#in my nightmare he kept unhinging his jaw too

[roydeezed]

I had a legitimate nightmare about Jerma and I'm writing this after waking up. So in my dream he moved into the house across the street and began acting weird. Think like the Burbs crossed with Rear Window. So I started observing him. Eventually my brother picks up on this and the instant he does Jerma makes it clear he knows I'm watching. And then a pulse pounding chip-tune-esque song starts to play, like one from the last level of one of those really hard mobile/flash games like geometry dash. And then after a day of observing him and him catching me watching him several times and smiling, my brother tells me I should probably go to sleep. It's like 4 AM and as soon as I turn the lights off and turn around to go to bed, I see from my periphery that all the lights have gone off in Jerma's place too. And as I try to keep up a smile while facing forwards, I can feel Jerma's ghostly fanged smile swinging through the darkness behind me, his pointy chin jutting impossibly forward as a clawed hand swipes at my back. I go to bed not daring to look back and quickly close my room door. In the darkness, as I lie in bed I can see him appearing in spots and disappearing, a ghostly white trace left in his wake each time, as a warning to not watch him. He basically becomes my sleep paralysis demon for an extended period of time and I woke up when he got me for real. I don't know what this means but I'm not gonna stop watching.

[carefulfears]

top ten mulder moments <3

DREAM ASSIGNMENT, UNHINGING MY JAW, ETC. buckle up babes!

1/ oubliette

all of oubliette really but there’s this one moment where he’s in the police station and he’s watching the video of lucy when she was 13 after escaping her kidnapper and she’s writhing around on the floor screaming and she can barely speak full sentences and she’s afraid of the light. and in the present day, she’s an addict living in a halfway house with convictions for drug possession and prostitution.

and he’s watching this tape and scully comes in and he says “it’s amazing she’s gotten anywhere in life” and scully says “by most yardsticks, she hasn’t.”

she has, though. she’s alive and she’s trying and she’s clean and passing her drug tests and she has a job. and that’s how he sees her, and that’s how he treats her throughout the episode. he tells her that she’s “the strong one” and he asks for her help and her opinion, he tells her that he just wants to know what she’s going through. he defends her to law enforcement and believes her when everyone else thinks she’s an accomplice. he weeps over her body when she dies, grieves the loss of her life.

it would be easy for him, as someone whose sister was kidnapped at the same age lucy was, to see her as a nightmare. she’s struggling and she’s traumatized and she’s an addict and a felon. but he doesn’t, he views her as hopeful, and you can tell that he respects her. he views her as having gotten somewhere in life, just because she’s still alive. and that more than anything really means a lot to me.

2/ paper hearts

in paper hearts when they find the 15th victim’s body and they think it’s samantha. and he’s standing there over it, shaking, looking down at what might be his baby sister’s corpse. what might be the end of the road.

and it might all be over, in this moment. he might not be able to search anymore, to hope anymore, to do the only thing he’s ever done every day for 24 years anymore.

and you just feel the crushing weight of it all, and then scully comes in with the lab results and says that it isn’t her. and he just buckles for a moment and takes a breath.

before standing up and saying, “it’s somebody though.”

it’s such a testament to his character to me, that he can’t sit in that relief for even a minute. it might not be his baby sister, but it’s somebody, and he grieves for them.

(not “somebody’s sister/daughter,” but somebody)

3/ one breath

the shot of him crying on the floor of his ransacked apartment.

he was offered a choice between staying there, waiting to see the bad guys, finding the only thing he’s ever wanted, the answers…and going to sit by scully’s hospital bed, when it might be the end.

and he left that apartment and held her hand.

as moving as that scene is, it’s the aftermath that always gets me. it’s the consequences. it’s the price that you pay for choosing to stay soft, the way that mr. x looks at him in this same episode and tells him that he’ll never win, he doesn’t have the heart.

so he walks away from the battle and comes back to the wreckage, and all he can do is sit down on the floor and weep.

(also if i think even a little about him giving scully the superstars of the super bowl tape, i’ll literally make myself ill crying)

4/ sein und zeit

when, after spending the entire episode obsessively insisting to everyone who will listen that the missing little girl is “not dead,” he says that they should just go home.

that they are not going to find those people’s daughter alive, that he is too close to this case to make a sound judgement, and that he wants to take some time away from work.

seven years after scully chased him into the street and yelled for him to “stop running after” samantha, and a day after she followed him into a hallway to tell him to not go looking for something he doesn’t want to find, the person whose “relentlessness” has kept him searching for nearly 30 years, just wants to go home.

he’s depended for so many years on the delusion, on the hope, on the belief that every child to go missing from their home is “not dead.” and now he stares at the ground in front of two people who love him, and admits to being wrong. to needing a break.

it’s one of the saddest moments of the series to me, but there is such an acceptance in admitting defeat, and it’s a subtle precursor to his decision in the following episode that he’s ready to know the truth about what happened to samantha. the delusion isn’t helping anyone. not him, not samantha, not this missing little girl. and it’s devastating and freeing at the same time.

5/ je souhaite

his genie wish. i have the softest spot in my heart for je souhaite mulder okay!! this is the mulder that called the jersey devil “beautiful” and ran through the woods to try to save it. the mulder that couldn’t bear to add to the soul eater monster’s suffering, even when it would’ve saved his own life.

i love that the first thing he does is ask the genie what she would wish for, just because he wants to know. and you can see how much 500 years of being a slave to people’s selfish desires has weighed on her, in the way she tells him that she would just want her days to be her own. to sit and have a cup of coffee.

i love that he tries to win at the genie wish, to save the world. tries to construct the perfect wording and all-encompassing fool-proof plan. throws around words like ending “tyranny.” and in the end, just deletes it all, and wishes for the genie to be free. that ending shot of her, finally her own person for the first time in 500 years, sitting having a cup of coffee, is one of my favorite moments of the series.

i love the lesson in this episode too, for someone who spends his whole life trying to make up for the fact that he lived when his sister didn’t, that he doesn’t have to figure out how to save the entire world. he can call his best friend and sit on his couch and watch caddyshack. but he asks the genie what she would wish for, because he genuinely cares, and he chooses to use his wish to give it to her, because he can do that.

6/ pilot

these tags: “this man is overflowing with reverent tenderness.”

the Moment™️ in his motel room…this is when you can see it. this is when both scully and the audience understand something. this is when it’s all over.

they’ve both been kind of concealing so much, behind sarcasm or professionalism. they really like each other. they want to trust each other. but she was sent to spy on him, to debunk him, and neither of them have any reason to believe it’ll be more than that.

when the power goes out and scully feels the marks on her back, she is just so scared. she is so young, and this is her first job, and she’s becoming exposed to things that she had never considered. when she walks into mulder’s motel room in only her robe, and then drops it, she’s afraid, and also acutely aware of her own vulnerability.

the way the camera hangs on his face (he’s the focus, not her exposure, what is he seeing?), in the candlelight, as she exposes her body to him and he just checks to make sure she’s okay.

what he’s seeing is her vulnerability, and he responds by both sheltering and matching it; he wraps her up and gives her the bed, sits below her on the floor. he tells her about sam. he tells her about what “matters” to him. and it isn’t something that he tells people, but anxiously walking mostly-naked into the room of your new assignment isn’t something that she does either, and he understands that.

it’s 2 episodes later in squeeze when scully makes her decision, she’s “on the side of the victim,” on the side of the vulnerable. but it’s a motel room in bellefleur where she learns what that side is, where that work is being done.

(related, conduit: the way that he shuts scully's concerns about him down, then validates them quietly, when they're alone. tells her what his life actually is. that it's "walking into that room," every day, feeling like maybe one day he'll open his eyes and his sister would be there. you really get the sense that he's never told anyone that before, but that it's something he turns over in his mind, something he's always aware of. he's saying: you're right, this is what i do, but i don't know how to do anything different. how am i meant to do anything different? it has always been this way. and it's the only thing that you need to hear him say to really get it. it's the only thing that scully needed to hear him say. this is the most vulnerable revelation that he ever makes, a month into their partnership. she never forgets it.)

7/ anasazi

just a little moment that i think about a lot is the way that after mulder sees his dad in colony and tries to hug him, and gets cut off with a handshake, the next time that he sees bill, in anasazi, he reaches out to shake his hand.

he notices everything, he internalizes everything, he only wants to give what he understands as wanted from him.

he knows that his dad does not want to hug him, and he still reaches to him first, offers that connection that bill is comfortable with.

(it always makes me think of the first time he met jackson. the way that the first thing he did after “my name is mulder, i’m your father. i know it must seem strange to you.” was hug him… “became a father while i was still a son,” or whatever the national said.)

8/ emily

you guys. you guys 🥺. this whole episode just really gets me so bad. the way emily is “shy” and doesn’t speak or really look at anyone, and the only time we see her smile is when mulder makes her laugh, as soon as she met him. him yelling at the doctor (i love that the show, through mulder, actually says the term “medical rapists.” like yes let’s call it what it fucking is!) and saying he wants everything that could help her. when emily's sick, and mulder instantly picks her up to hold her.

but the moment to me, the one that stays with me, is the very end. it's the funeral. it's when all is said and done. and scully asks...who could do this? who could bring a life into this world whose only purpose is to die? and mulder answers, "i don't know. but that you found her, and had a chance to love her...maybe she was meant for that too."

he looks at a person who was created to be used for other's gain, literally manufactured intentionally to suffer and then die, and he believes...maybe that's not all that she was meant for. maybe she was still meant to be known, to be found, to be loved. and they did love her.

(the way he shows up late to the funeral, but scully knows he's coming to get her, tells her mom she's going to ride back with him. the way he turns away from the casket, never able to look loss in the eye, but turns back so scully isn't in it alone. the way he brings flowers, like he brought flowers to the hospital when scully was diagnosed, like he stopped to bring flowers to missy's grave.)

9/ beyond the sea + lazarus

my father is dead (long live my father!)

y’all ever think about how sparingly and intentionally mulder says “dana”? y’all ever think about how she’d only ever been “scully,” to him, until “how are you, dana?” the day of her father’s funeral? the way she looked up at him, as he gently touched her cheek.

the first thing that scully does after her father dies, is tell mulder that she believes in a psychic. (“i thought that you would be pleased that i opened myself to extreme possibilities”).

the first thing that mulder does is sit down, lower himself beneath her, (he has done this since the motel room in bellefleur, the day they met), and look up to her to ask: “does this have to do with your father? you said that he didn't approve of you becoming an FBI agent. now, if being on the job now makes you feel guilty or uncomfortable or uneasy, i think you should back away. because if it’s clouding your judgment, you’re putting yourself in danger.”

(he is always listening, he is always more aware than people think. he perceives her attempts to “please” him as dangerous, or uncomfortable for her. encourages her to step back.)

when she starts to cry and walks across the room, she’s dana again. she’s not her father’s “starbuck,” she’s not mulder’s “scully.”

“dana…open yourself up to extreme possibilities, only when they’re the truth.”

in lazarus, it’s only 2 episodes later (2 episodes after “i’m afraid to believe”) when jack willis dies. (“along the way, there are other fathers.”)

mulder spent that whole fucking episode doing his lil tricks and tips and pulling out his lil experts trying to convince her that jack had been body-swapped, including the story about watches stopping at time of death. when jack dies, and all that’s left is the watch she had given him, stopped at the same time as his heart, she looks up to mulder for answers so softly.

and his response: “it means…it means whatever you want it to mean. goodnight.”

he spends his life begging for belief, but never at the cost of her integrity, her peace. he cannot be “pleased” by a forgoing of self, a forgoing of what she’s ready for.

(looking at this now, it also reminds me of irresistible, and the way that he told her that it’s understandable to be upset, to be affected. “i’ve seen agents with 20 years fall apart on cases like this.” it’s not because she’s young, it’s not because she’s inexperienced, it’s not because she’s traumatized. it’s because she’s human. and it’s good, it’s right.)

10/ redux ii

my favorite moment of this episode is when scully sees mulder through the window of her hospital room for the first time, and he plasters that smile on his face, comes in to sit on the bed and hold her hand and kiss her cheek. and she keeps trying to ask him about the conspiracy, about what happened at the pentagon, about who the inside man at the FBI is, and he just keeps quietly telling her that he's not there to talk about that. and she keeps pushing questions until he leans in to her and smiles and says... "hey, scully, how 'bout those yankees?"

hey, scully, it's not about that. for as many years as he's gone doing nothing but obsessing over conspiracies to anyone who will listen, he isn't there to talk about conspiracies. he's there to hold her hand, to keep that smile on his face so maybe she won't worry, to break down by her bedside as soon as she's asleep. he just wants to spend time with her. in reduxes, they aren't ahab and starbuck. they aren't charging forward or dutifully shepherding on. they're buckling in hallways. they're clinging to a hand through tears.

there is just no room: for their roles, for their pretenses, in the end. in this moment, he isn't the "mad captain" who cares about nothing more than the quest. he's the man who walked away from the fight so that he could sit next to her, who gave up all of his answers so that she could see her sister one last time. he's the man who "refused to believe" that she was dying, but still celebrated her birthday that year for the first time ever, just so that she would have it. and in that hospital room, at the end, through teary eyes and shaky smiles, it just isn't about anything bigger. she doesn't have to die as dutiful to the cause, for him to be there with her.

(the final shot of this episode is one of my favorites too. when scully is cured, she is going to live, her family is in her room celebrating with her, and mulder is crying alone in the hall.

these tags: "all his open love and loneliness and numbness and fear of loss. he's such a gentle man. he kills but he is gentle in his heart. he takes so many beatings and he listens quietly and has no shame. it's hard for him to play the games men play. this ending. he just found out scully is going to live. and everyone else is in there with her. and he has to sit outside. and it all hits him in one go. his sister. his parents. scully. his wasted years. his stupidity and arrogance. how many times has this happened to one of us. you grit your teeth and get through unimaginable difficulty. and then when it's all over you can't celebrate. it hits you on your own in a terrible way."

i always think of that. i always think of superstars of the superbowl. i always think of how ill-equipped and in-adequate we are, when it comes down to it, to deal with grief and trauma and loss. how "we bury our dead alive." and in the end it's "the best news" he ever could've heard, and that steady smile is reduced to sobs.)

honorable mention from paper hearts: i fear that i simply have to talk about him shooting roche in the head...did everybody see him shoot roche in the head? i thought him shooting roche in the head was lovely. you can watch it tear him apart, leading up to the moment. roche sitting in front of him, taunting him. how sure are you? you'll never know without me. but ultimately, he looks over at caitlyn, and he can't risk it. he had told caitlyn, "my name is fox, i'm gonna take you home." and then he did, even when ensuring she was found safe and well, meant sacrificing everything he'd been looking for.

the transition from that moment on the bus (roche's blood on the windows, caitlyn's screams, mulder's gun) to the walls of the basement office...the way the camera slowly pans over the UFO articles. the "i want to believe." the mysteries. all of that wishful thinking (as roche had said earlier: "it's like you think your world will be okay as long as you can believe in like...flying saucers") contrasted to the flesh and blood of the evil he's trying to escape. and, in the end, all there is left is one heart in front of him. one last victim that he'll never know the truth about, because he wasn't willing to risk the price paid for answers.

(and then scully says...but we will find her. how? "i don't know. but i do know you.")

honorable mention from oubliette: my top 2 episodes do be my top 2 episodes but there are few moments in this series that just make my heart sink to my stomach more than the image of mulder crying over lucy's body...that triptych line: "mulder who still grimaced at cadavers and cried over the bodies of dead women where most men she knew couldn't muster the wherewithal to appear disturbed."

lightning round appreciation for my favorite little tiny moments we don't talk about enough: casually giving his hotel key to the unhoused man in the jersey devil; holding kevin and telling him he knows he just wants his sister back in conduit; helping roland pick out a shirt to wear ("i think this one would look stylin' today, what do you think?") in roland; going back in for the kids even though he's afraid/had failed before, in fire; marty saying she "just knew" he would be at her sentencing, even though she couldn't see him, in mind's eye; taking scully to the liberty bell, after she complained about wanting a life outside of work, in shadows; when cassandra told him that reading news stories about him saved her life, because no one would ever believe her, until she found out about him, in patient x; telling skinner to get marita off the stand, "no. let her go," even though her testimony was the only thing that could save him, in the truth; telling off the sheriff in conduit who said it was "only a matter of time" before "something bad" happened to ruby because she "was no prom queen"; telling scully that he doesn't care if she comes with him or not, but he's not giving up on ruby "until they find a body."

[bullet-prooflove]

Galindo!Series Part Two: Revelations - Nestor Oceteva x Reader

Tagging: @anime-weeb-4-life @danzer8705 @drabbles-mc @alwaysachorusgirl @witches-unruly-heart @est1887 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @thanossexual @lexondeck @weiwei0210 @trublu2u @justreblogginfics @oklahomapeach @keyweegirlie @wnbweasley @skyesthebomb @msjava1972 @fleureeee @jp1019 @thiashazzywriting @fanfic-n-tabulous @ravennaortiz '@just-a-throw-away @thekirbishow

Galindo!Series

Part One: Weakness - Miguel returns to Nestor’s life.

It’s three in the morning when Miguel wakes up and finds you sitting in the chair across from his bed, your legs crossed and a gun in your hand. He notes the silencer, and he realises that this isn’t just an intimidation tactic, that his life his actually in danger.

There’s always been an unspoken truce between the two of you, your mutual love for Nestor was the only thing that kept the both of you from killing each other. However, things have changed. Nestor made a choice, and that choice was you. Miguel can’t forgive that.

“Rosa.” He greets you, shifting until his back comes to rest against the headboard. “My son is in the next room…”

“No.” You sigh. “He’s not, we both know Emily isn’t either.”

You see the flicker of comprehension in his eyes.

“It was you that helped her.” He says quietly. “Not Nestor.”

“Nestor was loyal to you for a very long time.” You tell him, tapping the silencer against your knee. “She didn’t trust him.”

“But she trusted you.” Miguel summarises as the pieces begin to fall in the place.

“Not at first. The last time we met, I was on your payroll.” You remind him. “It took Carmen a while to convince her that I couldn’t be bought but when she heard about what you did to me…”

The worst part is that it takes him a second to understand what you’re talking about because to him, handing you over to your rapist’s brother was nothing but business but to you…

It completely derailed your whole life, the PTSD, the nightmares, the fact you almost bled out in a shitty motel room outside of Reno, none of that matters to this man. You are just one person whose life he almost destroyed. There’s hundreds out there.

“You know, she told me some pretty interesting things about you.” You say, leaning back into the chair. “How controlling you became after you fired Nestor, how your brutality escalated. You got a little unhinged, a little sloppy…”

His jaw tenses, his gaze shifting the top drawer of the dresser. You sigh before holding up the gun you’ve tucked into down the side of the chair, you’re sitting in.

“I got that one.” You tell him before setting it down again. “The mess you made was why the FBI came down on you so hard, why you had to disappear off to Mexico and all that chaos… It was the perfect time for Emily and Cristobel to vanish.”

It’s in that moment that Miguel understands the full extent of what you’ve done, how you reached into his life and pulled it apart, piece by piece.

“It was you.” He realises, his voice tinged in disbelief. “You got the FBI involved?”

“It was going to happen sooner or later.” You inform him, with a knowing look. “We just needed it to happen sooner.”

“You took my business, my son, my wife…” He snaps, his fingers raking through his hair as he struggles to process the information because in Miguel’s world you’ve only ever been a tool to use, a weakness to exploit. Never in his wildest dreams did he envision you would take a stand against him; he thought that the threat of losing Nestor would be too much.

“No Miguel, you did that to yourself when you beat Emily’s sister to death in front of her.” You remind him and the look he gives you, it’s murderous. “When I dropped them a call about the location of her body, your DNA was all over it. You are fucking terrible at cleaning up your own messes. You always have been.”

“Does Nestor know?” He asks, the words come out like a hiss through his teeth. “Does he know what you’ve done to me?”

“I don’t keep secrets from Nestor.” You tell him, pointing the gun at him. Your finger tightens on the trigger. “I knew it was a matter of time before you come back for us. You could never let Nestor be happy, not when he chose me over you.”

“If you do this, he’ll never forgive you.” Miguel tells you, his eyes fixated on the barrel of the gun. “You’ll be the woman who killed the only person who’s ever given a damn about him.”

“We both know that’s not true.” You say sadly. “You’ve only cared about what Nestor could give you, not about the person he is and that’s where you fucked up Miguel, because truly, he’s wonderful.”

He opens his mouth to speak but you’ve heard enough. You pull the trigger, and he collapses back against the headboard, the back of his head thudding against the wall with the force of the impact.

You raise to your feet, before pressing two fingers to the pulse point in his throat and waiting for the thrum of blood to stop. When it does you withdraw before picking up his phone from the nightstand and using his thumb to open it. You bring up his emails before flicking into his scheduled box and studying the email residing in there, the one with your name, address and picture attached to it. The kicker? He’s included Nestor’s details too.

A suggestion, he’d written, if you wanted to inflict some emotional damage.

You delete the email before turning the phone off and slipping it into your pocket.

There’s not a doubt in your mind that you made the right decision about killing Miguel Galindo tonight.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[r0-boat]

Minecraft Warden Submas 2 nsfw

Cw:

noncon, monster fucking, kidnapping, Submas alittle ooc??, yandere,

Their bodies are made of a solid mass your sword doing hardly anything to their carapaces.

One of them grabs your grip like iron it felt as though they were crushing your bone as they forced you to the ground. grabbing the blade of your sword with ease and throwing it into the darkness. The Silver Eyes beam down at you, their hearts in the middle beating faster, still keeping you restrained, crouching to your level. Pressing their full bodies against you. The two beings reek of blood and death. grimly reminding you that their last meals weren't too long ago.

Cold, ice cold.

"warm..."

"Verrry warm"

You're warm soft fleshy body against theirs felt so nice but what they really wanted.

"sing more for us."

" More of your beautiful screams dear?"

Everything about you just made them feel things they have never felt before you're beautiful voice made them feel good and your warm body against them was something new entirely. they needed more.

The darker Warden was especially attracted to your scent. his Stone Cold face nuzzling against your tummy. His glowing claws scratched against the stone as he lowers his face down down down so he reached what felt like two plush pillars in his way of the sweet scent. you could only whimper shaking in fear feeling the other one's claws poke and prod at your soft skin making sure he feels every curve and every inch of your body memorizing every little thing until he has you burned into his mind, cooing at your soft noises every time his claws would dig in your skin a little too rough. He doesn't want to break you. Emmet hasn't yet decided if he wanted to keep you or not

You jump when the warden in front of you rap says Clawed hands around your legs pushing them open, only took growl in frustration when something else blocked. he forgot the useless Rags humans wear. he kept your legs spread with one hand has his claws dig into the leather tearing them with one tug.

But nothing else in his way all he felt was more heat but that's sweet smell was Stronger now beckoning him... To taste.

You heard sickening cracks coming from the monster in front of you his face splitting as his frown seem to get bigger his jaw unhinging revealing multiple long appendages slithering from his mouth. your whimpers turn into panic sobs which made the warden behind you purr in delight.

Your moans was a completely new song to your captors. the melody coming from your mouth was sort of hypnotic in a way, addicing made them want to listen more and more, made them want to give you more and more. your melodies seems similar in some way.

It wasn't before long when you moaned again this time arching your back you're cum flooding the warden's mouth.

Your scent, your taste, your noises, hitting him all that once. that's when he realized why you in particular caught their interest, the reason why your sweet scent and Angelic voice attracts them.

Mate

The word in his mind is so clear the realization so sudden it accidentally falls from his "lips"

"mate" the one between your legs snarled. A sound of rattling bones or an echoing cave a sound that will surely haunt you nightmares. The Smiling one widen his eyes in shock.

Human as a mate? sounds absurd but now that his brother mentioned it they did smell like one maybe that's why they are so attracted attracted to their voice.

Immediately their tone changed. The Smiling one immediately stopped poking and prodding at you instead he moved you closer. you hear a hollow rumbling noise behind you.

P-purring?!

"m-mm Mate t-tastes soo good, soo soft." the one between your legs quivers.

The other one behind you quickly chiming in "wanna mate with them is my turn! Want to make them feel good,"

What.

Not too long ago they were trying to kill you they seemed pretty adamant on killing you after they poked and prodded you a little.

Smiling one suddenly treating you gently and carefully laid your head against the stone as he eagerly took his place between your legs his brother moving away probably taking his place beside you. as the 10 ft tall warden tries to move you within his lap you shake your head your hands pushing against his chest. The Smiling warden exchanged a look with his brother.

The frowning warden immediately responses

" well killing them was on the schedule..."

" our apologies mate, we did not know "

"we are verrrry sorry. I promise we'll be very good to you from now on"

" will protect you, and you'll never leave our sides ever."

You only shake your head trying to squirm away but again there's so much stronger than you that you could barely move an inch.

The Smiling Warden the frowning one go quiet for a second before the smiling Warden speaking.

" we'll show you that we could be good mates."

They'll just be like humans and maybe you'll be more comfortable, human actually uses their names human actually use their names right do maybe... the Sideburn tentacle things light up transferring his idea to his brothers which begin to light up as well.

"I'm Ingo" the frowning warden sayes before nudging to his brother " this is emmet"

Wardens don't have names they don't need them but for you, these names will be just fine.

"Im Emmet!" The Smiling one says

"Now that you know everything about us, we still want to know everything about you~” ingo purrs"

" as you have noticed we cannot see verrrry well,but we can be verrry sensitive to touch, and scent, and taste," emmet states his sharp claws brushing through your hair.

" my brother has already tasted you and I want to feel you"

Your eyes catch something glowing looking in horror as you see something begin to grow between his legs. apart in his carapace that seemed softer than the rest. and something seem to have started to protrude from a slit in that part of his body. it's soft skin twinkling like stars, the appendages yes two of them looked big thick, hard, also flexible like tentacles.

Looking at them scared you. you yelped when Emmet dragged you closer feeling the cold slimy appendages grind against your entrance.

" we want to know everything about you, inside and out, you'll make plenty of nice noses for us won't you dear?"

[voraciousvore]

The Giant (14/16)

***Contains mouthplay, soft fatal vore, and an explicit description of digestion***

------Chapter 14------

With my troubled thoughts, I didn't sleep soundly through the night. I tossed and turned on the giant's chest, finding myself awake several times. When I drifted off, I had a terrible nightmare that Chester succumbed to his rapacious appetite. In my dream, he tore the roof clean off the house and grabbed both my parents right out of their bed. They screamed and squirmed in his mammoth fist, but were defenseless against his immeasurable might. He threw his head back and dropped them into his gigantic maw. Their screams echoed as they disappeared down his gullet.

Oh, but he didn't finish there. He stomped into town, causing earthquakes with every footfall, destroying buildings by flattening them under his boots or kicking them over. He reached into the chaos of panicked people scattering like ants and chose his preferred specimens at his leisure, snagging them with his fingers and shoving them through his parted lips. His Adam's apple bobbed continually in his neck as he gulped each captured human alive down his throat. With every swallow he became more crazed and violent, as if his brutal thirst for blood only increased along with the number of his helpless victims.

I found myself down among the crowd, paralyzed. The giant towered over me, seeming to grow even larger than he was in real life. He morphed in front of me, his hair growing long and blond, his eyes cold and hard with icy rage, his face lean and gaunt. The massive bony fingers plucked me up and lifted me miles into the sky, above the cloud layer, up and up until I finally reached the giant's face somewhere in the stratosphere. He was so enormous, that I was nothing more than a speck of dust on his finger, yet the white-hot intensity of his fury was focused entirely on me. He opened his jaws, and his mouth was like a black hole in his face, stretching outward and sucking in the stars, the clouds, the light, into the terrible void of his gullet. I, too, was dragged in, sliding along the slimy tongue, past the craggy mountains of gleaming white teeth, into the fleshy mouth that was as roomy inside as a cathedral. Rivers of saliva dripped down his tongue, lips, and from the roof of his mouth far above. As I surfed over the crest of the tremendous mass of his tongue, under the huge red uvula, and slid down his throat, I was so microscopic at this point that he didn't need to contract his throat muscles to swallow me; gravity did all the work, and I fell down the tunnel of his throat into darkness.

I fell a long, long way, with the slick walls of meat flying past all around me. I gazed up, watching the circle of light from his open mouth far above shrink smaller and smaller until it vanished completely. I kept falling for miles and miles until I dropped down into his stomach with a splash. I was swimming in a sea of half-digested corpses and bones, churning in the gastric fluids of the enormous stomach. The acid burned, and I raised my hands and watched in horror as my flesh liquefied into a red pulp, leaving only bones behind. Eventually, the bones started to get eaten up as well, and I lost my limbs entirely. My mind came unhinged and I screamed uncontrollably as my torso began dissolving and spilling out organs.

With that pleasant imagery in my head, I woke up in a cold sweat, to the sound of Chester's empty stomach gurgling underneath me. I must have been struggling in my sleep, because I had somehow fallen off the giant's chest and slipped down to his belly button. Spooked, I clambered back up onto his chest and far away from his belly. I curled up into a fetal position and shuddered. That dream had been so horrid, and felt so realistic. It took me several minutes to calm down.

Once I had gotten a grip and my mind had settled back into the real world, I checked up on Chester, who was still asleep. He clearly hadn't slept well either. He was pale and sweaty and clammy, almost as if he were sick. His skin was stretched and saggy, with dark bags under his eyes. I caressed his chin with sympathy, and his eyes cracked open into slits. He gave me a weak smile, but it broke when his stomach complained with an exasperated groan. He gripped his abdomen with both his hands and let out a painful sigh.

"Jackie," he murmured, his voice cracking, "can I eat you?" My eyes widened. I had been in Chester's mouth many times by now, and I wasn't normally afraid of him, but my ghastly nightmare was still fresh in my mind. Plus, while I trusted Chester, he was not in a good state physically or mentally. He wasn't as predictable when he was famished.

Noticing my silence, Chester clarified, "I won't swallow you, I promise. I just... need the taste of a human to reduce my craving. It'll be fine."

Although I didn't think it was a good idea, I reluctantly agreed. "Okay Chester. I trust you. Don't betray me." He opened his mouth, and I climbed up onto his chin and peeked inside. He was drooling heavily, desperate for a meal. His tongue wriggled impatiently. I felt my skin prickle with goosebumps as his hot breath washed over me. I was scared to go inside. For a moment I considered using my blood magic to feed him instead, but I needed to save every last bit of magic I had to make a portal. As I leaned forward he stretched his jaws wider, causing me to lose my balance and topple over inside. He closed his mouth around me before I could regain my balance.

Chester wasn't as gentle with his tongue as he usually was, probably because he was so hungry. He sucked and licked me like a lollipop, turning me over with his tongue, transferring me from one side of his mouth to the other. He even closed down on me lightly with his teeth, like he wanted to chew me up, but thankfully refrained from breaking my bones. He was salivating like crazy. I felt like I was going to drown. He had to keep swallowing to drain all the saliva out of his mouth, and once or twice I came dangerously close to being pulled down into his throat.

The giant held me in his mouth for a lot longer than usual, almost like he didn't want to let me out. I noticed with alarm that he kept pushing me to the back of his tongue, inches from his gullet. I was so slippery now that it would be effortless for him to just let me slide in. I was reminded of my nightmare. If he was so inclined, he could easily just swallow me now and be done with me. After all, if he wanted to eat people, he was in the human realm now. He didn't actually need to go back to the Land of Giants. He had plenty of food here.

In my heart, I knew Chester was not a savage monster like I was imagining. Rationally, I knew he loved me just as much as I loved him, and I could trust him not to hurt me. However, dire fear was constricting my chest, and I started to panic. I had been consumed several times now, so the concept of being swallowed was not just an abstract fear, but a traumatic experience I had lived through. Plus, I knew he was hungry. I swear I could hear his stomach growling from deep within his throat.

I was hyperventilating. I thrashed in terror, banging my fists against his huge molars. Chester must have perceived that something was terribly wrong, because he responded immediately by opening his mouth and fishing me out with two giant fingers. In my panicked state, I continued to struggle like my life depended on it as he dangled me over his face.

"Jackie? Jackie! What's wrong?" Chester exclaimed, baffled by my actions. When I didn't stop flailing my limbs, he held me firmly against his chest so I couldn't move my arms or legs. I eventually calmed down. My heart was pounding as fast as the wings of a hummingbird, but Chester's heart was slow and steady. I took a few deep breaths and went limp in his hands. He loosened his hold on me and held me up to his face again.

"Jackie, what happened? Are you okay?" His eyes and voice were soft with concern. I felt ashamed for ever thinking he would be so callous toward me. I let out a shaky sigh. I hadn't noticed until now that tears had been running down my cheeks.

"I'm sorry Chester, I just got scared," I choked out.

"Oh, Jackie... I would have never let you in my mouth if there was any danger of me losing control!" Chester rubbed me against his cheek lovingly, even though I was covered in spit.

"I just... had a horrible dream last night that you lost control and ate everyone. And then after I woke up, you wanted me in your mouth, and I knew you were really hungry, and... and I freaked out," I blubbered, still sniffling pathetically.

"Jackie... everything will be okay," Chester reassured. "Soon you'll make a portal, and we'll be able to go back to where I belong. And I won't eat anyone. Especially not you, my love."

I wiped my face off with my sleeve and nodded. "I need to go inside and get cleaned up before my parents see me like this." Chester took a step toward the house and set me down at the front door. I snuck in and took a quick shower and changed. I wrapped my saliva-soaked clothes in a plastic bag to wash later. By the time I finished, my parents were up and making a very large breakfast. Presumably, most of the food was for the giant. I brought out a mountain of food to Chester, which he finished in a single bite. I knew I needed to recover my strength, so I went back inside and ate my fill.

After breakfast, I decided to meditate for a little while, to see if that would enhance my magical strength. I imagined lightning bolts and portals in my mind's eye. Chester wanted to get up and walk around but I convinced him not to. The last thing we needed was a bunch of terrified humans shooting at him and calling the government. They'd probably blow him up with fighter jets or drones. The sooner we got out of here the better.

I was as ready as I'd ever be. I sighed and stood up, shouldering my knapsack. Chester, who had been fiddling with a stalk of corn he pulled out of the ground, perked up with interest. My parents came out to watch and wave me goodbye.

"Time to go?" he asked.

"I sure hope so," I answered. I gripped my stone necklace and focused all my energy. Just like before, a ball of sparks manifested before me. Under my guidance, the portal came alive and began to grow. It expanded much faster than the last time, but began to slow down when I approached my previous limit. I started to feel the strain. I poured all my energy into the gateway. It shined and crackled with electricity. I could see Chester's cottage on the other side.

Suddenly, Chester reached out and grabbed the edges of the portal, forcing them open wider. He cried out as residual electricity shocked his fingers, but his effort was successful. I was astounded, since I had no idea it was possible for him to enlarge the portal with his hands. He grabbed me, giving me a static shock in the process, and jumped through the portal. I waved to my folks and allowed the portal to dissipate.

"Thank God! We're back!" Chester proclaimed. He ran inside and went straight to the kitchen. He began stuffing his face greedily with any food he could find. He didn't even bother to set me down, and I worried he might accidentally shove me in his mouth along with his snacks. After he filled his starving belly, he flopped down on the couch and exhaled with satisfaction. He placed me on his protruding belly, swollen with the bounty of his fridge, and laid back to relax. I was relieved too, but also exhausted after my emotional and magical labor. I hadn't slept well the previous evening. I bedded down for a nap.

Just as I was drifting off, Chester remarked, "You know, now that I've met your parents, you really ought to meet mine."

I groaned. From what Jasper had told me, his parents hated humans. "Bad idea. They'll probably want to eat or kill me."

Chester pondered the idea. "Maybe. But you'll have to interact with them eventually, if you stay with me."

And with that future interaction looming over me, a pit of dread settled in my gut for the rest of the day.

Chapter 15

Chapter 1

[bookthroneking]

Book Review: The Orpheus Process by Daniel H. Gower

I don't even know where to start. This book melted my brain. There are only two reactions to The Orpheus Process that I can think of: slack-jawed awe at how mind-breakingly bonkers it is, or uncontrollable laughter. (I mean, there's also abject disgust and book-hurling, but if you do that, you don't know how to have fun. A demented kind of fun, but still.) This book is… so much. I kind of lovehate it. Daniel H. Gower's debut novel (!) is the tale of Orville Leonard Helmond, a middle-aged scientist with three kids and a loving wife, who nonetheless doesn't abstain from ogling his lab assistant's curves and telling his teenage daughter that his first wife left him because he cheated on her. Helmond's life's work is the study of bringing dead animals, like rats and monkeys, back to life, in a quest to figure out a way to beat death. Of course, when his younger daughter is killed in a mesmerizingly tasteless mass shooting, what else can he do but stick her in a tank of reanimation fluid and let that radiation rip? Cue mayhem when Eunice, obviously, comes back in a way that makes the ending of Pet Sematary look sedate. I know it might seem like I'm overstating it, but there's truly no end to how ridiculous The Orpheus Process is. The prose is utterly tin-eared, hosing down the reader with leaden wit and pretentious mythological and literary references (Helmond's lab animals all have names like Osiris, Lazarus or Valdemar, and his assistant Sharon calls him Dr. Frankenstein at one point) in between head-scratcher word choices like "glared at him pleadingly". Or just straight up black metal lyrics like "Lazarus floated in his posthumous placenta, like a homunculus in a crucible". Also, Gower has a fantastic sense for writing characters talk in a way no one has ever talked, talks or will talk… and the gore and body horror are so exaggerated that it just kept cracking me up. I've barely scratched the surface of the tacky insanity that is the plot, too: Helmond's early nightmare of a tidal wave of blood filled with thousands of tiny skeletons feels subtle and restrained compared to what comes after. I Mcfreakin' lost it at the undead monkey with the huge boner, and that was somehow very far from the worst mental image this thing gave me. (Content warnings for EVERYTHING.) I swear, it's like reading the Necronomicon. Did I have a good time with The Orpheus Process? Kind of! It's not often that I find such a unique flavor of horror literature, for better or for worse (very much for worse): for all the epic crimes against good taste this book committed, it did so with energy and conviction, with a few glimpses of genuine horror and even emotion between all the unhinged over-the-top lunacy. (It really says something that the surprisingly good and poignant last chapter just made me mad at how out of place it was after the crazy charnel carnival that were the other 400 pages. Lol. Lmao, even.) I don't respect it at all for what it was trying to do, but I can at least appreciate the novelty; all my giggling, grimacing and facepalming gave my face a hell of a workout while reading this thing. Undead monkey boners were not on my 2023 holiday reading bingo, but… here we are, I guess. Merry Christmas.

StoryGraph rating: 2.5

[plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms]

Nemesis: Retribution (3)

Summary: 10 years after the Avengers had left you for dead during a mission gone wrong, you unexpectedly re-enter their lives. Wholly unrecognizable from the person they used to know and now with a new team behind you, they ask for your help to stop a chain of syndicates who were manufacturing and peddling the super soldier serum. You were determined to say no until the chance at the vengeance you had been chasing for years was added to the offer.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil

Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)

Warnings: EVENTUAL SMUT. SHAMELESS SEXUAL BEHAVIOURS. (18+ ONLY), polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, lots of angst, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, strong language, mentions of trauma, character death, fluff if you squint

A/N: We’re playing fast and loose with canon here people. Also thank you for the interactions. I love reading what you think and it helps me write the next chapters better. Also, I enjoy having someone to freak out with. Highlight of my life I swear to god. Enjoy!

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

1:3 Hard Candy

Natasha stormed off the jet and into the conference room where she knew the rest of the team were waiting for them, fury radiating from her small frame. Catching sight of her target only made her grow angrier. She immediately ran up to Steve and growled up in his face causing him to immediately take a step back. Sam and Bucky were immediately alarmed, standing up to intervene and the latter's black vibranium arm whirring in preparation but Steve held up a hand to stop them.

"What the hell, Rogers? You send me on a mission with zero intel and this is what I find? Did you know?"

Steve's eyes narrowed down at her, the thick beard and longer hair adding even more to his already commanding presence. He knew exactly what Natasha was talking about and he did expect her to react this way.

"I wasn't sure, Nat. And I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up if I was wrong."

"And if you were right?" she scoffed.

Steve swallowed hard before he answered, the blue in his eyes calming considerably. "I thought the three of you deserved to be the first to know."

"What the hell is going on?" Bucky asked, arms crossed on his chest and brows deeply furrowed. They didn't even know about any mission.

Natasha chuckled humorlessly and backed off from Steve. She ran a hand through her hair, the red bleeding into the old blonde color, and gestured toward the door at the approaching people.

"Well you weren't wrong, Steve."

Shock.

That was the overall theme of the day it seemed. None of them could hardly believe that you were actually standing at the doorway. It's been ten long years and you were like the ghost haunting their dreams during that time, a pure and kind soul taken far too soon. Hell, they told stories about your selfless sacrifice to the new recruits. You had unknowingly become a legend.

A legend turned ghost story.

Now you looked more like a nightmare; dried blood caked your clothes and skin, a cold smirk lifting the corner of your lips, and a dangerous unhinged glint in your eyes.

"Well, I'll be damned," Sam breathed. "Y/N?"

"Hey, Sam," you said, the almost flirtatious lilt in your voice sending a shiver down their spines. "I go by Nemesis now."

"Nemesis?" Bucky snapped out of his daze, brows raised high and his jaw clenched, features seen clearer now with his shorter hair. "The notorious mercenary Nemesis?"

"I prefer private contractor."

While they had been honoring your memory, you had been building a ruthless reputation of your own that was widely considered on par in violence with The Punisher but with the added disturbing fact that you could be hired. Of course, no one but a select few knew who you actually were.

Until today.

Nemesis. The Greek goddess of divine retribution and revenge. A name that suited the dark avenging persona you had adapted and the only purpose you now lived for. In a twisted kind of way, you were doing the same work they were only with far less finesse and none of the righteous for the good of mankind purpose they usually had.

You shrugged, sitting yourself casually down on the nearest chair on the other end of the long table from where they stood. You have had a long night, your feet were tired and they were still looking at you with absolute confusion and disbelief. This looked like it would take a while.

You rolled your eyes as you unbuckled your stained bulletproof vest, throwing it haphazardly on the table. You hazarded a glance at each one of them as you made yourself comfortable, noting the changes in them too. The years had given way to a solemn maturity to each one, it seems things had changed for them too.

"Now that I'm here, you have 12 minutes."

"12 minutes? Until what?" Steve stammered.

He couldn't keep his eyes off you, couldn't for the life of him reconcile the person he was seeing in front of him with the person he knew. From your expressions to your movements and even to the tone of your voice, you were just so different and yet it just seemed to make you a more magnetic presence. Fresh guilt washed over him, knowing that he had failed you as your Captain. They should have kept looking for you.

"You'll see. 11 minutes now. Either ask your questions or tell me what you want."

"We all thought you were dead," Steve muttered, taken back by your hostility.

"Well that obviously didn't stick. How did you find me, Cap?"

It was Steve who found you. At first he couldn't believe it was really you, but the split second glimpse he got of your eyes from the body cam on one of the field agents weeks ago drove him to obsessively dig further. It was a shot in the dark when he sent Natasha and the twins on the mission tonight.

"By chance," he admitted. "We've been chasing a group of people suspected to be manufacturing and selling the super soldier serum. Our agents have had a few close encounters with you. I think we're going after the same people."

"So you're asking for intel?" you snorted, absentmindedly picking at the bloodstains on your sleeves.

"No," he said cautiously, wary at how relaxed yet tightly coiled you looked. "I'm offering you your spot back with the team."

You almost choked on the laugh that just escaped your lips. You couldn't help the short bark of laughter at the ridiculous proposition. Looking at their faces though it seemed that the offer was serious, although the reluctant look in their eyes at your transformation showed their inner conflict. You straightened your features and shook your head, the amused smile still on your lips.

"Look, I'm not exactly on brand for you guys anymore." You leaned forward with your arms on the table and landed your eyes squarely on Bucky's, the venom unmistakable. "Besides, I seem to recall I was deemed not cut out for this team."

Bucky felt like his soul left him at your words. There was a Molotov cocktail of emotions raging inside him; surprise, shame, relief, anger, guilt, and longing. It was killing him knowing that he had a hand in how drastically you had changed. He was deathly afraid of finding out your full story. He wanted to talk to you, wanted to beg for your forgiveness and make things right. How many chances would anyone get to redeem oneself with a ghost? He couldn't find the words though, his throat going dry and his tongue heavy in his mouth.

"Y/N, you know that's not the truth," Steve tried to insist.

"I'm not Y/N anymore and I already have a team." You waved a hand dismissively. "Also your 12 minutes are up."

All at once the power cut out in the Compound, drenching the room into darkness punctuated by the flashing emergency lights. You felt yourself get lifted off your seat and the next moment you were standing behind a formation of Avengers in the arms of the resident speedster, your arms on his chest to steady yourself from the daze of the sudden movement. His muscles were tense beneath your hands but his expression was gentle as he looked down at you.

He had wanted to rush over to you the moment you revealed your face. He wanted to hold you, jump for joy, speed around the entire city with you in his embrace. How you were alive didn't matter to him.

Only that you were.

It was only at Wanda's warning for him to stay back that he did. She showed him that you weren't the same person anymore and that they weren't sure whether you would still be friend or foe. To Pietro though, you weren't different.

You were just angry.

To him you were still his little star despite the others thinking you were closer to a supernova now. His little star was just hurting and he decided that he would do everything in his power to help you heal. He held your head tighter to his chest, intending to protect you from the anticipated danger and ready to get you to safety at a moment's notice.

"What the damn hell is going on?" Sam yelled, readying his guns.

A figure silently jumped through the window and rolled on the floor to stop right in front of the group, jolting the Avengers to defend. He stood to full height and took a fighting stance; clad in head to toe red, billy clubs at the ready, and horns glinting in the sparse light atop his head.

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

"Let Nemesis go," he growled.

Natasha stepped forward, snapping her own batons in place. The crackling of the electricity from it sent lights to dance on the menacing expression on her face. The rest of the team watched closely the other entry points, expecting more to come in and if the first was any indication then they were in for a real fight.

Footsteps could be heard coming down the hallway, loud and not at all trying to be concealed. Walking straight through the front door, were two towering men in heavy military gear each holding an assault rifle aimed at the group. The sneer on one lent a dangerous taunting aura to his surprisingly handsome features as if to say just fucking try me. While the other had a burning steely focus that instinctively made anyone back off, the emblem on his black vest told them exactly who he was.

The Punisher.

The Avengers snapped to attention, each one drawing their weapons and aiming back. The air was crackling with animosity and fingers that itched to pull their respective triggers. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the first to break the standoff in the enclosed space. Willing for someone to break it.

You laughed.

The disorientation at your reaction was palpable across the room. You patted Pietro's chest, grinning up at him in reassurance that everything was fine. He released you from his hold reluctantly and let you step out of the protective cluster they had inadvertently formed around you. The three newcomers visibly relaxed the slightest bit at the sight of you.

"Weapons down," you said calmly, eyeing each one in the room. No one budged. "All of you. Now."

Steve being the first one to lower his shield was the catalyst in diffusing what could have been the fight of the century. As outnumbered as the newcomers were, they lacked nothing in skill and precise brutality. Frank followed in lowering his weapon and soon everyone did the same. There was still tension but at least it was now reduced to intense glaring.

You tutted and shook your head as you strutted your way to your three rescuers. "What I needed was a ride home, Frankie. Not a goddamn full extraction op."

"Sorry, sweetheart," he said, not sounding at all apologetic and knowing you weren't really angry if the tired amusement on your face was anything to go by.

He smiled at you, that small open quirk at the corner of his mouth that was always accompanied by a roll of his tongue. He reached for you when you got close enough, drawing you close with a burly arm around the back of your shoulders. He kissed you on the forehead, a lingering gesture that clearly showed an intimacy between the two of you. The soft look on his face was reserved only for you and when he raised his face to the Avengers it was back to the cold threatening glare.

"Can you blame us though?" His voice came out gravelly, a favorite sound of yours. "The last time you were with these guys you were captured and tortured."

Tortured.

The word hung heavy in the air and though your back was turned, you could imagine the look on the faces of your former team. They didn't know about that yet. How could they when they had believed all this time that you died in the explosion?

"You forgot to mention blown up," Matt added, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his lips.

He removed his helmet, floppy brown hair instantly softening his persona. He peppered kisses on your palm and the inside of your wrist as he breathed in your scent to calm his own anxiety. He almost lost it when Billy had called saying that you had been taken. He was usually the last one to jump to immediate violence in your group, but the thought of you gone filled him with irrational fear. The possibility that history could repeat itself was unacceptable to him.

"I should have come with you."

"I could handle it and Billy was with me."

"Lot of good that did," he scoffed, switching to lightly biting your wrist. This wasn't unusual. Being blind, he relied on a more intense physical reassurance that everything was still as it should be.

"They weren't gonna hurt me, Matty," you argued, but it was more to help settle his nerves.

"All right, leave the foreplay for later," the last of the trio said, pulling you by your other hand closer to him.

He held you tightly by the waist and pressed you close, molding your body to his in a practiced motion. The smile on his face was scandalous and the mischief in his eyes was one that spelled trouble. The cheeky bastard winked at you before dipping his head to lay open mouthed kisses on your neck up to your ear right along your old scars. Shivers went down your spine and you couldn't help the low hum as your body reacted instinctively to him, stepping closer still until you could feel the heat of his body through his gear.

You knew exactly what he was doing. He was always the quickest to show affection in front of company, but this was a particularly golden opportunity for him to stake his claim in front of people he believed did not value you enough. Billy wouldn't be Billy if he didn't take it.

"Hey, pretty girl."

Across the room, the Avengers watched on with blatant curiosity at the apparent intimately familiar exchanges. It wasn't as much the fact that three men were bathing you with affection, but more that this cemented how far removed you were from their memory of you. They knew you as a starry-eyed recruit who stuttered at light teasing and preening at the slightest validation.

"Y/N," Steve called for you, forcing you to step away from Billy for the moment. You turned around to face them but Billy didn't let you go far, slinging his arm over your chest and this time contorting his body to yours.

"I told you, Steve. I'm not Y/N anymore," you said, a fleeting sadness flashed in your eyes before it was replaced with a firm pride. "And this is my team."

"We're taking our girl home," Frank declared, the threat underneath didn't need to be verbalized. If they took you again, it wouldn't end well for anyone.

"Wait!" Steve said urgently, halting your exit. "We'll hire you."

It was a last ditch effort. He was grasping at straws to keep you from disappearing from their lives again. He knew that if you walked out that door now there was no chance of ever getting you back. He just could not let that happen. This would only be temporary at best, but at least it would buy him time to convince you of a more permanent arrangement.

"Not interested."

"Nem." Matt as usual cautioned you from being too hasty. "Is this about the syndicates?"

You sighed. Matt was like a dog with a bone now. There was no choice but to let him chew on it. This was particularly important to him because the syndicates had been running amok in Hell's Kitchen and he was starting to find it difficult to keep his backyard clean.

"Yeah, apparently the stuff we found in the shipment yard was for making super soldier serums. The Avengers have been following the trail too."

"Why not just join forces then? We can get this done and over with a lot faster with their help," he reasoned.

"We're doing fine on our own, Matty."

"Matt has a point, sweetheart," Frank cut in. "We've been chasing this for years. I know a part of you is just itching to end all of this."

"It might help us find him faster. Do you really want to spend another ten years pulling at threads?" Matt added.

You closed your eyes, hands clenching at your sides to control your anger. It grated at you when they ganged up on you like this, but your anger was more because they were right and you knew it. You hated it, but they were right.

It was Billy who intervened, pulling you again to hug you from behind. His hold was firmer than before, aimed more to calm your shaking body. His voice came out calm, but resolute. His first priority was always making sure you were okay and you obviously weren't okay with this.

"You heard the lady. It's a no."

Frank and Matt sighed and shook their heads, but backed off. They weren't about to push you about this no matter how much they knew this would help you. They'll try again to convince you later, but they weren't optimistic. It was fortunate for them that there was more than just one stubborn person in the room.

"Please," Steve interrupted. You had almost forgotten that there were other people in the room. Almost. "We need your help. They have someone who keeps getting in our way and every time we get close he either fights us long enough for the trail to grow cold or leads us on wild goose chases. We can't let that serum be available to whoever can pay for it."

He didn't know what it was that he said that made all of your heads snap in his direction. Your eyes in particular were suddenly wild with barely restrained fury. He would take it. At least he had your attention.

"We can't let that happen, Nemesis," he finished, making sure to use your preferred name. Anything to possibly get himself into your good graces.

"Do you have a name?" you ground out.

"What?"

"A name, Steve. Do you know who this guy is?"

"By the way he fights he seems to be a merc too. Looks like military background though from where I'm not sure," he said slowly, carefully choosing his words in the hopes of you changing your mind. "He goes by Salvacion."

"We're in."

Earth's Mightiest was stunned at the sudden reversal of your decision. As firm as you had rejected the offer, you were jumping at it now with the addition of your own team.

"Let's get one thing straight though, Cap," you began, the rage still burning in your eyes like wildfire. "My team and I will work with you. It's all of us or none of us. We'll help you lock up the syndicates and destroy the serum. We'll play nice, but Salvacion is mine."

Steve took a deep breath, relieved that you had agreed but also deeply concerned at your visceral reaction to a name. He had to ask.

"Why?"

"Because that's the motherfucker who killed my sister."

--------------------------------------

A/N: I feel like you guys have more questions now. Come freak out with me through the comments and reblogs! I write faster when people freak out with me. It’s the truth. Now that you’ve seen our girl with ALL our strapping men, what do you think? Who are you most curious about now?

--------------------------------------

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Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

[lacystar]

au where enderwalk ranboo and Tommy are friends and hang out at night when enderboo lurks and Tommy can't sleep

---

“So like… do you just know how to dress yourself?” Tommy asked, “Because considering that when you get like this you forget how to do most basic functions, I don’t know how you have clothes on right now.”

Ranboo gave a, “Vrr-grrl,” and despite having been with him a few times like this, Tommy still wasn’t sure how to interpret his enderman language.

“Eh— fuck off.”

Whenever this happened, Ranboo always got somehow taller, which Tommy hated, and his fangs, claws, and horns grew in accordance with that. His eyes also tended to transform into a more standard enderman purple, and Tommy didn’t dare stare into them. So really, he didn’t look too different when he got into his “fucking weird” mode, according to Tommy. He just kinda got more… well, fucking weird.

Right now they were seated outside Tommy’s home under moonlight, and Tommy, being unable to sleep (fuck nightmares— fuck them), was trying to fix up the flowers that were overrunning his house. Ranboo was… trying to help? But he seemed less eager to weed and more eager to just pick up and hold pieces of dirt. Also pretty fucking weird.

He came up beside Tommy and dug his claws into the ground easily, bringing up another pocket, and Tommy spotted it as an opportunity. “You like alliums, yeah?” He brought over a smaller sprout and placed it in the new hole, “Fill that in for me?”

Ranboo stared at him blankly. “Y’know— like, cover it.”

Ranboo then glanced back to the small, budding flower, and then uncupped his hands, letting the dirt fall on it all at once and crushing the petals beneath soil. “No— that’s— that’s not what I meant.” Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezing shut. “God— you’re like a fuckin’ stupid dog when you’re like this.”

“Vurghhhrggh…”

“Your mother.”

But then Ranboo started to hiss, and Tommy rolled his eyes. “Leave it.” Such was customary whenever Ranboo spotted an unfamiliar animal. Tommy had tried to introduce him to a cow once and seen him rip it brutally to shreds right in front of him. It was kinda fucked up, in hindsight, but Tommy had seen worse carnage— to cows and to people— and considered it no more than a failed experiment.

The hissing only got worse, boiling into a low pitched scream. Tommy shot Ranboo an exasperated glance, and was caught off guard to see the other had unhinged his fucking jaw and was bristling up like a cat. He’d seen him like that before, and though he knew it was never directed at him, it still freaked him out. “Ranboo, down, leave it alone.”

“rrrrrrRRRRRR—”

“Ranboo—”

He was knocked to the ground with practically concussing force as a shadow swooped just above him, right where his head had been. Instinctively, he rolled to the side to dodge the next hit and reached for his sword, where was his sword—

But there was no need, because when he looked back, he processed the scene before him; phantoms, two of them, circling like vultures. Ranboo had knocked him out of the way to protect him, definitely, and Tommy watched as he reached into the air and dragged one down by the wing, smashing it into the ground and stomping down on it, cracking its spine. He keeled over with another curdling scream as the second one latched onto his neck with claws and teeth. Before Tommy could run over to help, he’d wrestled it to the ground, pinning its body to the grass, and taken one wing in his fangs before ripping it clean from its body, the phantom’s screeching dying down it lost consciousness.

Tommy felt a mix of terror, relief, and, “WHAT THE FUCK!?”

Ranboo, calm now that the threat was gone, chewed on the wing in his mouth like it was a snack as he stared innocently back at Tommy.

“You fuckin’— are you crazy!?” Though, he had potentially saved Tommy’s life. It was perhaps a bit concerning that phantoms were showing up in the first place— Tommy hadn’t realized just how bad his sleep patterns had gotten.

Ranboo kept chewing away, seeing absolutely no issue with this.

“Oh my fuckin’—“ Tommy stomped over and grabbed onto the wing, trying to pull it away. Ranboo growled at him and pulled back, initiating a tug of war. “Give it— give it now—”

After a hesitant moment, Ranboo released it and Tommy tossed it to the ground with a sigh. “Thank you. You alright?”

“Rrr-rrr.”

“Christ— fuckin’ warn me next time.” Though, in hindsight, he’d kinda tried to, hadn’t he? Whatever.

Ranboo then leaned forward and thunked his head against Tommy’s chest, and Tommyy sighed again, bringing his hands up and petting down his mussed hair. Ranboo began to purr nearly instantaneously, and Tommy let the last of his adrenaline fade out.

As much as he liked being able to, y’know, talk to him and treat him like a normal person, Ranboo wasn’t so bad when he was like this.

“… Yeah yeah, thanks. Or whatever.”

“Vrrgh-vwoop!”

[asterroidd]

fragment in time

↬ Reincarnation/Soulmate AU

—Wherein past lovers would always find each other in a different life.

↬ Pairing: Levi Ackerman/Reader

↬ Word count: 4.4k

↬ Synopsis: Perhaps in another lifetime, you and Levi would finally be together.

↬ not proofread, capn’ :’)

   The smell of blood wafted through the air. Screams of terror of fallen soldiers plagued your senses as man-eating-giants unhinged their jaws, their large teeth sinking down into the soft flesh of your comrades. Their blood splattered around, your terrified eyes watching each and every one in your squad being eaten alive by the titans.

   It was a simple mistake, an error created by the supposed messenger from the other squad of soldiers reporting in to inform you of the titan wreaking havoc amongst the lands to the west. You took them upon their word, heeding into the information, and as such steered the squad towards the east to avoid the chaos.

   But they were supposed to say east. East was where the giant beasts are.

   Which brings you back to today's scene, wherein you are badly injured—and perhaps internally bleeding—with an aberrant titan desolating your men.

   Biting down your cheeks, you groaned in pain as you adjusted yourself into a sitting position. Hands flying down to your stomach in attempts to stop the bleeding caused by a titan that caught you earlier.  You were in death's door—a foot in the grave you have dug yourself in ever since you signed up to be a soldier in the Survey Corps—ready to embrace the sweet release of death that would finally rid you of this hellish world. That is until one of your men saved you, slicing the fingers that are wrapped around your torso and harshly tossed you to the side and out of harm's way.

   You froze in horror, unable to recover your mental state after being a hair's width to cessation.

   "Lieutenant (____)! Take my horse and esca—" was their last words before the titan bit of their head. The beast looming over their figure, a sickening grin adorned their face as saliva trickled down its chin. It let out a small grunt of pleasure, gulping down the severed head of your comrade. Their lifeless body slowly slumped down until they fell with a thud against the grass. Dirt mixed with fresh blood dirtied their pristine white shirt they wore along with the Survey Corps uniform.

   You felt so useless. . .so powerless.

   The scene played inside your thoughts like a broken record playing in repeat. Over and over again. . .

   It was a nightmare much worse than those you have in your sleep. No. . . this is reality. This was actually happening right before your eyes. With a shaky hand, you brought it up to cup your cheek, smearing blood all over it as you lightly pinched yourself to confirm that you are actually awake and are not simply dreaming.

   You wanted to save your squad—your friends whom you trained and joked with back inside the walls. The very same people who were assigned to you by Erwin.  But you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

   Your body wouldn't budge.

   It was as if fate was tricking with you—letting time slow down for you to witness the horrific scene before you. You wanted to take a break, just a brief moment to recollect your thoughts and congregate yourself to fight back against the titans. You wanted to fight back; to slice the nape of the titan that killed most of your squad. But you find yourself unable to. Shoulders slumping down in defeat, eyes swimming with salty tears, and mouth so dry like those desserts Armin spoke of.

    As the titan's hands hover above, your life flashed before you. Recounting your most joyous moments from childhood to adulthood. Like that one time your mother gave you a hand-sewn doll for your birthday. Or when you got accepted to the Survey Corps despite your family's protests.

    You'll die a terrible death, they say. It's safer inside the walls.

    But you defied them, enlisting your name the moment it was announced that the military branch was recruiting a new set of soldiers for the next expedition happening in a few months. Your first time outside the walls was different.

    Instead of puking everywhere and shaking in your horse, you felt strangely calm and excited. Not only that but you also easily killed the titans coming your way. Which in return shocked the higher-ups and eventually gave you your own squad a few months later due to your pure skill.

    But perhaps the most memorable event in your life was meeting your fiance, Levi Ackerman. You met him a few years back—when he was still a fresh new recruit just like you. His skills with the 3d maneuver gear were no joke. The male looked so graceful whilst swinging from tree to tree. Moving as fast as sound as he sliced off the napes of giant beasts that dared come close to him.

    You idolized him at first—looking up to him in astonishment and hopes that one day, you would also possess the same prowess as him. Perhaps being on par with him in speed and killing titans was your goal. And so you set out to accomplish that ambition of yours; training every day until you pass out from exhaustion, harnessing your skills in hand-to-hand combat, and of course, improving your technique in using the 3d maneuver gear.

     That surely got his interest, because months later Levi started to acknowledge you more. Whether it was a simple nod and greeting when both of you passed each other in the hallways. Visiting you in your room when he knew a friend of yours died during the expedition. And of course, Levi bringing you tea to your office in the wee hours of the morning whilst you are drowning in piles and piles of paperwork.

    Before you knew it, you and he confessed to each other one night. You remembered it as clear as day. There were no clouds that moment, letting the moon shine brightly and provide light to the dimmest corners of the base. The stars were also out, glimmering in a rhythmic pattern that you grew to love.

    I think I have feelings for you. . .romantic ones, you first confessed to him. Your hands bawled up in a tight fist, your eyes screwed shut, and heart hammering against your chest in anticipation of his answer. Much to your delight, he reciprocated your feelings.

    That's good to hear, you swore there was a small smile. I feel the same way.

    You relish in the memories of you and Levi inside his office. Every activity with him makes your heart swell and heat rush to your face. Being with Levi makes you forget the horrors of the world offers and instead replace it with comfort and blissful moments. Whether it was a simple trip downtown, spontaneous cuddle sessions when no one was around, and of course the pleasure-filled occasions with him behind the closed door of his office.

    You treasured every moment inside your heart. And you would do whatever it takes to experience those once again.

    What you were going to do was obviously a suicide mission—you should've just taken a horse just like what your comrade said. But you are one stubborn one.

    Despite your body screaming in pain and agony, you won't die in vain. No, you'll stand up and fight back. Levi is expecting you to return back home intact and alive. You fired the hooks in a nearby tree, reeling yourself towards it before releasing it. There was a brief moment you're flying in the air. Everything was silent save for you hearing your own clamoring heartbeat against your rib cage. You've managed to escape in the nick of time, the titan's fists closing in the area where you once were. You could've died right then and there if it weren't for you acting quickly.

    Your eyes clouded with rage, you fired the hooks once again, only this time to the nape of the beast. In one fell swoop, its nape detached itself from the rest of the body.  A grunt escaped past your lips, an electric-like shot of pain coursed your veins. Air whistled past your ears as your velocity pushed you towards the side. Somehow in the process of killing the titan, its blood splattered on your face as well clothes.

    With immediate effect, mind you, as small wisps of smoke emerged from your clothes. A sign that the blood is vaporizing. You kept your eyes low, staring at the gaping mouth of the now-deceased beast. Within a few minutes, its once strong skin would disintegrate. Turning into piles of bones that, if given more time, would also fall apart. Like a bubble bursting into nothingness once in contact with air.

    You let out a small sigh of relief, letting your knees buckle and come in contact with the ground. It was a miracle that you could move despite your wounds.

    Though, you celebrated all too early.

    A shiver went down your spine as you heard the loud thumping behind. You whipped your head to the sound, eyes widening as a titan much bigger than the one you have killed was making its way towards you. Their mouth was stretched in an eerie smile, body covered with blood—with what you presumed was human's from another group of soldiers. Perhaps it heard the commotion and as such ventured towards the sound.

    "Shit. . ." you cursed, finally realizing that you were out of gas and the blades are dull. The horses, as you observed earlier, were injured and some ran away. Even the one your comrade left for you was long gone, nowhere to be seen.

    You imagined death so much it feels like a memory. Is this where it gets you? On your knees while the titan several feet ahead of you. You see it coming as clear as day, the surroundings a blur as you fixed attention on the beast. Do you run? Do you scream? Do you close your eyes and accept death? Though, you knew all too well that with your cracked ribs and injury, you wouldn't run as far.

    You chose the latter.

    Hands releasing the blades, you closed your eyes as you embraced the impending death.

    When the titan wrapped its fingers around your finger, you kept your mouth shut. Not even a scream escaping past. Your breath hitched, breathing in the godawful stench as the beast opened its mouth. Perhaps salivating at the thought of gnawing at your flesh.

    A choice with no regrets, that is what Levi said. True, you had a lot of regrets throughout your life, but you would never regret meeting him and enjoying every moment with him. Even if it was brief and shortcoming, you cherished it. Though, you truly did hope you would see his face once again. To relish under his touch. To hear his voice once more. Oh, how you wished you bid farewell before you take your final breath.

    You cried in pain as its teeth slowly sunk into your flesh, your lower half of the body bit by bit being detached from the rest. Tears streamed down your cheeks. This was finally it. The moment wherein you would take your last breath and leave this hellish reality.

    That is, until a strong gust of wind passed by.

    "(____)!!" you knew the voice all too well. It was Levi's.

    You opened your eyes, realizing now that the male had successfully killed the beast and is now carrying you in his arms. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising up and down vehemently. "You—" he started. Fear danced in his eyes, perhaps tears clouding his vision despite his attempts to keep it at bay. It was a rare sight to see Levi crying, usually, only a handful of people get to witness it. That said, you were always the one to comfort him in his darkest nights.

    Levi carefully set you down, letting you lay down on the grass. "Don't you dare close your eyes, (____)!!" he pleaded. Hands clasping your shoulder blades.

    "The others are coming this way—" he fought back a sob. "Just—just keep your eyes open long enough."

    But you and he knew all too well that the deep gash in your abdomen as a result of the titan sinking its teeth is far too severe to be treated. The damage has already been done, it would be magic if the medic could heal you. Still, Levi clung to that hope that you would survive. That you would be back in the walls with him just in time for the wedding to happen after the expedition.

    Levi was frantic. Unsure of what to do in seeing you in such a state he knew would be far-fetched to heal.

    A minute.

    He deduced that with your injury and blood continuously pouring out, you would still have a minute or two with him before you leave for good. Levi hated the thought of losing you. He blamed himself for letting you separate from him for this mission. So when he was informed that a titan wreaked havoc upon you and your squad, Levi did not think twice in changing directions in order to check up on you.

    If only he was fast enough. If only he could turn back the time so Levi could save you in the nick of time before the titan drilled its teeth unto your flesh. But he knew all too well that what has happened has already been done. So for one last time, he'll make sure that the time spent with you would leave no regrets.

    In contrast to him, love and mirth danced in your eyes, sparkling like a radiant summer sun glistening and being reflected on a puddle of water. Carefully and somewhat sluggish, you raised your hand to cup Levi's cheeks. Your thumb caressing his skin that you love oh so much.

    "I'm glad I could see your face one last time. . ." you murmured under your breath, too weak to raise your voice.

    Levi tightened his grip on your shoulders, this is it. The moment he'll lose another loved one yet again. "Save your energy. Don't you dare leave me," he spat.

    "Levi. . ." you chuckled despite the pain. "You and I both know that I wouldn't make it in time. . ."

    His broken expression made you wish this was all a dream.

    "So. . ." you trailed off. "Just hold my hand, please?"

   You blinked as black spots danced in her eyes. You were getting sleepy though ironically your body can't rest. The pain in your lower half was gone but when you tried moving, the pain emerged again. It somehow finds a way to wake you up. It was as if fate knew to keep you awake just to have one final moment with your beloved.

    Levi closed his eyes, finally accepting reality and abiding by your request. With shaky hands, he clasped yours quite harshly. He was not ready to lose you.

    "I'll see you in another time. . ." he slowly spoke. "We'll meet each other again and I'll find you."

    One tear slid down your cheek, "Yeah. . . See you."

   You woke up with a start, eyes flying open and you gasping for breath.

    The room was dark, save for the small light given by the sun which was shielded by the floral curtain. A blue vase etched with gold ethnic marks and aster flowers in it sat at the windowsill. The first thing you registered was the feeling of cotton against your skin and the dark surroundings of your room. Slowly, you moved into a sitting position, your body feeling light as if you are floating in thin air.

    That dream of yours had been reoccurring more often, plaguing your thoughts every night as you hit the haystack and welcome the sweet embrace of sleep—as if some outward forces want to tell you something.

    You were in a trance—fog clouding your brain as you recalled. Distantly, your fingers ran over the soft cotton blanket, you can't help but feel like you were forgetting something.

Something important.

    It was odd enough that giant naked men are desolating the lands; eating every human that comes across its way. But the thought of actually fighting it using a device far too technical for you to understand is what makes it absurd. That one particular scene keeps replaying over and over again when you sleep. You are confused—flabbergasted even. Though, it could only point to one answer.

    It was a hand maiden's tale. A story passed down from generation to generation that the person constantly reappearing in your dreams was your soulmate. Though you wanted to believe that, it was a slim chance that it could actually be true. For starters, you were not a superstitious person—you believed in facts and data instead of made-up tales by who knows who. Still, something deep inside you was screaming that the male in your dreams was your destined beloved.

   So as you strolled down the halls of the campus, you can’t help but let your thoughts drift off to the dream that incessantly appears at night. It was yet another day of you visiting the library to check if there are any new books added to the catalog. It may seem a nerd-ish move, but who could blame you? Thousands upon thousands of books right at your fingertips that you could easily access for free. Who wouldn’t want free books?

    The soft beep of the monitor lets you know that your ID card has been scanned and as such recorded that you have, yet again, visited the library. As you stepped inside the room, there are a couple of students slumped over the tables. Their laptops opened, notes sprawled out, and multiple pens scattered around. Despite the obvious studious set-up, half of them are on their phone or sleeping. Talk about slacking off.

    Shaking your head, you opted to walk straight into the fiction section where you spend most of your time scouring each shelf in search of a new adventure. Though, you halted momentarily as an unfamiliar figure came into view. They were searching for something—at least that is what you presumed given their furrowed eyebrows and the occasional curse underneath their breath.

   It is such a rare sight to see someone other than you in the fiction aisle. Mainly since most students would be in other sections searching for biographies, dissertations, and old literature stuff that would aid them in their studies. At first, you thought it was Arlert, the freshman you met a couple of months back when both of you happen to stumble upon each other. The male happens to be searching for a specific sci-fi book. Luckily, you had practically memorized each shelf in the fiction section. As such, you helped him find the novel he desires. Before you knew it, you and he had become close friends that would occasionally talk to each other about books both of you enjoy.

   But that isn’t the case this time. Armin’s iconic blond hair wasn’t in sight. Instead, onyx black in an undercut hairstyle is what greeted you. Wait a minute—he exactly looks like the male in your dreams.

   You stepped closer, quiet as to not disturb or startle him. When you got close to the figure, you concluded that, indeed, he is the male in your dreams; quite literally and figuratively.

   True, he is the exact spitting image of the male you’ve been seeing every night when you’re fast asleep. But also he is exactly your type; sharp jawline that could probably cut your finger, steel gray eyes that look oh so mysterious, and saints, the way you could see small veins on his pale hand drives you crazy.

   “Uhmm. . .do you need help?” you voiced out without thinking twice. You had to slap yourself internally when the male turned around to glare at you.

   He rose a brow, eyes trailing from head to toe as if questioning you what are you doing.

   “Ah—uhm. I didn’t mean to startle you but I am quite familiar with this section so maybe I could help you with what you are looking for.”

   The male narrowed his eyes at you, lips pressed into a thin line. Both of you shared silence, the distant hum of the air conditioner was the only thing you could hear. “What happened to Lori,” he abruptly spoke which perplexed you.

   “What. . ?”

   “I am looking for the second book of ‘What happened to Lori’. Do you know where that is?”

   Your mouth fell open in realization as to what he was pertaining to. It was the exact book that you bought a week ago after finding out that the library doesn’t have the second book to the duology. It was a hefty price, but all was worth it since the story is all too intriguing to be left behind in book one. You needed answers and a continuation, and as such bought the second book online.

   “The second book isn’t actually available. . .” you explained. The male cursed under his breath, something about the library being a useless piece of shit that was stupid enough to not buy the second book considering it was a duology.

   The very book he is looking for is inside your bag. Frankly, you only finished it halfway so you were not too sure if you want to let him borrow it. But, with one look at the male, you can’t help but be amazed at how he is the carbon copy of the person that keeps appearing in your dreams.

   You weren’t a superstitious person, but could this male be your soulmate?

   He was about to leave you, that is until you called out to him. “But I have the second book with me,” you stammered. If it means that you would get to see him again and perhaps know some answers, then you are more than willing to lend him your book. “You could borrow it if you want. . .?”

   The male looked at you from the corner of his eye, observing the way you fidget in your place and how you refused to look at him directly in the eye by continuously letting your gaze shift from book to book on the shelves.

   “If that’s fine with you, then sure.”

   With shaky hands, you frantically fished inside your bag in an attempt to look for the book. He was silent as you pulled out the said item and handed it over to him. The male, with astonishment dancing in his eyes, took the book from your hands and examined its cover and pages.

   “Have. . .have I seen you somewhere before?” you dared ask, eager to confirm if you were plain hallucinating or perhaps the soulmate-thing is indeed true. That, suppose, you also appear in his dreams every night. It was far-fetched, but you were ambitious to find out answers.

   The male let out one drained sigh, irritation washed over his features. “Look, if you are trying to hit on me then I’m not interested.”

   Wait, what? You weren’t—

   “I-I’m not!” you stammered, hands flailing around. “I just thought you look familiar.”

   He opened his mouth to respond but was cut short when the deafening clap of the thunder followed by a flash of light interrupted him. Both of you looked out the window to see the sky as black as tar, clouded by dark gray nimbus clouds as small drops of rain fell to the ground. Then it gradually got heavy all too soon.

   The color drained from your face as you realized that you forgot to bring an umbrella today. Not only that but you were totally unprepared for the sudden change in weather given that you were wearing a thin shirt.

   You bit your lip, brows curling up at the thought of shivering as you wait for the rain to dissipate. If anything, you totally despise the cold and how it makes your nose all runny and hair stand. Internally scolding yourself, you made a mental note to always check the weather update before going out of your dorm.

   “Tch. . .” the male clicked his tongue. “Here.”

   You were surprised to feel the soft fabric of his jacket draped over your shoulders, giving you warmth. Did he just—did he just gave you his jacket?

   “You’re shivering like a fucking wet dog,” he explained. “So wear that. . .”

   A flush crept up your face as the musky scent of his cologne with a hint of artificial fragrance from what you presumed is the smell of cleaning products wafted through your nose. You’ve got to say, this jacket of his truly is comfortable. With it being lined with cotton on the inside, the thick wool serving as a second layer for warmth, and the exquisite color combination of forest green and gold of the clothing. Slowly, you slipped your arms inside the sleeves and tucking your hands deep inside its pockets. Oddly enough, it fits you just well given—not too big nor small.

   The male turned on his heel, about to take his leave, again, without bidding you farewell. But you grabbed onto his sleeve just in time before he could leave the vicinity.

   “When—uhh—when can I return this?”

   He looked at you with a confused expression, as if asking if you are dumb or whatnot. “Isn’t that obvious?”

   “What I mean is, oh gods, I don’t have any ways to contact you whatsoev—“

   “So you want my number?”

   Someone please kill me right now, you whimpered.

    “What? No, I was ju—“

   “Yeah, yeah I get it. Hurry up and give me your phone,” the male pulled out his phone, expecting you to do the same.

   The audacity of this guy. He has to be a lady’s man or whatever to be this haughty.

   With a shaky breath, you and him both exchange numbers. Mind in a frenzy at the thought of seeing him again and perhaps that wouldn’t be the last time.

   “Uhmm. . .So I guess I’ll return the jacket to you once you’ve finished the book. . .?”

   Ah, there is that feeling again that keeps pestering you—a thought on the back of your mind.

   "Yeah, I'll give the book back to you eventually," he spoke. "I'll see you in another time. . ."

   "Yeah. . .” you breathed, calming yourself to prevent blood rushing to your cheeks. “See you.”

   A hunch that you have already met him in the past; a fragment in time.

part 2 (?)

[pastelwitchling]

Alex had both palms braced on the console, breathing deeply, and trying not to spiral into the hurricane of questions and horrifying scenarios his brain was making. He had to stay focused.

“What about the security cameras?” Liz said somewhere behind him.

“We checked them, there’s no hint where he could be,” Max said with a little edge. “Whoever did this knew exactly where to stand to keep hidden.”

“It was Mr. Jones,” Alex muttered, thinking. “It had to be.”

“He hasn’t woken up yet,” Liz was starting, but Alex cut her off.

“Not alone, but he did do this,” he said. “This is how my dad works. He uses people, whoever he needs to. He used Michael when he’d taken me, and now he’s used Mr. Jones.”

It wasn’t right, not completely, Alex knew. Something about this whole plan to take Michael and leave Mr. Jones behind felt off, it felt sloppy. His dad was many things, but not sloppy. The finer details though didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Michael was gone, and Alex was on the verge of losing his mind. Maybe he already had. That didn’t matter either.

“I want to talk to him,” Alex demanded. “See what he knows.”

“Alex,” Max started to shake his head, “we don’t know what he’s capable of, even under the pollen, he could be too dangerous to –”

“I’ve seen things that would give you nightmares, Max Evans,” Alex hissed, and the room fell silent. “Right now, the only danger you have to worry about is me. None of you know anything about interrogation, I’m taking over.”

It was not a request, and Max and Isobel didn’t hear it that way. They took Alex back to Max’s house, through his large living room, into the guest bedroom where Mr. Jones was being kept.

Alex had expected him to look like Max’s twin, but there was something unhinged in the darkness of his eyes that Max definitely didn’t have, a twisted curl to his mouth that said he knew Max and Alex were vibrating with fear for Michael, and that it made him happy.

“Well, well,” he said slowly, his voice hoarse despite the upward quirk of his lips. “Aren’t you a pretty one? I was wondering when I’d get to see you here, Jesse Manes Jr.”

“It’s Alex, actually,” Alex said, kneeling in front of Mr. Jones and peering up at him. There were dark circles around his eyes, his cheeks were hollow, his shoulders slumped with an undeniable exhaustion. There was a single needle wound in his neck.

“You took someone that belongs to me,” Alex said quietly, and Mr. Jones tilted his head, his eyes locked on Alex’s. “And I want him back.”

Mr. Jones started to laugh. It was breathy, his voice cracked, and it faded into a fit of coughs, but he was clearly amused, nonetheless.

“That’s sweet,” he murmured. “You’re sweet. I kinda like you.”

“Enough with your stupid games,” Max warned. “Tell us where my brother is, or you’re going to wish you were never born.”

Mr. Jones gasped mockingly. “Goodness me, brother. What’re you gonna do? Lecture me to death?” His laughs grew louder, stronger. “I know you too well. You put on the villain face, but in the end, you ‘aint got the nerve.” He looked down at Alex, and sneered, like his next words were the most insulting he could think of. “You’re heroes. You see the good in everyone, even a lunatic like Jesse Manes. Now that man is dark. View’s too limited though, too narrow-minded. Can’t see the big picture.”

Alex stared. “You won’t tell us where Michael is? That’s your final answer?” Mr. Jones opened his mouth to retort, but Alex coldly cut him off. “Keep in mind that this is your last chance to talk.”

Mr. Jones’ smile widened and he tilted his head. In a singsong voice, he responded, “Michael’s gonna diiii—eeee.”

Alex’s eye twitched. “Max,” he said, his voice unfamiliar to his own ears. “Can I have a minute please?”

Max must’ve known something bad was about to happen because he quietly responded, “Sure, Alex. Just don’t kill him.”

Alex clenched his jaw, his eyes unmoving from Mr. Jones. He wouldn’t kill him. Dead men couldn’t talk.

*

Max regretted leaving the second the door closed behind him. Isobel, Liz, and Kyle looked up from where they sat on the couch, waiting for an answer.

“Did you find out where Michael is?” Isobel demanded.

Max shook his head. “He won’t talk, no matter what I say.” He punched the wall. “He’s having too much fun.”

“I don’t get it,” Kyle shook his head. “Jesse Manes left him to get caught. How could he still be defending him?”

Max didn’t say his biggest fear; Mr. Jones didn’t care if Jesse had left him so long as he was killing Michael and the rest of them were suffering for it. He would have fun watching no matter what.

Kyle was staring at the guest bedroom door from his seat on the armrest, his arms crossed. “Why’s Alex still in there? Shouldn’t you help him? You’re the one with the powers.”

“Alex wanted a minute alone with him,” Max said, avoiding their eyes.

Liz, of course, noticed right away. “Max,” she said, “what aren’t you telling us?”

Max shook his head. Alex was just worried, they were all worried. He was fine. He opened his mouth to say that when Mr. Jones suddenly screamed.

The others shot to their feet, Isobel’s hands over her mouth, her eyes wide.

“Oh my god,” Liz breathed.

Oh my god was right, Max thought. That wasn’t any normal scream. It was one of pure and utter agony, like the scream of a man having his limbs slowly torn off.

Max took two long steps to the room when the screams suddenly cut off, and the door opened. Alex was wiping his bloody hand off on his jacket. Max stared. He was not the only one. That blood, they knew, was not Alex’s, but it covered his entire forearm like paint.

“Alex,” Kyle breathed, “what the hell –”

“Caulfield,” Alex said at once, already heading to the door. “He’s at Caulfield.”

It was too late to hide the look in his eyes. Max had seen something in Alex shatter, something dark, something frightening.

*

“Drive faster,” Alex said through clenched teeth.

“This is as fast as it’ll go, Alex,” Max said. Alex could feel him glancing. “If anything happened to Michael –”

“Don’t.”

“—We’d know,” he finished. “Okay? Isobel and I would’ve felt it. I would’ve felt it.”

Alex felt the smallest bit of reassurance. It was nothing compared to the overwhelming fear and discomfort at not having Michael in his arms, safe and sound. His hand, his fingers, his wrist and forearm, they were still stained with Mr. Jones’ blood. He could still feel the meat of the alien’s flesh as he dug his fingers into the needle wound at his neck, opening up the cut to fit his fingers, until Mr. Jones was screaming. His eyes wide, as though he’d never expected Alex to raise so much as a finger at him. He’d been wrong. He’d taken Michael.

He had no idea what he’d unleashed.

As if hearing his thoughts, Max quietly asked, “What’d you do to him?”

“Doesn’t matter,” was all Alex said, not wanting to linger on the familiar chill of his own voice.

When they reached Caulfield, they were careful to come in the same way they’d come when it had just been Michael, Alex, and Kyle. Alex held his gun up, as did Max. Kyle stayed on Alex’s other side, a taser in his and Liz’s hands while Isobel held her hands up in case of a sudden attack.

Getting in was difficult. It felt like every few feet, a guard came out to stop them. Alex knew these people were trying to keep Michael away from them, and wanted nothing more than to tear into them with his bare hands, but they needed to hurry. He shot each one in the shoulder or leg. There was more than one spot in the human body that rendered the rest of it paralyzed. He didn’t care if they screamed, if they bled out. As far as he was concerned, they’d signed their death warrants when they helped Jesse hide Michael from him. He was being merciful not doing worse.

They moved deeper and deeper into the facility, and by the end of it, it was him and Max with the most stains on their clothes and the more bruises. Better that way. They made it into a long, dark hallway that took them to a sealed room.

Through a small window, Alex could see Michael in a steel chair, his head dropping between his shoulders as an IV strip pumped something that looked a lot like the pollen’s serum and something else into his veins.

There was a keypad next to the door. Without missing a beat, Alex held his gun for Max to take and pulled out his phone.

“Michael!” Isobel called through the window, panicked, but it was no use. He wouldn’t be answering anybody.

“Can’t we break the door down?” Liz demanded.

“It’s reinforced steel and set up to self-destruct,” Alex muttered, typing rapidly on his phone. He knew that hacking software he’d created would come in handy sometime. “Look around you. This place is already falling apart from the last time someone tried to break in.”

“But you can get him out, right?” Max asked Alex.

“Yeah,” Kyle said without missing a beat. Alex could feel him staring. “Yeah, he can do it.”

A second. Two. Three. Four seconds of Alex hearing nothing but the blood rushing in his own ears and the held breaths of everyone around him. The keypad beeped, the steel hinges clicked, and the door swung open. Alex pushed it enough to run in and fall to his knees in front of Michael, yanking the strips out of his arm while Max and Isobel set to work on the cuffs that kept him in the chair.

“Hey,” Alex whispered, lifting his chin gently. “Hey, baby, can you hear me? Michael, look at me, can you hear me?”

Michael’s eyes were half-lidded and hazed. Michael made a soft “Hmm?,” and his gaze focused for a split second. He smiled sleepily.

“You,” he breathed, “you look . . . just like my Alex.”

A small cry escaped Isobel’s lips before she quickly stifled it. Liz put a hand on her back as Kyle undid the rope around Michael’s waist. Jesse was nowhere in sight. He must’ve run the second he heard them arrive, knowing the guards would do nothing but stall for time. None of it mattered.

Alex smiled at Michael. “I am,” he huffed a chuckle, his eyes burning. “I am your Alex. Okay, come on, give me your arm, lean on me.”

“Alex,” Kyle tried, “if your leg hurts, I can –”

Alex cut him a glare so sharp Kyle turned silent at once. He’d apologize for it later. Right now, he needed to feel Michael against him, and he trusted no one but himself to help get him out of this hellhole.

Michael was able to stand, though he leaned most of his weight on Alex, his other arm around Max. His face was in Alex’s hair and he inhaled.

He murmured, “You smell like him, too.”

“Come on, baby,” Alex encouraged, unwilling to ever let go again. “Come on, you can do it, just hold onto me.”

 Alex’s fingers and toes had turned numb from the lack of movement in the last two hours, but he didn’t dare stand and walk around. He didn’t dare take his eyes off Michael until he woke up. He’d collapsed almost the second they’d gotten him into Max’s car, but Alex had kept a tight hold on him.

Max’s healing was useless against the pollen, and technically, Michael didn’t need a hospital, but Alex wanted Kyle to have access to whatever he needed to help him.

So they were pumping acetone into his veins instead of saline, they were monitoring his heart rate, even as, by the minute, it was getting better and better. And still, Alex kept close, kept watch, made sure no one but Kyle came in, no one but Kyle changed his IV bag and cleaned his wounds.

At one point, Kyle came in and put a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Dude, you need to rest.”

“I’ll rest when he’s awake.”

“Alex –”

“Kyle,” Alex said, his voice clipped. “I’m not leaving him.”

A moment of silence, then, “Are you okay?”

“The man I love was kidnapped by my father, what do you think?”

“Alex.”

Alex glanced at Kyle, and the lump that had been in his throat since he first discovered Michael had gone missing lodged itself firmly in place now, forbidding him to breath steadily. His eyes burned and his lower lip trembled as a horrifying realization that he’d been keeping at bay surfaced now.

He whispered, “I’m just like him.”

“No,” Kyle said immediately. His voice was calm. “You’re not.”

“What I did to Mr. Jones,” he shook his head. “I would’ve killed every single guard in that prison without batting an eye.”

“No, you wouldn’t have.”

“Kyle –”

“You wouldn’t have.” Kyle sat down next to him. “Alex, you’re not your dad. All he ever thought about was himself. You did what you had to do to get Guerin back. Mr. Jones never would’ve told us where he was if you hadn’t – if you hadn’t done what you’d done.”

“I’d do anything for him,” Alex whispered, watching the way Michael’s chest rose and fell with his breaths. “Isn’t that a bad thing?”

“Maybe for some people,” Kyle shrugged a shoulder. “Not for you.”

Alex clenched his jaw. “I’m scared of what I’d become for him.”

“Who you always are is Alex,” Kyle said, and stood, ruffling Alex’s hair. “No matter what you become, that doesn’t change.”

With that, Kyle left them to be alone, and still Alex would not look away from Michael. He sniffled and reached out, taking Michael’s hand in both of his and holding tight.

The lump, the weight on his chest, the pain in his leg, he knew, wouldn’t go away until he got to see Michael was awake and safe. With the knowledge that he would be here all night, Alex squeezed Michael’s hand, and waited.

*

Michael opened his eyes to a white ceiling, white walls, and white sheets. A steady beep beep beep went on somewhere behind him, there was a warm weight on his left hand and hip, and he realized that he was in a hospital. Before he could start to question why though, he caught the source of the weight.

Alex had his head rested against Michael’s hip, sleeping with pinched brows as his hands clung to Michael’s. Michael stared. It took him a minute to process what he was seeing.

He heard himself breathe slowly, carefully. If this was a dream, he hoped he never woke up. Alex looked so real, his dark, straight hair splayed against the white sheets, his long lashes curled against rosy cheeks, his warm breathing against Michael’s hand as his lips brushed Michael’s fingers.

Michael reached up his thumb to touch Alex’s cheek, to see if it was as soft and warm as it looked (it was), and Alex started awake. His eyes followed Michael’s thumb to his face, and he sat up, a grin splitting his lips.

“Guerin!” he breathed. He stood and cupped Michael’s face. Michael did not miss the way he winced, but his eyes were filling with tears that begged to fall and his smile was so beautiful and happy that Michael couldn’t find it in him to do anything but cling to Alex’s hands just as tightly.

“You’re okay,” he sighed with relief, his fingers gentle on Michael’s jaw. “You’re okay. I’m going to – I should go get Kyle, I –”

“No,” Michael croaked, his throat dry, as he tried to sit up. “No, stay here.”

“Be careful,” Alex said, setting up his pillows and helping him lie down against them. “There you go, careful.” He stood back, looking Michael over for any open wounds. “Do you – uh – what do you need?”

Michael watched him. His fingers were trembling, his eyes twitching, his jaw clenched so tightly Michael feared he was drawing blood. He wordlessly held his arms out, and Alex eyed him a moment before his expression revealed the grief behind it, a sob escaped his lips, and he fell into Michael’s embrace.

“I’m so sorry,” he cried, and Michael’s heart broke. His hold on Alex tightened.

“Don’t,” he growled. “That wasn’t your fault. Got it? It wasn’t your fault, Alex. You’re my hero.”

“I’m not,” Alex whimpered. “You don’t know what I did.”

“I don’t care,” Michael breathed, his hold unbearably, painfully tight now. “I don’t care. You’re always my hero, Private.”

Alex burrowed deeper into his side. He kissed Michael’s shoulder, his neck, his jaw, his cheek, and held his face as he kissed his lips. Michael didn’t care if they weren’t officially together or hadn’t really spoken about their feelings since Alex and Forrest had ended things. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was Alex.

He held Alex back just as desperately, and kissed him again and again and again, until all Alex could do was laugh through his tears.

“I’m sorry,” Alex swallowed, straightening. “I should – I should be more careful. You’re still hurt. Uh –” he wiped his face roughly “—do you want me to get you some water? Juice? Anything you want.”

“You,” was all Michael said, taking hold of Alex’s hand and pulling him onto the bed.

Alex looked startled, but went where Michael guided him until they were both lying on their sides, pressed close together.

“Guerin,” Alex whispered as Michael wrapped an arm around his waist, his forehead against Alex’s. “We can’t do this now, you – you need –”

“You,” Michael whispered back. With his other hand, he traced Alex’s jaw, his lips, down his neck. He couldn’t remember anything after his bunker had been broken into, but he’d been sure of one thing; Alex would bring hell to the doorstep of anyone who dared hurt him.

“All I’ve ever wanted and needed is you,” Michael said into the small space between their lips. Alex’s eyes fluttered, his chin raising so that his lips met Michael’s, as if he couldn’t help himself. Michael was so in love, it hurt him.

Before he closed the distance between them, he whispered, “My Alex.”

[southerneldritch]

-A Year Later, Misha-

The smoke rose in a thick line from the burning embers of the tip of the cigarette, an off brand from the shop in town. Misha drew in a deep and long drag as he looked out across the night sky above the cold southern expanse of the Tronador valley. As he went further up the mountain, it was nice to look back towards the small lights of Puerto Varas, where he had received the intel that pointed him up this impressively cold mountain. Misha was no stranger to cold, but with how hot it was in the town this August he hadn’t expected the trek to plunge him into frigid temperatures. Nevertheless, with his collar lifted and another smoke lit, he marched forward.

The night was getting colder and the path, if you could call it one, was more than likely made entirely by wayward goats without intention or significance. Santino knew better than to give Misha bad intel, especially with something as important as this, but still there was a nagging at the back of Misha’s mind that this could be a trap. 

He’d had a few difficult tussles since he left the comfort of the states to pursue what truth he had seen, what memories had been returned to him. Briefly, he considered the nightmare of New Orleans and what he’d had to do with the good Doctor. The sight of what that man had become, what that man committed to before slipping under the floodwaters of the ill-gotten city was still clear in his mind. Misha liked that his mind felt less like a mystery than before, but he was torn when he thought of the life he had built in Avenyork, the friends….friend he had made. 

After another long drag of the cigarette, Misha found himself spotting the low light of a small cabin tucked into the mountainside. “Finally. I hope they have a fire going” he muttered to himself as he trudged on. Arriving at the small cabin, he could hear some music playing from inside. It sounded Russian. With a firm knock he stood out in the cold for a moment before the music fell silent and the door was cracked open. Dark brown eyes stared out from the warmth of the structure. “¿Sí, Qué quieres?”

“¿Oleg está aquí?” Misha responded. There was a slight look of confusion on the face of the man holding the door.

“Hablas español mejor que Oleg” He smiled and opened the door wider, gesturing for Misha to step inside. 

“lo hago pero no lo prefiero.” Misha smirked as he stepped through the doorway, adding “¿Habla usted Inglés?”

“Si, but is not as good. But Oleg prefer it too.” The man, short in stature, shut the door behind Misha and led him to a chair at a table in the middle of the room. Misha could smell some sort of soup or stew being made on the fireplace and there was a small phonograph player on a small table to the side. “Oleg tried to make me learn Russian, HA” he laughed “Not happen”

“Russian is not easy language to master. Don’t worry my english is very good.” Misha sat down roughly, tired as he was. “Where is Oleg?” His eyes drifted around the room and saw a small bed tucked in the corner and a single door into the back room.

“He went to gather last few ingredients for stew” The man sat down across from Misha “Mi nombre es Mateo, ehhh” A pause “My name, Mateo. You?” His clothes were a bit large for his build and he seemed calm, despite a stranger banging on his door at this late hour in the mountains. 

“Misha” Misha stated as he absorbed the room, gathering as much as he could. “And how did Oleg come to find you?”

“Oh as most. The people in town. They know my skills” He smiled and folded his fingers together. His nails were clean and bright yet something dark was under them. “And what is Oleg to you?”

Misha paused and considered the question. “Old friends,” adding, “How long do you think he’ll be?” He kept his eyes on swivel as he watched Mateo’s every move. 

“He not be much longer” Mateo smiled wide, teeth looking wet. “Last ingredients are most important.” He gestured towards the pot next to the fireplace. 

“Yes.” There was a pause in the room. The cold of the outdoors permeated everything despite the roaring fire. “The final touches are always important.” Before the pause could go on much longer, Misha asked, “So I heard music as I approached. Shall we put some on while we wait for Oleg?”

“YES!” Mateo exclaimed, his voice almost heavy with excitement. “Please go crank up the record” he half laughed “Oleg brought very good”. Misha stood and made his way towards the phonograph. It was an old thing that looked worse for the wear, and there on the pad was an old Russian record. The crank made an awful noise as he turned it. The creaking, clanking and the sound of the spring tightening was a mixture of bizzare and otherworldly sounds that caused the hairs on Misha’s neck to stand up on end. 

As Mateo reached the last click of the player, Misha noticed an imperial Russian coat on the floor by the fireplace. Heavy outerwear that would work well in the growing cold outside the house. A coat Oleg would not have left without care. Misha’s stomach turned to sand and there were alarm bells going off as he felt his muscles tightened without thinking to do so. 

“So Oleg?” Misha spoke as the record wurred to life with the sounds of a Russian folk tune, he turned back towards Mateo and regretted his decision immediately. Mateo with wide open eyes was looking directly at Misha, though he had not turned his body, only his head which was situated facing almost entirely the wrong direction. His mouth looked as if it had broken free and his head cocked backwards as a horrific guttural sound of nightmares filled the small cabin. Misha reached for his pistol as Mateo’s form folded and ripped and slid off of the large creature now flinging itself at him. His gun had only gotten out of the holster before the creature was on top of him. Slamming Misha down hard, the gun slipped from his hand. His head was spinning but his training kicked in harder than ever. The snarling maw of the grotesque thing was dripping down onto him as he kicked his heel back and slammed it hard into the beast. The creature folded back and shrieked. It grasped at its side that was bleeding a thick red ichor.

“Piece of Shit!” Misha exclaimed as he rolled over and tapped his heel again, the blood stained blade retracting into the side of his boot. Tumbling to his feet next to his revolver and snatching it up to look towards the creature writhing. Drawing a deep breath with a mixture of words under his breath Misha steadied his pistol on the shadowed and dripping beast. The upbeat tunes of the Russian folk music punctuated the snarl of the thing as it whipped around to face Misha.

“YOU ARE TOO LATE FOR FRIEND '' The voice spilled from various holes around the thing. With sounds of gravel being forced through flesh, the tone still somehow sounded like the small man of Mateo, even if the creature had very few traces of his flesh sticking to its dripping form. Within a second it lept towards Misha and without a second guess the gun belched fire. The small piece of metal tore through the creature, though it was not enough to stop its energy. Slamming down in front of him and bringing a thunderously hard slam into his side, the creature sent Misha hurling into the wall at the back of the shack. Wood splintered as the low light of the cabin was lost.  

Misha woke, lying inside the small back room, “Uhhhghhh.” He let  a moan escape before sitting up. The bodies of curious travellers and seekers of information alike were strung up and stored around the room. Likely as some sort of food source. “Oh Oleg,” he muttered as he eyed the opening now splintered through the wall into the main room of the cabin. “I guess you didn’t come as prepared as you should have.” Misha began to unload the revolver and slips his hand into an interior pocket of his jacket. He pulled out a few special looking cartridges with emblazoned symbols upon the shells. Before he was able to load them, the mass of the creature barges through, up, over and towards him.

“YOU SOON DEAD NEW RUSSIAN!” The creature gurgled forward with a sense of pained anger. While the previous strikes may not have been lethal, they certainly hurt. It clearly was angry now. Seeing it close the distance with its previous speed, Misha abandoned loading the gun and braced himself instead. No amount of training can steel one against the purely physical blows of a wretched beast. Misha found himself tumbling back out of the hole his body had just made in the wall. He managed to land on his feet and was able to load the special rounds.

“Not quite yet you piece of SHIT!” He called out mocking the creature as the last round click into the cylinder and he snapped the gun shut. The hammer set, he began to speak softly as the chamber emitted a soft glow, faint but there. “I’m not done with you!” He exclaimed as he saw the twisted gleam of the eyes of the creature peer over the hole in the wall.

Releasing a growling shriek the creature retorted, “YOU DIE NOW OTHERS ARE FOOD ENOUGH!!!” as it launched over the broken timbers and slammed foot after foot, hand after hand towards Misha. Its jaws unhinged as it lept but before it bit down into the flesh of this painful nuisance, Misha dropped down, dodging the thing and letting loose two shots directly point blank into its belly. Hellish green and blue fire erupted from the wounds as large bulbs exploded around the impact zones. The creature cried out and slammed into, then through, the outer wall out into the cold snow of the mountainside. It let out a weak chitter of pain and confusion.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here Oleg.” Misha slowly stepped over the rubble of the wall and towards the thing. It’s body convulsing and folding, bones twisting inside its loose skin. “But this thing won't hurt anyone else.” Misha stood over it and let loose a loud single shot through what could best be described as its ‘head’. A few moments of the bright burn of green and blue light and the echo of the shot through the mountains, and Misha was alone. 

New snow began to fall silently. He flipped open his notebook to a page full of names. He crossed out the last name on the page, ‘Oleg Fedorov.’ The steam of his breath was thick as he let out a long long sigh. With a fresh cigarette in his lips, he glanced at the Verum Private Detective badge paper clipped into his notebook. He looked into the cold night. 

Softly, to the silence, he says, “I think I miss home.” 

(by J. Daily)

[whumpitisthen]

Récamier

Masterlist

First drabble! This was made as a way to torture my friend who has a slightly unhealthy obsession with vampires. That’s why it’s in first person, I usually write in the third! Anyways, hope you like it. :) 

"So..." - He began. He sounded soft and patient. - "You told me last week you've been having nightmares, ones you’ve never had before."

"Oh, did i tell you about that as well?" You reply, having genuinely forgotten that you told him about those.

"Yes, you have. Has your memory been getting worse as well?" He sounds almost concerned, a look of empathy in his eyes.

"Oh, no, no, I think it's pretty much the same as it always has been...?" It came out as a shaky reply, not confident in your own answer either.  

"You don't sound too sure of that, Darling.” He says, a mocking smile playing on his lips as he notices the reaction the pet name has brought out of you. It wasn't anything big, just a small widening of the eyes and setting of your jaw, but he noticed nevertheless. He seems to really pay attention to you, in a way no-one else has, in a way no-one should.

"Uhmm... I think that's not something to worry about. I just forgot, that's all.” You add with a reassuring smile, ignoring the one that he wore still, though now it's starting to morph into a different one. Looks a little smaller, tight-lipped, overly kind.

He seems to disregard your answer entirely, instead, he pulls himself up a little straighter. He takes a deep breath, momentarily closing his eyes, which allows you just a moment to take a good look at him.

You never told him but you do feel kind of intimidated by him. You know you shouldn't be. After all, he's your therapist. You should feel comfortable and relaxed, like you're just having a nice chat with a trusted friend.

But something about him seems... he just seems-, off, sometimes. You yourself are not even sure what the reason for that is. Maybe it's the relaxed way he keeps pulling his finger up and down on the arm of the chair. Maybe its the slight asymmetrical pull of the corners of his mouth, how on the left side it always pulls a little higher when he smiles. Maybe its the way he looks, distinctly paler than you, almost slickly, so much so, that you had to often stop yourself from asking him "Are you okay?". Maybe... Its the way his eyes seem to change colour, with the different lighting. You have noticed all these things about him in the month you've been coming here. Twice a week. He insisted on two times, even though you said you didn't think you needed it. In the end you decided to give in, he was the therapist after all. He knew what you needed.

"You're zoning out again, Darling. Do you perhaps need a break?"

There it is again. That pet name.

He hasn't called you that before. Or has he?

Maybe your memory really has been getting worse.

"Oh, u-uhm, sorry! No, it's fine we can keep going if you'd like." He seems to believe you, as he changes his position, crossing his legs and leaning his chin on one hand, as if getting ready for a story.

"So, you said something about bad nightmares you've been getting at the end of our last session. I'd like to ask you: Have they gotten any worse?"

You still don't remember actually telling him about them and honestly it’s starting to really bother you. You always have your guard up as it is, trust issues and all that, part of why you’re here, talking with your therapist. But for the life of you, you just cannot remember when you told him about those. Because you surely have. You have. He wouldn’t know otherwise! This is stupid.

"Ah, um. I guess... I-I don't know. I feel like they leave me more... tired? Than before. And I seem to get more exhausted as the days go on. I'm afraid I'll start falling asleep at my job if this keeps up."

He hums. Writes something on his clipboard. "Do you still see that shadow person that keeps following you?"

You don't remember telling him that either. No, shut up, you did because he knows, and the only way he would is if you told him.

He seems to notice your hesitation.

"I'm sorry, would you like to not talk about this for now? We can discuss something else."

His voice feels like it's background noise. Like waking up to birds chirping. They're loud and did wake you up, but you don't mind being woken up by birds singing under your window. It's a welcome way of attention.

It calms you. It relaxes you.

It makes you feel... tired.

"We can discuss the way you've been fidgeting a little more today than other times, I have noticed. Or how you keep stuttering so much. I can see something is bothering you. Can you tell me what it is, Love?"

A different pet name, but a pet name nonetheless.

You don't remember him calling you that before.

You don't remember.

You.

Dont-

"How do you know?"

You blurt out without thought.

You immediately regret it, but ultimately decide to keep the question in the air.

Because you cannot explain away the feeling of anxiety at every mention of those dreams, or pet names, or, or- ...you. It feels wrong, in this moment, to talk about you. It sounds dumb, these are your therapy sessions after all. It feels wrong though. Different. Like this isn’t how it was supposed to go. How else could it have gone?

"Excuse me?" He looks genuinely surprised. You think he might've missed the question, with how fast you blurted it out.

Before you could ask again, or rather apologize for the weird as fuck question, he continues. "How do I know... About what? About...” - He seems lost in thought, thinking about what it might be that you're referring to. His eyes land on his clipboard and stay there for a while, drifting over it. - “...about ...your dreams, perhaps?" He finishes slowly, as if unsure.

"Yes, uh... I... I don't remember t-telling about them... to... you?" You hate yourself for sounding like a scared child. You especially hate that your voice cracks in the middle of it, and you see his eyes widen, just a little, at that.

God, could you be more embarrassing?

"I told you, Dear.” - Another. -”You told me about them last week, didn't you?"

"I-I-I..., um..."

You're unsure of what to say

"I-, ...don't remember." You take a shaky breath, trying to stay calm. You notice the slight tremble of your hands.

"...You seem troubled. Are you quite sure you're alright, Darling?” - He gives a reassuring smile, encouraging you to be confident and tell him if you're not. - “Perhaps, you feel... Hm." He stands up leaving the clipboard on his table. He walks over, as slowly and non-threataningly as he can, putting the back of his hand on your forehead.

"Hm... You don't seem sick. Sweetheart,”- Again. - “maybe we should talk about those dreams. They seem to leave you confused and disoriented."

"Stop."

"Hm?"

"Get off me."

You lean back, away from his hand, and sit up to catch your breath.

He seems perplexed. His hand falls back in place as he gets lost in thought again, looking at you. Expectant. Quiet.

"Am... Am I making you uncomfortable, Dear-"

"Stop!"

"Stop what?"

"Stop calling me 'darling' and 'sweetheart' and 'love' and 'dear' and-, and... Stop looking at m-me."

He seems to freeze for a second. You're not sure what caused him to do that, but he seems... apathetic. Emotionless. Like he's not there, for just a moment.

He blinks once, swallows, and some resemblance of humanity comes back to him.

"I-... I am making you uncomfortable, is that it." It was more of a statement than a question. "Hm. So you say you don't remember." His eyes wander again. In the end, they come back, and change colour, and you feel like he's 100 metres tall while you're barely an inch.

The lighting didn't change, but his eyes noticeably did. You feel, with every second, more and more anxious, as the eyes keep looking at you, into you, and keep you in place.

Literally.

You cannot move.

You're trying.

The most you can do is flick your eyes betweeen his.

He comes closer now. His hand finds your forehead again, but this time to put a lost lock behind your ear.

He doesn't say anything, simply looks at you. All of you. While you're forced to keep eye contact, his are roaming over the whole of you, taking in every inch, every crevice, every nook and cranny.

As his eyes move the humanity seems to disappear once more and the hand returns to rest on your cheek, then slide down your neck.

As the pressure builds his other hand comes into view, positioning itself on your arm, effectively turning and pushing you down, back how you were before you realised his secret. Because you did, didn't you? You couldn't have just kept playing this little game of pretend between you two. You had to be smart and figure it out.

As you are shoved down back on the récamier, your thoughts are running a million miles an hour. You are panicking and scared and angry but mostly you just wanna run home, curl up under your covers and cry.

The feeling of having forgotten so much makes you wanna break down right there, but even that is denied of you as your "therapist" looms over you, shadowing your face. In the dark, his eyes, that scarlet hue, is so much more noticeable and unsettling.

How do his eyes go from such a pretty black to that mesmerising crimson? That cannot be human.

He leans down, close, close, right over you, so close you cannot see anything anymore but his eyes, boring endlessly into yours.

"Do you know when our last appointment was?"

You think and you feel like you know but you can't actually name the day, date or even time. Not that you could anwser him, not like this.

"Do you feel as if your mind has been working more different than before?"

"Do you feel unsafe, Angel?"

He leans closer, lips grazing your ear as he whispers, even quiter, like a deadly secret.

"Why did you have to ruin our fun, Angel? Wasn't it nice? Pretending? Playing? Why did you have to ruin that, huh, Sweetheart?"

As his voice starts to shake, a little in anger, a little unhinged, a little dangerous, you start trembling through his paralysing gaze.

You still don't remember anything. Not when the last appointment was, not when you told him about the dreams, not when you got here, not where you live, not who he is, not when your own birthday is, not your own name, only Angel, Angel, Angel...

"Does the shadow person ever... touch you? Has he ever talked to you? What did he say? Can you recall? What was it, hm? Tell me Love."

You don't want to. You don't want to you don't want to-

"A-A-Angel..."

"Yes, Love, keep going."

He was suffocating you

His sheer presence.

"A-a... Ang-gel, can y-y-you... can, you-..."

"That's it, keep going, you're doing great, Dear."

"Ange-el, can, can you-u-... can you c-...can y-you come see me-e...?"

"Mhm. There we go. There's a dear."

You feel violated. You feel him climbing on top of you, his weight effortlessly pinning you down even more, as he leans closer. You feel utterly completely absolutely terrifyingly helpless.

"See? In the end, you did remember!" He seems to sound different. He sounds like he's holding something back. Like there's a dam that's about to break and let the water envelop an entire city underwater. Like he's about to swallow you whole.

"Too late now, though. Shame. I was having fun with you. Too bad it had to end so soon. Now, maybe if you look desperate enough, we could do it again sometime? Wouldn't that be fun?"

"Now keep still for me, Angel, this might hurt just a bit. I feel it's only fair i make you pay for wasting my time like that."

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [30]

i. wanheda, pt 1

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: smut! fighting, blood, mentions of past assault, death.

Summary: three months gave passed since the events at mount weather, and things have changed so much in that time: your friendships, relationships, living situation. despite clarke’s absence, life has been good. until you receive news that not only is clarke alive, she’s being hunted.

a/n: happy season three premiere!!!! thank you for all the kind words on season two (and sub rosa in general!!!) you have all made me smile so much! this season is the longest to date, so I hope you’re all ready! we’re starting off with a longer chapter update too, so I hope you all enjoy! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

5 days after Mount Weather

“Tell me about Shumway.”

“Tell me about dad,” you counter.

Your mother and Kane keep neutral expressions as they watch you, and you squirm in your seat, uncomfortable with the topic at hand. They exchange a look and after a second, your mother nods. “What do you want to know?”

“Did dad know you were going to turn him in?”

“Yes.” Though you had started to suspect that would be her answer, it still knocks the breath out of you. “It was his idea actually.”

Your head drops, thinking of your misplaced blame since he died, when it was his idea all along. Just like Finn, turning himself in to save the rest of you. When you lift your head again, tears glitter in your mom’s eyes, and you know your eyes mirror hers. “Right after your arrest, your dad told me that this was the only way to save you. He’d known about the oxygen problem for a few days, and he had already told me about it, though he didn’t tell me about his plans to go public until then.”

She stands, walking around the council table to kneel in front of you, taking your hands. “We knew there was no other way to save you. So he traded his life for yours.”

“A life for a life,” you whisper, looking down at your joined hands. 

She squeezes your hand and whispers, “Now tell us about Shumway.”

You stand abruptly from the chair, spinning out of her grip and starting to pace, your body tense and anxious. 

“Shumway was the lowest form of scum there is.” You practically spit the words at them. “He was the one who discovered me. Before he ratted me out, he said he wanted to make a deal. Become his plaything, and I’m safe. Our secret is safe. My family would be safe.”

You feel tears spill from your eyes and roll down your cheeks, and you shake your head. “But I couldn’t do it, didn’t want to. And when I fought back, he turned me in.”

You take a deep breath to steady you, sparing a glance over at your mother, who’s now watching you in pure anguish. “After that, I thought that was it, that I’d never see him again. But then on the day of dad’s execution, Shumway came to my cell. I didn’t even know dad had been arrested. But he told me that he could get me there so that I could say goodbye, I just had to agree to his original deal.”

Your mom steps towards you, and you lift your hand to your wrist, brushing your fingers over the watch that belonged to your father. “This time I said yes.”

You angrily wipe away your tears as you remember that day. “But I didn’t make it in time, Shumway made sure of that. I came around the corner right as they sent dad into space. After that, I lost it and tried to attack Shumway. They sent me to solitary because they said I was too much trouble. Shumway came to visit me whenever he wanted, and I tried to tell the other guards what was happening to me, but no one believed me. He abused me physically, mentally, and emotionally for months. It was hell.”

Your mom steps towards you and reaches out for you, pulling you into a hug. You can hear her sobs as she holds you, the comfort forcing your tears to start up again, finally able to mourn and cope the way that you never could before. After a minute, she releases you from her hold, but stays close to you. “The night before we made it into Tondc with Finn’s body, I had a nightmare. When I woke up, I swear I saw dad, leading me to a clearing to look at the stars.”

You drop your gaze to your feet, hoping that they don’t think you’re unhinged. “Shumway followed me out there and tried to tell me that I still belonged to him, but I fought back. Bellamy showed up and we were starting to leave, to come get you two, actually, when Shumway attacked him. I tried to pull them apart, keep them separate, but he knocked me to the side. By the time I looked up again, Shumway had his gun out, aimed at Bellamy.”

Your gaze lifts and lands on Kane, determination set in your jaw. “I don’t even remember pulling the knife out, but I couldn’t let him kill Bellamy. Afterwards, I freaked out about killing him, but I was worried that it would’ve derailed the treaty and getting my friends out of Mount Weather, so I forced Bellamy to help me hide the body, and I swore to him that I'd tell you after everyone was safe.”

You lock eyes with Kane, wanting him to understand what you have to say. “This is all my fault. Bellamy is completely innocent in all of this, a victim really.”

Kane stands from his seat, and lets out a quiet sigh. He places his palms resolutely on the table in front of him, looking down and thinking hard about your punishment. Your gaze drops to your feet, ready to accept it, whatever it is, as long as Bellamy is kept out of it. After a long moment of silence, you can hear Kane readying to speak.

“Will you join the guard?”

Your head snaps up so hard your neck cracks. “What?”

“Will you join the guard?”

“I don’t understand, aren't you going to punish me?”

Kane shakes his head, coming around the table to stand closer to you, and you watch him exchange a look with your mother. “Shumway did terrible things to you under our watch. We failed you, and I’m sorry about that.”

Your mom grabs your hand. “What you did was an act of survival, to save you and Bellamy both. We’ve pardoned others for much worse than what you did.”

Finn. You shake your head in disbelief. “So, that’s it then?”

“Yes.” Kane steps back and gestures toward the door, “You’re free to go, as soon as you answer my question.”

“I’ll do it.”

His face splits into a grin. “Great, you start training tomorrow.”

-

Two weeks after Mount Weather

Your swords clang together in a clash of metal on metal, both of you letting out a grunt as you try to overcome the other’s strength. Knowing that Octavia has the advantage, you drop down, freeing your sword, before reaching out your other hand and swiping at her legs. The force sends her onto her back, and she lands with a groan. 

You stand, smiling down at her annoyed expression. You feel your smile drop, worried about the incoming criticism, when she grins. “Took you long enough.”

You let out a surprised laugh as you lean down and pull her to her feet. Once she’s upright, she sheaths her sword and gestures towards the mess hall, “Let’s eat.”

You smile and follow her to there, talking the whole way over about everything and nothing. When you get there, you run into Lincoln, drenched in sweat, clearly post training. He smirks at you, “Did your boyfriend wimp out on me or something?”

You shake your head, downing a cup of water before looking at him. “What are you talking about?”

“We were supposed to spar today, but he never showed.”

You lower your cup, and your brows lift in surprise. “He didn’t show up?”

He shakes his head and you set your cup to the side. “That’s not like him.”

Lincoln just shrugs, inviting you and Octavia over to eat with him, but you wave them off. “I’m gonna go find Bellamy.”

“See ya later.”

You jog out of the mess hall and make a beeline for Bellamy’s place, stopping outside the door and lifting your hand to knock. As you do, you swear you hear a muffled sob from the other side. You feel your panic rise before you knock softly. “Bellamy?”

The crying stops, the room behind the door falling into silence, and you realize Bellamy has no intention of opening the door. “Bellamy it’s me, can I come in?”

You’re once again met by silence, and you debate walking away, leaving him to be alone if that’s what he wants, but the nagging feeling in your gut tells you to do the opposite. “Okay, I’m coming in!”

You open the door and step inside, eyes falling on a figure sitting up in bed, swiping at his eyes, trying to hide the tears on his face. But as soon as his gaze locks with yours, the emotion spills over again, and he starts to cry softly. 

You quickly close the door and the space between you, sitting down on the bed beside him and trying to decide the best way to comfort this new side of Bellamy. He looks over at you, a sob breaking free from his chest before he whispers, “I keep seeing their faces. Maya, Vincent, all those people who helped us, kept us alive. Dead, because of what I did.”

You reach out and grab his hand, and his eyes follow the movement before lifting to your face. You shake your head. “What we did, Bellamy. All three of us pulled that lever. We did what we had to do to save our people. That doesn’t always make it easier, but that’s not the outcome that any of us wanted.”

He nods his head and wipes away his tears again before asking, “Will you stay with me?”

“Of course, Bell.”

He pulls back the covers and you both slide inside, turning to lay on your sides and face each other. He pulls the covers up as high as he can, and you both watch each other silently for a long while, drawing in comfort from each other, trying to forget what you’ve had to do to survive. Eventually, he whispers, “Tell me about the stars.”

You look at him with affection and nod. “There’s one that always made me laugh growing up, and it’s the story about Cancer, the crab. Zeus had a son, one that I know you’ve heard of before, Hercules.”

Bellamy nods, familiar with the legend, watching you with quiet intensity. “Well Hera, Zeus’ wife, was jealous of Hercules and the love that Zeus had for him, so she gave him 12 labors to test his strength and courage. She picked tasks that were difficult, if not impossible, for the average man, in the hopes that Hercules would fail and lose Zeus’ favor. The second of these labors was to kill the Hydra, a beast with nine heads. If you cut one of the nine heads off, two more would grow back in its place. Of course, Hercules figured out how to defeat the Hydra: cut the head off and seal the wound with fire, making it impossible for the heads to grow back. When Hera saw this, she panicked and sent a crab to grab Hercules on the heel and distract him from the fight, thus making him lose. Instead, when the crab latched onto his foot, Hercules used his other foot to stomp on the crab and crush it, ruining Hera’s distraction. He defeated the Hydra and proceeded to the next labor, but not before Zeus put the crab in the stars, partially to immortalize the success of Hercules, but also to remind Hera of her failure.”

The corner of Bellamy’s mouth lifts in a smile, so small that you almost miss it. You smile back and he whispers, “Can you tell me another one?”

“Of course I can.”

-

4 weeks after Mount Weather

Things are better between you and your mother, the truth about your father and Shumway no longer a secret, the heart to heart working to improve your relationship. But better doesn’t mean fixed. 

“You just let her go! Do you realize the danger you’ve put her in?”

“I know, mom! I get it, okay? I regret letting her leave as soon as she was out of sight, but there’s only so much I could do. This is what Clarke wanted.”

“I don’t care what she wanted! You are both still kids, and-”

You cut her off, “We haven’t been kids since we got down here. The sooner you realize that, the better.”

You turn and storm off, slamming the door to your shared quarters and heading across the camp to Bellamy’s. He lets you in as soon as soon he sees you, anger still billowing off you in waves. He ushers you inside and over to his bed, patting it and inviting you to sit. You do so with a huff and grind out, “I should have known that peace would be short lived with us.”

“Your mom?”

“I can’t take it anymore, Bellamy, she’s driving me crazy! We fight every few days about Clarke, and it doesn’t help that we’re stuck in the same room. I think I'd rather be back in that damn tent with Clarke. Or sleeping in a tree.”

Bellamy snorts, remembering your preferred sleeping location. “Why don’t you just move in here?”

You turn to him with a surprised expression. “With you?”

You can see him fighting back a smirk as he quips, “That was the plan, unless you’d like to share a room with some other guy.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

He laughs, “I know.”

You hesitate, thinking it over, looking at him with skepticism. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t know, are you a blanket hog?”

You keep your face serious. “No, never!”

“Then yes, I’m sure.” You launch yourself at him suddenly, both of you falling back onto the bed with happy laughter. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

-

5 weeks after Mount Weather

Kane stands in front of you and Bellamy, both of you wearing matching guard jackets and neutral expressions. “You can both assist the others on the supply run to Mount Weather today.”

Your expression drops, mouth pulling down into a frown. “No.”

Kane turns towards you, surprised, until he sees your expression. You mutter, “It’s too soon. For both of us. What can we do instead?”

“Abby has asked me to form a team to search for Clarke. I was waiting to find the best people for the job, but who better than the two people closest to her?”

“I’m in.”

“Me too.”

“Good.” He smiles and hands you a rolled up map. “It’s up to you to plan the searches. Just remember: peace with the Grounders is fragile.”

-

6 weeks after Mount Weather

He stands in front of you, shirtless, shifting from side to side on his feet, hands up in defense. “I hope you know that I’m not going to go easy on you.”

You lunge forward, swiping your leg at his feet and knocking him flat on his back. You can hear the others snickering behind you. “I hope you know that I won’t either.”

You scramble backwards as Bellamy launches himself at you, barely avoiding the arms that reach out for you. He jumps to his feet and you swing a punch at him, which he dodges easily. You duck under the fist he sends flying at you in return, using the move to toss a punch to his exposed abdomen. He grunts in pain before using your move on you, and knocking you off your feet and onto your back. He’s on top of you in a second, pinning your arms to the ground and grinning down at you like the cheshire cat. “Admit defeat.”

You knee him in the leg, the force of it knocking him off balance, and you use the distraction to roll you both over until you’re on top of him, pinning him to the ground. “You first.”

A smile spreads across your face at your advantage, until you see a spark of something in his eye, a mischievous glint that lights a small fire within you. You don’t have time to question it because Lincoln yells, “It’s a draw! Monroe, Harper, you two are up tomorrow.”

Lincoln’s voice pulls you out of your head and you roll off of Bellamy, both of you still staring at each other as everyone else packs up around you and leaves the room. You swear you hear Lincoln mutter something about “too much pent up aggression” as he walks by, but you barely notice. 

You and Bellamy stay kneeled in front of each other, eyes locked in a stare until the room is empty. You see the glint in his eyes grow, and you catch onto his line of thinking quickly. As soon as you are the last two left in the room, you both practically jump at each other, lips connecting in a frenzy of built up aggression and passion. 

His hands reach out and pull you closer, and you lift your hands up to his curls and thread them there. As the kiss grows more heated, his tongue slips into your mouth, fighting for dominance. You feel the heat in your belly grow white hot, desire burning through you like a wildfire. You pull away a fraction of an inch and gasp out, “Home.”

Bellamy nods and stands, pulling you to your feet, and you both grab your things and practically run back to your shared quarters. The door is barely closed before he turns and pushes you up against it, kissing you long and hard, the passion from your spar following you home. Bellamy’s hands start to roam over your body, and you feel his hands stop just below the hem of your shirt, hesitating. You break the kiss and pull your shirt and undergarments off quickly, giving him permission, before your mouths collide again. 

He pulls you close, your bare chest now pressed against his, the skin on skin contact lighting electricity along your skin. He slides his mouth along your jaw and down your neck, pressing open mouthed kisses to your skin. His mouth drops to your chest, and you moan at the contact as he kisses and sucks a path from one breast to the other. Your back arches, pressing your chest closer to him, and you can feel him smile against your skin. You start to feel embarrassment creep up, and he must sense it, because his mouth comes back up and reconnects with yours, pulling you out of your head and away from any thoughts of embarrassment.

He steps backwards, pulling you with him, both of you kicking off your shoes as he leads you back to the bed. Once he reaches the edge, he pulls away and sits, leaving you standing in front of him. He leans forward and kisses a path down your chest and over your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your pants. He looks up at you, his expression soft, and for the first time you realize how truly safe you feel with him. His hands come to rest on your sides, and his voice is a quiet whisper when he asks, “Is this okay?”

“Yes.”

He unbuttons your pants slowly, giving you time to change your mind, but you don’t. Instead, you allow him to pull them down and off, helping you to step out of them. He guides you to straddle his still clothed lap, before his hands come to rest on your cheeks, holding your gaze in place as he looks at you with affection. “I love you.”

The words shock you, and you feel tears prick your eyes as your gaze stays locked with his, the affection never wavering. Your heart swells because you know he means it. You smile at him, and whisper, “I love you more than the stars.”

His face splits into a grin, the brightest smile you’ve ever seen on his face. You feel yourself overflowing with adoration for him, and the bright smile surrounded by the smattering of freckles on his face. He leans in and kisses you, this time soft and slow, the fire from earlier now changed by the softness of his love. 

He leans back, taking you with him, before rolling you carefully until you’re beneath him, safe in his arms. He pulls away from you and tugs off his pants and underwear, and you take a minute to stare at his chiseled body with appreciation. He catches your eyes and ducks his head, sheepish, but you reach out and lift his chin, guiding his gaze back to yours before giving him a smile. He smiles and leans in for another kiss, before pulling away to ask, “Are you sure?”

You smile and nod, “I’m sure.”

He pulls your underwear off and tosses it to the side with the rest of the clothes, turning back to admire your now naked form. You resist the urge to cover yourself as his eyes rake over you, before meeting yours. His voice is full of awe when he whispers, “You’re beautiful.”

You pull him down for another kiss, relishing in the safety of his arms as they come to rest on either side of your head. He spends a long time kissing and worshipping you, constantly checking to make sure you’re okay. When he finally takes you, it’s slow and sweet, both of your foreheads pressed together and your eyes locked as he pushes into you, mouths open and panting, breaths mingling. 

It doesn’t take long for you to reach your climax, and Bellamy is right behind you, both of you moaning each other’s names as you finish. 

After you’ve both come down, he rolls off of you and you lay side by side, enjoying the comfortable silence of each other’s company. As you reach up a finger and trace the freckles that dot his body, forming constellations, you whisper, “Tell me about the gods.”

He smiles, his eyes lifting from your finger to your face. “What?”

“Your mom used to tell you and Octavia about mythology, right?” He nods. “Then tell me about the gods.”

-

8 weeks after Mount Weather

“Tell me about the stars.”

You give him a sidelong glance, the request one that he only makes when he’s upset, but doesn’t want to talk about it. His eyes are locked on the sky above him, both of you side by side on a blanket just outside the walls of Arkadia. You think of his quiet intensity when he found you tonight, fresh out of a meeting with Kane, a hurricane of emotions brewing inside of him. You accepted his request without hesitation, the same way you accept his request now.

“The Pleiades were the seven daughters of Pleione and Atlas, the titan that held the weight of the world on his shoulders.” You glance at him again, his body tense with stress, because Bellamy and Atlas are the same. Two men given an impossible task; carry the weight of the world, and hope it doesn’t break you. “It’s said they felt so much sorrow for Atlas’ burden that Zeus placed them among the stars. But there’s another story too.”

Bellamy turns to look at you and you meet his gaze, reaching out to thread your fingers through his. “The Pleiades were beautiful. So beautiful that Orion took notice and chased them constantly, no matter how uncomfortable it made them. The Pleiades appealed to Zeus, who took pity on them and changed them into doves, allowing them to fly up and hide among the stars.”

Bellamy turns to look at the sky again, the stars high and bright above you, and he whispers, “Sometimes I wish I could hide in the stars.”

You reach out with your other hand and turn his face towards you. “What’s troubling you, Atlas?”

“So many people are looking to me, counting on me, to lead and keep them safe. But what if I’m the problem?”

“You’re not.”

“Jasper blames us for Mount Weather, and for Maya’s death. Monty says he drinks himself into a stupor nearly every night. Clarke’s gone, Finn’s dead. I took the radio and sentenced 300 people to death in the Culling. I irradiated Mount Weather.”

“You don’t have to carry this alone, Bellamy. I was in Mount Weather with you, and I pulled that lever with you. I missed every sign that Finn was going to give himself up until it was too late. I helped you with the radio, and I let Clarke go.” You see tears well up in his eyes, and you lift a hand to his cheek. “The world is not yours alone to bear.”

He nods, and lifts his free hand up to rest on yours. He glances at the stars again and whispers, “Still, I wish I could hide among them.”

“Me too.”

-

10 weeks after Mount Weather

“Mebi osa-”

“No, no, no. Mebi oso.”

You sigh and start again, “Mebi oso na hit choda op nodotaim?”

“Yes!”

You look at Lincoln as he smiles at you with pride. You ask, “And that means?”

“May we meet again.” You smile at the translation, the blending of two worlds, Grounder and Skaikru. He pulls himself to his feet before extending a hand out to you to help you up. As he pulls you to your feet, he asks, “Same time tomorrow?”

You nod and he starts to turn away, but you call out, “Wait.”

He turns and looks back at you, a question in his eyes. “That takedown that you used on Miller yesterday in sparring, can you teach it to me?”

A smile slowly spreads across his face as he remembers the schedule for tomorrow. “You spar Bellamy next, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Get over here.”

-

12 weeks after Mount Weather

You stand to the side of the mat, watching as Lincoln and Bellamy tug off their shirts and toss them aside as they prepare to spar. You hear murmurs of enjoyment in the crowd behind you and you roll your eyes. 

The two men stand on the mat facing each other, hands lifted in defense. Bellamy swings a punch out first, but Lincoln dodges it easily. Lincoln punches back, but misses, and Bellamy follows up with two consecutive punches. As he swings his arm around for the third, Lincoln ducks and punches Bellamy in his exposed ribs, causing Bellamy to double over and grunt in pain.

Lincoln brings an elbow down onto Bellamy’s back, who returns the move with a strong kick. When Bellamy tries to punch Lincoln again, he stops Bellamy’s arm in the air and delivers a punch to Bellamy’s chest. Lincoln uses the painful distraction to send a strong kick towards Bellamy, which knocks him down onto his stomach. You watch him punch the ground and yell out in frustration, his anger now pulling him to his feet. 

He descends on Lincoln and delivers blow after blow, and Lincoln steps back enough to wipe blood from his mouth. You already know the outcome before it happens, and you watch unsurprised as Bellamy continues his aggressive attack, only to be flipped on his back and defeated by Lincoln. 

The crowd lets out the collective breath they were holding as they watched the fight, and Lincoln turns to address the group. “He had me, but he was too aggressive.”

Bellamy pulls himself to his feet and walks over to his shirt, pulling it over his head. He mumbles, “Whatever you say.”

A few people snicker behind you as Lincoln counters, “Quitting so soon?”

“Mapping run. Sector 7.” He locks eyes with you, “Let's get this over with.”

You nod and grab the bag on the floor, turning and tossing it to Lincoln who catches it with ease. He pulls a guard jacket from the bag, and you walk closer to the pair as he looks between the two of you in surprise. “The Council wants you to have that.”

“I'm Trikru.”

“A uniform doesn't change that. This is our home now, Lincoln. We fought for it, too many of our friends died for it. On the Ark, the uniform meant something different. Down here, it means what we make it mean. My sister will understand that eventually.”

Lincoln tells the others to pair up before turning back to you and Bellamy. “Sector 7? That puts you right at the Ice Nation Border.”

“We know.”

“Just because Azgeda is part of the Commander's Coalition, doesn't mean they respect the ceasefire. I should be on that scout.”

You and Bellamy give him a sad smile, “I wish. We all do. But until the Commander agrees to lift the kill order on you, you're more trouble than you're worth.”

He nods, defeated, and Bellamy gestures to the door, asking if you’re ready to go. When you nod in return, he motions for you to lead, before he follows you from the room. Once you get outside and start heading for the Chancellor’s office, you turn to Bellamy with a smirk. “You got your ass kicked.”

He throws you a mock glare, “Shut up.”

“No, really. I think that was your shortest spar yet.”

He cocks his head to the side, and you eye him suspiciously before he lunges at you. You let out a laugh and run off, trying to avoid his outstretched arms. He catches up to you easily and scoops you up, tossing you over his shoulder as you laugh and protest, “Put me down!”

“What was that about me getting my ass kicked?”

You laugh, “Bellamy, put me down!”

“What was that you said? Something about my shortest spar yet?”

“Okay, okay, I take it back!”

He puts you down, his face still split in a wide grin. “Good, because we’re here.”

He leans down and gives you a quick kiss before knocking quietly on the open door. You and Bellamy peer inside, locking eyes with Kane, who’s standing in front of the map, a finger held to his lips. He points over to your mother, asleep on the couch, before waving you both inside. You smile at her sleeping form as Kane whispers, “This is the first sleep the Chancellor's had in two days.”

You cut your eyes over to Kane, disapproving. “Kane, you’re supposed to watch her. You know she’ll work until she drops.”

“I know, but your mother is a force to be reckoned with when she sets her mind to something. Kind of like a certain set of twins that I know.”

You roll your eyes and Bellamy cuts in, “We’ll be quick, but we wanted to let you know we’re going into Sector 7. I think we should arm the entire unit.”

“Permission granted. But the rules of engagement still apply, non lethal response. There hasn't been an attack since Mount Weather. That’s three months. Our people believe that this is real peace. Try not to screw that up.”

He smirks at the end, a sign that he’s serious, but trusts you both. You and Bellamy both smile back and nod. “Yes, sir.”

Bellamy leads you to the armory first, and you both keep up a casual conversation as you pack guns into a duffel bag, prepared to arm your entire team. You keep to light topics, the nerves of going outside the walls ever present at the start of a mission. Once the bag is packed, you head towards the rover, the meeting place for the entire team. 

When you step inside the hangar bay, your eyes land on Monty, who is sitting at a table, head in his hands, unmoving. Bellamy yells, “Monty, why aren't you ready?”

“I am. He's not.”

You both follow Monty’s gaze to the passed out figure on the floor, half hidden underneath a table. You exchange a look with Bellamy and whisper, “Jasper.”

You all three stand over Jasper, watching him, as Monty asks, “What should we do?”

You look at the two boys like it’s obvious, “We should leave him this time.”

Monty looks between you and Bellamy, eyes pleading. “He's not getting better. Maya's death broke him. He needs this.”

You can hear Bellamy sigh, a sign he’s caving, and you turn to him with a warning look. “Bellamy…”

He turns to look at you, understanding, but he whispers, “I know. But we did this. And if this is what Jasper needs, then we owe it to him.”

“Fine.”

Bellamy hands you the bag of guns, before him and Monty each grab one of Jasper’s arms and pull him to his feet, dragging him over to the rover. Bellamy passes all of Jasper’s weight over to Monty as you drop the bag of guns onto the hood of the rover with a loud thunk. 

“Hey!” Raven wheels out from beneath the rover and glares at you, “Take it easy!”

You both glare at each other until she breaks and smiles. You smile back and retort, “Morning to you too.”

Bellamy starts pulling out guns, handing one to you and Raven, and you slide the strap on. You check your knife holster as Bellamy tosses a gun to Miller, who quips back, “What's the point if we can't shoot 'em?”

“We can, just not to kill. That goes for everyone. Where's Octavia?”

“We're going outside the wall. You honestly think she'd miss that?” 

Bellamy nods in agreement with Miller, but turns to you. “Will you go look for her?”

“Sure.”

You head out of the building and straight for the stables, where Octavia keeps her horse, Helios. She smiles when you walk in, and you return it, watching as she readies Helios to go out. “Are you going with us today?”

“Yes, but not in the rover.”

She pulls herself onto the back of her horse, before extending an arm out to you. You take it without hesitation, and she helps pull you onto Helios’ back before directing him towards the rover. You make it over just as the doors slide open revealing the vehicle, full of passengers. You can see Bellamy rolls his eyes playfully when he sees you and Octavia on the back of her horse. Octavia locks eyes with Raven and yells, “Try and keep up.”

She spins Helios around and guides him through the camp easily, leading the rover out of the gates and onto the path in the woods. Once you’re free of the camp, Octavia turns and smirks. “Hold on!”

You wrap your arms around her waist just as she spurs Helios into a gallop. You let out a surprised laugh as you tear through the woods on his back, the wind whipping your hair all around you. Octavia leads the group through the woods until the path opens up into a wide field, allowing the rover to ride beside you. You watch as the hatch on the top flies open, and Jasper pokes his head out of the top and lets out a wild scream. You and Octavia laugh as you watch him, a smile on his face for the first time in weeks. 

But everything comes to an abrupt halt when the rover stops dead in its tracks. Jasper ducks back down into the rover, and Octavia pulls Helios to a stop. She quickly slides off before turning to help you down, and you both jog over to the rover and pull open the back door. Your eyes instantly lock with Bellamy’s as you ask, “What happened?”

“A tracking beacon from the Ark. Farm Station.”

You nod, “Well, let’s go get it.”

“It’s in Ice Nation.”

You all exchange a look as Raven glances at the flashing beacon. “Protocol says we go home. Let the Chancellor decide what to do next.”

“Screw protocol.” Bellamy looks away from you, over to Monty and Miller. “The Chancellor's not from Farm Station. Monty is, and so is Miller's boyfriend. It's your call.”

Monty nods, “Let's do this.”

Miller looks at him like it’s obvious, “You have to ask?”

Bellamy turns and echoes Octavia’s earlier words back to her. “Try to keep up.”

Octavia closes the door with a smirk and leads you back to Helios, both of you quickly mounting and following the rover as it leads you towards Ice Nation territory. It doesn’t take long for the rover to stop at a treeline, and everyone starts to file out. You and Octavia dismount, and she secures Helios to a tree as Bellamy addresses the group. “These woods must be the border.”

“So, where's all the ice?”

Octavia turns to Jasper. “Much farther north, Azgeda stretches for 1,000 miles.”

You lift your gun, already on guard as you fall into line behind Bellamy. “Remember rules of engagement are non-lethal force. Tight formation on my command.”

“They're coming. 120 meters. 110.” Monty tries to step forward, but Bellamy holds out an arm to keep him back. “They're our people, what are you-”

Bellamy cuts him off, “We hope they're our people. On my command.”

You all lift your guns and spread out, standing at the ready, right on the border of Ice Nation territory. Three horses weave through the trees and straight towards you, looking nothing like anyone from Farm Station. You glance at Octavia. “Ice Nation?”

“Yes. White war paint. Stay calm.”

Octavia slides her sword back to the sheath on her back and holds up her hands in surrender as the three Ice Nation warriors come to a stop in front of you. “Chon yu bilaik?”

Bellamy, aware of your lessons with Lincoln, glances over at you, searching for a translation, but you shake your head, letting him know you’re just as lost. Octavia’s voice is strong and steady when she answers, “Skaikru. Ste lufa osir kru au.”

Skaikru, looking for our people. Octavia’s reply helps you to follow the conversation, now realizing they must have asked who you are. But the Ice Nation’s next statement confuses you further. “Ste lufa wanheda au.”

You turn to Bellamy and translate, “They think we’re looking for Wanheda.”

His brows scrunch together, “Who’s that?”

“I don’t know.”

Octavia turns and looks back at the two of you, and Bellamy repeats the question to her, but she shakes her head, just as confused as you are.

One of the warriors dismounts his horse, and Monty perks up and whispers, “The light. That's the beacon.”

Your eyes all drop to the beacon hanging from the man’s jacket, as you try to plan how to get it. But before anyone says anything, Jasper stumbles past all of you, straight towards the man. Bellamy yells, “Hey, get back here!”

The other two warriors pull back their bows and aim straight for Jasper, and Octavia tries to grab him as he walks past, but he pulls free from her grip. “It’s okay, I got this.”

Bellamy desperately whispers to Octavia, “Tell them we observe the commander's truce, do it now!”

“Osir gouba ogonzaun kom heda in!”

Jasper comes to a stop right in front of the man, and they stare at each other for a split second before Jasper reaches out and pulls the beacon free from the man’s coat. “This belongs to us.”

He turns and starts to walk back towards your group, but the warrior grabs the back of his bulletproof vest and tugs him backwards, lifting a knife to his throat as he moves. “Weron wanheda kamp raun?”

You ignore his question about Wanheda and yell, “Breik em au!”

Let him go! Octavia adds, “Osir nou get in chon daunde bilaik! Beja.”

You recognize the words “we don’t know” and “please”, which is enough to give you the idea of what Octavia is pleading for. The warrior says nothing, he just stands there with his knife to Jasper’s throat, looking angry. Jasper on the other hand, is standing at the brink of death, and he’s laughing. Everyone’s guns lower as you watch him giggle, completely amused at the situation he’s in, but your guns don’t stay down for long, because the Ice Nation Warrior starts to pull the knife across Jasper’s throat as he asks, “Yo vout in dison ste leyos?”

You have enough time to translate the word “funny” before your eyes land on the red blooming on Jasper’s neck, and Bellamy fires a shot at the warrior, knocking him away from Jasper. You aim for the warrior on the left and Miller aims for the one on the right, both of you taking them out in quick succession, knocking them off their horses. 

You watch as the warrior near Jasper starts to stand, and Octavia yells, “Jasper, get down!”

She pulls her sword from its sheath before throwing it at the man, and you all watch as it sticks itself into his chest, killing him. You barely have time to process the events of the last twenty seconds before the radio in the rover starts to crackle to life with Kane’s voice. Bellamy mutters, “What now?”

“I’ve got Jasper, you get Kane.”

He nods and jogs back to the rover, and you make a beeline for the injured delinquent, who is kneeling on the ground with his hand to his neck. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Octavia follows you over to Jasper, and you both haul him to his feet and lead him to the rover so he can lean against it for support. Jasper answers, “We got the beacon, didn’t we?”

You give him a disapproving look and mutter, “But we almost lost you.”

You see his expression soften slightly before he puts his guard up again. Miller jogs over and hands you a first aid kit, which you accept with a nod of thanks. You pull Jasper’s hand away and inspect the wound, glad that it’s not too deep, but still worried about the amount of blood. You press gauze to the wound and start to wrap cloth around his neck to hold it in place, securing it as Bellamy comes around the corner of the rover and yells, “Take him home!”

“I'm fine, thank you for asking.” 

Bellamy glares at him before calling out, “Miller!”

“Yeah?”

“Get one of their horses. Raven, since you can't ride, you're on the back. Octavia, get Jasper to Abby.” He looks between you and Monty, “You two are with me.”

“Okay.”

Everyone breaks off quickly, and you pass the medical kit to Octavia. “In case you need it again. Those bandages should hold until he gets back, but don’t waste any time.”

“You got it.”

You turn and head to the rover before sliding in the back seat behind Bellamy. Monty slides into the passenger seat, and he barely has the door closed before Bellamy takes off again. You look at Bellamy in the rearview mirror, “Where are we going?”

“Sector 4, to meet Kane.”

“Did he say why?”

“No.”

His curt responses are enough to let you know that he is tense and angry, and further questioning isn’t going to help that. You lean back and rest your head against the wall, letting the rest of the trip carry on in silence. 

When you reach sector 4, Bellamy drives until he reaches a large tunnel, and then he puts the car in park and slides out. You and Monty exchange a look before following him, lifting your guns and surveying the area as he leads you into the tunnel. 

Monty whispers, “You were right about Jasper.”

You glance at him and shrug, because you knew you were and having him say it out loud doesn’t change that. Bellamy turns back and glares at Monty. “Quiet. Keep your eyes peeled.” He’s quiet for a minute before adding, “I should've said no.”

“He's getting worse isn't he? I mean getting drunk every night is one thing, but smiling with a knife to your throat? That's next level damage.”

You reach the edge of the tunnel and start to emerge into the light just as Kane and Indra step out of the bushes. You and Bellamy exchange a look as you offer, “Indra never comes with good news.”

“He must have told her we broke the truce.” As Kane and Indra reach you, Bellamy launches into his explanation. “Sir, before you say anything there was a good reason-”

Kane lifts his hand and cuts him off, “I'll deal with that later.”

He turns to you, his expression serious, and your stomach drops. “This is about Clarke.”

“What about her?”

“She's being hunted.”

Monty asks, “By who?”

“By everyone.”

You feel yourself sway on your feet, and Bellamy reaches out to grab your hand and steady you. Kane nods towards the rover, “We need to hurry, but we’ll explain on the way.”

You all jog back to the rover, and Monty slides into the driver's seat, with Bellamy in the passenger seat beside him. You jump into the back, beside Kane, and Indra sits across from you. Kane directs Monty, “Back to sector 7.”

Monty nods and sets the course, and you turn to Indra. “Why is Clarke being hunted?”

“There’s a bounty for her.”

Kane clarifies, “Bounty, but not a kill order?”

“Not yet. Clarke’s a symbol. She’s known as Wanheda, the Commander of Death.”

Bellamy turns in his seat and you both exchange a look, remembering what the Ice Nation Warrior asked you about. As you process the rest of Indra’s statement, you ask, “Wait, you said it’s not a kill order yet, what do you mean?”

“My people believe that when you kill someone you get their power. Kill Wanheda and you command death.”

You feel your stomach roll over as you think of Clarke, the most wanted bounty in the 12 clans, and guilt washes over you. Because you let her leave. You didn’t chase after her. You couldn’t find her. And now the world wants her power. 

Kane looks at Indra with surprise and whispers, “She's just one girl.”

“So is the Commander. What Clarke did at Mount Weather weakened her. The Ice Nation is emboldened because their Queen wants Clarke's power. If her people believe she has it, she'll break the Coalition and start a war. I can't let that happen.”

You hear a beeping sound from the front seat, followed by Monty’s voice. “Welcome to Sector 7. Where to now?”

“If she's here, she'll need supplies. We'll start at the trading posts.”

Monty shifts the rover into higher gear, speeding you up, and you turn to look at Kane. “Did you tell my mother about this?”

“No. I don't wanna worry Abby until we know something.”

You nod, and everyone falls into silence as Monty takes you deeper and deeper into Azgeda territory. The drive takes hours, as afternoon bleeds into evening into night, and the moon is high in the sky when Monty suddenly slams on the breaks. You all slide forward, and you collide with Kane, who reaches out to steady you. You look up and over at the driver. “What the hell, Monty?”

He points to the tree in the path of the road, stretching from one side to the other. “We have to move it.”

Bellamy reaches for his door handle and you start to stand, when Indra reaches out and grabs your arm, stopping you. “Wait. It’s been cut down.”

Bellamy spins around in his seat and glares at her. “You don’t know that.”

Bellamy steps out of his seat and pushes open the hatch of the rover, poking his head out and looking around with his gun. You peer up at him from below, listening to the silence of the woods, until it’s broken by a strange creaking sound. It takes you a second to realize what it is before you grab Bellamy and tug him back inside, just as a second tree crashes down behind the rover, shaking all of you inside. 

Bellamy quickly jumps up and closes the hatch, and plops down in the seat behind Kane as Indra mutters, “We do now.”

-

next chapter

[allyvampirelass29]

Killing Time

A HEROES Fanfiction By: Allyssa J. Watkins

He loved that he could touch her, even from across the room, that as long as she was in his sight, she was never gone from the reach, the caresses of his mind. Sylar turned his head towards his shoulder, and felt the weight of hers, the silkiness of her wispy curls, as he grazed the air, yet felt the fluttery sensation of her hair. The soundproof glass between them, kept him from saying what he needed to say, kept him from possessing that flooding power in hearing her breath quicken, and knowing he was the cause. But he could watch his effect on her through the one way glass, her head turning towards his phantom projection, and as she clinged to the air around her, he just knew....... As smoothly as he could turn a phrase with his silken tongue, his talented fingers were far more eloquent.

He smiled as he watched her own delicate hand reach up, search the air, and he felt his whole body seized with chills, that irresistible feel of her thumb stroking his dark brow over and over, and the tension in his back slowly released with his exhale. "God, I love when you do that," he spoke to the glass, and felt her melt against his hand as he placed it gently on her shoulder. To anyone watching, it would look like he was touching his own shoulder, but it was definitely hers, he could feel the feminine curve of it, and he imagined the tiny freckles dotting it like stars.

His heart panged, as he watched her lips move, speaking to the air, and he imagined the music of her laugh, as he watched it soundlessly. He'd give anything to know what she was saying to him. "You're a doll, Ally," He whispered painfully to the glass, releasing his hold, to edge himself closer to it. He watched her eyes shift from happy enchantment, to sudden fear, when she couldn't feel him anymore. "Hey, no, don't be scared I'm right here...…" He whispered, tapping on the glass, like he'd done every day since they'd been captured. If he hadn't been dosed up with enough brain paralysis to kill a baby elephant, he'd have shattered that glass by now. But with his powers leashed, and his body considerably slowed, all he could manage was the tapping, the weak reach, the projected touch. He couldn't save her, but as long as he could feel her, there was hope.

"Don't cry, no, Baby. Stop, you're killing me." The tears stung Sylar's eyes, as he watched her hug her knees, and sob quietly, her hair catching the light and veiling her face. He felt the pain of his own tears stoke the fire, the anger inside him, and using all of his strength he pounded the glass with his fist, harder and harder, over and over, his sadness becoming pure rage. Again and again, he watched his knuckles bruise and then heal, melt back into perfect skin. So he hit harder, the glass shuddering beneath his relentless attacks, and still, Ally could not hear him, and didn't so much as look up from her desolate sorrow.

"You're only making it worse, on the both of you." The Senator's voice was the match thrown into the dangerously full gasoline barrel, and Sylar hurled his whole body against the glass with a seething, animalistic yell.

"That glass, just this one piece, cost 20 million dollars, Buddy. You'd better believe it's bulletproof, blast proof, and 100 percent SYLAR proof. If I'd had the funding, you'd be in a box of the stuff right now. Wasting good drugs on you, makes me sick."

Sylar's eyes smouldered, his dark brow slanted, screaming murder, and his mind burned black with threats, too many to pick just one. Torture beyond anything he'd perpetrated before, horrendously bloody acts that would give even himself, nightmares. But his lips could only utter three words after the energy syphoned off from his intense physical exertion, and he felt his body fading, with the single, desperate plea still on his lips.

"Let. Her. Go."

"Can't do that friend."

It was all Sylar could do to steady his breathing, his heart pounding relentless against his chest with wounded rage, that wild, almost primal hunger to kill, and for the first time in months, he actually felt relieved Ally couldn't see him, blinded from the monster he was about to become. His very soul burned with bloodlust, the sleeping danger awakening. The killer emerges.

"SAVE IT!!!!" He snarled, nostrils flaring as he fended off the invading drugs that chained up his powers, his anger yanking on the mental restraints with an unhinged force. His forehead still rested against the glass, as he turned it slowly, methodically, toward the door, his eyes flashing with obsidian fire.

"Save your damn campaign speech, Senator, I am so not your friend. You play the benevolent leader, Mr. All American with such shocking deception. You put on a tie and a fake smile, and you HIDE behind that door and enact the horrors that you speak out against. As much as I love cruel and unusual punishment, you've just lost my vote. You're a monster, Nathan, you're worse than me, because at least when I kill my own kind, I don't pretend to care. I don't pretend that I'm going to save them."

The silence that followed was deadly in of itself, a cold void spreading through the sparse, empty room but when Nathan finally gave the order, it was edged with a severity that even Sylar had never thought capable of him.

"Open the door."

"Sir, we'd strongly advise against engaging the hostile."

"Oh yes, be a good boy, Nathan, and listen to your pathetic excuses for bodyguards. You've never experienced HOSTILE, until I've got you alone, locked in a room with me. You're going to need more than fancy drugs, and a twenty million dollar piece of glass to save you. You can use all the confiscated narcotics you want, if it'll make you feel safe, but I don't need my powers to kill you."

"You really think I'm scared of you?"

"No, Senator, I KNOW you are. But by all means, open the door...…. Let's play."

"Please, you've been so heavily sedated, hell, you should have OD'd twenty times over by now. You couldn't kill time."

"Haha that's good, I like that...… Killing and Time are my two favourite things. Even high, I can still do more damage than you can ever do to me. Whatcha gonna do, Buddy? Send me to death row, can I request the chair, that might be fun.”

"Don't you get it, Sylar? You're on Death Row."

Sylar froze as a red dot appeared on Ally's bare shoulder, as she sat, hugging her knees, and a low growl escaped from deep within his chest, his fingers starting to tremble.

"Alright, easy, white flag!" He fumed, throwing up his hands. "Fine, I'll play nice, just call off your sniper."

"Back against the glass, hands on your head, you son of a bitch."

"You're making me miss Bennet with that kind of sweet talk. Good times......" He snickered, turning his cheek inward playfully, brow raised, his eyes intensifying.

"Shut up! I'll shoot her, I swear to God. It's amazing, really, how many ways you can shoot a person and still keep them alive, just long enough, so that they feel each agonizing moment."

Sylar wasn't laughing anymore. He tentatively backed into the glass, and interlaced his fingers, as he put them behind his head, taking one last glance over his shoulder, and he didn't start breathing again, until the red dot threatening her pale skin, disappeared.

There was a loud mechanical sound, and the door slowly opened, as Nathan strode in, surprisingly unaccompanied, and it took every bit of Sylar's resolve not to tear into him on sight.

The young, square-jawed Senator regarded the tall, dark, and dangerous man before him, as though he were approaching a rabid animal, looking at him sideways, with great disdain.

"What now, Nathan, come to pat me down? You gonna rough me up a little?" He looked over his shoulder at the brown haired girl, her hands searching the glass in front of her with stricken eyes. He almost reached out to put his hand where hers was, when he remembered she couldn't see him. "You even think of doing that to her, I'll kill you. Nobody touches her, got it? Nobody but me."

Nathan's eyes narrowed as he ventured closer. "I'll do whatever the hell I want with her. She's the property of the United States Government now, you both are."

Sylar smirked at him, flexing his bent arms behind his silken head, his dark eyes dancing. "So, I'm like an acquired weapon of mass destruction?"

"More like Enemy of the State, an apprehended terrorist. Congratulations Gabriel, with a little help from the FBI, you no longer exist. There is no Gabriel Gray, meaning I can do whatever I want to you, hold you without trial, kill you without cause."

"So do it." Sylar snarled, his eyes snapping back to cold and impenetrable. "Kill me, Nathan. End it. Be the hero, everyone thinks you are. What are you waiting for?"

Nathan laughed without feeling, the hatred between him and Sylar rising like a scorched heat. "You think I won't do it? I was an officer of the United States Navy, I know HUNDREDS of ways to kill a man, and I'm pretty sure, you only know, the one." Nathan swiped his finger mockingly in front of Sylar's face, and Sylar smirked back, his gaze deadly.

"Just because I have my favourite weapon, doesn't mean it's the only trick up my sleeve. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it already. No, I'm going to kill you, Nathan, for doing this to me, to HER. I'm going to kill little brother, and Ma, and only after you're out of your head, seeing their bloody mangled bodies, their heads viciously ripped into, I'm going to make you beg me to kill you, and only then, will your little Superman charade end."

"You dressed up in my brother's face and tried to kill me, you SICK bastard!!! Who does that!? Did you really think I wouldn't retaliate?  You tried, and you failed. You used someone I loved against me, and you still lost. Don't be surprised when I do the same, go dark, and I follow through for the win."

"Look, I get that you're pissed, I know, I ruined your little ball and tricked all your big, fancy Senator friends. You want blood? Take it. Take it all...…. Torture me, kill me, bring me back, just to kill me again, maybe I deserve it, maybe I don't, do whatever the HELL you want, even let Peter get his, but don't punish her for my sins. My blood for hers. You already have me, you don't need her anymore, so, please...… let her go. You do that, and I might just let you live."

"Look at me, Gabriel, look right into my eyes. Never gonna happen."

Sylar could feel his skin prickling with the chills coursing through his body, the coldness of a killer, creeping into his dark features, his voice like ice.

"I said...… Please."

"No deal. You see..... I'm not going to do any of that to you, Gabriel. Because I know that whatever punishment I inflict, government sanctioned or otherwise, nothing is going to hurt you worse, nothing is going to make you behave more than the constant threat of what could happen to her. Why do you think I designed the glass so that you could see her, but she can't see you? Because I want you to see it, what I do to her, every time you get out of line. You so much as look at me a way I don't like, I'll take action, and it won't be me, hurting her, it will be you, your hand. I don't want your worthless blood, hers is so much more valuable. I'm going to take as much as I need to replicate that power, increase it enough to protect entire armies. This is a whole new level for our military, and on behalf of the United States Government, I thank you for your generous contribution."

Sylar's rising anger chilled into paralyzing fear, and he shook his head incredulous. "You're insane. She doesn't have enough electricity for that kind of scale, or enough blood for such rigorous testing...…You'll kill her."

Nathan smiled, his teeth gleaming, looking every bit the congenial politician. "If that's what it takes. I guess, we'd better get started." Nathan made a motion with his hands, and Sylar dropped his arms, failing to hide the abject horror flooding his eyes, feeling sick.

"What did you just do? She's- She's an innocent girl!!!!!"

"Wrong. She WAS an innocent girl. You stole her innocence. YOU ruined her, and got her all mixed up in the MURDER plot of a US Senator!!! She'll PAY for your sins, because they're her sins too, she deserves what's coming."

Sylar shook his head, his brow pulled back, as he sank desperate to his knees. "Nathan, listen to me, she didn't know, I swear!"

"Ever hear of guilty by association?"

Sylar whirled his head around, just as two fully equipped S.W.A.T. members stormed into Ally's side of the room, one of them roughly tackling her to the ground, the other taking a long needle from a cylindrical container.

"NOOOOOOO!!! Nathan, GOD, Nathan, don't do this, I'll do ANYTHING you want, I'll kill whoever you want me to kill, I'll be a damn saint, just don't- Don't hurt my girl." Sylar's tears streamed freely now, his chest so tight, he couldn't get air to his lungs and they burned, as he watched with blurred vision, Ally screaming without a sound, fighting back and sobbing. He bristled as the one holding her down backhanded her across the face, and felt his own jaw sting with the assault.

"Not My Baby...…. Don't hit her, don't hit my baby!!!!" Sylar's voice was hysterical, failing to suppress his sobs, his emotions heightened because of the drugs. Nathan had never seen him like this, and he liked it. He liked it a lot.

"You want it to stop? Fall at my feet. Beg like the pathetic creature you are."

Sylar started to scowl, his lip quivering with both rage and pain, an emotion swathing him that was more dangerous than anything he'd ever felt before, Self Sacrifice. 

"Never."

"Hey Tom, I'm going to need you to bleed her." Nathan spoke calmly into his earpiece."

"Like HELL you are!!!!!" Sylar's rage burned through the pain, engulfing him and Nathan in the catching flame like wildfire, as he hurled himself at him with murderous intent. But the drugs had dulled his reflexes, and Nathan slammed him hard into the glass, grasping his jet black hair, and holding his forehead against the glass, as Sylar struggled against him, growling.

Ally was still fighting hard against her attackers too, but they overpowered her, one of them returning the needle to the container, retrieving, instead, a scalpel and silicone cup. Sylar released the full force of his scream into the glass, feeling the vibration against his lips, the sound reverberating through the room, echoing through the entire space, as the blade sank into Ally's pale skin, dark red blood trickling down her forearm, into the waiting cup.

His body couldn't take it anymore, between the drugs and the horror he broke...…. Sylar sobbed bitterly, and Nathan loosened his hold on the back of his head, letting him fall, helpless, to the ground, legs crossed, looking like a frightened little boy, instead of a cold blooded killer.

"You really do love her."

"Please," Sylar breathed the single word, his voice frail, his eyes sincere.

"Fall at my feet, and I make it stop."

Sylar gritted his teeth, his cheeks shiny, wet with tears, the image of Ally's silent scream haunting him, begging him. He couldn't take it. He'd been compromised, and it terrified him what he'd do if it meant keeping her alive. Sylar got all the way down on the floor, revolted by the utter degradation, hating Nathan, and even more, hating himself.

"Hey Guys, that's enough for tonight. Get the girl bandaged up, and get the sample to the lab."

Nathan looked down at Sylar like he was a loathsome thing, an insect on the floor, and Sylar held his breath, as Nathan stepped directly onto his fingers, digging his heel in. 

"Look at you, The Big Bad Wolf...…. Now, you're just a whimpering pup. I own you."

Sylar had to bite his tongue to keep his scathing response from escaping his lips, and he seized up, his back arching, as he felt the pin prick in the back of his neck, a new rush of drugs flooding his system, his eyes going blank.

"Sweet Dreams, you Psychopath."

Sylar passed out on the floor, unable to fight off the heaviness of the newly introduced drugs mingling with the lingering effects of the ones previously administered, his mind paralyzed, and his body exhausted. Nathan strode out of the room, and the mechanical sound echoed through the space, as the door locked itself behind him. The lights died, darkness washing over Sylar's still form, his arm outstretched.

Silence.

Then.... the intercom crackled, as someone turned it back on, a bit of feedback, and a voice filled the room.

"Sylar!? Sy? Baby, can you hear me?"

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

[dee-dreams-and-stuff]

A oneshot I wrote based on the song "Hold On" by Chord Overstreet. Damn, it's fricking sad :( Using the soulmate AU where soulmates both have a ring on their opposite hands of the same color, and when one of them dies, the other's turns black and withers away. Using my friend @unknownspaceman 's OC here, Aristotle Reeves! --------------------------------------------------------- TW: Implied s/h, suicide, death. Viewer discretion advised. I'm sorry aaaaa

"I fucking hate you! I hate you, Alex!"

The words felt like they stung my ears. I stared at the redhead in silence for a few moments, my chest uncomfortably tight all of a sudden. It was an unnecessary fight, I knew. But I wasn't the one to back down.

If only...

"You know what? The same goes for you, too," I glared, and he stepped back, his jaw set, evident he was holding back tears that had welled up in his eyes. He exhaled hard, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took.

"Fine," he said. "Fine! You'll never hear from me again!" He pointed a finger right at my face, just a few inches from my nose, as a tear rolled out of his eye. His voice was shaking. "And- and guess what? It- it will all be your fault. Y-yours!" Saying so, he turned, and stormed back into the dark, leaving me staring after him.

I headed back to the couch. My head ached. "What a drama queen," I whispered to myself as I sat down, going through the channels to find out if they had a late-night something as a distraction. Downstairs somewhere, I heard a door slam, and I sighed.

This wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Ari and I had our differences at times, and we fought a lot, but usually made up quite soon. We were soulmates, after all, and he'd soon be coming up to me with a bowl of ice cream and a blanket, and we'd say sorry to each other, and proceed to sleep while watching some silly rom com. It happened.

However, tonight felt different. My mind wasn't at peace. I kept rubbing my ring, but it provided no comfort. I felt restless. The TV blared on, but I wasn't paying attention. The ticking of the clock in the background seemed very loud.

I looked up. It was nearing 12.

I got up from the couch, a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, and every step down gave me goosebumps. The air seemed cold. I walked up to the bathroom on the ground floor, sure enough, it was closed.

Now, Ari had this habit of locking himself in when he was upset. It was his refuge. But tonight, it felt different.

"Ari?" I knocked on the door. "Ari, I'm sorry. There. I said it."

I waited for a few moments. No response. The worst scenarios started forming in my head. My heartbeat rocketed, and in this state, I gave an unhinged laugh.

"Ari, it's very funny. You got me. Now, open the fucking door, for Christ's sake!"

Yet nothing. The piece of metal around my ring finger felt cold.

"ARISTOTLE REEVES, THIS IS NOT HILARIOUS, OPEN THE DOOR! ARI?!?"

Tears rolled down my cheeks in rapid succession as I banged on the door desperately, his last words coming back to me, and I banged harder.

You'll never hear from me again, and guess what? It'll all be your fault. Yours.

-

Whatever happened next felt like a blur. I don't know how I broke open the door. All I knew, all that mattered to me at the moment, was that my love lay on the wet floor, a pool of blood that surrounded his upper body, and that I was the one who had driven him towards that.

I was in the car, driving, a silent Ari beside me, going as fast as I could. Only one hand remained on the wheel; my right was intertwined with his left, our rings connected, the way it used to be. However, unlike the times when our rings would glow- make me feel all warm and safe- the metal just kept on getting colder and colder against my skin, like a ring of ice.

It felt like a nightmare. I wanted to convince myself that he'd be ok, that it had never happened, that I'd wake up tomorrow morning in his arms, and he would hold me, tell me that everything was alright. The highway was empty, with just a few cars on the road, seemingly stretching on forever and ever.

I glanced at the white face beside me, his features so beautiful and in peace, like he could've been sleeping. My eyes hurt from all the crying. I just hoped I wasn't too late.

-

The doctors acted fast when I reached there, promptly picking him up and getting a stretcher for him, taking him to the emergency ward. There were few people in the hospital; someone told me off for not ringing up an ambulance and getting him in there sooner. I don't think I heard properly.

The waiting room was empty. It was cold; in my haste I'd forgotten to bring something to cover me up, and the cold air stung my skin, but it came nowhere close to how I fell inside, the icy dagger piercing my heart.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry...

I kept on rubbing my ring. As long as it still maintained its color, as long as it still remained the original silver hue, he'd be fine... It was my lucky charm, he'd be fine, he'd be fine, and we'd go back home together...

I don't wanna let go, I know I'm not that strong I just wanna hear you say, "Baby, let's go home, let's go home."

The clock ticked. It went from 12, to 1, to half past 1. I felt restless as I paced the ER, and that's when I felt it.

I held up my shaking right hand to my face, watching as my ring slowly turned black, and then dissolved into ashes into my cupped other hand, conciding with the constant beep in the operation theater.

He wasn't coming back.

[29-pieces]

Whumptober day 19 - Good Omens

Day 19: Mourning Loved One Fandom/setting: Good Omens, ~1970s Read on AO3 Read on FF.net

~*~

It was just easier as a snake. Easier to avoid eye contact, easier to keep his face from revealing any "emotion" or other such nonsense. Easier to carefully wrap himself in knots around the angel and assure himself that the corporation beneath his coils was alive, whole, and safe.

"I think you could do with some rest," Aziraphale told him again, settling back on the couch with his book. "Why don't you sleep for a while? I've nowhere to be."

The snake currently wrapped around his arm and torso didn't reply, just stuck his snout down into another coil and closed his eyes.

If they both ended up snoozing in a nest of blankets and scales, well that was just fine.

:::earlier:::

Aziraphale was screaming. And bleeding. The demons only laughed and held the Hellfire closer to his skin until it blistered and split. Crowley was screaming too, voice raw with it by now. He knew the angel couldn't withstand the Hellfire much longer, and then the screams silenced and Aziraphale's eyes clouded over, leaving Crowley on his own.

:::earlier:::

Aziraphale reached a trembling hand towards Crowley, dragging himself over the ground and leaving streams of blood in his wake. The Hellhound pounced on his back with a vicious snarl, hackles raised and teeth exposed. Crowley shouted for him, but it seemed to be the signal the Hellhound was waiting for and it struck like a viper, fangs burying themselves in Aziraphale's neck so the angel choked and gurgled on a bloody cry before falling still.

:::earlier:::

Heaven had found out about their Arrangement, had learned that Aziraphale had given Crowley the precious holy water. The building housing Heaven and Hell was silent. Aziraphale's lifeless body hung suspended by hooks and chains on the ground floor, a grisly reminder for anyone who walked in the door what happened if the status quo wasn't maintained, a cold, stark reminder that Gabriel and Beelzebub came from the same stock.

:::earlier:::

Aziraphale was dead.

:::earlier:::

Crowley was the one who got Aziraphale killed.

:::eventually:::

Aziraphale gripped his sword tightly, wishing it was his flaming, angel sword, but any blade should do. He prowled through the dockyards, eyes and ears perked for any sign of his quarry. He would have liked to wait on Crowley for this, truth be told; after all, an echidna was half serpent, maybe a snake demon would have been naturally predisposed to be able to fight her better. But he'd been unreachable and this wasn't something Aziraphale could allow to continue until he got Crowley on the line.

The slithering of scales on rotten wood and desiccated leaves drew the angel's attention. He readjusted his grip on the sword and hurried in the direction of the sound. A derelict old office stood to one side, shuffling noises leading Aziraphale to the doorway. He took a breath, then raised his sword and dashed around the corner, only to stumble to a halt at the sight before him. He'd found his demon friend—strung up by his wrists to dangle over the dirty floor. Crowley's head was hanging limp, glasses gone and eyes closed. The monster he was hunting was sniffing his neck, her lower serpent half teasing its way around Crowley's leg.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale gasped, hardly the battle cry to strike fear into the heart of the echidna. The half-snake, half-woman turned to eye him with arrogance and irritation.

"Who are you?" she asked. "Never mind, pet, you'll jussst have to wait your turn."

"What have you done to him?" the angel demanded, pointing his sword at the creature. "Speak, I command you!"

The echidna sniffed. "I'm not under your command," she retorted. A long, forked tongue slipped past her lips and she licked the many puncture marks dotting Crowley's neck. "Mmm, thissss one is delicioussss. Watch thisss."

Before Aziraphale could stop her, the echidna's jaw unhinged, fangs protruding like something from a horror film, and she sank them deep into Crowley's throat yet again. A second later, the unconscious demon started to twitch and moan, swiftly building up through cries to full-blown howls. Tears streamed down his face but he showed no sign of true consciousness even once his yellow eyes opened.

"Stop!" the angel cried. "Leave him alone, foul beast!"

"Beassst?" the echidna hissed with a short laugh. "Everyone'sss got to eat, after all. Relax, thanksss to my venom, he hasss no idea what'sss happening." She giggled again and licked at the puncture wounds once more, much to Aziraphale's disgust.

His eyes flicked back to the demon, currently sobbing with pain or terror or both. Aziraphale had never seen Crowley in such a state, in all of their years together. Then, the demon whimpered, actually whimpered, and choked out,

"Please, Hastur, no..."

Aziraphale straightened, grip once again tightening as he demanded, "Hastur- he's hallucinating! That's what your venom does?"

"Mm," she agreed contentedly. "Ssshowssss them their mosssst terrible nightmaresss. You've no idea, the tasssste of adrenaline as hissss deepessst fearsss come true before hissss eyessss..."

Crowley's most terrible nightmares? Aziraphale felt the blood drain from his face at the mere thought; as a demon, Crowley would be all too familiar with the worst torments of Hell, and the idea of him reliving a single second he might have spent there or the constant fears of what they could do to him, no, it was simply too much to bear thinking of. With a furious shout, Aziraphale thrust his sword towards the echidna and attacked.

The battle was short-lived and ended with her slain on the floor and Aziraphale rushing to get Crowley down. The demon's hands were bloodless from having been bound so tight, ligature marks already standing out stark against his pale skin as Aziraphale wrested the ropes off of his hands.

"Crowley," he called, patting his friend's cheeks carefully. "Oh please wake up... my poor dear, you're not in Hell! Come back!" Even as he said it, though, Aziraphale knew there was most likely nothing to do but wait until the venom worked its way out of his system.

But not here, in the dirty, dilapidated building on his own. Trying to ignore the sobs and moans that he never wanted to hear coming from Crowley ever again, Aziraphale scooped the demon up in his arms and headed back out into the night.

Crowley had a flat somewhere, Aziraphale knew, but he'd never been to it and wasn't sure exactly how to get to it. In this state, he didn't want to simply leave the demon anywhere; best get him back to the bookshop, then. Hopefully none of the angels would pop down for a report on the affair. That would be a trifle difficult to explain, why a hallucinating demon was laid out on his sofa.

By the time they reached the safety of the bookshop, Crowley's condition was none better. Not sure what else to do, Aziraphale fetched a cool rag and contented himself to mop off the demon's brow. Crowley's eyes were open but faraway, trapped in whatever horrible nightmares of Hell his brain could concoct, and Aziraphale knew he had quite the imagination—a curse, in this instance.

Finally, after far too long, the demon slipped off into a fitful sleep. Even that seemed to be no mercy, as Crowley continued to thrash and cry out, sometimes even calling for Aziraphale—that was the worst, as the angel couldn't imagine what torments he was seeing and of course had no way to save him from it.

Finally, finally, Crowley's eyes peeled open once more, filled with trauma and pain.

"There you are, my dear," Aziraphale said softly, settling himself beside the demon on the couch. "Are you awake?"

For a moment, Crowley stared blankly at him, then gasped like he was taking his first breath and shot up on the couch.

"Angel-" He got no further, throwing his arms around a thoroughly shocked Aziraphale.

"Oh! Um... yes, it's me-"

"Aziraphale... you're alright... you- you're alive... you're alive!"

Well, that wasn't at all the reaction he'd been expecting. Aziraphale patted the demon's back, clearing his throat. "Erm, yes, I'm quite well. You were caught by that awful echidna, do you remember? She was poisoning you, I'm afraid, making you see your worst-"

"You were dead," Crowley blurted out, clinging all the tighter to Aziraphale, nearly wrapping himself completely around the angel. "You were dead, over and over and over, and I couldn't stop it, I- are you alright? Really and truly, you're alright? You're okay? Aziraphale?"

The angel was at a loss for words. But... that echidna... she'd distinctly said it would be Crowley's worst nightmare he'd be experiencing, but surely that had to be Hell? Torments untold? He'd even mentioned Hastur specifically...

"I'm alright," he said slowly. "Whatever you've been seeing, none of it was real. I assumed it would be Hell..."

"Hell, Heaven, everything in between," Crowley choked out. "They kept hurting you- killing you, I thought you were dead. I thought..." He coughed and pulled away, cheeks pink as he wrapped his arms around himself. "Er, anyway, no reason to make a scene. I'll just... I should go..."

"You're in no condition!" Aziraphale immediately protested, still trying to sort out in his mind how his own death could be Crowley's worst nightmare when the demon had literally lived in Hell. A mistake on the echidna's part, perhaps. An exaggeration, no doubt, about Crowley's "worst" nightmare rather than just any old uncomfortable one. Surely.

Either way, he couldn't bear the thought of Crowley being alone right now. "You've been kidnapped and poisoned and I won't hear of you going anywhere until you've had a proper sleep, not the sort she did to you. It's quite safe here. Why don't you curl up and have a little rest? Er, just until you- Crowley, I'm sorry but why are you looking at me like that?"

The demon didn't say a word, just continued to stare at him with fearful, watery eyes. Aziraphale coughed, then suggested,

"You're shivering. I'm going to fetch some more blankets. Make yourself comfortable, my dear, because I won't hear of you leaving until I'm convinced all the negative effects have worn off."

Nodding decisively, Aziraphale stood to go gather some more flannel throws and warm quilts, knowing how cold Crowley could get at times. When he got back to the couch, he was surprised to find a serpent coiled up on the cushions.

"Oh, Crowley..."

"Thought you were dead," the snake repeated, burying his head in his coils. "I- I thought..."

Shaking his head, Aziraphale sat down beside the snake and picked up a book that had been sitting on the table next to it. "Well, I'm still alive and kicking, as you see," he reassured the demon. "No need to fret. Now then, I think I'll just sit here for a while and read my book. Stay, won't you?"

Then he pointedly turned all his attention to the book at hand so as not to embarrass Crowley if the demon needed closer comfort. Sure enough, the snake slowly wound himself around his arm and chest as though just feeling Aziraphale there beneath his scales was the grounding proof he needed that the angel was still there, quite alive and whole. He'd expected Crowley wouldn't want any comments on the matter, so was surprised when a small voice hissed,

"You're not going anywhere...?"

Heavens, that venom must have done more damage than Aziraphale had thought. Crowley rarely made himself so vulnerable, so the angel kept his voice as light as possible. "Not in the slightest. I think you could do with some rest. Why don't you sleep for a while? I've nowhere to be."

Crowley nodded and closed his yellow eyes, burying his head again. It actually was quite comfortable there, laid out on the couch in the nest of blankets with the serpentine coils holding him carefully. Maybe a light snooze wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

Breathing deeply, Aziraphale settled in, feeling warm in body and heart.