover it, Namjoon.” Seokjin’s icy tone sent a chill down their backs. “If we really wanted to play the blame game, we would have recognized how this is all your fault.”

The leader stood in tense silence.

“What did I tell you mere hours before this happened?” He continued, walking toward Namjoon until they were face to face. “I told you to get your shit together and to keep that girl in line. Hell, none of this would have happened if we hadn’t followed your idiotic plan in the first place.”

Seokjin was rarely ever angry enough to hiss in his brother’s face. They had all learned a long time ago that to provoke the oldest was to invoke Death.

“We all agreed his plan was the best choice at the time, hyung.” Yoongi cautiously approached the two and lay a hand on Seokjin’s shoulder, leveling a glare of his own at Namjoon. “We can deal with him later. We need to find her first.”

Jimin took the opportunity to step further into the clearing and brandished his phone, the device still open to his messages. “(Y/N) texted me saying Aemilia invited her up to roof and that she assumed it was for a confrontation of some sort.” 

“Aemilia doesn’t have the ability or strength to do damage like that by herself, though.” Taehyung frowned as he gestured to Jimin’s clothes. “Unless...”

The brothers looked at each other in realization and one by one, rushed out the clearing and out the forest. 

A quick drive to the center of the city and one pitifully short interrogation later, their suspicions were settled.

Hoseok growled as he re-entered the van, slamming the car door shut. “How dare he? When did he gain the courage to mobilize our own forces without our knowledge?”

“Never mind Augustus,” Jimin said, although his eyes blazed with anger. “Where would they take her?”

“That dog wouldn’t have taken her to the normal base, she has far too much malicious intent for (Y/N).” Taehyung growled.

Jungkook lightly tapped his fingers on the car door, looking out the window when the thought hit him.

“You don’t think they’d take her to...?”

His brothers looked at him in confusion, but he pointed out the window at the tree line of the woods. 

Having grown up in those woods, they knew it like the back of their hand. 

They knew the places were young townspeople would go to goof off, the places they had claimed for themselves, and the places that were...strictly off-limits.

It didn’t take much longer for the realization to set in.

Once it had, they took off in the direction of the forest.

——————————————————————

In your dream, you once again stood before Ichabod Chapel.

The Chapel, adorned with green vines, had long since been abandoned. Once, the walls must have been a beautiful ivory, but now they were a dark beige, having rotted with time.

A complete opposite to the image of the decrepit church, the seven Kim brothers stood on the ground in front of the entrance, visions dressed in various black silks.

Contrary to its original purpose, the material looked anything but light and airy--in fact, it looked as though it was weighed down or soaked, doused in some unknown substance.

You looked down to see that you were dressed in a white, ceremonial outfit. It billowed out like a ball gown, the sleeves drawing lacy patterns swirling up to your thumb. 

When you looked up, you were stunned by the brilliant, black wings that extended from the backs of the seven men before you. 

The sight of their wings enraptured you, those gorgeous appendages, feathers glossy under the moonlight.

Each of them had their own, unique set, varying in shapes and sizes, though the largest pair of wings belonged to none other than Kim Namjoon, who stood in the center of his brothers, hands in his pocket as he flashed you a familiar, mischievous grin.

Namjoon was the first to step out of the line, casually extending his hand out to you, and you hesitantly raised a dainty, (s/c) hand in return, placing it in his.

He pulled you into his arms and you felt him wrap them around you.

His brothers came to circle around the two of you, eventually joining the hug as well. 

Then, the whispers began.

Their tone was loving, though their words were anything but.

They were desperate, consuming, obsessive, threatening. 

They wanted you to love them, they needed you to love them, why couldn’t you understand? 

Your head pounded, filled to the brim with cruel promises of tenderness and affection.

The substance from their silks seeped into your clothes, rapidly staining your white outfit red.

You realized just what it was that they were doused in and tried to pull away from their arms but they surrounded you, locking you into their hold. 

The harder you fought to get out, the tighter they held on to you until you felt as though you couldn’t breathe.

Things were better this way. There’s nothing they wouldn’t do to protect you.  There’s nothing they wouldn’t do for your love.

How could you scorn their love for you? How could you treat them like this?

 They didn’t want to hurt anyone you cared about. They didn’t want to eliminate everyone you love in order to bring you to their side, but they would if they had to. 

They paid no mind to the way you were drowning in the smell of it, drowning in blood. Was it yours or someone else’s? Was it your mother’s? Mana’s?

All you knew was that they were done playing games.

——————————————————————

Your eyes flashed open and you winced as you immediately wished they hadn’t.

Your head pounded, each thump forcing your eyes shut with the intensity, still not having recovered from the several hits it received. 

For a moment it felt as though you were still unconscious and drenched in darkness, as when you tried to get a glimpse of your surroundings, you only saw shadows and moving, ambiguous shapes. 

The movement of the ground beneath you, however, quickly dispelled such thoughts. 

It appeared as though you were being carried over someone’s shoulder. Despite the extra weight, the person you currently rested on was light and quick on their feet, moving with a speed that made you feel worse than you already were.

The familiar crunching of leaves and branches on the ground made your heart beat just a bit harder. 

According to their footsteps and what you could see of your surroundings, you surmised they had taken you to the forest.

It had been mid afternoon when Aemilia and the people who worked for her and her family accosted you at the roof. Now, there was barely a hint of the moon in your surroundings.

Did she intend to have her people tie you up to the wooden pyre and set you aflame, like some sick imitation of a witch burning at the stake? Or to make it seem as though the Kims had done it?

Despite how afraid of Mayor Kim the citizens were, there was no way everyone would believe you died in such a gaudy display. 

Only the purple fire that Mayor Kim was capable of conjuring left nothing behind, after all. If they were to going to get rid of you by fire, your remains would be found.

There’s no way you could ensure that, however. 

There’s no guarantee that Aemilia wouldn’t be able to make good on her promise and utterly destroy you.

A light cough broke the silence, bringing you back to the present, and you tried to calm your heartbeat. There’s no way your captors would believe you were asleep if you kept scaring yourself like this.

You felt a tight, scratchy material around your wrists and your hands laying against your back.

You successfully clenched your hands. So they hadn’t drugged you while you were out. 

You were hesitant to shift, as you feared your captors would notice your cognizant state, so you resorted yourself to blinking at the ground and gritting your teeth from the pain and nausea. 

Thankfully, the people you were with appeared to be none the wiser. 

“Are we almost there?” A deep voice, seemingly annoyed, huffed.

“Be patient, Lee.” You felt the vibrations of the person carrying you as they replied. “This isn’t just any other job.” 

“I understand, but don’t you think Miss Augustus is going too far?”

Your captor scoffed. “If you want to question the Augustuses, thereby questioning the Kims and their authority, be my guest. I just hope you and your family will be able to deal with the consequences.”

The second captor, Lee, had nothing else to say after that. 

The quiet of the forest left a buzzing in your ears and the swinging sensation your body was making whilst strewn over the person’s back became too much to bear. 

You figured you’d just make your captor angrier if you barfed down their back and tried to shift to draw their attention, but it was too late. 

The acrid taste of bile and what you had for lunch earlier that day reached your mouth and your lifted your head, spitting out as much of it as you could.

There was a yell of anger and disgust, and your captor shoved you off of them and onto the forest floor. 

You held back a shout as you hit the ground, injuring your side even further, and let out the rest of your meal.

“What the-?! This disgusting bitch!”

Your captor launched another kick at your stomach and you fought back tears as they aggravated the wounds already in place. 

Lee stopped them after a while, complaining that another round of beating would just delay their job even further. 

You wiped your mouth off on your shoulder and grimaced.

To your surprise, you found that you could move your legs.

The first captor lifted you to your feet by your collar, and you recognized him as Mr. Byun, the man the strawberry blonde had referred to earlier. 

“Your legs still work for a reason,” he sneered and pushed you forward.

Your legs did indeed work, but were wobbly after hours of no use. 

You tripped and almost fell to the floor again, the bonds around your wrists preventing you from reaching out to break your fall, when the second captor grabbed you by the back of your shirt and held you up. 

“I’m not really in the mood for any of your foolishness, girl.” Lee glowered down at you. “Use your legs properly, or I’ll break them and drag you by the hair. It would be all too easy.”

You heard a suspicious click and your eyes flickered over to Byun, whose hand rested on his waist. In the other, however, he fiddled with a small lever on what appeared to be a firearm.

“Do you understand?” The second captor shook you and your brain protested, rattling around far too much for its liking. 

The thought of escape, which had been curling up inside you like the beginning of a fire, was quickly extinguished. You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded.

He pushed you away from him and you walked, following him with Byun at your back, trying to think of a way out of this situation.

You couldn’t tamper with the ropes around your wrist, as Byun was watching your every move. There was also the gun, and the fact that both men were trained in the use of it as well as martial arts.

Was there truly no way to escape?

——————————————————————

The three of you walked for what felt like hours, reaching a part of the woods that you had never seen before.

Here, the trees were sparse and had already lost all of their leaves. The dark branches coiled and twisted toward the sky, as if reaching for affection that would never be reciprocated. The stumps were old, the ground hard.

And then, a clearing. But not the one you were used to seeing.

Your heart dropped as you walked between two trees, noticing the view beyond them. 

You could now tell that it was well after midnight, for the sun was nowhere to be seen. Nevertheless, as always, the moon was high in the sky. 

Wylynne gazed down on the clearing with a force, as if the moon goddess wanted you to see bright and clear what awaited you.

The crumbling cliff before you overlooked a tranquil lake. Clouds hung in the distance, obscuring what was undoubtedly the outside world.

The outside of Ichabod.

Such tranquility had no business here, you thought to yourself as the pace of your breathing increased. 

Your captors had brought you to Lorne’s Ledge, also known as the edge of no return.

It was forbidden territory for any Ichabodian citizen.

Even before Mayor Kim came to town, even before the Augustus family had their reign: this was one of the oldest, most sacred spots in Ichabod.

The lady of the cliff, Lorne, saw to it that the forsaken never returned home.

You shuddered. The folklore didn’t scare you in the slightest. It would always be the work of man that you detested. 

Yet, you couldn’t help but feel some foreign, oppressive gaze resting on you now that you were here. As if Lorne herself were staring at you, waiting for you to join her in the watery depths--

That familiar click sounded again and your eyes shot to the side. You tried to slowly turn around, but the press of metal against your back forced you to stop all movement.

Lee smirked. “We have arrived at your final destination, my lady.”

“Miss Augustus was generous enough to leave you with two options. You can walk off and take a nice rest in the lake, or you can die before your body ever hits the water.” The man smiled mirthlessly down at you. “Which would you prefer?”

You blinked rapidly, mind racing. Even if you were capable of swimming, with these injuries, you wouldn’t be able to survive the fall off the ledge, 

They truly meant for you to die.

Lee didn’t seem to be in the mood for your deliberation as his cruel smile slipped into an infuriated frown. “Choose.” He growled. “My friend here would be all too happy to make the choice for you. How does a bullet in your brain and being rolled off the cliff sound?”

Byun dug the weapon into your skin and you winced, shaking your head. 

“I’ll-I’ll go. I’ll walk myself.”

Your voice cracked horribly after not speaking for so many hours, but the message was received. 

The metal was removed from your backside and you sighed in relief.

The man in front of you said nothing, simply stepping out of your path. 

You took a couple more breaths and slowly turned to face him. “C-Can I ask you to do something? As a final request.”

He raised an eyebrow at you in response.

You titled your head in the direction of your back. “Can you untie my hands? After I disappear, there might be a search for me, and someone might try to dig through the lake for my body. A suicide will be completely ruled out if they find the ropes.”

There was no way this would work. Even the Augustuses were too intimidated to bother touching the lake for fear of Lorne’s wrath. 

Besides, the police knew when and where to look, and where to say they looked. They would lie to your friends and family through their teeth.

Lee must not have been on the force for very long, however, because he grunted and pulled your hands to him. 

With a slice, the ropes fell to the ground and you clutched your wrists to your chest, nodding partly in thanks and partly in disbelief.

It...worked.

You rubbed your hands together and gently blew on them, fingers numb from the cold breeze. 

Your captors stood together between the trees, blocking the entrance. They murmured quietly to themselves and you continued to morph your face and body expressions into one of a pitiful teenager about to die, concealing the rather reckless thoughts you were having.

You finally turned around and walked back until you were in front of them, catching the two men off guard. They quieted and stared at you, hands at their weapons. 

You met each of them in the eye and bowed, lower than you ever had before, then stood upright.

They looked at you incredulously, giving you just enough time to give Lee a harsh kick between his legs and pry the knife out of his hand.

You slashed at his neck, adrenaline returning full force, and actually managed to cut the man. 

He shouted in pain and brought a hand up to the wound, trying to stop the blood.

Before you could turn to face Byun, however, the loud crack of a gunshot was heard throughout the forest and you felt a painful sting on your hand. 

You yelped as you dropped the knife.

Then, there was a second gunshot and the pain returned full force, this time on your shoulder.

The elder captor, completely fed up with your actions, slammed the gun against your head and you crumpled to the ground. 

You could feel something wet on your hand and clothes, but there was too much of it to be sweat in the midnight chill. You slowly lifted your hand, only to see it covered in a dark liquid.

Byun restrained Lee from attempting to beat you this time, barely casting a glance at your pitiful form. 

“Calm yourself. She won’t be alive for much longer.” He gruffed. “She said she would walk herself, so walk she will. We’re just here to watch and make sure it happens.”

He stood over your form and pointed the gun at your head. “What a useless attempt. Get up.”

Your shoulder and hand burned like hell, but you complied. 

You got to your feet once more and stumbled forward, every step taking you further and further away from the two. 

The barrel of the gun followed your every move.

The tears you’d been struggling to hold back ran full force now at the thought of your imminent death. But rather than let your captors feast upon the sight of your defeated form, you stopped.

You were covered in blood. Your uniform was sullied by your own vomit and dirt. 

But you straightened your back, ignoring the pain in your shoulder, and held your head up high. 

You had reached the edge of the cliff now, but your vision was too blurry to see anything besides the vast blue beneath you. 

The lake that rested below had no warmth or safety to provide for you, but neither did the forest behind you.

You considered praying to Wylynne to see if, in all her majesty and grace, she would save you.

Yet clearly, just like all the people who had come before you, just like the lady of the lake herself, the moon goddess had forsaken you.

You were tired. Too tired to fight against what some would call fate.

You whispered an apology to your mother and Mana, and perhaps even to the brothers, the reason why, you did not know.

Your eyes captured the overcast image of the outside world one last time, then you turned around and took a backward step off the cliff with a sad smile, eyes falling closed, mentally locked on that solitary picture.

Above you, you thought you heard the pained screams and grunts of your captors, sounding as though they were struggling against something or someone. 

But before you, you saw your mother with her arms outstretched, that patient, loving smile on her face. 

You reached forward, wrapped your arms around her, and readily slipped into darkness.

Above your falling form, a shadow zipped through the dawn, racing to reach you before you hit the water. 

He saw you smile and lift an arm into the air, before the smile slipped off your face and your limbs went limp.

The large, black wings at his back beat furiously and he flew faster than he ever had before until he had your beaten form cradled to his chest. 

The two of you suddenly shot upward into the air as your descent slowed, and as the first rays of daylight peeked out from above the clouds, his form hung in the air, almost frozen in time, black wings outstretched and supporting the two of you as he floated above Lorne’s Ledge. 

Kim Jimin hovered, adorned in the light of the early morning sun, peering callously down at the vermin who lay trembling between him and his brothers. 

Or what was left of them, at least.

Jungkook had managed to get his hands on the elder one, and the arm he had been using to carry the gun had been ripped clean off. 

He was now whimpering in excruciating pain, clutching at the place where his limb had once been.

The younger one, on the other hand, lay resting against a tree. 

Unmoving, his eyes unseeing. 

All it had taken was one touch from Hoseok, and the man’s life force was gone, sucked out of him before he could even protest.

He was now nothing more than a lifeless sack of meat.

Taehyung picked up the body as Yoongi kicked one of the elder’s legs to get his attention.

The others stood threateningly over Byun, glowering down at him in utter loathe, as though he were a louse.

The old man whimpered, looking up and between them, then paling in horror as he saw Taehyung and Jimin.

The younger brother walked toward the elder as Jimin gently touched down on the ground, your form still protectively pressed to him. The two Kims met eyes and nodded at each other.

Taehyung turned around and flashed Mr. Byun a crazed smile before flinging Lee’s body as far as he could over the cliff.

He gaped in horror and his voice rose multiple decibels, pleads for his life escaping before he could properly think them through.

Seokjin squatted down until he was at an eye level with him, strong, black wings threateningly displayed. He grinned. 

“If you think you have even any hope of escaping your friend’s fate,” he said as the smile slipped off his face, “you’re dead wrong.”

He glared at Byun with cold, amber irises. “But before we end your insignificant, paltry life, you’re going to tell us who sent you and why.”

They already had proof of Aemilia’s crime from Aloysius Augustus himself but they wanted to be sure.

He looked at the younger gentlemen with tears in his eyes. He fought through his pain and got on both knees.

“There’s no use in begging,” Namjoon stated, arms crossed over his chest. For the first time, he couldn’t find anything amusing in the matter.

“Please! We were only receiving orders, Miss Augustus--”

Before he could finish his sentence, Yoongi used Lee’s discarded knife and slashed it across Byun’s neck, silencing him in an instant. 

The light left his eyes and the man’s body flopped over.

Taehyung didn’t think twice about kicking him off the cliff, either.

Now that those pests were taken care of, the seven rushed to turn their attention on you. 

The bleeding from your shoulder and hand had not slowed in the slightest, and they could hardly feel your pulse.

“We need to get her to the hospital, and fast.” Hoseok said, swallowing the rising lump in his throat.

“I’m the fastest. I can take her there.” Taehyung volunteered.

The brothers agreed, and you were gently deposited into Taehyung’s arms. 

“When you’re sure she’s safe, meet us back here in the woods,” Yoongi said. “You’ll know where to find us.”

"Yes, hyung.” Taehyung spread his wings and took off into the sky.

He carefully cradled you, shifting your body into one of his arms, and attempted to heal some of your worse injuries along the way.

He pressed one hand to your abdomen and began muttering under his breath, a panicked tear slipping out the corner of his eye as he peered at the extent of the damage.

Once your ribs were mostly healed, he pulled his hand away, leaving behind a canvas of dark blue, yellow, and green bruises. He winced and moved on, pressing his hand to your head.

You made no movements, body as limp as ever in his arms. 

Taehyung touched down on the roof of the hospital and tucked those magnificent, black wings together, the appendages fading away as if they were never there. 

He held his arm out, his palm facing the door. He only meant to unlock it, but utterly destroyed it in his haste. Quite frankly, he couldn’t have cared less. 

He hurriedly walked down the stairwell and burst into the hospital’s eleventh floor lobby, reserved for VIP care and treatment. 

A receptionist was working at the front desk, typing away without a care in the world.

He was interrupted by Taehyung’s shouts. “I found her in the woods outside of our home this morning--she’s badly injured, please help!”

He looked up at the boy’s outburst, eyes widening when he realized just who and what he was looking at.

He immediately called for available nurses to bring a bed and admit you to a room, then paged any available doctors.

“Do you know who she is, Mr. Kim?” A nurse asked as she examined you for damage.

He nodded. “She’s a classmate of mine, her name is (Y/N) (L/N). Her mother also works here--please notify her of her daughter’s arrival.”

The man nodded once more, sending someone else to page Nurse (L/N) from the fifth floor.

As the nurses wheeled you away, Taehyung grabbed the receptionist by the wrist and he whipped around in fear.

“This patient is very important,” Taehyung stressed, squeezing the man’s wrist harshly. “She is being admitted under the protection of Kim Moonsik himself, at the behest of our entire family. If anything happens to her...”

The receptionist gulped and nodded. “Of course, Mr. Kim. You don’t need to explain any further. We’ll do our absolute best to ensure her care and recovery.”

Taehyung glared down at him for a bit longer before he threw the man’s wrist aside and turned away from him. 

He rubbed at his wrist, knowing it would bruise in a couple of hours, or perhaps even minutes.

The man returned to his desk, beginning to fill out the paperwork for your stay. 

When he looked up to ask Taehyung more questions about your injuries, the boy had already disappeared.

——————————————————————

In Taehyung’s absence, the six brothers stretched out their wings and flew to a certain section of the woods behind the Kim family home. 

This part of the woods remained untouched by both the Kim family and the general public. It was only the seven who came out here, and only in times of dire consequence. 

Several trees in the area had fallen over, cracked in half as though hit or pushed in anger with some spectacular force.

Leaves and branches strewn all over the ground were blown away by the boys and the sudden breeze they brought, large wings disrupting the peaceful quiet of the forest.

The early morning sun peeked through the leaves, painting a picturesque view of the woods, a sharp contrast to the heavy, violent atmosphere headed its way.

Jungkook planted his feet on the ground first, tucking away his wings until they were out of sight. He angrily flicked what was left of Byun off his face, disgusted by the thick feel and metallic smell of mortal blood. 

Jimin followed right behind him, then Hoseok, Yoongi, and Seokjin entered, Namjoon being the last to touch down on the forest floor.

Jimin and Jungkook met eyes with one another, their anger not even close to subsiding at the death of your captors. 

Yet, soon enough, curiosity and dread brought them out of their rage when they realized just how quiet it had gotten between the older members.

Jimin shifted his gaze, the frown on his face deepening when he saw the eldest brothers’ attention turn to Namjoon, who was standing deathly still, staring blankly ahead.

Seokjin raised an eyebrow as he glared down at the younger. Namjoon refused to meet his gaze.

The six of them stayed like that for a long time, even when they heard the loud beating of another pair of wings, and Taehyung joined them in the forest.

He turned to Jimin in confusion but the older simply shook his head and grabbed for his and Jungkook’s hands, squeezing them. 

Finally, after what felt like hours of silence, Seokjin spoke. 

“There is no mercy for the prideful,” he stated with finality.

Namjoon flinched away at the words, eyes stuck to the ground.

“You weren’t able to uphold your oath, Namjoon ah,” Hoseok said. His words were concerned, but his tone reeked of condescension.

“And because of that, because of your utter failure, our beloved angel got hurt.” Yoongi hissed. “She almost died.”

Hoseok, Yoongi, and Seokjin took menacing steps toward the leader. 

He heard his older brothers walking up to him, but refused to meet the wrath that was surely boiling in their gaze.

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook watched on with bated breath, their hands still linked together.

Namjoon was frozen in place. 

As the leader of their group, there was rarely ever a moment where he was seen as weak. 

But the second he had received news of your capture, he lost even the strength to stand on his own two feet.

It was the thought of you, of saving you and bringing you to safety, that had kept him going. 

It was the only thing that had kept all seven of them sane.

Now that they knew you were going to live, he knew he couldn’t avoid his punishment any longer.

Namjoon’s facial expression didn’t change, even in the moment where, with surprising speed, Yoongi lashed out at him, decking him in the face and knocking him to the forest floor.

The student body president winced, gingerly gripping his nose as blood started to leak from it.

His older brothers stood, looking down at him in a mock semicircle.

“Yoongi ah,” Seokjin said, turning to the younger, “what is the punishment for those who commit the deadly sin of pride?”

“Being broken on the wheel, hyung.” Yoongi replied impassively. 

“Fortunately for you, or unfortunately, I should say,” Hoseok grinned down at Namjoon, “we don’t have a wheel.”

Seokjin stepped forward and lifted his foot above Namjoon’s right leg. 

“This is what happens when you place too much pride in yourself and in your actions.” He stated, then brought his foot down on Namjoon’s right leg.

He didn’t let up until there was a sick, audible crack. 

Namjoon reeled back, grunting in pain but refusing to scream. 

Yes, it hurt, but he knew he deserved it. He failed (Y/N). 

This is the least he could do to atone for his actions.

“All things considered, we’re being quite generous with you.” Yoongi stepped up next, kicking his broken leg aside to stomp down on his left one.

This time, Namjoon let out a jarring scream. 

“You still have the audacity to scream? To feel pain?” Yoongi ground his foot into the injury as though he were trying to put out a cigarette. “Imagine how much pain our beloved is in right now. Imagine what she wouldn’t have had to go through, had you done your job properly. Had you listened to us.”

The elder had never been kind or considerate when it came to delivering punishment, a fact that the younger brothers had quickly become accustomed to.

Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook looked on blankly, but inside they felt a deep sense of pity. 

Namjoon was their brother and their leader, the constant face of their strength.

It hurt to see him in so much pain, no matter how necessary it was. 

Namjoon sat on the forest floor, both legs twisted at an awkward angle. He grit his teeth together as he tried to control his breathing. 

He noticed no one else was approaching him, but he knew that the punishment wasn’t over yet, not so soon. He slowly, inquisitively lifted his head.

The eldest three looked at Namjoon expectedly. He pleadingly raised his eyebrows, but their stares held no mercy.

He bowed his head in defeat. 

The senior wrapped his right hand around his left forearm and squeezed until he heard something crack. 

There was the quick, soft sound of a sob coming out of his mouth, and then all was quiet. 

Hoseok went last, shuffling through the leaves on the forest floor to squat next to his younger brother, wiping away some of his tears and gently running his fingers through his hair. “We’re doing this for her. Everything we do is for her, you know that as well as we do.”

Namjoon glanced at him warily, tense because he knew what was coming next, but didn’t know when to expect it. 

“That’s why you’re prepared to face the consequences for your actions, yes...?”

With a sickeningly sweet smile, Hoseok wrapped his hands around Namjoon’s right forearm, breaking the bone in a quick moment.

Namjoon clenched his teeth together so hard, he swore he heard something else crack. 

Any movement within the top or lower half of his body left him in excruciating pain, and he stifled a scream each time.

“You did so well, Joonie.” Hoseok continued patting his head. 

They surrounded him, praising him with how well he took his punishment. 

He was only able to withstand a few more minutes of cognizant thought before his eyes rolled back into his head.

Hoseok caught his younger brother, gently laying him back onto the dirt.

The six men stood in the silence, staring at the form of their treasured leader with pity. 

Seokjin turned around and met each of his younger brothers in the eye. He then wordlessly walked away from the clearing and Namjoon’s broken body.

Yoongi and Hoseok followed him, blank expressions on their face.

The youngest brothers were all too quick to pick up on the message. 

Overstep your boundaries, and endure the same fate. 

After taking one more look at Namjoon, the youngest brothers trekked out of the forest, silently following behind the other angels.

——————————————————————

When you finally pried your eyes open, you were greeted by an unfamiliar chill.

You were cold. So cold, the chill settled uncomfortably in your bones.

White blankets were tucked around you, pristine sheets morphing to mimic your form. 

For a moment, you incredulously thought that this must have been your arrival to heaven.

Then, you soon heard a monotonous beeping and you felt the subtle prick of wires along your skin, an IV casually grazing across the back of your hand. 

It hurt to move your right shoulder, and your abdomen ached, the areas bandaged so tight you could just barely feel them. 

There were bandages around your wrists and hand as well, and the pungent scent of ointment told you those were for your rope burns and bullet graze. 

Your head injuries were also wrapped, if you deduced the source of your current headache correctly. 

You were alive. Alive, and well taken care of.

“(Y/N)?”

You winced, your head not taking too kindly to the reintroduction of noise. A swivel to your right, however, and your mother’s worried face appeared.

“...Mom?” You voice cracked horribly, and she smiled and hummed in acknowledgement, lifting a water pitcher next to her and pouring you a glass of water.

You drank as if you were Tantalus himself.

“I was so worried.” your mother stated, her voice breaking right along with yours. The sound alone nearly brought tears to your eyes. 

She lifted her hands and grasped your uninjured one, intertwining your fingers.

 “I got paged yesterday morning and asked to come up to the eleventh floor, just to find out that you had been admitted.” Your mother spoke, answering your questions before you even got the chance to ask. “And at the request of the entire Kim family, no less. Kim Taehyung brought you in himself, claiming you’d been assaulted and found outside their door.”

You tilted your head, peering at your mother in disbelief. 

She met your gaze and flicked her eyes toward the door, then back towards you without turning around. You followed their direction.

Outside the small, rectangular window of the door, there stood a tall figure dressed in dark clothing.

Your mother leaned toward you and whispered. “That woman has been standing guard since the doctors finished their checkup.”

You gulped and nodded in understanding.

“(Y/N).” Her tone shifted slightly, still holding concern but taking a solemn turn. “I never ask you questions about how school is and your life is going. We usually leave each other to our own devices, and that’s clearly been a mistake on my part. But I need you to be completely honest with me here.”

“Have you displeased the Kims in any way?” Her grip on your uninjured hand tightened to the point where all of your knuckles turned white. “If they have you here under some sort of watch until the next meeting...if they’re trying to...” 

Your mother gulped, unable to finish the rest of the sentence. 

Her voice lowered into a harsh whisper. “Tell me. I’ll go alert a trustworthy coworker, and I will have you out of this town before Kim Moonsik can utter another prayer.”

Your eyes widened comically. “Mom, no! Nothing like that happened. They saved me. The Kims saved my life.” You repeated, gripping her hands. “If they hadn’t brought me here, I would have-” 

The weight of your words finally hit you, and before you could realize, tears gathered in the corner of your eyes. “I could have...”

You fought to speak through the trembling of your lower lip. “I’m sorry I never told you about my day, I just thought I’d be able to handle it all by myself. The police commissioner’s daughter, she was trying to get rid of me and she-Mom, she-”

Your mother cupped your cheeks as your tears cascaded down your face. She gently rubbed your lower back as you muffled your cries by burying your head into her neck.

She didn’t let you go for a while, even after you managed to collect yourself. 

She poured you another glass of water and you sipped at the beverage, telling her the trials you’d faced these past couple of weeks.

“I thought it was a regular instance of bullying,” you sniffled, putting the plastic cup down. “that she didn’t want me getting too close to her crush. So I endured because I had no intention of taking anything of hers away. Who am I, in Ichabod, compared to a woman of prestige like that?” You sarcastically asked.

“But apparently, my mere existence bothered her.” You shakily recounted what had ultimately been the most terrifying moments of your life to your mother. 

You obscured some parts of the story, not wanting your mother to worry even more, and claimed that the Augustus’ men had taken you to the clearing to scare you and beat you up, and that you surmised they dropped you off outside of the Kim home afterward. 

By the time she finished hearing the whole story, her grip had embedded itself into the edge of the hospital bed. 

Your mother’s vexation was interrupted by the sound of people speaking outside your door.

“Ma’am, I apologize. By the order of Kim Moonsik, only family members are allowed to visit the patient right now.” The figure outside your door spoke with an uninterested tone.

“With all due respect, officer, please don’t assume my gender.” You heard a familiar voice snipe. “My best friend is lying in there and she’s practically a sister to me. I don’t particularly give a damn about your order. Kim Moonsik can kiss my-”

“Mana!” You yelled, trying to catch both of their attention before your best friend could get themselves arrested. 

You flipped the hospital blankets off of you and your mother helped you to your feet, then to the door. The injuries on your abdomen and head protested with every step.

The guard’s eyes widened a bit as you slid the door open, and so did the eyes of every hospital staff within sight of your room. 

“Ms. (L/N), I implore you, please go back to bed to rest!” A nurse in the hallway rushed over. 

The guard hastily nodded in agreement. “Yes, please do. I sincerely apologize for the commotion.”

You waved them off, reaching a hand out to Mana. “I'll go back to bed, but only if you let Mana in. They’re family.”

Mana stood in the hallway, hurriedly dressed in sweatpants, a disheveled oversized hoodie, and sneakers, but gingerly holding a teddy bear with a card.

The guard looked between you, Mana, and the nurse for quite some time. The nurse’s frantic expression must have convinced her, though, because she finally stepped aside.

Mana extended their arm, gently grabbing your hand in return and waltzing past the security guard with a smug expression. 

The moment the three of you were back in the room, however, they ushered you back to bed as well.

“(N/N)!” Mana said, going to hug you, then rethinking it when they spotted all the bandages. 

They placed the teddy bear in your arms and stood a card that cheerily read “Get Well Soon!” on your nightstand. “How are you feeling? I’m so sorry--I should have been there with you!”

“My head and chest hurt, but I’m alright.” You shook your head with a small smile, clutching the doll to your chest. “Don’t apologize, you had no idea this was going to happen. This was all the result of my stupid decision--I was the one who fell into her trap.”

Your mother excused herself, leaving you and Mana alone for a few minutes.

You filled them in on what had happened to you, withholding no details, and their face lit up in anger. “She ordered them to take you to Lorne’s Ledge?! That psychotic cunt! Just wait until I drag her across the square, we’ll see how high and mighty she is then-”

“Mana, calm down.” You smiled, thankful for your friend’s protectiveness, but weary after everything you’d just gone through. 

“I never want to stoop to her level,” you admitted, wringing the sheets in your hands. 

Your mother gently slid open the door, returning with water and a tray of food for you.

“I think...I’ve had enough of mind games and tricks for a while.” You whispered, then smiled at her as she lay the meal in front of you.

Mana’s gaze turned soft, and they patted your hands and back in support. 

“I don’t even want to think of what would have happened if the Kims hadn’t gotten there in time.” your mother muttered. 

You nodded in agreement. 

You weren’t particularly sure how or why, but the Kims had saved your life. 

Not only had they offered you some of the best care in the city, free of charge, but they even stationed people outside your room.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, something told you that holding them with such a mindset would put you exactly where they wanted you to be. 

Yet something else countered that thought, claiming that it was that same distancing mindset that had pushed you into the arms of danger in the first place. 

Perhaps Mayor Kim felt responsible for it because his men got usurped by a high school girl.

Or, perhaps, it was his sons who felt even more responsible.

Your mother and Mana stayed with you the rest of the night, each taking up their own positions on the furniture. Mana draped themself on the couch while your mother took the armchair.

You allowed yourself to drift off to the sound of them breathing, the chill and fear of the previous morning now a distant, foreign thing.

——————————————————————

Your mother and Mana weren’t constantly at your side, as one had to attend to her duties at work and the other had to go to school. 

There were other individuals who were perfectly happy to waste the day with you, though.

On the first day, you were visited by Jimin.

The sophomore’s usual high-energy self was nowhere to be seen as he stepped into your hospital room holding a small bouquet of (your favorite flowers). 

Jimin rushed at you, barely giving himself enough time to greet him before he fell to his knees in front of your hospital bed. 

You gasped aloud in surprise and urged him to stand, but he would have none of it. 

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” His eyes glistened as water streaked down his cherubic face. “If I had read your message earlier, if I hadn’t been so stupid to turn my phone off, you never would have gotten hurt like this.”

You winced as you pulled yourself to the edge of the bed, your hand only hurting slightly less than it had before. “You didn’t know at the time, I wouldn’t blame you for that. When you did know, you rushed to help me. That’s something I will be forever grateful to you for.” 

You exhaled and smiled your rare, genuine smile, a warm countenance on your face that pierced Jimin’s soul. “So please,” you held your hand out to Jimin.

The boy looked up, pitiful expression morphing into a delighted smile. He gently took your hand and stood, then ushered you to rest comfortably back at the top of the bed. 

The two of you spent the rest of the day talking, Jimin distracting you from your current situation with stories about his family and their travels. 

By the time you realized you’d never gotten answers to your questions, the sun was starting to set and you were having trouble keeping your eyes open in the middle of Jimin’s conversation.

If the raven haired boy had noticed it, he didn’t say anything. 

If anything, he continued speaking, his voice low and chiming with laughter as he recounted precious memories.

When he heard the familiar sound of your soft, slow breathing, he stopped. He simply gazed upon your visage, smiling at the way your (s/c) skin lit up in the afternoon sun and held a hand up to block the light from getting in your eyes.

He stayed that way for the next several minutes, then gently caressed your cheek, letting his hands linger for shorter than he would have liked.

Once the night was well underway, Jimin collected his things and left your side with one more forlorn look.

He shot a strict gaze at the guard, who gulped and nodded at the unspoken order.

Finally, he turned and walked down the hallway toward the elevators. 

——————————————————————

On the second day, you were visited by Taehyung. You were still asleep when he first came into the room, but your mother was sitting beside you and her eyes widened when she saw him.

Before the younger boy could even speak, the older woman bowed low in gratitude.

Few people had ever seen your mother in a vulnerable state, you included, as she purposefully made it so. 

Taehyung was a rare exception that day as he gently gripped her shoulders, feeling the slight trembles that coursed through her as he straightened her posture. 

Suppressing an amused smile, Taehyung thought of the differences between you and his supposed mother. 

While the actress trembled out of fear for her own life, your mother shook at the thought of losing you.

As expected from the woman who raised you, their perfect treasure.

“I can never repay you for the hospitality you’ve shown my daughter,” your mother whispered.

“There’s no need for such matters, Ms. (L/N). We’ll always protect and watch out for your daughter. We’re honored to have her in our lives.” Taehyung replied with a sincere tone.

She accepted the flowers he brought, carefully laying the bouquet on your nightstand, right next to the vase where Jimin’s flowers lay. 

When you did wake up, you had your own chance to thank Taehyung for finding you and bringing you to safety, along with sponsoring your stay in the hospital. 

He waved away your thanks, claiming that he was simply glad that you had turned to Jimin for assistance so that they were able to know about it.

“You know we’ll always be there for you, right (Y/N)?”

Always.

“Just say the word and we’ll come running.”

We love you.

His heart ached with the weight of the words he couldn’t say.

But you smiled in appreciation and he melted, as it was the smile they had longed to see for so long. The one that you usually reserved for your mother or Mana, the one that they had only gotten glimpses of in the time that they had known you.

He wouldn’t let you do anything for yourself the entire time, claiming you needed to rest up and heal as soon as possible. You reluctantly agreed, enjoying an unusually lazy day.

He played music for you, and soon enough the two of you were lost in a passionate conversation about your favorite artists. Funnily enough, there were several of them who you shared interest in.

Before Taehyung returned home for the day, he insisted on covering you with the blanket as well, tucking it up to your neck and pressing it in at the sides.

Your eyes were closed out of embarrassment as his form hung over yours. 

He fought the urge to bend down and kiss your forehead, for he still feared that he could frighten you away.

Instead, he reached up and switched off the light directly above your bed. With an ambiguous smile, he left, closing the door behind him.

——————————————————————

On the third day, you were visited by Jungkook.

The atmosphere was a little awkward at first, considering how soft-spoken the freshman tended to be around you.

When you tried shifting the conversation by asking him about his personal interests and passions, however, his eyes lit up.

Jungkook demonstrated several different types of punches for you in the room, even helping you weakly set up your form with your still healing hands. 

You learned much more about boxing forms and gaming techniques that day than you could ever remember, but you did leave with plans to have private self-defense lessons with Jungkook after you’d finished healing.

At some point during his visit, you had drifted off and by the time you woke up again, Jungkook was already gone. 

You panicked slightly, worried that he’d be upset and think that you wanted him to leave. As you turned to your phone, however, you noticed a folded piece of paper resting on top of the back of it.

When you opened the paper, you saw a beautiful pen-and-ink sketch of you, lying in your hospital bed and napping. 

Jungkook had somehow taken your messy, disheveled state and turned it into something that evoked a tender feeling within you.

You grinned down at the paper, amazed by his talent. Was this how he saw you? As this...ephemeral, peaceful being?

You gently stood the paper up so that it rested between the two vases that housed Jimin and Taehyung’s flowers, right next to Mana’s card.

The afternoon soon gave way to evening, then evening to night.

——————————————————————

On the fourth day, Seokjin saved you from the monotony of bland, hospital food by bringing you home cooked meals. 

The mere smell of the dishes had your mouth watering. 

He refused to let you do anything yourself, much like Taehyung had the other day. But unlike Taehyung, Jin went so far as to feed you himself.

It was embarrassing, but no matter how much you protested, he wouldn’t let up.

He sat in the chair your mother usually preoccupied and held the utensils out to you, neatly making sure you finished your meals.

At one point, he pretended the food was an airplane and you playfully slapped his arm, resulting in him dissolving into a surprising windshield-wiper-like laugh. 

Jin spent the rest of the day with you, telling you awful jokes that under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have found that funny. 

His companionship was greatly appreciated, however, and you found that you grew surprisingly fond of his laugh.

Before Jin left for the evening, he gently lifted your hand and placed it in his lap, then revealed another bag he’d brought on his visit.

To your surprise, he clipped a small (silver/gold/rose gold) bracelet around your wrist. The ornament carried two charms: one of a well-detailed moon, the other a pair of angel wings.

You rushed to have him take the bracelet off, hesitant to accept such a valuable gift. 

Yet the look in his eyes pierced right through you, his previous joy still present and glimmering but hidden beneath the depths of something more sinister.

You leaned against your pillows as Jin gently lifted the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to it, just like he had the first night you met. 

“The moment I saw it, I thought of you.” He smiled, affectionately rubbing his thumb over your wrist. “Keep it. For me?”

It wasn’t a request.

——————————————————————

On the fifth day, you were visited by Hoseok and Yoongi.

You were slightly surprised at the fact that they had come together, as their outer attitudes seemed to be opposites, but you found that they complemented each other very well. 

They were extremely considerate of you, allowing you to do things for yourself but offering their assistance should you need it. 

Hoseok spent the day cheering you up by performing routines for you in the little space the room provided.

As strict as he was infamous for being, Hoseok clearly knew his craft. You were mesmerized by his movements and insisted on clapping for each of his performances, your hand healing quite nicely now.

Yoongi delighted you with tales of his rambunctious actions in high school, and some of the best well-kept faculty secrets.

There were several things you learned about Ms. Divii and Mrs. Hargrove that day that you would have been perfectly happy not knowing for the rest of your life, but you giggled and gossiped all the same.

It appeared as though the elder Kim brothers had a similar thought process, as Hoseok and Yoongi each gifted you (silver/gold/rose gold) jewelry similar to what you had received the day prior.

Hoseok looked as though we was going to cry when you went to turn down his gift.

One sharp look from Yoongi later, you closed your mouth, smiled, and expressed your thanks.

Hoseok fondly clipped the necklace onto you, his heart performing somersaults as you leaned into his embrace. 

He silently gulped, overcome by the sudden desire to press his lips to your neck. 

When he made eye contact with Yoongi over your shoulder, his face reddened slightly as the elder smirked at him.

He reigned in the perceptible want in his eyes and leaned back, flashing you his signature smile. “There you are, angel. Pretty as a picture.”

You lowered your head to hide your flush. “You guys really don’t have to bring me these gifts,” you murmured lightly. 

“With a visage as perfect as yours, we simply can’t help ourselves.” Yoongi stated in reply, lifting your ring finger to slide a band onto it. 

How unfortunate it was that it was the right hand instead of the left.

He was able to hide his disappointment from you, but not from Hoseok. 

Nevertheless, there would surely be an opportunity in the near future.

How else would all of those worthless people know that you belonged to them?

——————————————————————

On the sixth day, Namjoon limped his way into your hospital room, a grimace on his face. 

You greeted him with a warm smile that quickly shifted into a worried expression. “Oh goodness, are you alright?”

Namjoon nodded, taking the seat next to your bed. “I injured my leg, it’s nothing serious. I should be perfectly alright soon.”

Seokjin had been kind enough to heal most of his limbs, the elder worried about your reaction to seeing him in such a state. 

They purposefully made him wait in agonizing pain for nearly a week, however, to rub the punishment in, before clearing him to go visit you. 

It seemed as though the student body president had lost his usual self-assured, constantly amused atmosphere. He was strangely quiet, and his body language was similar to that of a man who’d been beaten into submission. 

That was far from the Kim Namjoon you knew.

For several moments, the two of you sat in awkward silence.

The two of you hadn’t been on the best of terms the last time you spoke. Just thinking back to that moment when he’d felt like he was on top of the world, completely in control, made him cringe. 

Then, you turned and smiled at him. “You know, if you really need to, you could always join me as a patient. It’d definitely make the days less boring.”

Namjoon knew you knew there was a change in his attitude, and rather than lording that over him, you simply welcomed him as you usually did.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” The words blurt out before he could stop them.

You shook your head, slightly amused. “What’s with you and Jimin these days? You don’t need to apologize for saving me. Unless you want to, and, well, that’s a completely separate manner--”

“No!” Namjoon lifted his hands up and waved them around. “I just-"

You smiled, entertained by the frantic side of the normally suave, composed teen. “Think nothing of it, Namjoon. You have nothing you need to apologize to me for.”

Your expression darkened slightly as you continued. “If anything, I should apologize for not trusting you all more.”

Namjoon’s lips quivered, desperately wanting to form a victorious smirk, but he settled for an understanding smile.

In the end, he’d been right.

As usual.

“Who remains close to you, who you decide to trust, that’s completely your decision. You should never have to apologize for it.” Namjoon said.

You smiled in acknowledgement, then furrowed your brows in confusion when Namjoon started to dig around in his bag.

“I heard we were gift giving this week.” He pulled out a beautiful, leather bound journal and fountain pen and carefully placed the items on your lap. 

“This is absolutely gorgeous. How did you know I like writing?” You smiled. 

Of course he knew. He knew everything about you.

“I didn’t,” he replied, shrugging with a small smile. “I like to write in journals as a form of catharsis, and thought you might want to try.”

“Thank you so much.” You lifted an arm up and gestured for a one armed hug, one that Namjoon happily accepted.

Clutching the journal to your chest, you gathered the courage to ask him the question that had been running around in your head the past week.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes?”

“How did you guys find me in time?”

The elder clenched his jaw and shifted his gaze aside as if he couldn’t beat to direct his apparent anger and frustration toward you. 

“We heard from Jimin that Aemilia took you and interrogated the police commissioner about any of our private guard’s movements. He fessed and told us that Aemilia told him that I texted her, claiming that there was another soul in need of punishment.” 

Namjoon grit his teeth, vexation rolling off of him in waves as he practically hissed out his words. “He authorized members of our private force to move under her order in order to subdue you.”

Recounting the ridiculous lie that the redhead told her father, and the father’s idiotic tendency to believe her, made his blood hot.

“After we heard that, we rushed to all the places in the forest that the Augustus men might have taken you. Thankfully, we got to Lorne’s Ledge in time and Jimin was able to save you before you could fall off the edge.”

“Are you sure?” You said. “I could have sworn I stepped off...I thought I was a goner.”

Namjoon shook his head. “We definitely got there in time to save you. You sustained several head injuries, so I’d understand if you didn’t see Jimin or blacked out.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, pondering his response for several moments before nodding at his answer. 

There was no way you would ever be able to forget what happened that night.

You knew for a fact that your feet had left the ledge. 

But he was right, you did take several nasty hits from Byun and Lee.

You wanted to keep asking him questions, but the pained, forced look in his eye made you pause on that front.

Perhaps that projection you saw of your mother had actually been Jimin.

You wrung your hands together. 

“What matters now is that you’re safe and sound.” Namjoon gently placed his hand atop yours and gave it a supporting squeeze. “All you need to focus on is getting better. We definitely won’t let them get away with this.”

You nodded again, smiling slightly at Namjoon in thanks for his concern.

——————————————————————

Halfway across town, Aemilia Augustus paced around in her room, practically biting off her perfectly manicured nails in worry.

It had been seven days. 

Seven days of nothing.

Not a single word had come in from Byun or Lee.

When she arrived at school that first day and heard everyone talking about your absence, she felt pure and utter bliss. 

There was no joy like the joy she felt in that moment.

Such euphoria simply couldn’t be replaced.

The only moments that could possibly top it were her future engagement with Kim Namjoon, or the day she would take over her family business.

Because so many days went by without a single peep at your face, she thought her plan was working. 

She felt on top of the world.

But Byun and Lee were two of the most promising soldiers on the squad. There was no reason as to why they were taking so long to get back to her to confirm your measly little death.

As a result, she was starting to panic.

Of course, she had an emergency plan. 

She had no need for it, as there was no way her plan could go wrong, but she always had to be prepared, after all.

Just as she was about to take deep breaths to calm herself down, she jumped at the sound of pounding footsteps and yelps drifting into her room from downstairs.

She heard the annoying cry of her mother and father, and then the sound of several people talking.

A grim chill fell over her.

Unexpectedly, her plan had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

There wasn’t much time left now, as she could hear the footsteps get closer and closer.

To hell with her parents--their capture was inevitable.

Aemilia Augustus would not be captured like a criminal, not as long as she was alive and well.

Aemilia padded over to her bedroom door, shutting it closed as softly as possible and smacking the lights off.

She dove into her walk-in closet and squeezed herself as tightly as possible into a corner, a rack of evening gowns and day dresses covering her.

Every couple of minutes, a door would slam open and she listened, holding a hand over her mouth as the pounding feet searched every room on her floor.

It didn’t take them long to arrive at her room, and she shook as she heard them throw things around.

A rectangle of light shone into the room as someone opened the closet door and Aemilia stilled as though she were encased in ice.

It was silent for a long, dreadful moment. The officer turned their head this way and that, walking into the room and turning on the light to search.

From where Aemilia was hidden, there was no way they would be able to find her. She thanked Wylynne that she hadn’t taken up on her mother’s offer to hire a maid to clean her closet.

The officer turned away to leave and Aemilia cheered in her heart.

After the guards left the premises, she would collect as many valuables as possible from the house and run off to her family’s private home in another part of town. From there, she would plan what to do next.

Her plan wasn’t perfect, but she would be able to get away with it.

Or at least, she thought she would.

Just as the officer was about to close the door, a strong, invisible force yanked Aemilia out from her hiding spot and she came crashing down noisily from behind the evening gowns, taking a few with her.

The officer immediately turned around, beckoning his partner to get her. 

She hurriedly gripped a platform heel and attempted to plunge it in the man’s eye, but he caught her wrist and painfully twisted her arm behind her back.

The redhead screeched in fury and pain. His partner soon joined him, and they dragged her out into her room, each officer tightly holding on to one of her arms.

“What are you doing? Unhand me this instant!” She shrieked, writhing around in an attempt to escape. “Have you forgotten who you take orders from?!”

“No, but it seems as though you have.” 

She paused at the sound of that familiar voice.

Her beloved casually strode into the room in all of his glory, his head held high, that ever present cocky, amused smile that she loved so much on his face.

“Namjoon.” She whimpered. “Namjoon, they’re hurting me.”

The student body president kneeled down in front of her and gently took her chin in his hands.

Her eyes filled with tears and she stuck out her bottom lip, waiting for Namjoon to tell the men to let her go. They better anticipate the earful they were about to receive. How dare they treat their future queen this way?

Namjoon lovingly stroked her cheek with his thumb, wiping away her tear. She nuzzled her cheek into his hand, looking up at him with a pitiful gaze. He smiled at her.

Surely he would save her.

Aemilia closed her eyes, suppressing a victorious smile as she felt Namjoon pull his hand away from her face.

But rather than the sound of him barking orders, she was met with the sound of a harsh slap.

Her eyes flew open in shock.

Her face stung.

“Nam..joon...?” She whispered, stupefied.

The senior was sneering down at her, pulling a handkerchief out the square pocket of his jacket and wiping his hand on it.

“What disgusting thoughts you have,” the man spat, dropping the handkerchief in another subordinate’s hand. 

“Burn that.” He commanded.

Aemilia simply stared up at him in disbelief. 

Had he...hit her?

“Namjoon, why are you doing this?” Her voice trembled. “You’d never hit me, you’re my...we’re-”

“Nothing.” Namjoon interrupted with a disinterested gaze. “I am not your anything. I’ve never given you any inclination that could lead you to assume that I loved you, or liked you, or cared for you in the slightest.”

Aemilia dropped to her knees in incredulity. 

“That’s not true! You cared for me, I know you did! Ever since that (h/c) haired bitch appeared, you’ve turned away from me!” She screeched, her shrill voice piercing their ears. “I should’ve gotten rid of her sooner!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, all the air in Aemilia’s lungs disappeared. She heaved her chest, trying to breath, but found herself unable to.

He squatted down to face her.

“Let’s get one thing absolutely clear.” Namjoon spoke in a frighteningly low tone. “I never cared for you. You were nothing more than a useful little pawn in my game. A pawn who somehow tricked herself into believing she could become a queen.”

Her face turned redder and redder from anger, embarrassment, and the lack of oxygen.

“(Y/N) is more of a queen than you could ever be,” Namjoon stated, smiling at the memory of you sitting up in your hospital bed, grinning at him, the sun forming a halo behind your head. “She’s an angel. Our precious everything.”

He turned his gaze back to the creature before him. “She isn’t someone the likes of you can ever attempt to touch, much less harm or overthrow.”

Namjoon straightened, moving to walk towards the entrance to her room. “That’s my fault, I’m afraid. After all, I wasn’t able to properly regulate my inferiors.”

Black dots swam at the edge of Aemilia’s vision. She kept her eyes locked on Namjoon, still praying that this was all a prank or a joke, and that he would comfort her by sweeping her up into his arms.

“You truly have no idea what’s going to happen to you, do you?” He chuckled with a mirthless smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll fix that soon enough.”

Finally, her body gave in and shut down from the lack of oxygen. The redhead flopped over on her side, Namjoon’s cruel glare burned into the backs of her eyes.

——————————————————————

On the morning of the seventh day, you took advantage of your solitude by pondering the events of this week and the rather complicated emotions that came with them. 

Despite their reputation and despite your fears, you had grown closer to the Kims over the past month. 

They never threatened or harmed you or the people you cared about. They had welcomed you into their lives with open arms. 

You had kept them at an arms length in an effort to protect yourself and your loved ones. But what had distancing yourself from them gained you?

Still, there was no way your method could be wrong. It was your livelihood, your path to survival in Ichabod. 

There were rules here, rules that couldn’t be broken. 

Yet the majority of those rules had been broken the moment you invited Jimin to sit with you at lunch.

Was it even possible that an alternative path to salvation freedom existed?

Had the Kims truly provided another way? 

Your mother went around the room collecting and packing up your things for you as Mana helped you change in the bathroom, making sure to be careful of your still-healing shoulder.

When they left to fetch your discharge papers, you sat at the edge of the hospital bed and deliberated what could potentially be one of the most important decisions of your life.——————————————————————

i am so, so, so sorry for taking longer than usual to post! college and midterm season caught up with me--i’ll try not to let assignments interfere with my writing schedule in the future ;-;-; thank you so much for sticking with me through the wait! the long awaited day has finally come! revenge has never been so sweet hehe. also, the way that i have no idea how to write fight scenes--pfft. i hope you all enjoy the chapter <33

~taglist~

@melaninkpops @loserwithapen @hellaspookystudent @ecillartto @omgsuperstarg @ace-angel-judas @jjamsbangtan @lovinggalaxies @lovesick-heart0 @ksxmpoison @girlmeetsliv3 @thedarkwinterrose @purpuravm @oneweirdbean @hopelessfountainjoonie @mazmaz30 @enigmaticlove-03 @uppiespuppy @queenceline22 @kokofikats @taeyohonic @creatorspalace @supertweetycherry @anachikartadze @itsfeliciatime 

[asparklerwhowrites]

BSD Chapter 94 Cover Art Analysis!

~hello! mandatory spoiler warnings for the bsd manga so far + the beast au. credits for cover art and manga panel: @/chazuke_kani + beast au official art @aoinakahara

Let's start off with the colour scheme. We can see the red/orange background - it creates a sense of doom, death, and destruction - which is true since it's obvious that the final confrontation between the ADA and DoA is close. But something about this cover art reminded me a lot of was this official beast artwork:

Red background? Check. Monochromatic scheme for the characters? Check. Similar to the events in the DoA Arc - beast has a lot of similar elements- the theme and tone of beast has always been darker than canon, and maybe it's a little clue to the events to come.

Another possible analysis is that this is taking place during a 'blood moon' or an eclipse - y'all remember where else that was used :D

Looks familiar?

Next is something that GENUINELY threw me off - their red eyes. Eye symbolism is a huge thing in bsd, but red eyes are usually associated with characters who are descending into darkness/in a dark place (like Dazai's eyes in the Beast AU) so why are the eyes of predominantly 'good' characters (minus Bram Stoker) red? (Most probably, it was just for contrast against the grey figures, but :D)

What if the red is meant to show that these characters are the only ones 'seeing' clearly, and 'seeing' the reality of the situation? It's very likely that Ranpo, Atsushi, and Kunikida will be the centre of focus for the next few chapters for the presumably 'first' aspect of Ranpo's strategy, of course, Aya and Bram will have their own altercation. Let's hope this is indeed true and they all aren't gonna turn into vamps or something. In essence, all the characters present know the truth of the situation (i.e the ada are not terrorists) while the rest of the world believes them to be criminals, which is something echoed in the last panel of the chapter:

Needless to say, I'm excited to see where this goes.

The next thing is the presence of these lines in the background of the sky behind Aya:

I can't say for sure that I know what they are - but I'm guessing at constellations! Constellations often symbolize 'finding your way' or navigation - that is what our ancestors originally used it for. Maybe it's an allusion to how the ada are following these 'constellations' to finally 'find their way' out of this mess and save the world.

Lastly, I wanted to talk about how Bram is seperated from the rest of the characters.

Clearly, he's situated in some kind of 'darkness' with very little light. It can possibly show how even within the Decay Of Angels, Bram is separate from the rest. He has no personal freedom of his own, and he is entirely victim to Fukuchi's whims. The darkness that surrounds him can be interpreted as the darkness of his coffin and how truly alone he presumably is, treated as an 'object' rather than as a person. Maybe he's going to betray the DoA-?

And finally - on the top right, above Atsushi, we can see the print of a paw, a bone, and a bat (possibly?) It's likely our hunting dogs and stray dogs are going to have a fight soon :D

Overall, it's a really beautiful cover art, and thank you for surviving through my rambles!

[fruitcoops]

If you’re up for more of a series could you possibly write the part of Remus recovering at home after leaving the game (the one with the stick to the face) and Sirius having to take care of him and all that?

Yes, I can! I’m so glad you guys are enjoying the continuation of something I wrote so long ago <3 Side note: I would give my left foot to be part of the Lions groupchat. Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for bruises and blood

Sirius was worried. Even though Remus claimed he felt fine, he was just fine, everything was fine, a small seed of doubt lingered in the back of his mind. He had dozed off in the car on the way home—Sirius’ heart had stuttered for a moment before the swelling-enhanced snores started. His phone lit up every few seconds, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off the road for even a millisecond, just in case.

Remus woke when the car stopped and immediately winced. “What’s wrong?” Sirius asked, taking the hand that rested on his thigh.

“Just hurts.” Remus kissed his knuckles as best he could. His skin felt strange, and the edge of the tape was an unfamiliar sensation next to the softness of his lips. Sirius collected their gear from the trunk, then helped him up the front steps; just as he went to unlock the door, he felt Remus’ hand tighten on his forearm. “I hate not being able to see well.”

Sirius kissed his temple. “That’s what you’ve got me for.”

Hattie stopped in her tracks as soon as the door opened, and Remus frowned. “Hatters? Where are you, sweet girl?”

“She’s here.” Sirius whistled for her and crouched, setting their bags aside while Remus sat crosslegged on the floor and held his arms out. Hattie’s tail wagged low, almost as if she was afraid; she glanced up at Sirius, who tilted his head back toward Remus. “Go on, mon chou, he’s not going to break.”

“C’mere,” Remus said softly, shifting in her direction. “C’mere, babycakes. I need some cuddles right now—there we go. Okay, Hat Trick, okay.”

Sirius carefully closed the door as Hattie climbed into Remus’ lap and let him hug her, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Good girl,” Sirius said softly. A quiet sniffle led to a flinch. “Re? What’s wrong?”

“I fucking love our dog.” His voice sounded even more clogged than before.

“Are you alright?”

“It really hurts.” A shuddering breath made Hattie nuzzled closer. “Hey, good girl. I love you.”

Sirius sat down next to them and wrapped his arm around Remus’ shoulder, tracing a pattern with his thumb. “Deep breaths. You can take more Tylenol in a few hours. Let’s go get some ice, yeah?”

“Can I stay here with her?”

“Of course.” Sirius kissed the top of his head and gave Hattie a gentle pet before walking into the kitchen and grabbing an ice pack out of the freezer, as well as a towel to wrap it. The last thing Remus needed was a freezer-burned bruise. They were in the same position when he came back, though Remus raised his head from her thick fur when he heard him coming. “I’m going to put it on your face, okay?”

“Okay.” Remus sighed when the ice pressed against his eye and one hand came up to cradle Sirius’, running carefully down to his wrist. “Love you.”

“I love you, too. I was thinking about making some soup if you want to hang here for a bit.”

Remus nodded silently, though his lower lip wobbled in the one spot it wasn’t puffy. Sirius carefully transferred the ice pack to his hand and ran his thumbs over Remus’ cheekbones—usually they were sharp enough to cut glass, but now they were purple and overheated under his touch. He kissed each one before going back to the kitchen.

After grabbing some soup from the freezer and turning the stove on, he finally took his phone out. You Have: 20 New Messages

Message From: J ;)

Did you get home safe?

Call me when u can

Lil is worried ☹

Tell Re we send big hugs

 Message From: Tremz <3

Lmk when you get home

Leo is making soup for u

Bringing it over demain matin and won’t let us have any :(((

 Message From: Bliz

Nat sends her love for Re

Remember ice packs and NO IBUPROFEN DUMBASS

Ily

 Message From: Dumo

Sa mère est inquiète

Send text when home safe, love you

 Message From: Walkie Talkie :P

U okay? Sending lots of love

Lmk if you need soup or smth <3

 Message From: Hope <3

Thank you for the call honey <3

Tell Remus not to look at his phone and keep us updated please

Love you so much <3

 Message From: Baby Rookie

I’m bringing y’all soup and that’s a threat

NO IBUPROFEN OR I’LL TP UR HOUSE

Big hugs for Re <333

 Sirius laughed under his breath.

Message To: STANLEY CUP CHAMPS FUCK YES

Home safe. Re is fine, getting lots of cuddles from Hattie. Thanks for the messages.

 He sent a few more texts to the individual people and, after a quick conversation with Hope, stirred the soup until it began to bubble. Remus entered the kitchen a few seconds after he took two bowls out of the cupboard. “Smells good.”

“It does. Are the lights bugging you?”

“Nah. At least I can see.”

Sirius poured out two portions and set one in front of Remus, handing him a spoon as well. “Careful, it’s hot.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Can’t cook it cold.”

Sirius’ phone began to ping several times in rapid succession and he turned the ringer off quickly, checking the screen to make sure there wasn’t an emergency. “Leo’s bringing us soup in the morning.”

“Neat. Is everyone else okay?” Remus blew the steam off his spoon.

“The guys are all worried about you.” Sirius glanced back up, only to see Remus staring down at his soup bowl, frozen in place. “Re? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Is this my mom’s?” he asked in a small voice.

Sirius wracked his brain. “…I think so? It was in the freezer. Is that okay?”

He nodded silently and a tear dripped down his cheek. “ ‘s fine.”

“Are you sure?” He reached across the counter and pressed Remus’ hand between his own, wiping his cheek dry.

“God, I miss them. You called her, right? To let her know I’m fine?”

“I did. She told me to give you something.”

Remus’ eyebrows drew together and he looked up. “What?”

Sirius scooted around the table and wrapped his arms around Remus, pulling him in for a tight hug and pressing his face into his curls. “This.”

“Thank you.” Remus went a little boneless against him. “I needed that.”

“I bet. Do you want me to give them another call so you can talk to her?”

Remus squinted at the clock. “It’s pretty late.”

“They’re still awake.”

“Could we?” Remus dug around in his pocket and handed it to Sirius, who dialed Hope’s number and put it on speakerphone.

The call connected on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, mom.”

“Are you okay, love?” Hope sounded like she was on the verge of tears already. “You sound a little funny.”

“A little banged up, but I’m alright.” Remus gripped Sirius’ hand tightly. “We heated up the soup you left us.”

“Oh, I’m so glad. Have you taken any Tylenol? Ibuprofen is bad for bruises, but I don’t know how much pain you’re in.” Her voice hitched at the end of the sentence.

“Mom, it’s okay,” Remus said gently. “It’s okay, I promise I’m fine. It looked worse than it was.”

Looks pretty bad to me. “Hestia took really good care of him,” Sirius said instead. “We got home safe and we’re icing up now.”

“What’s the healing look like? Sirius said you didn’t have a concussion.”

Thank you, Remus mouthed before turning back to the phone. “About two weeks, mostly for the little scrapes.”

The ‘little scrapes’ were held together by strips of medical tape, but once again, Sirius kept his thoughts to himself. “The blood was just a regular old nosebleed and a cut on the lip.”

Hope paused and they heard a new voice in the background. “Alright. Is it okay if Jules and your father say goodnight?”

“Yeah, totally.” Remus sniffled and Sirius silently handed him a tissue.

The line crackled for a moment. “Re?”

“Hey, buddy!” All trace of pain and exhaustion disappeared from his voice. “How’s it going?”

“Are you still bleeding?”

“Nope, my nose is a-okay. I’ve got a pretty cool black eye, though. Kinda look like a pirate.”

“The announcers were saying you were really hurt.” Jules’ voice wavered and Sirius’ heart broke a bit.

“Well, they were wrong.” Remus leaned closer to the phone, as if he could reach right through it. “In two weeks I’ll be good as new. I was really lucky.”

“Okay,” Jules still sounded unsure. “Mom says I have to go to bed.”

“Yeah, it’s late, buddy. Sleep well. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

There was a rustling noise. “Remus?”

“Hey, dad.” The exhaustion returned and Sirius rubbed his back gently, letting him lean on his shoulder.

After a moment of hesitation, Lyall sighed. “Alright, they’re in the other room. What actually happened?”

“High stick from the Ravens caught me in the face. No concussion, just bruises and swelling.”

“Do I want to ask Sirius to send me a picture?”

Remus winced. “Probably not.”

He sighed again. “I’m sorry we can’t come out and see you.”

“Don’t worry about it, dad,” Remus said softly. “Really, I’m okay. It sucks, it hurts, I’ll ice it and be fine.”

“Sirius, are you there?”

“I’m here.”

“If he starts pulling some ‘go back to practice early’ bullshit—”

“Dad—”

“—don’t let him. If you have to lock him in the bathroom, I promise to cover for you.”

“Yes, sir,” Sirius laughed.

Lyall chuckled on the other end as Remus groaned. “Love you.”

“Love you, too. If Sirius locks me in a bathroom, I’m citing you in the court case.”

“There won’t be enough witnesses if he does it right. Sleep well, kiddo. Thanks for calling.”

“Love you,” Remus said again as the call ended. He blew out a long breath and leaned his forehead on Sirius’ chest. “Thank you for that.”

“Ne rien, mon loup. You should eat and then take a shower.”

“Are you saying I smell?” Remus teased.

“Yes, I am. I also think you’ll feel better if you do.”

They ate in silence; both were hungry, so it wasn’t long before Remus walked carefully up the stairs. Sirius checked the groupchat as he poured himself a third bowl of soup. You Have: 7 New Messages.

Message From: STANLEY CUP CHAMPS FUCK YES

DETAILS CAP

That is the blandest fucking response I’ve ever read

I’m guessing y’all are alive then???

Y’all

Haha y’all

Ok gator boy

Give Hattie lots of kisses from us and also GIVE US DETAILS

 Message To: STANLEY CUP CHAMPS FUCK YES

What do you want to know??? We got home, ate soup, called parents, and now Re is showering

You’re so fucking nosy jfc

Also cut Rookie some slack it’s hard being so far from his swamp

 Message From: STANLEY CUP CHAMPS FUCK YES

From the bottom of my heart, go fuck yourself.

He doesn’t have to he has Remus

Pots I’m going to remove your kneecaps

 Sirius paused just before responding. Despite the quiet of the house, he couldn’t hear the shower running. “Re?”

“Up here.”

“Did you take a shower already?”

“Not yet.”

The bathroom door was ajar and the light was on when he entered their bedroom; Remus stood at the sink, staring into the mirror as he felt along the edges of the butterfly tape at his lip. “Did something happen?”

“It’s worse than I thought.” Sirius stepped inside and joined him, staring at their reflections. The stripes that marked the stick’s edges had turned almost indigo since they left the rink; no less than six pieces of tape decorated the places between mottled bruises. Remus reached up to touch his cheekbone and Sirius guided his hand back down.

“Poking it won’t help.”

“Two weeks, huh?”

“That’s what Hestia told me.”

“Will you help me get the tape off?”

Sirius patted the edge of the counter and Remus pushed himself up on it, leaning forward for easy access. The first one was easy—a small cut just below his brow. It slid away without an issue and Sirius pressed a gentle kiss to the spot, then moved on to the next one. They fell into a rhythm—one side, second side, slow pull, and a kiss, until only two were left.

Remus hissed in pain as he lifted the edge of the tape across the bridge of his nose and Sirius shushed him softly, moving to the other side. “Two more, sweetheart.”

“Just rip it off.”

Sirius gave him a look. “Absolutely not.”

“I’ll do it.”

“No, you won’t, because that would be a stupid idea.”

Remus huffed, but didn’t protest. His jaw ticked as Sirius pulled the last bit off. “Can we leave the lip one?”

“Not unless you want an infection.”

“You’d be a good PT.”

“I would be the worst PT.” Sirius worked the inner edge free. “I know, like, ten stretches and basic first aid. My bedside manner sucks, too, and I’d pass the fuck out if someone asked me to set a bone for them.”

“Good points all around,” Remus laughed.

The motion pulled the last of the tape off and Sirius held it up with a grin. “All done. Hey, your swelling is down. I can see your eyes now.”

The slight gleam of amber brightened as Remus smiled. “I thought I could see a little better.”

“Do you want company?”

Remus thought for a moment, prodding the cut on his lip with his tongue. “As much as I’d love to invite you in, I think I need a second to myself.”

“Cool.” Sirius kissed his cheek and stepped out of the bathroom. “Yell if you need anything. I’ll be in bed.”

He made a pit stop downstairs to gather Hattie and bring Remus’ ice pack up, and by the time he finally slid between the sheets it was nearly midnight. Remus came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, looking happier but still incredibly worn out. He took another Tylenol and snuggled up against Sirius’ side with a quiet hum, laying the ice pack over his face once again.

“Sleep tight, Re.”

“Love you.”

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Inyez

Rating: NSFW Length: 5331 Pairing: Male Bat Creature x Male Reader (both cis)

xxx

Winter comes early up in the mountains, but I'm used to that. I like to sit by my living room windows and look down into the valley where I work, enjoying the way the city lights give the snow a warm glow. I figure myself lucky; I come from a happy family, I have a good career in a field I love, and I've managed to make a home out of the old observatory that sits like a squat little guardian at the top of a hill twenty minutes from the city.

My job gives me incredibly flexible hours, so I work whenever I'm awake and sleep whenever I want to. I've ended up with a mostly vespertine sleep schedule, which means I get to watch the sunset while I break for lunch. I'm a workaholic, though, so this "break" usually means that I step away from active work and focus on replying to emails from clients or looking up resources and reference images for my latest project as the sun goes down, and this time is no different.

I don't even notice the dark settling around me until I realise that I've been squinting at my laptop for the past half hour, and by then, the only source of light is its screen. I have outdoor lights, sure, and there's a street lamp or two on the way up the hill, but they amount to nothing unless they're on or nearby. I sigh and close my laptop to give my eyes a break, waiting for my vision to adjust properly to the lack of light around me.

I'm just contemplating making myself another cup of coffee when the window beside me explodes, and I have no qualms with admitting that despite being over six feet tall, I scream like a frightened squirrel. Instinct takes over and I find myself taking shelter behind my chair, waiting for the glass to settle before I risk peering around it. Adrenaline has made my vision sharper faster, but there's only so much I can make out in the darkness. I know I heard something heavy hit the floor after the crash, but nothing moves in the shadows, so I take the risk and scuttle over to the nearest switch plate to flick the lights on.

There's blood on what's left of the window and the scattered glass, and wide smears of it left in skid marks across the floorboards. Whatever has bled on my flooring is crumpled halfway behind my couch between me and my kitchen, cutting me off from any makeshift weapons I could use to defend myself. I creep around the other end of the couch with all the exaggerated stealth of a cartoon cat burglar, getting my first real look at the thing. It's dark and huge—about the size of a very large dog, at least—and even as my fingers grope for something to defend myself with, I don't take my eyes off of it for a second.

I approach the wounded creature with a skillet in one hand and a broom in the other, using the broom handle to prod gingerly at the thing that seems to be bleeding out on my living room floor. The first few pokes don't garner any reactions from the beast, and so I grow bolder, sending a silent prayer up to whatever gods might be listening that the thing doesn't have rabies or worse. I feel myself grimace as I lift one large, leathery wing to see more of the creature, only to snatch the broom handle back and away.

Whatever it was was awake, and it had been staring right at me with large, luminous eyes.

It takes me several seconds to work up the courage to repeat the action, and only then do I notice that those eyes are dazed and unfocused, shock settling in as blood dribbles down along its flat face. The creature murmurs when I prod it again—nothing I understand, but definitely something meant to be words—and that's when I realise that the thing on my floor is not a what, but a who. I swear and pace in my kitchen while keeping the thing well within sight at all times, but eventually my conscience wins out; I can't just let them bleed to death in front of me. Even knowing this, I know I don’t have the skills for what I need to do, so I pull an earpiece on and dial my cousin on my cell phone, grimacing when I glance at the time on my oven.

The phone rings a few times before there’s a shuffling on the other end, and then her groggy voice mumbles, “Hello?”

“Hey, Maraia,” I say, taking my first aid kit from beneath my sink and slipping a chef’s knife into my belt just in case. “I need your help.”

“Cuz? Do you know what time it is? I just got to bed an hour ago!”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. It’s an emergency.”

I hear more shuffling, and then Maraia’s voice is much more alert. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“Some sort of bat crashed through my window,” I say, hurrying over with my first aid kit and kneeling in the blood beside the lump on my floor. “It’s hurt real bad. Blood everywhere. It won’t make it to the vet if I don’t do something now.”

“You’re treating a wild animal?!”

“Maraia. It’s dying!”

“Fuck,” my cousin mutters, slipping back into her role as an ER nurse. “You owe me. Okay, tell me what you see.”

“Thank you,” I breathe, and try to turn off my anxiety as I listen to her expertise. First and foremost, I rush to apply pressure to a particularly ugly wound on the creature’s pelvis and thigh, cleaning and bandaging it up as best as I can once I’ve stopped the majority of the bleeding. This is about when I bump into the creature's, er, fiddly bits, barely hidden by a thick patch of fur. I work around them as I wrap him up in long bandages.

Per Maraia’s guidance, I check the creature's eyes and find wide, fixed pupils that indicate significant head trauma; it doesn't seem like he can see me, or even sense that I'm here. Still, I speak softly to him as I work, carefully picking glass and small twigs from open wounds and doing my best to clean and close them with a combination of butterfly closures and careful stitches. He whimpers and whines very softly when the discomfort is too great, but for the most part he hardly makes any sound at all, which Maraia and I agree is more worrying than if the creature were screeching and struggling with all his might.

Finally, after what feels like hours, I sit back on my legs with a sigh, certain that I’ve gotten to every wound that there is to be found. “I don’t think I can move it,” I say to Maraia, wiping my shaking hands clean with antibacterial wipes. “Not without popping something open.”

“You can’t keep it there with you,” she replies, using the same stern, reasonable tone that she uses on her children and patients. “Bats have rabies. What if it bites you?”

“I don’t think it can. I don’t even know if it will survive the night. For all I know, it’s haemorrhaging somewhere and this will all be for nothing.”

“All the more reason for you to take it to a vet! They can treat it there, maybe put it down if they have to. Whatever they decide will be better than what you can do at home.”

“I know,” I murmur, packing away my supplies. “Thanks, Raia. I’ll take care of it.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Maraia sighs, and I can hear her exhaustion creeping back into her voice when she says, “Alright. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“I will. Sorry for waking you.”

“Oh, bull,” Maraia scoffs. “You were scared and came to me. That’s a good thing. Love you, kiddo.”

I can’t help but smile, despite my weariness. “Love you, too,” I say, and hang up once we’ve said our goodbyes. It would be cruel to leave this poor creature on my living room floor, so I haul my inflatable mattress out of storage and set it up in my bedroom, grateful for the large amount of floor space in the converted observatory. I check on my guest several times during the time it takes the bed to inflate, and then I carry him into my bedroom, careful not to jostle him too much when I place him on the air mattress.

I watch the shallow rise and fall of the creature’s chest for a moment before I look up into his elongated face, taking in his small, black, dog-like nose and the sharp teeth that I can see peeking out from behind parted lips. Two large, velvety ears poke up from the thick fur on his head, motionless in his unconsciousness.

From what I can tell, whatever this creature is appears to be around four feet tall, with long curled toes on each slender, delicate foot and sharp claws on the tips of his hairless fingers. He's barrel-chested from the musculature needed to support both arms and wings, with a slightly narrower waist and wide hips that lead to lithe, muscular legs. The majority of his body is covered in a short, dense layer of dark russet fur over deep brown skin, perhaps a shade or two darker than mine.

Whatever he is, I've read enough books and watched enough movies to know with certainty that I can't take him anywhere—not without possibly endangering him further. The last thing I want is this creature ending up dissected in a lab somewhere, or worse. I scrub my hands over my face and get up to go clean my living room, taking one last glance at the creature in my bedroom before closing the door behind me as quietly as I can.

The first night is harrowing. Batty—as I've taken to calling my guest in my head—has his first of three seizures shortly after I finish taping garbage bags over the hole in my window. I drop the duct tape and run to him when he lets out an unearthly wail, all of the air in his lungs being forced out by seizing muscles. There's nothing I can do but make sure that he doesn't hurt himself further, sitting vigil beside him until his convulsions die down and praying that he'll still draw breath when they're over.

He's unconscious for the entirety of the next day, so thoroughly insensate that I risk calling out a repairman to replace the broken window so that the cold stops seeping in. Other than supervising the appointment, I hardly dare to leave Batty's side, taking my laptop into my bedroom to do as much work there as I possibly can. I clean him up when he messes himself in his sleep, though I worry about him dying of dehydration. To prevent this, I pulse ice cubes in my blender and carefully feed him ice chips at first, being mindful of his body temperature by keeping him thoroughly bundled in blankets.

By the third day, Batty makes as if to swallow, and I drip water into his mouth in an effort to keep him hydrated. I don't know what he eats, so I climb into my car and make the drive into the city, buying a variety of potted baby foods with what I'm sure is a wild look in my eyes that keeps the cashier from attempting any small talk with me. I make it back to the observatory in record time, and though Batty doesn't stir when I waft different foods under his nose, I still manage to coax him into swallowing mixtures of meat and vegetables.

He runs a temperature that night, and I spend most of the early morning hours before dawn wiping him down with a cool cloth and stroking my fingers along his brow when he starts to shiver and mumble in his sleep. His fever finally breaks the following afternoon, and in the fading light of sunset, his eyes crack open. He's still exhausted and disoriented, though, so he only blinks sluggishly at me when I ask him gentle questions, eventually fading back into unconsciousness again. I figure it's progress.

Batty recovers slowly. For a long time, I only hear his voice when he mumbles in his sleep or when he whimpers as I tend to his wounds. Eventually, he begins to communicate with me using little humming noises, or he summons me from other parts of the house with plaintive chirps that break my heart. I carry him into the bathroom and find that he's fascinated by the toilet after startling at the sound of the first flush, though that's nothing compared to his awe when I decide to show off the shower. He's visibly disappointed when I deny his peeping requests to be carried under its spray, but he seems to understand when I explain that we should wait for his stitches to come out.

He gets a little stronger every day. After a couple of weeks, he's able to sit up for short periods of time as long as he's propped up with pillows. He holds his water bottle by himself a few days after that. Eating still takes more coordination than he's capable of, at least when it comes to utensils, but he's happy enough to nibble at the fruits I cut up for him. I take him out to the living room with me when he’s well enough, and there I play nature documentaries for him and keep him warm as the snow falls outside. He stares at the television in reverent silence when the voice of David Attenborough warbles through my speakers, and he spends the majority of the day curled around a couch cushion in a nest of blankets.

I learn that he’s as omnivorous as I’d hoped he’d be, and so I go to the store and get him a few different meats. I cook them with little to no seasoning at first, feeding him like one would a dog, but it isn’t long before he begins showing interest in my own meals, too. This urges me to start buying healthier food for myself; I figure that if I wouldn’t feed it to Batty for fear of his health, I probably shouldn’t be eating it, either. That doesn’t stop me from indulging in the odd treat, and his face when he tastes my favourite soft drink is priceless before he spits it out in shock, smacking his lips and looking at the bottle as though it’s bitten him.

“What?” I chuckle, taking the bottle from his hands and offering him a cloth. “Don’t like the fizz?”

“‘Fizz’?” Batty echoes, and I nearly drop the bottle before I can get the cap on.

“You can talk?” I ask, and I feel my eyes widen when he nods. “All this time?”

Batty hesitantly shakes his head, claws gently scratching at the cloth on his lap. “Don’t know,” he slowly replies, brows furrowing over his big, dark eyes. “I remember some. It’s hard.”

“It’s okay,” I assure him, reaching out to stroke between his ears in a way I’ve learned soothes him. “You took a bad blow to the head. I’m sorry that I couldn’t take you to someone who could treat you better. I didn’t want someone bad getting their hands on you.”

Batty nods his understanding, sighing deeply and nosing up into my palm to guide my hand along his muzzle. “Wanted to say all this time,” he murmurs, his soft, fluting voice growing weaker. “Thank you.”

I smile; my heart warms. “I’m just glad that you’re okay. I’ll take care of you for as long as it takes. Do you have a name?”

He frowns again, briefly closing his eyes. “Inyez.”

“Inyez,” I murmur, testing the name in my mouth and finding it fitting. I introduce myself in turn.

Inyez’s face relaxes into a small, sleepy smile. He echoes my name, and doesn’t resist when I tuck him back under the covers.

“Rest,” I whisper, brushing my fingertips between Inyez’s eyes. They flutter closed and don’t open again as he lets exhaustion pull him under, and I turn down the lights to let him fall asleep to the sound of whale song.

Once I know that Inyez can speak with me, I go a little bonkers with the need to provide enrichment for my guest. It’s been a while since I’ve had the company with which to play games, so I’m at once overwhelmed and exhilarated when I stand in front of the tabletop game section of the city mall’s toy store. I grab classics like Jenga and Parcheesi, but I also pick up games like Tokaido, Wingspan, and Betrayal at House on the Hill. Inyez fawns over the beautiful illustrations and pretty trinkets needed to play each of the games, and he’s held rapt by the game mechanics and advancements.

I can’t help but mirror his delighted smiles, watching him delicately place tokens on the boards with his slender fingers. The furrow in his brow as he puts together jigsaw puzzles is incredibly endearing, and he’s quick to summon me from where I’m working to show me his accomplishments. “Come!” he cries. “Hurry, come see!” My name on his tongue is the sweetest sound to my ears, and I look forward to hearing it in that cheerful tone throughout the day.

I buy an extension for the desk in my office and give Inyez his own space while I work, though more often than not, he ends up watching my monitors at my elbow, marveling at my work and asking countless questions. At his urging, I show him my digital portfolio, where I have most of my character designs, logos, and even a few structural blueprints and landscapes.

“Where is this?” he asks, hardly daring to tap my monitor screen with a claw.

“Nowhere,” I say, enlarging the image so that he can drink in the details. “Nowhere real, anyway. It’s a fantasy world.”

Inyez frowns. “A fantasy world? But it looks so real.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Well, I specialise in realism. There’s a lot of research that goes into it.”

Inyez doesn’t look entirely mollified by this response, but he subsides for the most part, only murmuring, “You even got the horns right.”

I turn my head to look down at him where he’s resting his cheek against my arm. “The dragon’s?”

“Yes.”

I can’t hold back my surprise. “There are dragons? They’re real?”

Inyez looks up at me, and I briefly get lost in his eyes. “Of course they are. They’re rare, though. Rarer than most everything else.”

“Rarer than you?”

Inyez bares his tiny sharp teeth at me in a cheeky little grin. “No. I’m one of a kind.”

I laugh, helplessly charmed. “That you are. Maybe I’ll draw you sometime.”

Inyez’s mouth drops open, eyes growing wider until I can just about see the whites. “Would you really? Me?”

“Why not?” I pull up a new canvas on my illustration programme, sketching up a quick little scene from the memory of looking down into his upturned face. He gasps softly at my side and shifts to cling to my shirt, murmuring in his strange language and making soft little cooing noises as I add colour and detail.

“Do I really look like that?” he breathes, looking from my face to the screen and back.

“Mhm.” I zoom in on the eyes, adding depth and highlights before moving to adjust the shape and fullness of the lips. Inyez goes very quiet for a few minutes as he watches the portrait come to life, only stirring to place his hand at the crook of my elbow to call my attention back to him. “What is it?”

“Do you really think I am so lovely?” asks Inyez, voice very soft and gaze shy.

I’m grateful for my dark skin as I feel warmth creep up into my face. “I do. You’re very beautiful.”

Inyez scoffs, but I can tell that he’s flustered. “You’ve only met one of us. Who are you to say that?”

“Sometimes one is enough,” I murmur, gently stroking Inyez’s small chin with a crooked finger. He makes an odd little twittering noise and hides behind his wings, and I feel my heart flutter wildly in my chest. I'm falling for this creature, I realise, and I can't bring myself to care; as far as I'm concerned, Inyez is the best thing to happen to me in a long time.

“Where do you go when you get into that terrible thing?” Inyez murmurs some nights later when we’re cuddled on the couch, his head on a pillow in my lap and my fingers gently stroking his head.

“In the car? To the city, mostly. To get food and toilet paper and other supplies.”

Inyez shifts to look up at me, confused. “You get food in that noisy place?”

I nod, brushing my hand along his cheek. “Everything we’ve eaten here, I’ve bought there.”

“But it doesn’t smell.”

“Smell?”

“The city. It smells, but the food doesn’t.”

I feel myself frown in thought. “Probably because a lot of it is washed and kept in clean places, or in airtight packaging.”

“I smell,” Inyez mumbles unhappily, tucking himself up in his wings. “When may I wash?”

I hum thoughtfully, rubbing one of his velvety ears between my fingers in a way that he likes. “Probably tonight, if we’re careful. If you really feel that bad.”

“I do.” Big, dark eyes look up from my lap, beseeching. “I don’t want to smell anymore. I want to be clean.”

“Alright,” I say, shifting to gather him up in my arms and carry him to the bathroom. “As long as we don’t scrub too hard or get your wounds too wet. I’ll still need to clean and redress them after we’re done.”

“You’ll wash me?” asks Inyez, a note of excitement in his voice. “Like lovers do! Could we be lovers?”

I can’t help but laugh, startled at the sudden change in conversation; I distract myself by fiddling with the shower controls. “We could be,” I reasonably reply, “if we both felt the same about one another.”

“Then we can,” says Inyez as he slips under the spray, cooing softly at the water’s warmth. “You think I’m lovely, and I think you’re lovely, too. It’s really that simple.”

“Is it?” I ask, dubious, even as I pull my clothing off and over my head to join him.

“Why does it have to be complicated? Is it more for humans? Is it not enough to feel safe and happy and goodness when I look at you? It’s like my heart has bitten a big, juicy apricot—it’s full of sweetness and the juice is overflowing!”

“A heart-apricot?” I chuckle, shaking my head at the silliness of the comparison. “Well, I’ll try to find you an apricot next time I’m in town.”

“Would you?” asks Inyez, burrowing against my chest and sighing. “I’d like that. I like you. Can that be enough?”

I run my hands carefully between his wings, earning myself a sleepy little burble. “I think it can.” I curb my enthusiastic reaction to this new turn of events and focus on gently cleaning Inyez’s fur to his satisfaction, and then I blow dry him until he’s warm and redress his wounds. By the time I carry him to bed—my bed, our bed—he’s limp as a noodle and snoring softly in his exhaustion, and I take great pleasure in tucking him in so that he’s safe and sound.

The next morning, I am kissed awake. That night, we kiss until we drift to sleep. Kisses and affection make up the bulk of my ‘duties’ as Inyez’s lover, and I take to the task of keeping him satisfied with relish. For his part, Inyez is content to groom me seemingly at random, running his small, clawed fingers delicately through my hair and humming to himself as he does so. I get a little less work done, but I don’t mind it if it’s to see Inyez so pleased with himself when he’s decided I’m primped to perfection.

It’s another couple of days before I give Inyez the all-clear to fly after his injuries have healed for a couple of months. We have to wait until nightfall until he takes to the air, but then he’s a dark blur against a darkening sky until I cannot see him at all. It makes me breathless when I realise that he’s lost to the night—what if, I think, he decides right then that he prefers the night and its freedoms to me? What if he misses his family, his friends, his former life. When he lands in front of me, panting and exhilarated and beautiful, I wrap him into my arms and crush him to my chest, burying my face against the side of his neck.

“What’s happened?” he asks, petting fretfully at my face and hair. “What’s wrong? Did you think I’d not come back?”

“Yes,” I say, and the word chokes me, making me realise that I’m crying.

“Oh, sweet one,” Inyez coos, wrapping me in his wings as best as he can. “I would never. Why would I? I am fed and loved and pampered, and you are a very good snuggler. You don’t even have fur, but you are very warm! Why would I leave, mm? Tell me.”

“I don’t know.” I laugh damply. “Missing your family. Your friends.”

“I’ll visit my family when my body is stronger,” Inyez tells me, tutting softly and nosing at my ear. “They deserve to know where I am, and they can come and visit us when the spring comes. They’ll be jealous of my roost and my mate.”

“Am I that?” I ask, sniffling and pulling away to look down into Inyez’s eyes. Inyez turns his face away, however, and I recognise that he is shy.

“You could be,” he murmurs, “but it’s not official yet. To do that, we have to—well, have sex. Hopefully more than once.”

“Do you want to?” I ask him, stroking between his wings so that they relax and rustle softly.

“Oh, I thought you’d never ask,” Inyez says all in a gust, looking up at me plaintively. “I’ve been wanting to have sex with you for days. Weeks, maybe.”

I can’t help but laugh again. “You could have asked.”

“I could have.” Inyez pouts. “You would have said no, because of my wounds. You treat me like I’m fragile.”

“You are fragile, in comparison. But you’re right, I would have denied you. Now I won’t. So, ask.”

Big eyes blink up at me from that small, furry face, hopeful to their core. “Really? You’ll be my mate?”

I can feel myself grinning. “I’ll be your mate.”

Inyez wriggles against me, clutching at my clothing with a sudden fervour. “Mine?”

“Yours,” I assure him, drawing him against me and carrying him back up into the observatory. The next few minutes are a blur as we leave my clothing strewn across the apartment in a trail that leads to the bed, and I manage to find a bottle of lube I haven’t touched in months but mercifully has enough for at least a round or two.

Preparation happens before all else. Normally, this is the part where I would begin to lose interest because my previous partners have treated it like a means to an end, but Inyez is so sensitive and receptive that every little touch I give him sends him into a fluttering little tizzy on the bed. His prick is slick and red when it hardens out of its sheath, tapered at the end and thicker at the base. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I play with it with a careful touch that seems to frustrate and overwhelm the small creature beneath me in equal measure.

I drink Inyez in as he squeaks and squirms with my fingers inside him, watching his claws tear tiny little holes in the sheets as he grips them in his hands and trembles like a taut bowstring. When I finally push into him, he makes a noise like an exultation, and I fight to keep myself from coming right there and then when he wraps his legs around my hips and digs his feet into my ass to drive me in deeper. He wants more of me and I give until there’s nothing left to give, letting him adjust for a moment before I take up a rhythm that rocks the bed against the wall.

I need him, too, and I tell him so as I fuck him down into the mattress, listening to him mew and moan and say my name in a way more beautiful than any I’ve heard yet. He clings to the headboard when I roll him over onto his stomach, breathless and gasping raggedly, wings trembling like they’re weathering a storm.

“There!” he cries when I angle my hips a certain way, one of his hands diving between himself and the sheets to pump away at his hard, leaking cock. “Oh, please, there! There!”

“You want it?” I ask, and I hardly recognise my own voice, so low and guttural it is.

“Yes, gods, I want it,” Inyez mewns, almost sobbing with his need. “I’m close. I’m gonna—I’m—Please—“

“Tell me you’ll stay.”

“I’ll stay!” Inyez squeaks, not a hint of hesitation in his desperate tones. “I’ll stay, I’ll stay, I’ll never leave this roost! I swear!”

“Yes,” I growl, pushing my chest down against his back and reaching a crescendo that makes the headboard hammer against the wall. I come so hard and so suddenly that it feels like I get pulled inside out from the toes on up, and my vision whites out to the sound of Inyez wailing beneath me. When I come around, we’re tangled together in the sheets and I have him on top of me, both of us panting heavily and both of my hands buried into the soft, downy fur at the small of Inyez’s back.

“Christ,” says Inyez, and I choke on a laugh, turning my head to cough.

“That’s not an expletive.”

Inyez grunts. “You use it like one.”

I laugh. “That’s fair.”

Inyez takes a long moment to gather his thoughts, stroking the skin of my torso with careful fingers. “Would you be willing to meet my family?”

I blink up at the ceiling. “Of course. How many of them are there?”

“I have six brothers and eight sisters. I’m fifth down in the birthing line.”

My eyes bulge. “How old is the youngest?”

“Tiisa? She’s six months old. The oldest is in her forties.” I can feel Inyez smother a smile against my chest. “Mother says she’s done for now. We don’t quite believe her.”

I laugh, shaking my head up at the ceiling. “I would offer them shelter for the winter, but I don’t think they’d all fit in here.”

“Oh, Mother would hate it here,” Inyez chuckles. “It would be much too quiet for her liking. She likes life with the roost. I’ve always preferred quiet. This roost is perfect for us.”

Us. The word makes my heart swell, and I bury a smile against the top of Inyez’s head. “We’ll figure something out for their visit.”

“Mm,” hums Inyez, sighing softly before he sits up and smiles impishly down at me in the darkness.

“What?”

“Again.”

“Again?” I laugh, wrapping my hands around Inyez’s hips as they begin to rock and wriggle on my lap. “I’ve created a monster.”

“Your monster,” Inyez smugly coos, kissing my chest right over my heart.

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Glass Swords

Summary:  Tovar knew he had bad luck–it came with the curse the witch gave him on his thirteenth birthday. Trapped in a contract by a band of bloodthirsty noblemen who use Tovar for his skill with a sword, he has all but resigned himself to a life of servitude. But then a job shoves him into the path of a princess who almost makes him smile. (Cinderella!AU)

Pairing: Pero Tovar/F!Reader

Warnings: None really. I make an allusion to the events of the movie but you don’t have to have seen it to understand this. 

Word Count: 4.8k

(Banner by my darling @starlight-starwrites​)

Or you can read on Ao3!

Once upon a time, there was a boy who seemed to have remarkably good luck. He was born to a wealthy, aristocratic family, and being the firstborn and a son guaranteed him a title of his own. His horse always came first in races, his opponents were always making simple mistakes in duels. He always had the keen eye to find a forgotten bit of coin on the ground. His first shot always hit its make when he was hunting.

Yes, Pero Tovar was lucky.

Until his luck soured at the hands of a woods witch.

On his thirteenth birthday, on a hunt with his band of friends and loyal servants, he darted into the forest to call for the hunting dog that had gone after gods-knows-what instead of the fowl they’d been hoping for when they set out. Again and again he called for the hound with no luck.

“Your dog has ruined my garden,” came a sudden voice behind him.

Pero turned to see a woman, old and shrouded in tattered grey robes, emerging from the forest shadows. An answering howl soon followed and a muddied hound bounded up to him, remnants of flowers and trampled vegetables hanging from his panting mouth.

And Pero laughed. What else was he supposed to do?

“For too long I have been held at the whim of your family. They have forgotten the treaty they signed when they came here, building your castle on my land and promising that you would provide. That you would never forget. But you have. And then you laugh when my little source of happiness was trampled by a hound.” Words tumbled from her chapped lips in a language he did not recognize and soon felt as if a bucket of icy river water had been dropped over his head.

“What did you do?” He hissed, feeling himself shake like a scared deer.

“I have made sure the world treats you as it treats me.” Her weathered mouth stretched into a smile he could see beneath the cowl. “But I am not cruel. I only want you to learn a lesson. But your lot seem stubborn so I would not be surprised if it took you the rest of your life.” She stepped forward and pulled a blade from the folds of her robes and Pero took an instinctive step back.

Almost instantly, his heel caught on a root and he tumbled to the moss-covered ground, pain zig-zagging up his spine as he landed.

The witch only laughed and continued forward. She twisted the blade in her hand and she held it out to him. And it was not as if he could say no. Not now. The short sword was clear—like glass. As soon as his hand wrapped around the handle, he felt the cold stone form to his grip, imprinting itself to his touch.

“When you’ve pierced the heart of a princess with your glass sword, then and only then will the curse lift.”

“A-a-a princess?” Pero parroted, feeling his stomach drop.

But the witch was gone and all he had was the glass sword.

His bad luck made itself known when he collided with his sister as they both rounded corners and she tumbled down the stone stairs of their home. Sancha was fine, thankfully but Pero would never forget how the blood pooled around her head or the scream she let out as she fell.

That was his fault. He knew it would only get worse as time progressed. He would not endanger his family. And so, Pero left a short note for his mother and father, telling them that he would return once he’d earned his honor on his own. The note he left for his sister told the truth, apologize for her injuring asking for her forgiveness even though he knew he already had it. Sancha was too pure of heart to ever hold any anger.

He set out. At first, trying to find another witch to counteract the curse. Then, to healers who promised anything and everything for the right price. And then, little by little, his hope faded. For a moment, he did consider driving the short blade through the heart of a princess—any princess—to just be rid of the curse. So he could see his family again. So he could live without worrying about bridges, loose bricks, or roots—or the millions of other things that the witch had made unlucky.

But he couldn’t. And in desperation to stay fed, he took up work as a mercenary. Another unlucky decision. It had led him to far flung lands that would have been an adventure to rival any explorer—he had fought creatures from another world!—but he did not enjoy any of it (aside from a few fleeting moments). And he could kill people who were trying to kill him all the time. Pero was good at it, he found. But it did not necessarily give him much opportunity to even know any princesses or be able to pick them out of a crowd so he could…stab them.

His bad luck continued.

When he failed to return to his employers, a group of nefarious noblemen from some country he didn’t care to remember, with the Black Powder they had requested, there were consequences. And now he was stuck in a contract, unable to leave his ‘employment’ because a bottle of ink had spilled across the contract and blotted out a very telling bit of information. He could not leave unless they were all dead. And if he broke that contract, his life would be forfeit.

He never would have signed—obviously—if he had been able to read that line.

But it was done. He was trapped. His bad luck mostly did not endanger his life—and he was sure the witch made sure of that. It would be no fun if it killed him and he was able to rest in death. The closest he had come to death because of his luck was when an ornamental sword fell from its hold on the wall and nearly took his eye.

One of the noblemen who benefitted from his terrible contract said the scar made him look fearsome. But he said it with a curdled milk smirk that rolled Pero’s stomach. It wasn’t a compliment, he knew.

And now he was called in by his ‘employers’ to settle another job. He vaguely listened—something about needing the little kingdom’s valuable port for some trivial reason and the easiest way to acquire the port was for Pero to kill at least the king and his eldest son so the second-born son could become king. Apparently, the noblemen who were employing him had an agreement with the power hungry prince. Pero was sure there were more details but he did not care to commit them to memory. He knew how to kill and his timeline.

That was all that really mattered.

But first, he needed to scout through the dense forest surrounding the castle to find a way in.

He weaved between trees as he started toward the castle. The outer perimeter walls had been easily climbed without drawing attention and while the surrounding grounds were vast, they were not heavily patrolled. As he continued to close the distance to the dark stone of the castle, Pero started to believe that this might the easiest job his contract had ever permitted him. The one solace he had was still being able to learn languages easily so he was able to learn of this mostly-unattended part of the perimeter wall by listening at the nearest market.

The sound of a horse’s hooves on the drying leaves drew his attention, his head whipping to the side, to one of the few bits of sunlight that slipped through the thick trees overhead.

It was a woman—one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, if he was being truthful—sitting atop a horse. She was smiling up at the birds as they sang in the branches. She was dressed in a simple smock and her horse was unsaddled. She was probably a maid from the castle.

But that did not detract from how his throat tightened as he looked at her. She was, after all, beautiful. It was almost embarrassing how he didn’t even realize she had spotted him until it was too late.

“Hello, sir.” Her voice was kind on his ears and he was instantly wondering if she would speak again.

“Hello, my lady.”

“Are you lost? It is not often I see strangers in the kingswood.” She nudged her horse toward him, uncaring of the danger strangers often present. Or maybe she was unknowing. There was a certain sweetness to her that Pero knew could not be feigned.

“I am hunting, my lady. I hope I did not disturb you.”

She shook her head. “I was not aware the king was having a hunting party today. I hope I did not scare away your prey.”

“No, my lady. I have just lost the rest of our party. Do you work at the castle?”

“Yes.” Her smile seemed to be hiding something but Pero thought little of it, instead focusing on how the light made her eyes sparkle.

“Do they treat you well? I am sure I could put in a good word for you,” he said, knowing his roguish smile was starting to cut across his face. He might have the worst luck but he still knew how to make a pretty woman smile.

And it worked because she demurely averted her eyes before biting her lip for a moment. “They treat me much better than they should,” she said with a shake of her head. “But I thank you for the offer.” She cleared her throat before looking at him again. “I can fetch you a bit of water or ale from the kitchens, if you would like? You must be parched.”

“No, no, my lady. But you are kind to offer.”

The sound of someone calling out in the distance had her turning her head with a frown. “I’ve lost track of the hour. I must go.”

And then her dark horse was setting off, galloping between the black-barked trees, and disappearing from sight before he could even ask for her name.

Pero did not find a way into the castle that day. He could have, but he didn’t. His employers allowed him another day of scouting in the woods and he happily took advantage of it and hoped his curse would subside just for a day, or even a few hours, so he might happen upon the maid again.

And his silent plea was heard as he found her at the base of a large tree, a well-worn book settled on her lap.

“Hello again,” she said as she spotted him.

“Hello, my lady.”

She patted the bit of grass beside her and Pero wavered for a moment before taking the offered seat. “Hunting again today?”

“No. I must confess that I was hoping to see you.”

Her answering giggle had something squeezing in the deep recesses of his chest. “Well, you have found me.” She closed the book carefully and turned to face him a little more. “What is your name? I have tried to guess it but I do not think any name I might have conjured would suit you.”

He could have told her his true name. It was not as if she would be able to stop him in his quest. But he knew to never think he could outsmart his curse. “I am Tovar.” And then he quickly added his title that he had not used in decades: “Marquess Tovar.” As if that would somehow make his lie about hunting with the royals more believable.

She gave him her name in return and then started to gently, simply pull him into conversation about anything and everything—from the animals he was unfamiliar with in the forest, to learning how the she grew up inside the castle and still got lost in its twisting, turning halls and rooms.

He knew he should be committing the hints she was giving to him about the castle’s layout to memory but didn’t want to. He only want to continue to hear her speak. She would ask him questions too, about how he was finding her homeland and if he still “did not require a bit of drink to slake his thirst from the kitchens.”

She was…sunlight. And such a sharp contrast to the darkness of the kingdom she resided in with its masses of dark stone, fog, and black wood trees. She did not deserve such darkness. Sunlight. She should have been bathed in sunlight, in warmth, in all things light and lovely. Not here. Not in the dark and cold. Even if it was her home—even if she called it home with a tilt of her beautiful lips.

“Tell me, Tovar. Are you coming to the Masque tomorrow night? I would like to see you again.”

“There is a Masque tomorrow?”

She nodded with another smile and stood, brushing the moss and dirt from her little dress and apron. “The King is celebrating his birthday and his daughter has finally returned from her time abroad.”

“A princess?”

She laughed and held out a hand toward him, helping him to his feet. “Yes. I thought the king would have told you about her when you were hunting.”

“I’ve only heard of his sons,” he said, not entirely lying.

“Either way, will you come to the Masque tomorrow?” She looked so hopeful, so happy. He could not tell her no. And it was with a soft kiss to his cheek that she bid him goodbye and he was left in the dark of the forest, watching her disappear again.

A Royal Masque. And a princess. Perhaps his luck was turning on its own.

This would provide the perfect opportunity for him—kill the princess and be able to dance with the woman whose lips pleasantly burned his skin.

**

It had been easy to procure an invitation to the Masque. It had been harder to find an outfit that would not gain him unwanted attention. The shops were nearly all too busy or too empty but he did eventually find a decent enough ensemble and matching mask without emptying his coffers too much. His employers had been pleased to know he had found a way into the castle without too much fanfare and seemed to approve of his plan to carry out their plot at the masque. (And if another royal died that night, who would think that it was not part of a larger plan instead of a desperate man trying to break a curse?)

Pero handed over his invitation to the major-domo standing in front of the black and gold doors and was finally ushered inside—even after a few of the knights eyed the short sword sheathed at his hip. The halls were filled with more shining dark stone and gilded suits of armor from centuries past. Paintings and tapestries were hung along the walls, depicting the kingdom’s fabled rise to power. Blooms of white flowers were littered about, a sharp contrast to the darkness that seemed to permeate each corner of this little kingdom.

No couples had already to the floor to dance yet but he did spot a few practicing an almost-familiar set of measured steps away from onlookers. The raised dais filled with a few ornately carved chairs—thrones, he supposed—was empty. His targets were not here yet.

But perhaps she was.

He scanned the crowd but did not spot her—even with everyone wearing masks, he was sure he would recognize her from leagues away.

Music suddenly blared, announcing the arrival of someone important. He turned with the rest of the crowd and listened as the royals were announced. There was the youngest son, the next, and then the eldest. The king was escorted by his daughter, but the answering applause and cheer drowned out her name and Pero could only crane his neck too much to try and get a look before he started to look suspicious.

The first official song was called and the heir apparent took the dance with his betrothed before other couples were allowed to join them on the gleaming wooden floor.

Pero continued to scan the crowd, briefly touching the small vials he’d hidden within his doublet, and found the servant in charge of bringing goblets of wine to the king without much trouble.

It was easy.

But then a woman dressed in fine clothes of the kingdom’s sigil was striding toward him, uncaring of the masses of people bowing and curtseying in her wake and she only slowed to a stop when she was right in front of him. This must be the princess. A mask of gold covered most of her features but her eyes sparkled in such a way that Pero could have sworn he had seen them before. They were alight with recognition and mischief.

“Dance with me,” she whispered.

“Your highness, I-”

The princess tilted her mask up and…

And that was when he realized, the girl from the forest and the princess…were the same person.

His fleeting moment of happiness had actually been another stroke of bad luck. How cruel.

She looked just as beautiful in her finery and jewels as she did in the smock she had donned in the forest. Her grip was gentle as she carefully started to lead him in the dance and didn’t laugh when he stumbled over her gilded shoes. Eventually, thankfully, he righted himself and was able to properly dance with her, letting the music guide his steps with her gentle corrections whenever he missed one or two.

“You’re a princess,” he said, hating the moment they left his lips.

“I am. Very astute of you, Tovar.” She laughed and stepped back from him as the song ended with a flourish and clapped for the minstrels. But then she turned back to him “Come with me,” she murmured, just low enough for him to hear. The princess didn’t wait for his answer and grasped his hands, quickly leading him through the crowd, some of whom tried to stop them, asking for his name, for a moment of the princess’ time, on and on it went. But she did not falter. Her grip did not loosen.

Not until they were out of the humid air of the ballroom and in the beautiful, cooled night air did she finally stop. Her smile was still wide and his face hurt as he felt himself trying to, unconsciously, mirror her expression. His face was not used to the movement. “What are you up to, princess?”

“I have something to show you.” She squeezed his hands once. “Do you have somewhere else you’d rather be? I don’t mean to steal you away if you have someone else waiting for you.”

Pero shook his head. “No. No, princess. I am happy to know you want my time as much as I desire yours.”

She bit her lip with a soft giggle. “Well, I do hope you like it.” She stepped back to link her arm through his, and continued to guide him down the shining palace steps and into the lush, green gardens. It was as easy for her to pull little bits of information from him as she tossed her golden mask into a bush without a care.

“Tell me of your homeland.”

“It is beautiful, your highness. Filled with sunlight and…” he drifted off, finally allowing himself to think of his home and family for the first time in years. “I miss it very much.”

She was quiet as he thought and did not seem to mind as he came back to himself—a familiar, gentle smile on her lips as she looked at him. “You do not strike me as a man who would leave someone or someplace you love so fiercely without cause. What pushed you to do so, if I may be so bold?”

“Bad luck,” he answered simply. “But tell me, why were you in the forest? Not once, but twice and without an escort or lady’s maid.”

Her face twisted into a pout for a moment. “I must admit that I do not care for every bit of royal life. It can all be so…tedious.”

“So, you snuck away?”

She nodded. “Donned my maid’s dress and took my horse from the stables while the hand was busy tending to my brother’s mare. It took hours for them to even notice I’d missed luncheon.”

“Did you not just return from abroad? I would have assumed that they would scarcely let you out of their sights.”

She shook her head with a laugh as they slowed to a stop in front of rusted gate she opened and waved him through. A secret garden greeted them, filled with all the color that the rest of the kingdom seemed to lack. Even in the moonlight, he could see the vibrant yellow, pink, red, and orange hues of the flowers that were growing haphazardly and unkempt by practiced hands. It reminded him, achingly, of the gardens his mother and Sancha would tend to on their own at home. They had always liked the free-roaming blooms over the careful structure of the manicured grounds.

“They like having me close, true. But underfoot is nothing but annoyance for everyone involved.”

“What is this place?” He asked, letting her pull him onto a simply carved bench in the center of the garden.

She turned to him with another smile—she seemed so fond of smiling. “This was my mother’s secret place. Free from the confines of my father’s kingdom and his advisor’s disapproving eyes. She would bring me here when I was little and teach me the names of all the flowers and how to care for them.”

It did not take long for Tovar to recognize the hurt in her tone.

He wondered if she heard it in his voice when he spoke of home. Of his beautiful family in Spain. Perhaps that was why he rarely spoke of them. But he wanted to tell her. Wanted to tell her everything. So, he tried. He told her of the gardens his mother grew and refused to let their servants touch. Told her of how the fields around his home smelled sweet in the spring. Told her of all the colors he had seen on his adventures—even if he had to omit some bits of information to not reveal his true profession. And she listened keenly, asking questions and always seeming to think whatever he had said was interesting. In turn, she told him of her brief time in her mother’s ancestral kingdom, learning all she could and feeling torn when she knew she had to return to her home kingdom.

He was hardly aware of time passing, or how close they had grown on the bench until he heard a crier announcing the time—it was nearing midnight. He turned at the sudden noise and his hand slid across the bench—and quickly earned himself a handful of thorns to the webbing between his fingers. He hissed but hurriedly stopped himself as her gentle, soft hands cradled his and started to remove the thorns one by one. “Bad luck indeed,” she said, teasing. “I had trimmed those blooms back.”

Bad luck.

Bad luck.

Bad luck.

The sword at his hip grew heavier.

He could do it. He could run the blade through her chest and pierce her heart and be done with this wretched curse. But her eyes were shining in the moonlight and she smiled at him and he…couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Seeming to sense his distress, her smile faded. “Tovar? What ails you?” She reached out toward him and the moment her soft hand touched his cheek…he fled.

Decades of running toward dangers left him in an instant and he ran like a coward. Out of the garden, through the crowded ballroom where people shouted for him to stop, and out into the courtyard.

He fled. He ran until his legs gave out.

And it was only then that he noticed his sword was missing.

**

Hiding in the woods was not the most comfortable of living quarters but it was not the worst he had used since he had run from home.

He would not face his employers’ wrath. Another job left unfinished would cost him his head, he knew it. To survive, he hunted and forged, only moving into the outskirts of the market when he truly needed to buy something—like healing herbs for when he cut open his arm on a low hanging branch, or new boots after his toe caught on a sharp stone and tore the sole clean off.

Perhaps it was his need to survive and not be noticed, but it took Pero weeks to realize that the kingdom was in a tizzy.

The King had nearly been murdered as the masque and his second son was implicated in the plot. A band of foreign nobles had been arrested and their heads now sat on spikes outside the castle.

But that was not all.

Apparently, the princess had been scouring the kingdom looking for the man she had danced with at the masque—who had left behind a very peculiar short sword; its handle seeming to fit only one man’s hand.

It felt silly to let himself hope.

Could he? Should he let her find him? The curse still loomed. He would not subject her to the danger that seemed to follow him. He could not-

“There you are.”

Apparently he had been ruminating too long and had not noticed the small band of people approaching him at the edge of the market. The princess—and he was loathed to admit that he had momentarily let himself refer to her as His Princess—was standing in front of him with her familiar, beautiful smile on her lips and his sword in her hand. She turned it over, holding the hilt toward him as he hastily bowed.

“This is yours, yes?”

He nodded and reached out for it, feeling the familiar hand fit into his hand like it had for decades. But soon a gentle warmth bloomed up his hand until he could feel it burrowing in his chest. Something had changed.

**

When the king learned of Tovar’s true identity, he was able to grant his daughter’s wish of allowing their betrothal. A son of duke of a wealthy kingdom was a worthy match—and the king liked to make his daughter smile, too, even if it was at the side of a foreign duke who came into palace looking slovenly.

But Pero was still nervous. Even if he no longer tripped on stairs, bricks did not fall and nearly crush his skull, animals did not dart in front of his feet. He wanted to be sure—after all, he had not delivered a heart to the woods witch.

But, on the eve of their wedding, as Pero paced in his ornate and comfortable bedchamber, a sudden blast of cold air had him turning. In front of him stood a familiar woman. Her robes were still tattered but she was…glowing. Near ethereal. The woods witch had come again.

“I could feel your worries from leagues away, little duke.” Her smile was all teeth and he knew to keep quiet. “While I would have preferred the actual heart of that beautiful princess, the curse has been lifted. That little glass sword led her heart to you. You are free. I promise you that.”

“I am sorry,” Pero said, feeling the words rush out as he looked at her. “I am so sorry, my lady.”

“I know,” she hummed before she glanced around the room. “She will like Spain more, little duke. I promise you that.”

Before Pero could ask for specifics, the witch was gone in another gust of cold wind.

**

Pero watched his wife’s smile grow broader and broader as their carriage drew closer to his castle.

The sun was shining. The air was sweet with the scent of springtime flowers and green grasses. It was filled with the colors he had promised her that night in the garden.

His family greeted them warmly and his sweet mother and sister cried in joy at finally having him back home while his father did look quiet near tears, too. Pero just watched it all with a smile on his face, so large and persistent it hurt his face.

“It is beautiful here,” she whispered to him that night in their bedchamber. “But, of course, I would expect nothing more from the land who gave me you.”

Pero kissed her, smiling against her mouth.

His glass sword was forgotten on their bedside table.

He had all he needed, all the good luck in the world, right here in his arms.

And they lived happily ever after.

The end.

A/N: please let me know what you think! 

[unsupervisedpanda]

Late night panic attacks

Liam Dunbar x Reader

Summary: Your brother begins to avoid you and you are left all alone. You are hurt and want anything to feel okay. In an attempt and out of anger you run out into the woods with no means of communication. And you are in danger.

You are y/n Stilinski. Your older brother was obviously Stiles. You were pretty similar. Thing is he seemed to be avoiding you. A lot.

It bothered you. You had tried talking to Scott but he told you not to worry about it. That it wasn't anything to worry about.

You called Allison but she didn't answer and neither did Lydia. You were sick of being ignored. You even called your dad. All he said is he was busy with work. That's why you're here. Sitting on your bed crying into your pillow.

In a last ditch effort you decided you'd try Liam. Bzzzzz! Bzzzzz! Bzzzzz!

"Hello?"

"Liam! Hey." You were glad he answered.

"Y/n? Hey! Um this is sorta a bad time. Can I call you back?" You were slightly surprised but it's Liam.

"O-oh. Of course! I'll talk to you later then?" You stammered a little.

" Sounds great. Alright. Talk to you later." You hung up.

You then decided to try Stiles. He wasn't home and neither was anyone else. You were a little paranoid.

Bzz- the person you are trying to reach is unava- you hung up.

He sent you straight to voicemail. You threw your phone across the room. You were sick of being alone. Decidedly you grabbed your f/c hoodie/jacket and stormed down the stairs and out of the house. Little did you know your phone was ringing off the hook. And there was no one to answer.

"Damn it!" Stiles yelled slamming his fist into the steering wheel.

Scott and Liam watched in shock as the usually cool headed and sarcastic Stiles freaked out. He was calling you over and over. They had all realized you may be a target and that you were all alone. Alone. That's all Stiles could think.

You, little sister were all alone and he left you vulnerable. You had no idea about the supernatural world. You didn't know you could be in danger. You didn't know your brother was calling you. And Stiles didn't know that you were not only all alone but also all alone in the woods. Stiles pushed on the gas and sped towards his house.

You were pretty deep into the woods by now. It was colder then you gave it credit for so you pulled your hoodie/jacket closer around you. To be honest with yourself the cold felt nice. Calming. You looked up and the moon shown down on you. Your only source of light considering you accidentally left your phone at home.

You looked ahead again. You continued walking but soon stopped as you heard rustling. A squirrel? Or maybe a rabbit? You thought. Hoping it wasn't a person who wanted you dead, you continued. You were almost to the clear, crisp river when something pounced on you. You flipped around to see the culprit. It wasn't anyone you knew. They growled at you as if they were a wolf or something.

They had long hair on their face and sharp fangs and claws. You screamed terrified. You fought against the thing on top of you. His claws dug into you arms as he straddled you. You continued to struggle. Looking for anything to attack the attacker. You saw a rock not to far. Running on adrenaline you pushed the asshole off and grabbed the rock bashing it on his head. You quickly turned to run when he grabbed you and threw you into a tree.

You heard your bones crack. You screamed. Loud. All of your breath left you as you nearly blacked out. You whimpered begging for someone to save you. For this creep to go away or to end your suffering. Then it happened. You felt your throat tighten and lungs shrink.

"Help."

* * *

Stiles, Scott, and Liam had looked through the whole house. They had found your phone and keys, but no you. They all walked outside confused. Scott listened carefully. Listening for anything. It was silent for a while. That was until he heard a terrified scream. He and Liam both looked at each other and ran. Fast. They ran towards your scream. Stiles followed terrified of what they might find. Sprinting through the trees they followed every sound that sounded like you. Even your soft whimpers.

You panted out of breath.

"S-stop! Don't come n-near m-me!" You tried to breathe but it was getting harder and harder.

You knew why. A panic attack. You tried to sit up. Tried to calm down. The person only grew closer and closer until he picked you up choking you against the tree.

"L-let me GO!" You kicked and screamed.

Pain covered your back and ribs. Your lungs burning for air. Soon everything was fading out.

"Y/n!!"

Someone yelled. Someone familiar. You felt yourself falling to the ground gasping for air. Grasping for anything to hold. Soon someone was holding you. Gripping you gently.

"Y/n c'mon! Look at me. Focus on me!" You looked up still panicked.

Liam sat in front of you. You stared into his icy blue orbs. Stared at his lips. Pulled on his arms. Anything you could. Nothing worked though. Nothing was working. Soon you'd black out, not from getting strangled, but rather a panic attack.

Liam noticed you were slowly losing consciousness. He had to do something. Fast. He quickly pulled your face towards his and kissed you. You were shocked but kissed back. You slowly felt yourself calm down and melt into his embrace. Stiles quickly ran over to the two of you when he finally caught up. His little sister was in Liam's arms. You seemed content there. He quickly checked you over for any major injuries or blood. He found nothing he could see, but he had a feeling you had a couple broken ribs and a concussion. Scott had taken care of the werewolf that attacked you. Liam picked you up as you couldn't get up yourself and they all headed toward the Jeep to take you to miss McCall.

You woke up with an IV and your middle wrapped in many, many wraps. You also had a glass of water and some pain killers next to you. You quickly took them and then searched the room for your phone. Once you found it you called Stiles. Bzz-

"Y/n!?" Stiles had quickly picked up.

He didn't care if he was in class.

" S-stiles! W-where are y-you?" You hiccupped.

You needed your brother. Now. You cried and sniffled over the phone.

" Oh y/n I'll be there soon! I love you." He quickly hung up and ran out of class, but not before he grabbed Liam and dragged him to the Jeep. Scott obviously following. They all arrived at the hospital you immediately grabbing onto Stiles. Liam watched you and smiled. Scott watching the siblings as well.

"I was soooo scared. And mad. I was definitely mad! You Stiles better explain! A Fucking dog person-"

"Werewolf" Scott interjected.

" Werewolf tried to kill me! And you weren't there! And you weren't answering any of my calls. Neither was Lydia or Allison! Scott barely even texted me back and at least Liam actually answered and was considerate! You just left me all alone and what if you didn't find me! I would be dead!" You exclaimed heaving.

Stiles and Scott both looked down obviously feeling bad.

"Y/n I'm so so so sorry! I didn't mean to I just didn't want you getting hurt and the werewolf that attacked you was one we were hunting down. He attacked you because you're a weakness of ours. We didn't want to involve you. I mean obviously now you are involved but we didn't want you to be and-" Stiles rambled on and on.

A/n

You just smiled. When he was done you told Liam to come over and grabbed him by his shirt pulling him down on to your lips.

"That's a thanks for helping me. By the way I think you're pretty cute. Wanna go out?" You smirked as Liam blushed.

You sure were confident but he blamed it on the pain killers.

"Sure. I'd love to, y/n." He smiled.

I hope you enjoyed 💕 Sorry for any misspelling or grammar mistakes but hey it's a story! Bye my unsupervised critters 🐾💞

[drivingsideways]

Seo-ryeong and Tae-eul, allies

She sees her shoes before she sees the rest of her.

Correction: she sees her feet, before she sees the rest of her- the tension of the high arch radiating up to the calves revealed by the thigh high slit of her indigo skirt, as she climbs the stairs ahead of Tae-eul. It's a quick, confident gait: the stilettoes not wavering a centimeter. Tae-eul, slowing down, feels her back tense in sympathetic reaction.

She pauses at the door, hand raised to knock, when she realizes that she's not alone, and turns.

Tae-eul has already realized who it is, so she's able reply with composure.

"Madam Prime Minister, what a surprise."

The stairs give Koo Seo-Ryeong even more of an advantage; she looms, larger than life, than reality itself on Tae-eul's doorstep, her expression guarded.

"Detective Jeong," says Koo Seo-Ryeong coolly. "I'm glad to find you at home."

A pause, an upward curl of lip.

"Your real home."

"I'm sorry it's not fit to greet Your Excellency," Tae-eul says, mildly, as she reaches the landing. Koo Seo Ryeong doesn't step back, so she has to awkwardly move in the small space between the door and the giraffe behind her to unlock her door. Perhaps it was something in the water in Corea, she reflects, but they really did seem to produce people who couldn't resist being unnecessarily dramatic.

Koo Seo-Ryeong waits until the lights are switched on before she ducks her head to step over the threshold. She looks around, taking everything in- there's not much, Tae-eul admits, but it still feels like exposing her underbelly to a predator. But Jeong Tae-eul isn't a fool; she knows which battles to pick.

As does Prime Minister Koo, she thinks, watching her face as her gaze lights on the wall with the photographs. Without a word, she makes her way to it; saunters, really, like a giant, sleek cat strolling the savannah. The tension from the stairs is gone, replaced by indolence; which one is the act, Jeong Tae-eul wouldn't place bets on.

"Would you like something to drink?" Tae-eul says, after a minute.

"Hmm?"

Koo Seo-Ryeong tilts her head, showing off her lovely profile, her porcelain-cheek finely contoured, the elegant line of her neck. Her hair is coiled in a loose bun settled at her nape, a delicate white- jade hairpin holding it in place. She looks like the queen she intends to be.

"No."

"Suit yourself," Tae-eul says, shrugging, as she walks to the counter and turns the coffee maker on. "Personally, I find that caffeine helps speed up my brain."

Koo Seo-Ryeong turns toward her then, a half-smile playing on her cherry red lips.

"What's the hurry," she drawls. "Do you have somewhere to be?"

A pause, then a long, fair hand lifted to cover her mouth, showing off perfectly manicured nails in that same blood-red as her shoes. "Oh, that's right, you must be waiting for His Majesty."

Oh for the love of—

"What do you need my help for?"

"Did I say that I needed your help?"

Tae-eul rolls her eyes, as the coffee-maker hisses behind her.

"Your Excellency," she says, trying to use her best traffic-cop-explaining-rules-to-eighty year old ahjumma-in-a sedan-voice, "I can't imagine anything less than an emergency has brought you to my door. So, let's get to it."

"Where's your mother?" Koo Seo-Ryeong asks.

Tae-eul blinks at her.

"Dead," she says, after a minute. "I was five, it was cancer, there was nothing we could do."

She thinks rapidly, trying to remember the factoids of Koo Seo-ryeong's life that she'd devoured during her brief time in Corea.

"Where's yours?" she asks, but she thinks she knows the answer.

"Lee Lim's got her," says Koo Seo-Ryeong, casually, as though reporting the weather, "Somewhere here, in this world."

"Are you sure?" Tae-eul asks, after a moment. "It's my understanding that he usually—that he doesn't leave any loose ends," she amends, at the last minute, because there's something in the rigid nonchalance of Koo Seo-Ryeong's face that tells her she's not ready to hear the words "dead" and "your mother" in the same sentence.

"Somewhere in this world," Koo Seo-Ryeong repeats, "I'm sure."

"And you want me to help you find her," Tae-eul prods.

Seo-Ryeong shrugs. "You're a detective aren't you- and you and that little hound dog that follows you around- you've been investigating Lee Lim for a while now, so—"

Tae-eul sends up a prayer of thanks that hyungnim isn't around to hear this.

"Why should I, though?" Tae-eul asks.

It's not that she hasn't already made up her mind- taking down the bad guy is the job description, hello, and that's the golden rule even if the person who benefits from the work is a snake—but Koo Seo-Ryeong is a mystery she'd never thought she'd get a chance to solve, and here she was, delivered to her doorstep.

Plus, this was work.

Koo Seo-Ryeong looks bored.

"Do I have to explain the advantages of taking down a common enemy? Are you really the child you look like?"

Tae-eul takes a sip of coffee to hide her grin- but not fast enough, because Koo Seo-Ryeong's expression changes into a storm cloud.

"I see," she says.

Then the expression smoothens out, like a magic wand has been waved.

It was fascinating.

Tae-eul wonders if she'd ever thought of a career as an actor, and then reflects that Koo Seo-Ryeong's makjang style was probably more suited to her current career.

"If those are the games you like," the Prime Minister of Corea is drawling, "I can guarantee that His Majesty is going to bore you to death in two weeks."

"I'll take my chances," says Tae-eul placidly, hopping onto the kitchen counter, and swinging her legs. "Alright, eonni- I can call you that, right? Since we'll be working together and all? Tell me everything you know."

"You may not call me eonni," says Her Excellency, from her throne at the center of Master Jeong's 2 x 4, "And I will tell you what you need to know."

"See," says Tae-eul, slurping her coffee loudly and enjoying the barely hidden wince from the woman opposite her, "That kind of thing isn't going to work. All or nothing, Your Excellency."

"The things that you don't know, and I do, could fill the library of Sungkyunkwan," declares Koo Seo-Ryeong.

A pause.

"I will answer any questions pertinent to the situation."

"Cool, cool," says Tae-eul, "I can live with that. What's your favourite dish, Your Excellency?"

A glare.

"Why is that relevant?"

"It’s relevant to our dinner plans. I can't think when I'm hungry."

A (glorious) sneer.

"Pathetic," says the woman who possibly secretly smoked two packs a day to remain that svelte and run a country.

Tae-eul shrugs, pulling her phone out. "Alright, fried beef dumplings it is, then. I take it you won't mind it spicy?"

They're poring over the files that Koo Seo-Ryeong had brought- intelligence reports, and her own notes from her meetings with Lee Lim, comparing them with the information that Tae-eul has so far on her side, when the doorbell rings.

"Oh yum, food," says Tae-eul springing up and scooting to the door.

It's Jo Yeong, looking like Doom, as usual.

"Oh, not food," she says, disappointed, and steps aside to let him make his dramatic entrance.

Seriously, Coreans.

But hyungnim's right behind him- or would be, if he wasn't leaning against the railing with a put-upon look on his face.

Behind her, she can hear the exchange of artillery fire as Captain Jo Yeong meets the bane of his life in Master Jeong's living room.

She closes the door behind her.

"So, what, you and that crazy woman are allies now?" Kang Sin-jae asks, as he thrusts a bag at her, from which the delicious smell of fried dumplings wafts up.

"Nope," she says, rooting around in the brown paper bag, because she knows a fried food aficionado when she sees one, and if she doesn't get to her share now, it was unlikely that Koo Seo-Ryeong would be considerate enough to leave her any. Besides, for a woman like Koo Seo-Ryeong, ally would rank higher that blood-brother or soulmate for other mortals, and Tae-eul hadn't earned it. Not yet. There was time, she thinks, for that.

"Nah," she says, again, over half a mouthful of crunchy goodness. "just two people working together. Shall we go in before there are bodies to bury?"

"What, again?" mutters hyungnim, but he opens the door for her, and follows her in.

[honorbound-to-the-pen]

Fictober Day 3

Prompt number: 3

Fandom: AFK Arena (mobile game)

Rating: Teen and up

Warnings/Tags: Major character death, major character undeath, angst, hurt not comfort

Prompt: “I’ve waited for this.”

 The words echoed around the large stone chamber, deep beneath a long-forgotten, forsaken necropolis: “I’ve waited for this”. Baden sat firmly on Thane’s chest, straddling his torso and pinning his sword and arm to the frigid floor with his knee. Thane’s face was white, his teeth clenched and his jaw taut, vaguely shaking, though from anger or cold he was unsure. 

 Grinding his knee down onto Thane’s wrist and huffing at the grimace of pain that flashed across his face, Baden gazed down at his jagged spear, his head cocked slightly to the side. After several seconds of apparent deliberation, he tossed the spear into the dark of the cave, into the darkness. Both men heard it clink against a shadowed wall and roll to a stop; though, Thane couldn’t see it, pinned as he was, and Baden kept his dead-eyed green gaze fixed on Thane’s face.

 With one hand now free, Baden reached up and behind his head, his fingers briefly fiddling with a clasp, before removing his hand, his mask-muzzle coming away in his hand. Baden stared at it for a second, before meeting Thane’s eyes again, his expression making Thane’s blood run cold.

Using Baden’s face, the lich forced Baden’s lips into a cruel smirk. It looked unnatural and demented, coupled with Baden’s still emotionless eyes. If Thane concentrated on the air just behind Baden’s head out of the corner of his eye, Thane could almost make out the lich’s outline, sickly green and grey, looming behind Baden with the same awful smile affixed to his face. 

Focusing back on Baden’s face, Thane’s heart picked up; a sudden change from the slow, icy throbbing that had been present moments before. Baden’s face was filled with anguish, his brow furrowed and his mouth open, as if ready to speak. 

As if on cue, Baden’s mouth slammed shut, making Thane wince instinctively in sympathy. Baden’s face regained it’s horrible smile, this time spread even wider.

“He really likes you, this one. Yes, he spends all of his days pacing inside his head, trying to find his way out,” the lich ground out. Baden’s voice sounded strange, his tongue unused to such mockery and cruelty— especially at Thane’s expense. “Your poor boyfriend, still believing he will get back to you, someday, somehow. It’s sweet, really, how devoted he is to you. Did he ever tell you? How much he loves you, how he had planned to propose after you were both discharged? How, at night, in his tent, he would imagine you there, laid out next to him, just close enough to-”

“Shut up. Get out of him, leave him out of this. This has nothing to do with him.” Thane’s voice shook with anger, the life he and Baden could have had— still could have— flashing in front of his eyes. His heart ached in his chest, the weight of hope and pain and love so heavy a burden it hurt like something physical. 

“Oh, but it does, little soldier. Our lovely Baden tried to escape me, desperately tried to escape my hold on him, to find you and warn you of what I had planned.” The disgust was evident in the lich’s/Baden’s voice, his lip curling in distaste at the sentiment. “While this may not be how I had planned to get rid of you, the little thorn in my side that you are,” the lich said, accenting his words by pressing Baden’s hooked dagger, which had served as his hand since his death, into Thane’s neck. The lich/Baden applied just enough pressure to release a dribble of blood from just under Thane’s chin, but Thane met the lich’s/Baden’s eyes and held his gaze, refusing to tip his head back to escape from the point of the blade. 

“Oh yes, I’ve waited for this. With you gone, his spirit will finally be broken, and he will be mine to control, body and mind. He is remarkably resilient; no matter how many times I tortured him and flayed his skin from his bones until his eyes went dark, he still refused to submit. So committed to his mate. Endearing, really.” The lich used Baden’s hand to run his fingers across Thane’s cheek. This time, Thane did move away; Baden’s skin was cold and dry, and Thane’s skin tingled in mixed disgust and desire where Baden/the lich had touched him.

“I will give you a moment to say goodbye. Use it wisely, it will be the last you spend together while both of your minds are your own.” With that, Baden’s face became lax, the lich seemingly having withdrawn into a recess of Baden’s mind. 

Baden blinked his eyes several times, his mouth twitching minutely as he came back to himself. Shaking his head like a dog, he looked down at himself. At the sight of Thane, still pinned by Baden’s bodyweight, his eyes widened and he gasped. 

For a moment, the pair looked at each other, breathing heavily. Thane closed his eyes, breathing deeply, before opening them again and meeting Baden’s. Though they were still the same sickly green they had been minutes before, they now held such an air of kindness and sorrow, so much so that Thane felt tears prickling behind his eyes.

Baden shifted his leg to free Thane’s hand before reaching down with his own and grabbing Thane’s, interlocking their fingers and squeezing gently. Bringing their fingers to his lips, Baden pressed a cold kiss to Thane’s knuckles, gazing down at him in open adoration. Despite himself, Thane’s face began to color; Baden had died while they were still in the army, still in the service of the Rayne family. Such casual affection and intimacy had never been allowed between the two of them, both too dedicated to their duties.

“Hello, Thane. It’s been...so long. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to bring him here, with us, I was trying to-”

“Don’t worry, I know what you meant to do. I’ve missed you, more than anything. But right now, we’ve got to think about how we’re going to get out of here; I haven’t the faintest idea how I got here, I wasn’t in my right mind while I was finding my way.”

“We’ll get out, don’t worry. I know the way, I’ll show you. Just give me a moment, it’s been so long since I’ve seen your face without...it’s been so long.” Baden’s smile faltered for a moment, his words becoming clipped and rough, before leaning down to rest his forehead against Thane’s, both of their eyes shining with unshed tears and their mouths forming into trembling, tentative smiles.

Leaning down, Baden came closer to Thane’s face, his lips pressed together and his hand gently squeezing Thane’s three times. Thane sighed softly, closing his eyes as Baden moved to kiss him. When the kiss didn’t come, Thane opened his eyes, brow creased in confusion and concern. 

Smiling back down at Thane was the lich, once again wearing Baden’s face. The smile was too wide and too cruel, eyes once again a dull olive color when, moments before, they had been wonderfully alive. The lich chuckled, raising their still interlocked hands off the ground and tilting his head.

“Such sentiment. So sweet. You didn’t really think I would let you both go, did you; I did tell you to say goodbye, after all,” the lich chuckled, face unchanged as Thane tried in vain to wrench his hand from the iron grip the lich/Baden had on his hand. “Ah ah ah, little swordsman, there is no getting away.”

“He really thought he was going to kiss you, didn’t he? I assure you, he had every intent of doing it, I just couldn’t let him be so tainted like that. The emotions he had as he leaned down, though...delicious.” The lich closed his eyes and hummed with satisfaction. “Though equally as delightful is his despair. I wish you could hear him, you know; he’s screaming your name, trying to break away from me and make his way back to you. The poor dear, he thinks he can do it. Ah well, no matter. Time to finish what I—we— came for.” 

The blade resting against Thane’s neck, warmed to the temperature of his skin and slightly sticky with his blood, rose several inches. Baden/the lich repositioned himself so his knees caged Thane’s stomach and ribs. Thane had given up trying to extricate his hand from Baden’s, though his arm was still tense, his muscles taut and ready to strike. 

“Goodbye, Thane Rayne. Perhaps I shall raise you, much the same as I did Baden; then you two can be together in undeath. Such a fitting end for the two lovebirds. Now, this will only-” In a flash, Baden’s spear arm came down and stabbed into Thane’s chest. Thane gasped, pain overwhelming all of his senses in the brief seconds before his eyes lost their light.     “NO,” screamed Baden, seeming to wrest control away from the lich for a moment. Tears sprang to his eyes, falling onto Thane’s chest and mingling with the blood already soaking through Thane’s jacket and armor. 

“Oh yes, little soldier, the little swordsman has breathed his last.” Wrenching his arm back, Baden/the lich withdrew his spear arm from Thane’s chest. The jagged edges of the spear hooked into Thane’s chest, lifting his body off the ground several inches before tearing and thumping back to the floor. Blood poured out of the wound, flowing over Baden’s knees and soaking his greaves and the cloth underneath them.

In Baden’s head, he was screaming, beating the walls of the cell he occupied in the times when the lich fully occupied his body and mind. His spear arm clashed and clanged off the stone walls, chipping and overshadowing his echoing crys. 

Outside of Baden’s mind, the lich used Baden’s mouth to smile down at Thane’s corpse. Getting to his feet, Baden/the lich brushed dust from his pauldrons, covering them in Thane’s blood. 

Stepping over Thane’s body until he stood at his head, Baden/the lich reached down and grabbed Thane’s cape, gathering the fabric in his fist. Straightening up, the lich took one last look around the chamber before turning and striding towards the darkened entrance of the room— where Baden’s spear lay, dragging Thane’s body behind him, the cape still clutched in his fist, heedless of the trail of blood that they left.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34271986

[btsinwonderland]

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 8: Conversations

A Loki fanfiction!

Previous Chapter --- Next Chapter

Full Chapter List

-----------------------------

“I can take you back to your room!” You said, reaching for Valkyrie’s bag to carry it for her.

She clicked her tongue at you. “Will you stop fussing about with me, I’m fine! I can carry my own things.”

You smiled tightly and nodded. Valkyrie sighed and put a hand on your arm. “But, I appreciate what a sweetheart you’ve been to me. Thank you.”

“What are you going to do now that practice is cancelled?” You said.

Valkyrie shook her head. “Ugh, I don’t know. I’ve been itching to get back to the field but we can’t even do that! I don’t even know what happened, Freya. One minute, I got the quaffle in my hands and all I care about is that goal. Next, everything’s gone to shit and I’m getting pecked to death by these damn birds.”

“And now Ken’s missing,” you said. Your lips were chapped with dryness.

“Yeah, it seems like our last year won’t be as fun as we thought…” Valkyrie said, a gloom appearing over her face.

You bid each other goodbye for the day and went to your separate common rooms. You did not want to leave her on her own, but throughout your friendship, you found that letting her be was sometimes best. Valkyrie did not like being coddled too much and appreciated the space. You knew she would reach out when she was ready, and you would wait for her as always.

With Valkyrie’s presence gone, you were left to think about your own problems. Professor Laufeyson had already occupied nearly half of your thoughts earlier on, and now he took over most of them. Behind every question, you wondered if he knew something or was a part of it in some way. It had become a strange mystery that you had no way to resolve since he did not tell you anything.

Upon entering your room, you sat on your bed and pulled out a book from your side table: Spells for the Common House Cat. The dark red leather was faded, but the wording still kept its former gloss. You ran a hand over the cover gently. “Alright, you came to me for a reason, and I’m going to find out what it is.”

You opened the book to reveal a random page. Once again, gibberish greeted you:

Capture grunting mermaids and the secret to life is in the cherry pies. They are so good and open fresh like market Thursdays! Hate to spill the dogs and cats, but it is not in good taste to leave the wine hanging from the bedroom. I cannot dream in rainy houses and Leah makes sure of it!

“What are you trying to say?” you said aloud.

You peeled through a couple more pages and though it was different, none of it made any sense. The entire book was filled with words, and yet, none of them meant anything to you. The name Leah came up several times, but even that did not stir any recollection within you.

From your robes, you pulled out your want and pointed to the middle of the open book. “Aparecium,” you said, and a speck of light came out of your wand and disappeared into the pages of the book.

For nearly a minute you waited, and nothing happened. You raised your wand to try the spell again when the words on the pages vanished. The now blank yellowish white parchment paper faced you and readjusted in your bed. “What are you?”

You sat there staring at it when you had the idea to take out your quill and inkwell from your drawer. Taking the book and quill to the small desk against the wall, you sat down and wrote in the middle of the blank page, Hello. Your words gradually disappeared, as if the ink absorbed into the book.

For several seconds, there was nothing. And then, words appeared in the middle of the page - in the same rushed scrawl that had been in the book before. Hello there, it said. Then it disappeared.

You sat back for a moment, shocked. You took a breath and then dipped your quill into the inkwell. My name is Freya Eves, you wrote.

Your words disappeared again. And in their place new words appeared in the other script, Hello Freya Eves, my name is Leah Mai.

You swallowed, your nerves sizzled with excitement and a bit of fear. You wrote again: Do you know about the Tesseract?

You waited.

Yes.

Your heart sped as you wrote: Can you tell me?

No.

You leaned forward in disappointment. But then more words appeared.

But I can show you. Let me take you back fifty years ago…

You jumped when you felt yourself being pulled inwards towards the book. The surrounding air compressed, and you found yourself sucked into a spell. One moment you were in your bedroom and the next, you were in the hallways of Hogwarts. However, everything was in a desaturated sort of colour; as if it were an old film.

Students passed you in the hall talking in anxious whispers, and someone nearly walked right into you. You wandered down the hall and spotted a beautiful black-haired girl, skin as pale as the marble on the facades. She was leaning on the stone railing and staring curiously up the stairs.

“Are you Leah Mai?” You said.

The girl ignored you and continued to look up the stairs.

You spoke again. “Hello, can you hear me?”

She paid no attention to you, as if you were invisible and inaudible. You followed her gaze up the steps and saw a much younger Headmistress Frigga, looking extremely grim while a group of professors carried someone on a stretcher down the stairs. That someone had a white sheet over their body and face. As they descended the steps, a hand slipped out from beneath the white sheet and you saw dark blood drip on the floor in little beads. A small gasp escaped your lips.

“Mai!” Said Headmistress Frigga in a stern voice.

Both you and the black-haired girl beside you turned your head to face her. The girl answered in a calm voice. “Professor Frigga,” she said, walking up the steps.

Frigga crossed her arms and gazed down at the girl. “It is not wise to be wandering around this late hour, Leah.”

The girl looked down and placed her hands behind her back. “Y-yes professor. I suppose...I had to see for myself if the rumors were true.”

Frigga clenched her jaw and unclenched. “I’m afraid they are, Leah. They are true.”

“About the school as well?” Leah said. “I don’t have a home to go to, they wouldn’t close Hogwarts would they, professor?”

Frigga sighed. “I understand Leah, but I’m afraid Headmaster Oppin will have no choice.”

“So if it all stopped? If the person responsible was caught,” the girl said, hands firmly clasped behind her.

Frigga leaned in with a curious, yet gentle, look. “Is there something you wish to tell me?”

The girl raised her brows. “No, madam. Nothing.”

“Very well then, off you go.”

Leah walked up the steps and around the hall. You glanced at Frigga one more time before racing up the steps to catch up with Leah. She went down the dimly lit halls, descending a curved set of stone steps into the lower levels, which you were unfamiliar with despite having seven years of exploring the halls of the school. Leah stopped where there was a statue of an old woman holding a lantern. The lantern cast a yellowish colour over the grey stone of her face. Leah tapped the woman’s nose three times with her wand, once on the left cheek, and then ran her wand across the woman’s lips. The statue’s mouth opened large enough for Leah’s fist to fit through. She pulled out a beautiful cloak of silver and blue.

When she put it on, her entire body disappeared. Then, she placed it overhead, and you were alone in the corridor. You concentrated and could barely see a pale outline which moved quickly past you and back up the stairs. You realized she was completely invisible, but the book wanted you to follow her, so you did.

You went to the Headmaster’s floor, where the halls were dead and empty save for two hushed voices. There was one very tall, thin man with a salt and pepper beard down to his waist, which he stroked frequently. The other was a burlier man, but shorter. His face was stern, and he had an eyepatch over his left eye. There was a black raven perched on his shoulder. This man had an air of power and seemed to be speaking passionately.

“We cannot deny that a student is manipulating the creature, Oppin!” The stern man said. His eye blazed with anger.

The tall thin man, Headmaster Oppin, you presumed, spoke. His voice was a gentle rasp. “Odin, none of our students are capable of such dark sorcery, you must know that.”

You staggered back at the realization that you were staring at the Minister of Magic himself, Professor Laufeyson’s father.

“The Dark One has risen, and his shadow lingers here. Doesn’t the Michaels boy prove that?”

Oppin gazed at the floor through his bifocal glasses. “They found his body just by the Black Lake...it was in two pieces, Odin.” He removed his glasses with a grimace and rubbed his eyes. “I do not know what we should do.”

“We need to use the Tesseract.”

Oppin glanced up at Odin, looking almost upset. “We cannot use the magic of the Primis!”

Odin shook his head. “You have no idea how many good auror’s we have lost at the ministry, Oppin! Tell me where the Tesseract is. You merely delay what will be,” he said, with a hiss. His raven flapped its wings before settling back down.

Oppin set his mouth in a thin line and gave a resigned sigh. “I am sure I will deeply regret this decision, but I cannot bear to lose any more students. Come,” he said and led Odin into his office. You followed them up the steps, with the pale figure of Leah in front of you.

They rushed through the door when Oppin spoke. “Deep in the Forbidden Forest, there is a Weeping Willow with black leaves. At the heart of it is a hollow which leads down into the caves where the Tesseract was found at the bottom of an underground lake. We dared not touch it, and I am the only wizard left who remembers where it is. They erased their own memories to relieve themselves of the burden of the Primis.” His voice was grave.

You saw the pale outline of Leah twitch before she bumped the open door and raced out of the room. Oppin and Odin briefly glanced in her direction before returning to their exchange. You thought you should follow her, but you stayed by Odin, transfixed by their conversation.

Oppin spoke again. “Do you really think this will stop the monster?”

“It will stop the one controlling the monster,” Odin said.

You felt a pull from behind you as the compressed feeling came over you again. No, I need to know more! Light surrounded you as you passed through the book and found yourself thrown back into the chair in your room. You nearly lost your balance and toppled over, but gripped the edge of the desk. Your heart fluttered wildly from what you had just seen and your hands shook.

You knew where the Tesseract was and that it was the key to stopping the monster in the Forbidden Forest.

For a moment, you wondered why events were repeating fifty years later. And a dangerous question arose in your thoughts. Who was controlling the creature now? Your stomach churned when a certain dark-haired and blue-eyed professor came to mind. In your heart, you believed he would never do such a thing. But with everything happening, there was little he had given you to trust him. You wanted to reach out to him, to tell him everything, but your doubts clouded all your hopes. It was up to you now to find the Tesseract and save Pom’s brother.

That night, before dinner, you followed the same path from the book and descended the circular stairs to one of the lower levels of Hogwarts. You nearly jumped from excitement when you saw the familiar statue of the old woman and the lantern. Cobwebs covered her face now. Upon pulling out your wand, you tapped her nose three times, once on the left cheek, and then ran your wand across her lips. Her mouth gaped open, and you reached inside apprehensively. Feeling the softness of cloth, you pulled out the cloak and marvelled at it. After dusting it off, you put it on and cried out in surprise when your entire body disappeared.

“Thank you, Leah!” you said aloud.

You arrived at the Great Hall with the cloak tucked away in a cloth bag. Upon eating a quick meal of pea soup and pumpkin bread, you searched for Mo. He was in the hall with Nila, standing suspiciously close as she giggled at something he said. You hid in a corner and put on the cloak. Sneaking up behind him, you pulled his ear.

He swatted his head, and Nila gave him a strange look. “Are you alright?” she said.

Mo glanced behind him, right through you. “Um...y-yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

When he turned back, you kicked him gently on the rear, and he jumped up. “Alright, you bastard! Who’s messing with me?”

“Listen, I have to go, I’ll talk to you later Mo,” Nila said and rushed away, giving him a sideways glance.

“What the hell is going on here?” Mo said, exasperated.

You bent over laughing and pulled the cloak off to see the initially angry, then stupefied expression on Mo’s face. It took you a few minutes to stop laughing so you could explain yourself and your plan. He stood in silence, gaping at you, while he listened.

“Are you bloody mad?” he said, after you finished.

“No, I’m just the only one who can help find her brother. The creature is guarding the Tesseract, making sure nobody gets to it. That thing could be the reason everything’s been going to shit!”

“Why don’t you tell a professor?” Mo said, crossing his arms.

You rolled your eyes. “Mo, we have absolutely no idea who is controlling this monster. It could be a student, but have you thought maybe it could only be a powerful witch or wizard who could even conjure this kind of magic? A professor would be much more likely…” you said, dreading the thought of Professor Laufeyson.

Mo sighed. “So let me get this straight. You want to sneak out in the middle of the night, go into the forest where this monster lives, get the Tesseract and then what? Magically fix everything?”

“And find Ken,” you added.

“You’re mental.”

“Will you help me?”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s go get Pom and find her brother.”

***

Loki sat in his office grading assignments. So many poor performing students. What has magic come to these days? Some kids were barely trying. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. An icy breeze blew through the room and knocked a few papers off his desk. He cursed and went to go pick them up. Glancing outside, he thought he saw the faintest movement of a tree branch move against the wind. He gazed out the window suspiciously, but there was no other trace of movement other than leaves blowing against the castle.

The girl surfaced in his mind.

“I don’t want you to die.” She had said.

He laughed at himself for being so utterly pathetic that a single word from a stranger would move him so deeply. Loki dared not admit how his heart pulsated at the girl’s words. He thought of her face, quite beautiful, though she clearly did not know it. She was the kind to grow into her confidence, which was just brooding below the surface. It was that confidence that moved in her body, in her hips, whenever she ran from him. It was that confidence that gave him snarky replies to his accusations. And it was that confidence that gave her dark eyes a defiant glow. Loki chuckled at how silly it all was. She was everything that she needed to be, and yet she had no idea.

“Don’t do it,” he said to himself as he unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk. He sighed as he retrieved a folded piece of blank paper and placed it in front of him. This was a shameful ritual he developed recently. It started when he grew suspicious of the girl’s knowledge regarding the Tesseract. He simply needed to know where she went and who she spoke with. That was all. Reconnaissance only.

As the days passed, he found himself searching for her location on a whim. Finding ways he might run into her again.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” he said, pointing his wand to the center of the paper.

The paper filled out with intricate floor plans of the Hogwarts grounds and little footsteps with name tags showing every single person in the vicinity. He spared a passing glance at the name Frigga Borson, pacing in her office. As he searched the castle, he saw the name Thor Odinson in this office with Valkyrie Brunnhilde. At this late hour? Curious, he would have to tuck that information away for later.

“Where are you, little minx?” He said, exploring the map.

From the corner of his eye, he caught movement outside of the castle walls. He unfolded the map to its outer limit, just at the start of the Forbidden forest. He moved the map closer to his face and nearly crumpled it in his hands as he recognized three names grouped closely together, wandering towards the forest.

Mo Darwish. Pom Clemmens. Freya Eves.

Loki cursed and shut the map. “Mischief managed,” he said as he grabbed his coat and nearly ran out the door.

What was that damned girl up to now?

------------------------

Chapter Footnotes

I'm sorry for the late post, I was supposed to post this yesterday but things got so busy this weekend. I made time today though and finished what I hope is an interesting and fun chapter! The plot thickens....

Sending you happy thoughts and good vibes :)

[popculturebuffet]

Sam and Max: Freelance Police: Christmas Bloody Christmas Reviewcap (Comission for WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy people! I do know it’s christmas time at all and so does Kev, my most consitant patron and contributor. As such he’s comissioned a whole sack load of christmas reviews. And to start us off it’s time to call up the freelance police for a christmas case. 

I got on the Sam and Max train late. I’d always been curious about our bloodthirsty heroes, sure, but I never saw the cartoon as a kid, didn’t have a pc for the telltale games and haven’t got aroudn to buying the relreases of those games. It always seemed up my alley but I took way too long to get to it. Once I did via watching their short lived but much beloved and throughly awesome show though I was hooked. Still need to get those games. But the always changing adventures of a steady voiced and handed dog with a hidden violent streak nad his hyperactive rabbit best buddy with a violent streak so visable his walls are decorated in blood stains, he’s named them jeff, rodney and gibraltar if you were curious, are right up my comedy ally: weird, clever and fucking insane. 

So I was pleased as punch to cover this for Kev as I hadn’t seen the show’s christmas ep yet. Is it a lovely pair of socks or a sack of coal? find out under the cut!

We open with our heroes enjoying some cocoa on Christmas Eve at Sam’s Sweet Old Granny’s place. Naturally peace, a crackling fire and some jam jams annoy the tar out of Max.. sam thought he’d got all that out of his fur from max trying to drown that mammoth. 

Thankfully Sweet Old Granny has some holiday fun scheduled and gets our heroes to the chopper. Their going to the holly and jolliest place on earth.. a federal prison!

Sweet Old Granny used to work there as the tough as nails warden, but beneath her iron fist lurks a heart of gold as she just wants to give her former inmates some holiday cheer and enlisted our heroes to help because thanks to The Geek she has backup nephews cooling in her sewing room next to her crochete of that time she met jimmi hendrix and they fought a wendigo together. 

Shockingly for a prison, the inmates LOVE granny, which given she’s going into a den full of people she kept locked up, says a lot. I wish more wardens were like Granny: tough, fair, and actually interested in helping rehabilitate her prisoners instead of just keeping the money moving. 

But enough about the grim and unfair realities of the prison complex, it’s present time as our heroes hand out presents to all the good-ish boys. Turns out though there’s one bad apple in the bunch, Hertzog, who was planning a christmas eve escape joker style. If not with AS much style as he’s not riding a giant fucking christmas tree like it was the end of a christmas remake of Dr. Strangelove.  I GOTTA make a note to review Christmas With The Joker next year. 

Said distractoin is a blackout blackout by using Max as a bat. Our heroes give chase, helped by Sweet Old Granny knowing the place and find an inmate named.. jakes.... 

So alternate 90′s me gets interrogated with our heroes planning to be the somebody to call his momma, and find out Hertzog plans to take the warden hostage, having taken out the guards. 

So our heroes decide to hit the showers where we get the best and most “how the hell did they get away with this” joke of the episode” 

Sam: If these walls could talk Max: (Disgusted) I’d prefer if they stayed silent. 

They crack me up little buddy. Herzog ends up running into them in the shower and our heroes towel whip their way to victory though Herzog manages to escape to the warden’s office. If your wondering why i’m not mentioning as many jokes this time around.. that’s because like EVERY episode of freelance police this episode is so stuffed i’d have to stop every sentence to point them out. 

Our heroes use a giant willy wonka fan to catch up, and we get an utterly triumphant jingle jangly beat down as Sam’s Sweet Old Granny uses a hard as the thing fruitcake to bash hertzog’s lights out. I love getting to type things like that. OUr heroes beat him and win.. but hertzog escapes. 

So it’s wrap up time and our heroes bask in the warm glow of Sweet Old Granny’s awesomeness and the prisoners happiness at getting a christmas chainsaw, the one present i’ve always wanted but never gotten. Maybe this year. And Santa shows up (and in a nice bit asks them to sign for it) with a last minute gift: herzog, who he apparently gave some season’s beatings off screen. MERRY CHRISTMAS! Christmas Bloody Christmas managed to make itself a must watch every year from here on out in one viewing. It has the advantages of most sam and max eps: it’s fast and furiously paced, fires jokes out just as fast, and is utterly and wonderfully ludicrous. Add in a great guest character in Sam’s Sweet Old Granny who we finally get to meet after being mentioned often throughout the show and you have a bonified classic i’m sad wasn’t on my best christmas episode list. The entirety of the show is on youtube, go check it out no if you haven’t or even if you have as a present to yourself. 

If you want ot help spread the good cheer head over to my patreon and help kick over a few bucks to keep this blog a rollin and thanks for reading

[iron--spider]

I woke up at 3am yesterday to watch The Devil All the Time and I’ve been thinking about it since. I’m gonna put my thoughts and feelings and a review of sorts behind the cut, because I am gonna talk about it freely, so there will be spoilers! So don’t click if you don’t wanna see. I’ll also be discussing the content of the film and I know that might bother people, so that stuff is in here, too! And it’ll be really long because you know I can’t shut up.

So, I loved it. I loved it loved it loved it. I read the book a long time ago when I first found out Tom was gonna be in it, and the only problem I had with the book was that the POVs would change in the middle of a paragraph lmao, but other than that I thought it was pretty perfect. I knew the movie was gonna be pretty brutal, because the book is brutal, so I was prepared.

-BUT I think the critics HIGHLY HIGHLY exaggerated how bad the content was. Like, seriously, they acted as if this was gonna be a Saw movie. I was preparing for blatant, horrific gore, but it didn’t live up to their dramatics at all. There’s blood and nasty situations, but every single episode of Game of Thrones is worse than this movie, as are most episodes of any crime drama on a paid network. I actually thought they were super, super tactful of all their horrific shit. The dog death was off screen and the shot of the body (described by the critics as literally traumatic) was so quick (enough to shut your eyes) and in the dark. I also argue that particular moment is extremely important for Arvin’s journey, because it’s the moment he truly turns on his father and turns on religion entirely, and he carries it with him his whole life (it’s what he flashes back to when he says “I know what my daddy did” because it’s the marker of all Willard’s mistakes) and it winds up being one of the last things he does before he leaves everything behind. Burying Jack’s bones. So, like, I despise dog death or any animal death in my entertainment, but it’s important here and handled well. And all the worst death scenes are either extremely fast (Helen’s and Gary Matthew’s) or shown in negative (all the photos). I think Bodecker’s headshot with Bobo is probably the worst and is also pretty quick. I don’t know if this means I’m a jaded bitch, but God the way they were all whining and crying, I thought it’d be a million times worse. It could have been, with the book’s descriptions, so it was actually pretty tame. Lenora’s death affected me the most and they cut away from that, too. I guess it’ll still bother some people, but there are many, many mainstream things that are far more violent and gory than this was.

-I thought it was a beautiful movie. I never mind films that are slightly slower but I love ones that use their time to lay things out and really show us what’s going on, build the ambiance and the relationships. I loved the narration (which I was worried about), and it really made me feel like we were visiting a moment in time that was important. Like something that was written and should be learned about. Rumors in a town you’re passing through. The ghosts of past trauma and transgressions looming over everyone that’s left.

-I liked the changes they made with Roy and Theodore because I thought that storyline kinda meandered in the book and I’m glad that Roy was actually gone the whole time and not just neglecting to come back to Lenora.

-The only real complaints I can make, I’ll get out of the way here: I wanted a little bit more time with Carl and Sandy. Carl was really creepy, but he could have been much creepier. In the book he was the one looking at the pictures constantly, Not Sandy, and that really showed that he was the one with the sickness, the one pushing them forward and orchestrating it all. I thought they did well with showing how Sandy deteriorated in her efforts with him through the years, but I would have liked to see a bit more of their personal lives together and her fear of him and her genuine feelings about what they’re doing, because the book goes into that a lot more. I also wasn’t a fan of Lee finding the picture early and knowing some about what they were doing, because I liked how it was a surprise to him in the book and yet he still did all he could to cover it up. And lastly, in the book there’s a scene with Arvin after he kills Sandy and Carl where he’s in a motel and he takes like 18 showers because he can’t get the grime of what he’s done off of him, and he looks at the picture and has a nightmare about killing Sandy, and I really would have loved if they’d kept it in. It would have been another ‘acting’ moment for Tom, and it would have been nice for us to see his direct trauma and reaction to everything that’s piling on top of him.

-BUT that’s it. I loved pretty much every single other thing and decision that they made. The cinematography was TOP NOTCH. You could tell they filmed on 35mm film, you could see the grain, and it really, really added to it. Antonio Campos is a very skilled director and I trusted him at the helm of this story. Everything looked so authentic, all the sets and the costumes. The soundtrack and score were AMAZING and enhanced the film. Technically it was just perfect in every regard to me.

-Acting! Acting! God this was like...a massive testament to the casting department and the talent of these people. Everyone was on their A game. Bill Skarsgård has been on my radar since Castle Rock (which I recommend to everybody, both seasons) and he was so natural and great in this role. Haley Bennet was absolutely adorable as Charlotte, I loved her cute face and her sweet relationship with little Arvin. Riley Keough was so great as Sandy with the limited amount of time she had, and Jason Clarke is one of my favorites but he was unrecognizable in this as creepy ass Carl. Harry Melling was a far cry from Dudley Dursley and he did a great job with his screen time, too. Same with Mia Wasikowska, who didn’t have much to do (same as poor Helen in the book) but she was able to garner our sympathy anyway. Seb Stan was slimy and gross but he pulled it off so well. Eliza Scanlen has been one of my favorites since Sharp Objects (another one that’s brutal as hell but I recommend it, she’s so scary) and she was so, so great here. Robert Pattinson was ALRIGHT, everybody talks him up over this but he felt a little hammy to me and a little too over the top, but there’s no denying his talent.

-Now, the reason we’re all here. Tom. My God. As soon as it was over I just didn’t know what the hell to do, I didn’t even know how to....go on, lmfao. We all know he’s talented, that’s why we’re here, that’s why we love him, but his performance in this is just BEYOND all that. Beyond comprehension. The man is only 24 years old and he’s out here outacting people who have been in the industry for longer than he’s been alive. He is SHOCKINGLY good. I knew he’d be perfect for Arvin as soon as I read the book, but he just completely embodied this role in a way that I couldn’t have imagined. He doesn’t show up in the movie until about 45 minutes in (which doesn’t hurt it because of the strength of the leadup, Bill’s performance and the performance of little Arvin’s actor) but God, as soon as he’s there the whole thing comes to life in a way that it hadn’t before. Tom is literally just a shining light, and he draws your eye in every single scene he’s in, and when he’s not there you’re wondering when he’s gonna come back. Arvin, to me, is a very complex character—he has been inherently changed by how his father twisted religion in his childhood, how deeply he betrayed him by his behavior, but he still has a kind heart and a protective streak and the need to be strong despite the pain nearly breaking him apart from moment to moment. Tom is just outrageously good at portraying all Arvin’s little nuances, how he clenches his jaw, how his voice breaks when he’s afraid or trying to convince someone of something or get his point across, how his hands tremble after he’s done something he wishes he didn’t have to do, how his whole body wilts when he realizes he’s emulating his father. And his eyes. Tom can do so, so much with his eyes that it’s unbelievable. He tells you so much with just a simple look, a glance, a wince, a long blink. I’m not exaggerating when I say he’s just an absolute revelation in this, he cements his place in Hollywood with a firm hand and a tender look, and I will not be forgetting what he did here anytime soon. There’s a reason that everyone called him out for being so stunning in this. He is magnificent. He has a gift.

-I wanna say, in particular, how much I love Arvin’s relationship with Lenora. Their lives were both marked by such tragedy and pain and Arvin just took up the torch of protecting her from the moment he said hello as a child. He wants so badly to be tough, and he IS, but there’s just miles and miles of love in this boy’s heart, and it manifests itself for his family—for his uncle, for his grandma, but for Lenora in particular. I loved how he just showed up when she was being harassed and just ran in there without thinking, and it’s purely devastating that he was out taking care of her bullies while a worse predator was cornering her. The scene where she was sick wasn’t in the book but it was a beautiful addition. Tom sometimes wears this very open, unguarded, honest expression, and this is the only scene in which he shows it, and it really expresses the love between them and how much she means to him. Arvin didn’t find Lenora’s body in the book, but it was the right change for them to make. Tom was devastating here, and that pain and that moment truly fuel every second of his journey through the rest of the film. “My Lenora”. The saddest siblings. Both Eliza and Tom did so beautifully with this relationship and I hope they work together again.

-Favorite acting moments for Tom: when he’s in the car in the rain after beating up the bullies, when he’s in the church crowd and realizes Preston is insulting his Grandma (the way his face changes oh my GOD), when he finds Lenora, when the cop comes to tell him Lenora was pregnant (this is just....so damn good), when he was telling his uncle to look after his Grandma, THE ENTIRE CHURCH CONFRONTATION (the way he trembles when he’s trying to get his attention, how he speaks the whole time, how he slowly gathers his strength), when he thinks Sandy has shot him, the moment where he’s over Lee’s body and just....pleading with his eyes for him to listen and realize what he’s done. And the last scene, in the car, all the emphasis on his face....once again, he can do so, so much with a look, with his eyes. Someone called out the beautiful last shot in the film, and of course, it’s Arvin’s sleeping face. And it was so beautiful (and devastating, to think of him enlisting. Tom draws so much sympathy that you just want Arvin to have a normal life so badly. He deserves it, he does, but will he get it?)

-Last thing I’ll say, I really loved how, despite turning his back on religion, that God seems to be protecting Arvin the whole time. He’s terribly afraid confronting the preacher and that could have easily gone badly, especially when he tosses the book, but Arvin was somehow able to get a shot off and get the upper hand. And with Carl and Sandy, he senses something is off immediately once they pull off the road, and he would have absolutely been killed had Carl not switched out Sandy’s bullets for blanks. And in the confrontation with Lee, he once again shoots at the same time as him, shoots without looking, and manages to come out unscathed and on top. A few spoiler reviews pointed out that the last person that picks Arvin up is supposed to be a Jesus-like figure, almost like he’s finally been saved. It hurts that everyone around him that he loved is almost forsaken by God, but he himself is protected. It’s such a complicated commentary on religion throughout the entire piece, but it’s so interesting and engrossing.

So I’d recommend this movie to anyone that loves movies, loves Tom, can deal with a gritty story that takes its time laying out all the chess pieces. It is definitely heavy subject matter but it doesn’t go overboard with the horror as it easily could have. Yes, there are triggers to look for, but the critics hugely over exaggerated how awful it was. I can probably go get time stamps for certain things if people wanna ask me after reading this, but if you can get through a Tarantino film or any HBO drama, you can do this. And Tom’s performance is one for the ages and not one that deserves to be passed over or downplayed. It is beautiful and heart-wrenching—a magnificent turn that displays his monumental ability to reach out and guide you into any world he decides to make his own.

I loved The Devil All the Time.