#like echo’s “harm her and you’re a dead man”

[magicandmundane]

Y’all the foreshadowing in episode one keeps getting more and more insane on rewatches. Omega was in the walls, and now she’s in the walls again.

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR FOURTEEN

in which eddie finally offers you an honesty hour. which is great, until you learn you've bit off more than you're capable of chewing. (oh, and we find out more of what happened at steve's infamous party)

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 5k+

→ a/n: there is still one more bit of the memory left for steve's party!! i broke it into three bits because otherwise it would be too long as one giant clump lol. sorry this is being posted so late... but hey! it's here! see y'all again thursday lol thank you to everyone for continuing to be so kind about this story and show it so much love

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

14:00 ────────ㅇ─────── 24:00

SIX MONTHS EARLIER 

It’s Eddie. You only know because when Nancy opens the door, she greets him loudly, letting her drunken squeal echo down the hallway and into the kitchen. 

“Munson! Finally!” her voice carries, and you fight the urge to try and move to peek through the doorway to see him, “Took you long enough!” 

Eddie's voice is too quiet for you to hear his reply. He’s not drunk, not fueled by reckless decisions and overflowing affections like most of the other friends were already. 

There’s a terrible twisting in your gut at his arrival, and you know it shows across your face when Robin looks at you apologetically. As if for a moment, they had forgotten they way you and Eddie avoided each other. As if for a moment, they had all pretended that the entire group could convene and it could be easy, and that was on them instead of you or Eddie. But it wasn’t on them. That blame could never fall on them.

It was on Eddie, you decided. He was the one who more ardently avoided you rather than vice versa. He was the one with a sharper tongue between the two of you, always snappy, always irritated with you. It was on Eddie. It should be on Eddie. 

Except, you still felt bad about the Chrissy ordeal. He may have acted as if he disliked you for no reason before, but now he was hating you with reason. You can’t blame him; you’d do the same thing.  If he ruined a date like that, stomped all over possible potential and threw it away without even considering your feelings involved, you’d be out for blood.

You sort of needed to apologize, and needed to apologize soon. 

“Eddie, my man!” Argyle calls out from the couch. It captures your attention just in time to look over and watch as Eddie enters the room, his back facing you, his shoulders slack beneath his leather jacket. 

He’s relaxed. You’re immediately sure that he doesn’t know you’re here yet. 

“Hey, man,” he greets with a gravelly voice, an edge of fatigue to it you’re familiar with. It’s the kind of tiredness that follows long weeks, as you two had spoken about that first night. For a second, you wonder if he’s still having those. And if he is, how often they happen, if he ever comes home from them and thinks about that night, if he has anyone to call when it’s late and they haunt him.

You know you don’t. Neither Steve nor Robin are ever awake that late, or at least don’t answer the phone at that time of day, and you don’t feel close enough with the rest of the group to burden them like that.

There had been a time where you would wonder if Eddie could have become that person, if the type of conversation you two had at the bar the first night could ever translate over phone lines. But that time had been early on, and was long dead. It laid in an unmarked grave with all your other ponderings of what a friendship with Eddie might look like. 

“We can keep you two apart,” Robin whispers, or at least tries to whisper. She’s loud, “He said he had work and wouldn’t make it. We… We thought he wasn’t going to come, so we invited you instead.” 

Oh. 

Oh, what a knock to your pride. Robin means nothing harmful of the words, they should be neutral and just an explanation offered to you. But your mind takes them in its grasp and runs, runs, runs. 

“We thought he wasn’t going to come, so we invited you instead.” 

You’re the backup plan. You see it now, and it sucks, but you press your lips into a cellophane smile that Robin can’t see through in her flurry to distract you with an offering of you two plus Steve having another round of drinks. You decide to take a straight shot of the nearest bottle of vodka, swallowing it down to drown your already sinking heart. You fake laugh when Steve tells bad jokes, you make up lies about your dates of the last few weeks, deciding you no longer care if you add in more details to look less pathetic. 

You’re the backup plan. So you’re sure they won’t notice when you spin a new version of yourself.

This version of you that spews from your lips has gotten lucky more times in the last month than you have in the last year. This version of you is always the one having the last say in conversations, the one leaving men on read rather than the tables being flipped as they were in reality. 

Robin says nothing, even when she notices some of the things you say not aligning with what you’d told her earlier that week.  She only side-eyes you as Steve drinks in every detail, only disrupting to suggest another shot. 

At some point, she gets too drunk to side-eye you. 

“Fuck,” Steve sighs, throwing his head back as he glances out to his living room, where Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle, and Eddie have taken to sitting in an oblong circle around on his and Robin’s furniture, “I need some fresh air. Anyone else?” 

“Me,” Robin responds so quickly, you would have made fun of her if you didn’t notice the sickly shade of green creeping up on her. 

Steve looks at you, raising an eyebrow, but you only shake your head. It makes the room threaten to spin. Maybe, just maybe, you should have slowed your roll with the vodka shots. Maybe.

“I’ll stay in here, hold down the fort,” you promise, letting your eyes fall shut before you inhale deeply through your nose, exhaling softly through parted lips. 

No way. You hadn’t drunk nearly enough tonight to excuse getting sick as Robin was seemingly about to. 

Robin and Steve leave you be as you compose yourself. You think you hear them extend the offer to everyone in the living room, but you can’t make out who agrees to go and who stays. But as you listen to all the footsteps making their way out the front door, Steve calling out that they’d be back soon, you start to become convinced you’ll open your eyes to an empty apartment. 

You open them to an empty kitchen. So far, so good.

But then a voice clears their throat from the living room, just as you pull your phone out of your pocket. You open it to find the cursed dating app still open, your messages with the bartender still staring you back in your face. The bartender you thought you’d hit it off with. The bartender that had stood you up the night before. 

Fuck him, you think bitterly as you turn to find Eddie entering the kitchen. Because of course, given your luck, Eddie was the only one who stayed back. 

“Those apps fucking suck,” Eddie notes, using the neck of his beer bottle to gesture in the general direction of your phone. 

You look between him and the lit up screen for a moment, finding half the mind to click out of the private messages, “You’ve used them in the past?” 

“Nope.”

You wait for a second, giving him the chance to elaborate. But he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t, he’s Eddie. If he explained himself to you, that would just be too easy. 

“Okay,” you sigh, squinting at the page and past the vodka, trying to fumble your way back onto the screen that would show you eligible bachelors in your area, letting you swipe and judge them by solely looks as if they weren’t actual people on the other side of the phone. As if they weren’t more than a reservoir of attention at your fingertips. 

Maybe that had been your mistake with the bartender – you let him become a real person to you.

“Why are you even still on them? I heard you’ve been having a shit time with the guys on there – quite the opposite of what you’ve been telling Harrington tonight, might I point out.” 

It’s something in the way he says it. One moment, you’re looking down, ignoring him. The next, you can’t help but lift your head in shock. The words all felt sharpened and poised for a kill, ready for an attack you hadn’t expected so early on in the night. 

“I-” you don’t know how to defend yourself. You don’t know whether to stick by the lies you’ve told tonight, or to be concerned with who was telling Eddie about your love life, “You win some, you lose some. It’s the nature of the app.”

Eddie grins and leans on a counter across from you, “You haven’t made it sound like you’re losing at all tonight. I nearly started a drinking game with Nance where we took a swig every time you said you managed to pull another ‘fuck ‘em and leave ‘em’. Quite the body count you’ve got there, player.” 

You’re drunk. You tell yourself that’s why you take his words straight to heart – you’re drunk, and therefore, you’re sensitive. 

“You’re bluffing,” you snap, “You couldn’t hear me from all the way over there.” 

“We could.”

“No, you couldn’t.”

“Yes, we could.”

“You’re lying,” you spit finally, crossing your arms defensively. Your emotions were rising too high, too quickly, and you blame the vodka. You blame the vodka and you blame the drink Steve had made you. You blame the bartender who stood you up. And most importantly, you blame Eddie. 

“I’m lying? You’re the one who’s been telling Stevie nothing but lies tonight,” Eddie narrows his eyes at you, as if he expects you to shrink in cowardice when he stands up straight and takes several steps across the kitchen to be closer to you, “Why do you need to even lie about all that, anyways? It’s not like the truth would be any more pathetic than the act you’re putting up. Everyone strikes ou-”

“I’m pathetic?” you scoff and interrupt him, not even paying any attention to where he was going. The tips of your ears are starting to flame with a red tinge, “Just last week, you lied to the group. You were trying to avoid being where I’d be and told them you had to walk your neighbor’s dog.” 

“I did!”

“Your apartment has a strict no pet policy, Eddie.” 

He freezes up entirely, grin faltering before your eyes, “How do you know that?” 

“I didn’t, but Nancy did,” you roll your eyes at the cracks in his composure, “It’s all I had to hear about the entire night. How she wishes we could get along, how she hates when you lie to her. Thanks for that, by the way.” 

“It’s not my fuckin’ fault you go out with my friends,” Eddie grumbles, reserving himself back to his side of the kitchen. If someone came in and squinted closely, they’d find that imaginary boundary between the two of you, an invisible line that would not be crossed. Not here, not tonight. You wouldn’t touch Eddie Munson with a twelve-foot pole if you could help it. 

“And it’s not my fault that you don’t.” 

You can see his agitation spreading like wildfire across his face, in the tick of his jaw and the twitch of his eyes. You can practically see the words that linger on his tongue as he bites down on it – it is your fault. 

“Whatever. Why are you lying to Steve?” his voice goes monotonous as he crosses his arms, and the muscles strain against his shirt. His leather jacket has long been discarded, probably thrown over the back of the couch or a chair in the living room. 

You mirror him, crossing your arms, letting the screen of your phone press into your side, “I’m not lying.”

“You are. With Steve, and with me at this very moment,” his eyebrows furrow and you consider the consequences of chucking your phone at him. 

Your irritation, your own agitation, is all bubbling beneath your skin. If it wasn’t for the vodka mingling with it, you would have been squirming from the discomfort. Usually, he doesn’t get to you. Normally, his off-handed comments come with a sting that can quickly fade. 

None of the jabs are fading tonight. They only seem to linger. Because he’s right, and you hate that he’s right. 

“How the fuck do you even know how my dating life is going?” you uncross your arms, waving your hands wildly into the empty air between you and Eddie, “We aren’t exactly friends. Did Robin tell you? Did Steve tell you?” 

Eddie swallows hard, and you can watch the words wash over him, but you’re unsure of which of your drunken slurs specifically got to him. You weren’t wrong in any of your statements, you weren’t outlandish in either of your guesses. But your words have frozen him up all the same and you aren’t sure why. 

“You’re right,” when he physically melts, the deathly chill remains in his voice, “We aren’t friends. But Rob and Nance are, and Nance and me are. See where I’m going with that one?” 

It’s in the way he says it, confirms it. 

We aren’t friends.

He hisses it out as if it were a painful reminder, as if saying those words burn him eternally. He says them as if they are capable of sending ice through his veins and bones alike. 

You know why he froze now, and it’s too late. 

“Well-” you pause, unsure of how exactly to respond. You’ll be having a talk with Robin, surely. But technically, Nancy was your friend, right? Surely, she was allowed to know the drama of your love life, wasn’t she? “You say that as if Nancy and I aren't friends.” 

“Are you?” he tilts his head tauntingly, as if he knows something you don’t. 

“We… are.” 

He catches the hesitation; he runs with it. He finds the handle of the knife you’d tried to keep so hidden, and he twists as hard as he can.

“Would Nancy agree if we asked her?” he hums, as if he were seriously contemplating this, as if it were a mediocre debate rather than a question of if you had friends or not, “Do you even have her on Instagram?”

“You, her supposed best friend, don’t have her on Instagram.” 

“Because I don’t have Instagram, full stop.” 

“Instagram isn’t the normal gauge of friendship,” you defend yourself, “Some people can have thousands of followers and no friends.” 

You don’t have Nancy on Instagram. You don’t follow her, she doesn’t follow you. The most she’s acknowledged your presence on the app was tagging you in a photo on a night out once. 

“It’s not about follower count,” Eddie shrugs, “It’s about mutual followings. That’s how Hollywood dictates whether celebrity couples are still together these days, yeah? If they follow each other. If you’re friends, you’d follow each other.” 

The vodka makes you bold. Bold enough to mutter out, “Oh, fuck you,” in response to Eddie’s prodding. 

“Wait, I-” you watch an unfamiliar emotion pass over Eddie’s face, something kin to regret. But his words are already out in the air, he’s already twisted the knife in your gut fully. He’s already spilled your blood in the middle of Steve’s kitchen, with no one around to witness it. He did it for himself – he did it for his own pleasure, his own enjoyment.

He enjoys hurting you. 

“Save it,” you mutter, slowly deflating as you turn your back to him, facing the counter to grab your drink to nurse your wounds. 

If you looked close enough in the corner of the room, you would have seen the shovel you should have used to bury away your hope of a friendship with Eddie. You should have piled the dirt over the casket, should have put 6 feet of soil and earth and worms between you and that fruitless yearning. 

But you didn’t. He hadn’t taken it quite far enough yet. 

Yet. 

But then he had to cross that invisible barrier. He just had to walk across the kitchen, come up behind you, and not mind his own business. He just had to look over your shoulder just as you opened the bartender’s profile again, if for nothing else than to further hurt yourself for the night.

You were so caught up in your own disappointment, you never saw the flash of recognition that crossed Eddie’s face. Only the anger that followed.

—

HOUR FOURTEEN - 5:00 AM 

You don’t bother with putting pants back on, only Eddie’s sweatshirt. At this point, pants were just beginning to feel like a nuisance when it came to the two of you. A nicetie, as one might put it.

What were the points of niceties with him if he could never hate you? 

You have the entire five minutes he spends in the bathroom to try and compose yourself. To try and desperately ruminate through these feelings and detach them from everything that was transpiring. The emotions didn’t belong here, there weren’t twists of guilt and sorrow of loss involved for Eddie when he was fucking you. 

So why is that all you could feel right now? 

He could never hate you, but he had spent the last year doing exactly that, hadn’t he? 

“Hey,” he reappears in the entryway of the kitchen with the worst possible timing, right in the eye of the storm that had begun to cloud over your mind. He holds up a pack of cigarettes you can only assume he’d snagged from his room, “I’m, uh- I was gonna grab a smoke out on the balcony. Join me?” 

There’s something of desperation in the way he asks you. All the words are casual, but his tone is an undermining plea; please say yes, please join me, please let me in. He knows something’s wrong, and he’s not just turning a blind eye and ignoring it this time. 

You stare at the pack of Marlboro Reds for a few seconds before shrugging, “Sure.” 

It’s certainly not as enthusiastic as you’re sure he was hoping for, but he smiles at the small victory nonetheless.

The first thing you notice about his balcony, aside from the clustered furniture, is the view. You’ve never thought your city to be very charming, always looking at it from a pedestrian’s view or through the lens of a tired, crabby college student embarking on another late night. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d step foot on a higher floor of a building like Eddie’s, one just tall enough to see over the rooftops of most of the mundane buildings, one that could peer right over the skyline and show a new dawn breaking. It’s a flourish of pink, orange, and violet, each shade stealing away another breath. The sun is just barely yawning over the horizon, just finally awakening. 

God, you’re going to regret not actually sleeping during this time.

“What’s got you scowling?” Eddie mumbles the question out around a cigarette, pausing with his lighter in midair.

You turn your head, and- just like that, all the anger and confusion melts away. He’s painted in the same shades of the sunrise, in a golden light that almost seems to be emitted from him rather than the waking sun. He is all soft edges and tired eye bags, a stubble that you can imagine the itch of against your palm if you were to reach out a hand to hold his face. If you were to kiss him right now, you fear he might dissolve all over your tongue, leaving nothing but his sweetness behind to remind you it was all real. 

It’s real. Even if it doesn’t make sense with what you guys projected before tonight, even if it doesn’t align with how your lives will continue on, tonight was real. You were here, he was here, and what happened…. Simply happened. 

I could never hate you. 

You get it now. Because in this lighting, with a soft breeze tugging your hair and mind alike, you know you feel the same way about him. And you know it contradicts all you have shown him in the past. 

You could never hate him. He could never hate you. It’s unfortunate that that’s what you’d been calling it before tonight – hate. 

“It’s going to really suck,” you breathe out half a sentence. Two endings before you: letting this night go or, “Not sleeping for a full twenty four hours.” 

You don’t know how he does it, how he looks at you like he knows you had something else to say. But he gives you those eyes, and they almost elicit the truth from you. 

Almost. 

He throws his head back in laughter, and the pinks and purples and all the fights wasted are now trailing down his neck, “Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” 

He’s much better at pretending than you are. You know that now. 

“Seriously,” you turn and walk to the railing, crossing your arms against the metal grate before he joins you at your side, “I’ll probably ditch my classes on Monday. I’ll have to sleep twenty four hours straight to even the score.” 

“God, I wish I could fuck off for Monday,” Eddie groans. He’s throwing his head back again, and you can’t help but wish you could replace the golden rays with your lips. You wish your warmth could sink beneath his skin like the sun’s does. 

“You can’t?” your voice cracks with the question as he finally lights the cigarette between his lips. 

He takes a long drag, shaking his head with the exhale of smoke, “Nope. I work Mondays at the shop.”

“The shop?”

“Myo’s,” the way his lips curl around the filter of his cigarette as he fights his grin burns a hole in the middle of your chest. Burning and erupting, yearning and longing, ignored and buried, “The auto shop on Main street.” 

You know by the way he looks at you that the name should ring a bell, but considering you don’t own a car, you don’t have the slightest clue what his job is, “Oh, so you’re a mechanic?” 

“I- Yeah,” he nods slowly, “Yeah, I’m a mechanic,” he pauses and you can see that he has more to say, it just takes him a moment. He looks off the balcony, shifts his weight between his two feet, takes another drag of nicotine. When he finally gathers his thoughts, you’re patient and waiting, biting back a small smile the moment he whips his face towards you, “Have we seriously never talked about that before? I swear I’ve told you I’m a mechanic.”

“Nope, seriously. Never.”

“There’s no fuckin’ way.”

“There absolutely is a way,” you laugh, letting your head fall backwards and not catching the way his gaze falls on you. The sunrise paints you in just as beautiful of a lighting as it had him. If someone asked you, you’d say that you doubt he noticed, but he did. He noticed. He always noticed, “Usually, by now, we’d be at each other’s throats.” 

“We sort of were,” he shrugs, eyes still glued to how your collarbone peaks out from beneath his sweatshirt, “Surprised we didn’t leave more hickies.” 

The topic you’d been avoiding. The topic he seemed indifferent about. 

I could never hate you. 

You decide to put his words to the test.

“Are we going to talk about it?” you ask, looking down now and picking at flakes along the metal railing, still not noticing him noticing you, “About…. what we just did?” 

“Are you always this straight to the point?” he chuckles nervously. In your peripherals, you catch the way he leans and mirrors you, side by side on the railing. His light cigarette hung loosely between indifferent fingers. Indifference, indifference, indifference. 

If you’d just look at him, you’d see anything but indifference written across his face. 

“Only when it matters,” you reply, breathing in his secondhand smoke, “Only when it’s important.”

His pinky is within reach of yours once more, just like at the parking garage. Even after feeling the entire expanse of his bare skin against yours, you still crave more – you crave for the intimacy that comes from hooking pinkies as grown adults, from knuckles curling into each other like hinges of a door of possibility. 

You don’t see the way he swallows hard, or how he nods subtly to himself before he says, “Alright. Let’s talk about it.” 

Those words make you look at him quickly, taken back and not expecting for him to give so easily. If you had noticed him noticing you, it would have been the expected reaction; if you’d seen the way his eyes traced over the pink and orange shadows of your features, you’d know he can’t really say no to you. Not anymore. 

“Yeah?” you only ask for the confirmation because you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He won’t let it. He holds it tightly, just nodding, “Yeah. I… You deserve my honesty.” 

You deserve my honesty. 

I could never hate you. 

“I’m starting to get a bad feeling of deja vu, Eddie. We don’t have to do honesty if you don’t want to-”

“Ask me anything. Right here, right now. I’ll answer with the full truth.” 

You flashback to hours before, when he’d offered his honesty this willingly and you’d only thrown it back in his face. But right now isn’t that moment, the two of you aren’t in the heat of an argument, there isn’t an impending doom on the horizon and the weight of the night no longer rests on either of your shoulders.

You don’t care as much about why he hates you now, or what he meant by never hating you to begin with. You don’t care much about the porn magazines and you don’t care what changed that first night. 

They’re all petty details that have had too long to gather dust. 

You do care about his job, you do care to know why he chose to fix cars. You do care about if he still takes night classes, and if yes, which ones. You care to know his favorite color and you care to know how he takes his coffee in the morning. Maybe you even care to know if he has a favorite coffee shop. 

You care to know all the new petty details you’d never uncovered about him. Miniscule bits and pieces of him you crave to hold in your hands, if only just for tonight- or today, at this point. 

But you need a baseline question. Something that won’t throw him off, but really doesn’t twist around your heart as severely as the others. Something that does neither damage nor nurture to the vines and blooms still occupying your chest. 

You suddenly remember a small detail that had been revealed to you by a third party tonight, “Okay, um, well…” you ponder on phrasing, and Eddie edges ever so closer to you, “At that bar we went to tonight, the bartender – Frank – mentioned how you’d been going there for about six months.” 

Eddie pales, but he nods nonetheless. Maybe the question is more loaded than you’d anticipated. 

“I guess... I…” you continue to stumble over your words and it only leaves Eddie more time to panic, “I’m just curious why you started going? Yeah, yeah. That’s… that’s my question,” you tilt your chin up, try to be seem more confident in your question. 

Even in his panic and sudden blanching, Eddie looks ready to laugh at you as his eyebrows scrunch. Somewhere between the wrinkles, you swear you could find something like affection, “That’s your question? Why did I start going to a bar that’s conveniently close to my apartment?” 

Maybe it is a good baseline question. Maybe he was just nervous from the other possible questions you could have asked about your time spent together at the bar. 

“That’s my question,” you confirm. 

The color isn’t returning to Eddie. His hand shakes when he brings his cigarette to his lips. His breath is evidently shaky on the exhale as the smoke puffs out unevenly. 

It’s not a good baseline question. 

“I…” he won’t meet your gaze, and all your gut can do is twist, twist, twist in anticipation, “I got kicked out of my last bar I was a regular at.” 

“Got kicked out? Why?” 

It’s ripping the bandaid off the wound of honesty, and neither of you even realize it. Neither of you notice the blood of your history catching up to you. 

Eddie sighs and rolls his shoulders before looking at you, “I got into a fight.” 

Your twisted gut stills. A fight? Why is he freaking out so evidently over a fight? Does he think you’ll judge him that harshly? 

“A fight?” you echo your thoughts with a soft laugh into the morning air, “You… Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing? Jesus, did you go to jail that night? That would suck, but… Eddie, I won’t judg-”

“I didn’t go to jail,” he interrupts, “I mean, they should have called the cops on me, but they didn’t. They gave me a second option of leaving immediately, and being banned for life, effective the moment I stepped out of the building that night. I took the ban.” 

“Well,” you relax your shoulders, looking over at the rising sun, “That’s nice of them, I guess, right? I’m sure whatever mean drunk swung their fist at you deserved to get their ass handed to them-”

Eddie interrupts you with a soft utterance of your name, making you look back to his hues of gold instead of the sky’s, “I swung first.” 

Oh. Maybe that’s why he still looks so wrecked with nerves. Maybe he thinks that’s the piece you’ll judge him on – it has to be the reason you can see sweat gathering along his eyebrow, just beneath his bangs. “Then I’m sure whoever it was deserved it? I-”

“He did,” he interrupts one final time. You’re about to finally snap at you, telling him to just let you speak, to just accept that you weren’t going to judge him over some bar brawl, when he drops the final bomb of an answer. Here is the honesty, you both realize at the same time, as his words slice through you, “It was about you. I got banned because of you.” 

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @amira0303 @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @tlclick73 @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

taglist is now closed.

[lady-ashfade]

What ever it takes. Pt2.

Yandere Alicent & Aemond x Sister/daughter reader. Miniseries.

What ever it takes. Part Two. Part three. Alternate ending.

Plot: Your obsessive mother and twin brother are on the hunt to find you after you had been taken. They would stop at nothing to get you back into their arms, may the seven forgive the poor souls who dare harm you.

Hope this is a good sequel- Also this is Aemonds chapter.

Word count: 1103

Taglist: @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @helloitsshitzulover @second-try-stevie @a-dorkier-book-keeper

Warnings: Yandere thrist for blood. Blood, violence, female abuse, being kidnapped and chained.  No real statement of the targaryen way of love...If you know what I mean. Mistakes, writing errors. 

It’s been a full week since you had felt the comfort of your home and you missed it deeply. You began to wonder if you would ever see it again. You missed to soft sheets on your bed and how you laid on it comfortably, you missed the gardens you walked daily and most of all you missed your family. How you could remember your mothers soft and kind embrace, holding you so dearly.

Now you had no soft place to sleep, you couldn’t walk do to the pain in your feet by the chains, no soft touch or even seeing the sun as more then a tiny hole through a crack in the wall. You didn’t know much about where you were but the men here hated you but they had not do what any normal men would do. You were thankful for that. But they had no problem hurting you and sometimes you wondered if it would be the last time and finally kill you.

Sitting on the cold stone floor you had your back against the wall to get some rest. You felt weak and so cold that everything that happened just felt like one day to you. You hadn’t had more the a small piece of dry bread in a week and they only gave you water every two days. After your time here you learned why they took you: Their boss had wanted to get gold and land for returning you which didn’t seem that smart to you.

Opening your eyes as you heard the echoes through the halls of screaming men and it panicked you. But being weak you couldn’t even move more then a inch. Maybe it was your savior, or someone who wanted you dead. Who ever it was you had to wait to use your last ounce of strength.

The smell of burnt flesh carried its way through the air as the bodies of burnt men surrounding Aemond and a man on his knees. Blood leaking onto the ground the man groaned in pain, he began and pleaded for mercy to the prince. Aemond just smirked and grabbed him by the armor he was wearing and stared right into his eyes, “You stole my sister,” he put pressure on the wound but more then it should be and the man lets out a cry. “Let the last thing you see is my pleasured face as I feed you to my dragon.” He dragged the man and dropped him in front of vhagar.

Aemond moved out of the way and watched as his blood splatter everywhere with a sick smirk in his face. His focus the turned to walk passed the already dead bodies and into the old stone palace, he rushed through and saw no one in sight. “Y/n?!” He called out for his sister but no answer. He looked between the different hallway and he choses the one to the right and walked down the cold hallway.

He shouted again and all he heard was silents. His chest filled with guilt and the twisting thoughts stayed the same. He wanted to cover the walls in red with the blood of everyone who took you. Feeding him to his dragon or them dying by fire was a mercy kill. He hopes a few were still alive so he could make them see just who they messed with. Maybe bring a few of their body parts as a gift for his mother.

His head turned at a sound coming from the end of the hall and he rushed to the door. “Stay still.” He heard a voice from inside trying to hush someone so he opened the door quickly. Standing over a chained woman with a knife in his hands, it was her. His darling sister looked weak but still managed to use her last strength to stop the knife.

“You’re a dead man.” Before anyone could reacted the man was pulled of her and thrown on the ground. “You think you could do this.” He knocked the blade out of his hand and held him down as he tried to fight back. “My love is not someone you fuck with.” Grabbing the man’s neck he pushed down and tightened his grip to choke the man.



“She is mine. Mine to protect. And a targaryen doesn’t like to lose what’s theirs, but don’t worry my mother will know just what to do.” Grabbing the back of his head he lifted it up and smashed in into the floor. Knocking the man out he laughed. The sound coming from his stomach is a happy, evil and dark laugh. What Aemond would do to just kill the man here and now with his bare fucking hands.

“Aemond..”

The small raspy voice called out to him and he had forgotten all about his wrath and the light was brought back into him. “My darling.” He moved off the man and came to her side while lifting her up. “I am here to bring you home.” She was covered in dirt and the darkness around her eyes wasn’t what he was focused on. It was the swollen bruises and cuts on her face.

He wanted blood. He wanted to kill. He wanted revenge. 

“Seven hells.” He grabbed the chain and broke it off with the handle of his sword and it made her twitch. “Shh my love.” He tried to calm her. Once she was free of it all he picked her up into his arms. “Darling?” He looked down and her eyes fully closed and her chest barely moving.

“My prince?” A voice called from behind him again. It was one of the guards that was sent to help him but he got here first. “That man is to be brought to the dungeons and anyone else you can find. The queen wants them alive.” He walked out outside and placed her in the carriage they brought in hopes of finding her. Vhagar knew she’d have to fly home but it wasn’t that far, she was also sad she didn’t get to kill anyone else. She felt the same way her rider did about y/n. A bound shares between the two.

“You’ll be home soon.” He whispered as he kissed your head. He held you the whole way back to the castle and screamed at the driver to drive faster. He wished he could take you on vhagar but there was no way he could ensure your safety.

“I will spill more blood for you. Do what ever it takes to make sure you’re safe forever….”



[bones4thecats]

If it's okay can I please ask for Loki Beelzebub and Poseidon but how are they react to meeting Kianna's older brother Subaru

In her backstory she actually left Subaru alive since he helped her and they see each other as siblings

Meeting Subaru and Yui (Sibs of S/O)

Type of Writing: Request Characters: Loki, Beelzebub, and Poseidon Name: Meeting Subaru and Yui (Sibs of S/O) Requester: @nunezs-stuff

A/N: Much like with my past work, if you want to find some more information on this ‘Kianna’, you can go to the requester’s account and read all about her OC. Here, Yui is technically alive, since this is set after the events of the story, so they’re all dead and in Valhalla.

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🐍 Loki has a smaller family when it comes to the Godly-standards, he has Odin as his uncle and Thor as his cousin. While in Pantheons such as the Greek, there were four brothers with one being married and having three kids, Zeus’ blood and non, and there was Kronos and Rhea

🐍 So, when he officially met you, he wasn’t very surprised to hear about you having a sister and brother. In fact, Loki basically begged for you to introduce them to his own family

🐍 It took many different tries on his part to actually get you to consider bringing in your siblings in for a visit, but when you told him you gave in and were bringing the two in for a reunion of the Norse Pantheon

🐍 Looking back at the two behind you, you noticed that Yui smiled as she adjusted the collar around her kimono as Subaru adjusted the bow holding his outfit together, and once they gave you their respective nods, you began to walk ahead and opened the doors to the Norse Pantheon’s estate

🐍 Loki was getting bored floating around and pranking his fellow Deities, it just wasn’t the same without his amazing S/O alongside him

" Loki? Are you around? "

🐍 Opening his eyes and turning upside down from the tree branch, Loki looked around for the beautiful eyes of his S/O, only to be immediately met with the sight of mismatching red and pink eyes

" Woah! Watch where ya’ hang there. " " Y/N? " " Hello there, Loki. "

🐍 Okay, this guy was so confused right now…

🐍 Once he caught sight of you, your boyfriend wrapped himself around you from behind, slightly glaring at the man and woman, blissfully unaware of who they were to you

" Loki, meet Subaru and Yui, my ‘adoptive’ brother and my sister. " " Oh… my bad. " " Meh, I’ve had worse reactions than that. Note; don’t go to a church as a vampire, doesn’t end well. " " Yeah. Besides, we understand, you’ve never met us until now, so it’s understandable why you’re weary of us. "

🐍 Loki’s eyes slightly widened at how loose they seemed, while you normally were more tightly bound with superiority issues

🐍 As Yui held out her hand, the calls of Odin’s bird, Huginn and Muninn echoed in your ears, alerting both you and Loki that Odin and Thor were ready to meet your siblings, just to make sure they were alright to visit again

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🪰 He was surprised that this curse has allowed him to even be around you and care for you, nonetheless even come into a full-on relationship filled with love around you without you being harmed

🪰 When you had admitted that you had a couple people you wanted him to meet, Beelzebub was put off, since for many years, he grew up with this curse and because of it, never really had anyone before you and Hades

🪰 Holding your hand tightly, Beelzebub looked down at you and sighed, knowing that you would provide your dearest God with any kind of comfort or space if he needed it

" Are you ready, Beel? " " I suppose… " " Open the doors for my siblings! "

🪰 As the guards of the estate opened the doors in fear of your rage, you noticed the feeling of Beelzebub’s grip on your hand tighten as the doors creaked open further and further until the sight of a tall man and shorter woman were shown

🪰 Smiling gently at the duo, you lightly pulled your boyfriend with you to great your guests, or rather, your family

🪰 Yui looked at your boyfriend and back at you with confusion before Subaru cocked an eyebrow and practically glared at Beelzebub, not fearing that he was a God set to participate in the upcoming event of Ragnarok in a few days

" Ah! My apologies, you must be Y/N’s boyfriend. I’m Yui, Y/N’s older sister. And this is- " " Subaru, their ‘adoptive’ older brother. "

🪰 You sighed as Subaru kept his stern look on your boyfriend, his form not shaking or anything as the Lord of the Flies just stared back without any emotion inside his black eyes

🪰 Gripping his hand tighter and making him slightly flinch at your surprisingly strong grip, Beelzebub lowered his guard slightly, just enough to notify Subaru that he were not going to harm you or Yui

" Would you guys like a tour around the estate? " " That would be amazing, little sibling! "

🪰 Despite the fact that Subaru was still burning holes into the head of the man you were holding hands with, you understood that Subaru was only trying to protect you from harm, and you knew it was fruitless. Beelzebub loved you, even the Gods you have met said so, and they hate mentioning stuff like that

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🔱 Poseidon didn’t even like having to see his own family, nonetheless seeing someone else’s, it just made him feel slightly awkward. But, he could also say he was annoyed, he isn’t fond of social events, preferring to spend most time to himself

🔱 He sat down at the small table on your bedroom’s balcony and heard as the front doors opened with a loud drag from their sheer mass and size

🔱 Just at that moment, you knocked on the door and walked inside your room, alerting your soon-to-be husband that you were going to tell him who had come by for a visit, and whether it was for him or you

" Poseidon, my love, it seems we both have guests. " " And who, perhaps, are these guests? " " They are my two siblings, Yui and Subaru. "

🔱 Poseidon knew that you had siblings, as during one of your first dates years ago, you and him spoke about your family relationships, so parents, siblings, everything like that

🔱 Looking from the dark and colorful ocean to you, the God of the Seas sighed mentally, speaking to some random people was something that he did not want to participate in that day. He specifically scheduled no meetings for said reason

🔱 But, no matter, as long as they don’t try testing his patience, he can hold himself back for you

🔱 Holding out his arm, you wrapped your arms through his and began to walk down to the main room to meet up with the two siblings you hadn’t spoken to for the few months you have lived with your lover

" My dear siblings, to what do we owe the pleasure of your presence? " " Y/N! You haven’t spoken to us in months! What do you have to say for yourself? " " First of all, thank you for the gracious hello back. Second, I would like to introduce you to my fiancé, the Greek God of the Seas and the third-born son of Cronus and Rhea, Poseidon. "

🔱 Yui’s eyes widened and the man beside you could sense her aura slightly depleted in fear, but, he could also tell that the man beside her aura had enlarged with protectiveness

" P-P-Poseidon?! Oh my! I’m so sorry for the rude introduction! I am Yui, your lovely to-be older sister, and this is Subaru, our older ‘adoptive’ brother. " " Pleasure. "

🔱 You looked into your to-be’s ocean-blue eyes and slightly pinched his arm, making him look into your eyes with shock hidden underneath a layer of emptiness glossing his form

🔱 Subaru groaned and had to hold Yui back from running over and hugging Poseidon and you, since he knew that the God of the Seas was one with very little love for physical touch

[crybaby-bkg]

sᴄᴏʀɴᴇᴅ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1

Bakugou x f!reader Warnings/Tags: threats of violence, fear, graphic imagination of violence, chasing, guns, gun violence, blood, gunshot wounds, mention of sexism, PTSD flashbacks, unmentioned men harming reader in the past (not graphic), sexist language, mentions of you bleeding Word Count: 3.2k Notes: first chapter already woooo!! this is more of an intro to how everyone gets to meet each other. I hope you all enjoy!! <3 Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI

Main Masterlist AO3

Medusa [meh-doo-za] noun - guardian; protectress; an evil meant to protect others from evil; a threat; a victim

***

Your heart races as your feet pound against the rough pavement, cutting sharp corners with every quick turn. You’re too afraid to look over your shoulder, afraid that you’ll find faces that will haunt your every dream for years to come, sneering at you. Afraid you’ll lose your footing, that you’ll stumble, fall prey to the monsters hunting you for sport. 

You can’t breathe. Your chest hurts, tight, your lungs squeezing with every shaking gasp you inhale. They’re getting closer—they’re right on your heels—they’re gonna get you—you’ll be dead come morning, unrecognizable. 

There’s a sudden whooshing sound not too far off, and you think that it must be one of their quirks, that its truly the end for you. Instead, you hear the sounds of scuffling, of punched out breaths, of bodies hitting the pavement, of pained groans. 

You still don’t slow down, don’t stop, not until you’re safe, until you know that they can’t catch you anymore. But you’re stopped suddenly, by a burly chest too wide for any normal human. 

Your feet come skidding to a halt, barely managing to stop yourself before running into this wall of a person. Your eyes frantically search their face, and you’re even more afraid now. Is he with them? Is he apart of all of this? He’s no better than the men chasing you, after the videos of his son proclaiming abuse went viral all those years ago. 

“There’s no need to run now, the Pro’s are here.” Endeavor’s voice is booming in the echoing alleyway, and it only unnerves you even more. You can feel your knees wobbling, knocking against each other. You hadn’t even realized that there were tears until they muddled your vision, hadn’t realized you were shaking until the chatter of your teeth is audible. 

“Please, let me go.” You whisper, meek, voice barely understandable from the clacking of your jaw. Endeavor looks down at you confused, eyebrows furrowing as his lip grits. He reaches a hand out, and you jerk yourself back so hard that you stumble, tripping over a bottle left in the alleyway. 

You land hard on your back, but you never take your eyes off of the man in front of you. He tries to reassure you, tries to help you but—but his hands are too big, and those hands have hurt those closest to him, and they’re too wide, too familiar, remind you too much of the men behind you. 

Where are the men, anyway? Have they hidden somewhere, ready to plot their attack with the number one hero? Are they all in on this? Are they all going to hurt you, maim you, assault you? 

Your panicked breaths echo loudly, your hands shielding you from the too large form that still stands above you. He doesn’t try to reach out for you anymore, only glances off to the side as he speaks seemingly to nobody before his eyes dart behind you. You’re too afraid to look, think it might be a trick for you to lower your guard so he can rip out your trachea with his bare hands. 

You scream when someone gently touches your shoulder, feels like they’ve dropped hot coal onto your skin, feels like the flesh drips down your tattered clothing. But as you whip your head around, you come face to face with something—someone, softer. It’s the bunny hero, and she smiles gentler than you have ever seen her do on TV. She’s saying something to you, but your ears feel like they’re stuffed with cotton. All you focus on is the fact that, finally, you might be safe now. 

Her knuckles are bloody, and you see her nudge her head back behind her, get a glimpse of a stack of bodies trailing oh so fuckin’ close to you. It makes you flinch at the sight, at the leader with his hands still outstretched toward you, nails barely skimming your ratty shirt. You gasp, sobbing, inching and inching away from him, find yourself comforted in muscular but such soft arms. 

Miruko holds you gently, shushing you and cradling you under her chin. She sits on her knees, dragging you closer to her, shielding you from the men who were so close to ruining you, from hurting your further. Your own voice doesn’t even sound familiar once the fuzziness in your head clears as it bounces off the grimy walls with every hallowed sob that racks your entire body. She tries to get you to breathe, to calm down, but you’ve checked out since you crawled into the safety of her arms. 

As the ambulance arrives and more pro heroes show up, you sit in Miruko’s lap, shaking, thinking to yourself, promising, that this will be the last time you ever need saving. 

…

It takes months to rebuild yourself. Months of healing, of therapy appointments, of physical rehab, of integrating yourself back into society again. 

And even then—its not enough to heal you. 

Your therapist tells you that you need to move on, and you tell her that she must be a fucking quack. The next one tells you that you need to forgive the men that hurt you, and you tell him that he must’ve faked his shitty degree. And the next one is the same, and so is the one after that, until they all just start running together with the same advice. 

Do not give power to the men who hurt you. Its bullshit, you think. They don’t have any fuckin power because they were smashed to fuckin smithereens by Miruko’s heel. But apparently, your “kill all men who hurt others” ideology is “dangerous” and “directed at the wrong people.” You think you’re justified, and you don’t need anyone with a stupid fucking degree to be a yes man and agree with you. 

You don’t need anyone to agree with you—well, except for your fans online who praise you. 

Almost a year after being attacked, you became a hero for the people in your community who were oftentimes overlooked by pro heroes—male pro’s, especially. If women weren’t doling out their bodies in exchange for saving, then they might not be saved at all. 

That’s where you come in at. You trained your body to become stronger, more flexible, more agile, pushed yourself in such little time you’re surprised your body hasn’t clonked out on you yet. But its not your time to give up, to roll belly up and let the cruelness of the world swallow you whole. It almost did once—you weren’t letting that happen again. 

The public dubbed you as “The Red Medusa” because of your crimson stained outfits and the medusa tattoo visible on the center of your chest you always wore proudly. It was fitting, especially since you always seemed to exclusively fight men who were witnessed hurting a woman, or child. You didn’t have a quirk, but it wasn’t needed when you had a multitude of guns and the ability to lay someone out cold. 

Many men had tried to retaliate against you, especially the pro heroes whose egos were shattered whenever you publicly called them out online for their gross negligence and misogyny. But none had ever managed to catch up with you or leave without at least two extra holes in their body. 

Dynamight was one of them. 

…

He was cocky at first, with his too big grin and flashy quirk. You couldn’t stand the up and coming hero, with his shitty sexist comments made a couple months ago. He tried to backpedal, claim that his words were taken out of context, that it was all to just make him look bad. 

You didn’t believe it. You didn’t believe any of them, ever. 

“Getting tired, aren’t cha?” Dynamight calls out to you, aims another explosion where you stood only seconds ago. You can see the frustration in his face when he realizes that he missed you, that you’re quicker than you should be to just be a quirkless vigilante, as the media likes to call you. 

“Looks like you’re the one slowing down, shit head.” You shout back at him, sneering at his scowl. You two have been at it for only a few minutes now, and you know that in any second, more heroes are going to arrive and that they’ll outnumber you. You don’t work well with multiple attacks at once, and you’re damn sure not gonna go down yet. You’ll have to make this quick. 

As Dynamight soars through the air again, he aims another explosion at you, and you hold your breath as you wait for the right moment to strike. One second too late and he’ll have blasted your entire right side straight off of your body. You refuse to die by this sexist pigs hands. 

You inhale when you feel the heat of the blast, launching your body back just in time, don’t even wait for the smoke to clear from his explosion as you fire off two rounds into the orange hued air. Its silent for a split second before you hear it—a pained holler. But, you don’t expect for him to aim another blast at you. 

That one sends you reeling back, gasping sharply, as you dodge the brunt of it, but still feel the bottom half of your mask and neck catch licks of flame. You sit up quickly, ripping the mask off, eyes darting all around you in the isolated parking lot, wonder where his body has landed. You catch a glimpse of his boot retracting behind a blue sedan slowly, and you wonder how badly you must’ve hurt him. 

You hope its fatal. 

You should leave. You know you should leave, especially since gunshots were fired, the pro’s are definitely on their way now, and you’re face is exposed. But Dynamight just can’t let you bow out gracefully. 

“That was a cheap fuckin’ shot, you know.” He calls out to you from behind the car, taunting you. You know you shouldn’t fall for it, but you’re not gonna let this asshat discredit the move you had been honing in on for him specifically. 

“Nah, you’re just predictable.” You answer him, hissing at the sting of your jaw and chin from where his explosion grazed you. You pat at your face, finding specks of blood on your fingertips, eyes widening at the sight. None of the other men you had faced had made you bleed, never had enough close contact to let them. And yet—and yet your fingertips are stained crimson and you’re taken back to them. 

A group of faceless men stand around you, laughing at the pained moans emitting from your throat…one slaps you across the face…your hair is being tugged in every which way…you’re worthless, they keep repeating…condemned to rot away like the worthless bitch you are…

Before you know it, your legs are carrying you behind the blue sedan, and in hindsight, its a terrible fucking thing to do, exposing your identity like this. But Dynamight has become those faceless men to torture you all over again, and you think…you think he needs to pay the price for making you bleed. 

“Apologize.” You whisper, standing above him, barrel pointed right in the middle of his forehead. He looks like shit, with dust in his ash blond hair, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth, a hole in his shoulder, another in his abdomen. His eyes cross to look at the gun before focusing his gaze on you, eyebrows pulled taut in confusion. He’s never seen you before without your mask, but you can’t focus on that right now. Its not like he’ll live to tell everyone who you are and what you look like after this. 

“Whaddya say?” He grunts, hissing through his teeth when he puts more pressure on his shoulder. It doesn’t phase you, his pain, no. The only thing you can focus on is the familiar throbbing in your jaw that has ached one too many times at the hands of…of…

“You heard me.” You snap, voice shaking. You wipe away the onslaught of tears with a quick swipe on your shoulder, sniffing quickly, as if he wouldn’t be able to see the pain muddying your face. 

“I got bad hearing ‘cause of my quirk. Ya gotta speak up, sweetheart.” Dynamight mutters, eyes fluttering shut as the pain gets to him. But its not enough, makes your teeth grit at his nonchalance. He doesn’t even fuckin’ respect you as a vigilante, the only protector of women in this society. You scream through your teeth in frustration, pressing the muzzle of the gun against his forehead directly until the cool metal stings, cocking it quickly. 

“Don’t fuckin’ call me sweetheart, you sexist piece of shit.” You snap at him, opening your mouth to tell him to apologize again, before he cuts you off with a confused grunt. 

“Sexist?” Dynamight asks, looking around the gun at you. “I’m a lotta things, but sexist ain’t one of ‘em.” He scoffs, gritting his teeth when you press the gun harder until the back of his head rests on the car behind him. 

“Don’t try to pull that shit with me. I heard your gross fuckin’ comments about Creati.” You snap at him, hands shaking, finger ready to pull the trigger. But Dynamight stops you again, with a dramatic groan as he rolls his eyes into his head. 

“I dunno how many times I gotta fuckin’ explain that that was taken out of context.” He says it like you’re the bother, the nuisance that annoys him, like a fly that just won’t go away. “That video was edited, I would never say some pig shit like that. ’S fuckin’ gross and shitty, and that ain’t me.” 

Most of the times, whenever you’ve confronted men for the shitty things that they had done, they either bragged about it to your face before having their teeth kicked in. Or, they denied it, up until your gun was cocked and aimed on their forehead—then they confessed. 

So why isn’t Dynamight confessing? You stare at him for a long while, at his paling face, how he coughs and groans every few seconds. He stares back at you, like he’s trying to get a good look at you, remember every detail that is the Red Medusa. He breaks the mutual silence with his stupid big mouth. 

“What, ya got cold feet? Nervous about your first Pro Hero kill, huh?” He smiles at you, teeth bloody, grin sharp. It makes you sneer at him, closing one eye as you focus your aim, trying to figure out why the fuck you’re hesitating—you never hesitate. 

“Get it the fuck over with already!” Dynamight roars at you, pressing his head against the gun, using his good arm to hold the barrel of it, jabbing himself with it. You clench your teeth, trying to fight off his hold, when there’s a sudden cracking sound in the distance. 

Instantly, your head snaps over to the sound, find big blocks of ice heading your way, a green flash quick beside it. Your heart drops to your ass—you won’t be able to fight both of them at the same time, and you needed more bullets. You look over to Dynamight, whose eyes are still locked on yours, ripping your gun out of his hands. 

“This isn’t over, asshole.” You bite at him. You dart off without another second, ducking to avoid the ice thrown at you, jumping over the cold obstacle thrown at your feet. You disappear into the woods behind the parking lot, staying low to the ground, as you hear the sounds of shouting bellow out behind you. 

Nobody chases you, though, and the thought of that both calms you and unnerves you. Being chased brings back a torrid of memories, but it feels good being able to cleanly escape without having to shoot someone from over your shoulder. 

***

“What do you mean we shouldn’t go after her?” Deku asks frantically, pulling out gauze from his utility belt as he tries pressing it to Dynamight’s shoulder. But the explosion hero only snatches it away from him with a grunt, holding it to his stomach, grumbling. He lets Deku hold the gauze to his shoulder, but not without a petty snarl. 

“Kacchan!” Deku shouts at him when his eyes close for too long. 

“What?” Dynamight shouts back, lids fluttering open and inflamed, but they don’t carry the same heat they usually do. Deku thinks he might be hurt—bad. 

“Why did you tell Todoroki to not follow her? That was the vigilante who’s been attacking people lately.”

“Men.” Dynamight corrects, hissing through his teeth when the bleeding won’t stop. “She’s been attacking men.” 

“As if that makes it any better.” Shouto replies back sullenly, eyes darting into the woods you disappeared into, but holds himself in place. He doesn’t know why he’s following Bakugou’s barked directions, but something about the urgency in his friends tone makes him stay rooted in his spot. 

“It explains why she’s doing what she’s doing. Just let her go, for now—I’ll catch her later.” Dynamight dismisses, head lolling back against the car as Shouto dials in for the paramedics to put a rush on the ambulance. 

“When?” Deku barks at him, eyebrows furrowed in worry as he holds his friends injured shoulder. “When will that be, Kacchan? When she kills another man?”

“Another rapist.” Dynamight spits. He doesn’t know why he’s going to bats for you when you just put a goddamn hole in his shoulder and stomach. But, it was something about the look on your face, the horror, when you held your bleeding fingertips inches away from your jaw. The empty look in your eyes, like he wasn’t the one you were talking to, like he was only a ghastly figure of every person that’s ever hurt you. 

“No matter a persons crime, it doesn’t give her the right to kill them. It’s against the law.” Deku states matter of factly, his voice low, eyes zeroed in on the blood now seeping out onto his own fingers. Dynamight is quiet for a long while, jaw tight, before he spits out,

“Well maybe the law should change.”

“And then what?” Deku answers him with a snap, eyes set ablaze. “We have civilians killing each other in the streets, create their own judicial system right in the comfort of their own homes?” Deku asks exasperatedly, nose scrunching in irritation when Dynamight leans forward, despite the hissed groan emitting from his throat. 

“It’s better than letting those fuckers—”

“Guys!” Todoroki snaps, looking over his shoulder as the two heroes bicker. “We can hash this out later. The ambulance is here.” Sure enough, there’s red and white lights flashing in the near distance, the sound off to keep from tipping off the press and scaring the civilians in the area. 

At that, Dynamight finally relaxes, body slumping against the car. Deku calls out his name, but he’s too tired to answer the broccoli looking fucker. He just wants to take a long nap before he can find the energy to contact a sketch artist when he awakes. He wonders if the artist in the precinct near his agency would be able to capture the likeness of you on paper. He wonders.

Chapter two — found here

please do not repost anywhere or rec on tik tok!

tag list: @endlessfreaky

[call-sign-shark]

I’m listening to Ultraviolence by Lana Del Ray and I can’t shake the feeling of a fic with Arthur based off this song. I feel like it fits him so well! I can just imagine a toxic relationship between him and the reader where he hits her or harms her in some way (intentional or not) but she keeps going back to him

“He hit me and it felt like a kiss..”

Plssss lmao the way this works so well

No need to do anything with it, just wanted to share because I know you’re a slut for Arthur like I am

“Because I know you’re a slut for Arthur” SIS YOU’RE SO RIIIIIGHT. HE’S MY SOFT KITTEN. 😩

Ultraviolence || Dark!Arthur Shelby x Reader

TW: angst ++, abusive husband, toxic relationship, depiction of domestic violence, alcoholism, if you think this trope have a good ending you should not read it, no proof reading: this is raw, unedited and prolly super badly written??

Words: 1k

Each inch gained by the clock’s needle, your heart raced more as if it feared to be pierced by its the sharp steel. Nibbling on your fingers’ skin compulsively, you sat on the large luggage you prepared one hour ago because you knew that when Arthur came home after midnight, he was not the man you fell in love with anymore. His gruff voice, usually lavishing you with the sweetest pet names he could find, would call you deadly nightshade — because when you looked at him with fear and fury in your oh-so- beautiful but teary eyes, it felt like a caustic poison was running through his veins, burning him from within and dissolving his sanity.

The door opened, your soul wept.

“Oi Y/N, where the fook are ye?” The gravel in his tone, who used to make you shiver with desire, sent shivers of fright down your spine. You took a deep breath, struggling to keep composure: this night would be the last you suffered from his violent love. After months of hesitating, coming back to him almost crawling, you decided that this nightmare had to stop. Somehow, you knew you had to flee from his claws before you ended up dead and cold — either by suicide or by his hands.

He stumbled in the living room, an empty bottom of whisky hanging from his hand. His steel blue eyes, half closed due to the amount of alcool he drank and cocaine he snorted, were looking for you, “Bloody hell Y/N, a good wife always welcome her husband when he comes back home. So be a good fookin’ woman and come greet your ol’ Arthur with the warmth he fucking deserve.” He grunted, before his frightening gaze fell on you.

He looked at you, and you could hear the sirens howling in the back of your head.

“What the hell?” He whispered at the sight of your packed stuff, slowly understanding your intentions, “Are you fucking serious?”

“I can’t do this anymore Arthur,” words left your mouth, falling from your quivering lips, “This is going to kill me… I’m sorry.”

“You wanna leave me?” He asked, bewildered. The sound of the bottle shattering on the wooden floor echoed in the living room, answering to the screams of his own heart breaking. You hated yourself at the idea of hurting him but you could not do it anymore, loving him was really hard. At first your thought it would be enough to save him, to heal his soul and mind, but love was not enough— your love was never enough.

“I’m sorry.” You got up and grabbed your luggage, before making your way to the door. Yet, Arthur firmly grabbed your wrist as you passed by, his grip so sharp it bruised your skin almost instantly.

“You’re not going anywhere, love.”

“Let me go. Please Arthur, if you love me you have to let me go.”

“I said you’re not. Going. Any-fookin-where.” He retorted, his hoarse voice growling with more hatred as anger boiled within him.

“Let me go you fucking bastard!” You bursted out, panic overwhelming your aching soul as you felt his nails digging into your skin.

The horrific sound of the blow that followed made the skies shook with sorrow. Pain stung your cheek, its burning sensation spreading on all the left side of your face. You let out a woeful whimper, tears flowing from your eyes almost instantly. He hit you, and it felt like a kiss, because it was his way of loving you when he was drunk.

“YOU AIN’T LEAVING ME, YOU POISON. I’M ARTHUR FUCKING SHELBY RIGHT?” He barked.

His hand grabbed you a second time — but it was not to make you dance anymore, like he used to do when you were kids.

Pain rain down on you,

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence.

“I’m … Im so sorry…” Arthur kept saying over and over again, his hands on both side of his head as he pulled his own hair, devastated with the view of crimson stains on your face.

Panicking, he then grabbed your chin and almost suffocated you with his lips, assaulting your bleeding mouth with desperate kisses, “I’m so sorry Y/N, it won’t happen again. I just don’t know what crossed my mind, it wasn’t me… it was the fucking whisky! The bloody snow! I won’t do it again, I swear doll I will never hurt you anymore… I— I love you… God I love you so much I’ll die without you.”

His blue eyes overflowed with tears of gold, like lemonade.

“Arthur… I —“ Words choked in your throat as you saw him cry. The monster had left, leaving him sobbing like a beaten child. He raised your gaze toward yours when you called him, and you knew he was your gentle Arthur again.

But you could not forgive him again and again.

Could you?

He would be the death of you.

“Please, I’ll do anything for you. Please, Y/N.”

The cacophony of your mind almost made you wince, for your thoughts crashed against your skull in a messy bacchanalia. Run away, you had to run away… so why did your body remained petrified? Why did you gently stroke his hair, looking at him, desperately in love?

It was stronger than you, stronger than reason, you hated to see him cry. You despised the way he was hating himself, genuinely guilty.

But you had to go.

To go.

But you stayed.

Don’t beg, stop telling me you love me. Please.

Please I can’t. It’s never enough.

Give me all of that ultraviolence.

“I love you too, Arthur. I love you forever.” Your voice was merely a whisper as warm blood ran from your nostrils, tainting your lips and dying on your chin. Your fingers gently grazed his neck as you knew he loved — all you wanted was to stop his pain. To see him smile with that stupid, irresistible grin that made you fall for him.

“I can’t lose you, Y/N.” His lips laid a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth, the tip of his tongue tasting the blood. His voice was filled with sincere love, “I’ll change. I swear to God I’ll change for you,” Somehow he really believed in what he said, but the truth was he would never change… And you knew it.

“You won’t lose me — maybe you could — help me putting my stuff back where they belong?” You stuttered, your whole body about to collapse in his arms for it just wanted to feel his touch.

“Of course I’ll do.”

Arthur smiled.

You did too.

But Angels cried,

for they knew that he hurt you and it felt like true love.

Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with me honey, know that you can make yourself at home in my ask box, especially when it’s about babyboy Arthur.

I love this Lana’s song so much, and I completely understand the vibes you felt. It would suit so well in a Dark!Arthur fic — in fact I loved it so much I could not help but write a little something for ya! Even though I do feel in-character Arthur would be far too terrified to hurt Reader and would not physically harm . Maybe being rougher, bruising her with his grip without doing it on purpose. But he would not hit her (cf: office scene with Linda in S5). Yet — I decided to go dark with this one because, as you said, “he hit me and it felt like a kiss” is just perfect for this sad trope.

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Santa Comunione

Part I // Hannibal Lecter x Fem!Reader

Also on AO3

Summary: Hannibal Lecter often does things just to see what happens… and seducing a holy woman is one of those things.

WC: 3.9k words

Warnings: MINORS DNI THIS FIC IS 18+, Corruption, Blasphemy (?), Religious Imagery, Italy arc (Rome instead of Florence), Canon divergence, Self-Harm, Some whump, Angst, Eventual smut, religious trauma (i think?), I’m not a religious expert btw tho i grew up Catholic, mentions of wounds and scars, Ofc Hannibal has a God complex, Catholicism, dead dove do not eat, reader is a nun lol, lmk if i missed anything!

A/N: Unsure of why this idea suddenly possessed me but it’s been a real delight to write. As usual, thank you to Stray, G, my wife beelmons for all the help hee hee <3 I do not condone or encourage any of the actions depicted, you’re responsible for your own media consumption.

——————

“Angel of my life… my body, my blood, my soul, are all yours;”

– Victor Hugo, from The Complete Works; “ The Hunchback of Notre Dame,”

——————

It was easy to get lost in menial tasks.

You’d mastered the ability to slip into your thoughts as your hands diligently worked. Whether it was mending clothes, polishing candelabra, or even refilling prayer candles for all the tourists visiting the basilica.

In the summer, it was especially useful in order to manage the larger crowds — A sea of anonymous faces that quickly faded from memory. Bright shining eyes and rapacious hands reaching to touch things they shouldn’t; Always hungry for a taste of something holy. 

The pack of bodies made you anxious, their cloying scent overpowering the all-too-familiar myrrh and incense.  Their shrill, excitable voices could be especially grating in such a place, where echo was ever-present. Even more so after reminding them that a low volume was imperative, for such sacred spaces had to be respected.

It was a true test of your virtues, more often than not. Patience, especially, was one you were still working on, even after so many years. It proved to be the hardest to fully harness, no matter how much self-discipline was employed.

In repentance, you found yourself praying more often than not, the repetition of the words putting you in a meditative state.

Angel of God, my guardian dear, to whom God's love commits me here, ever this day be at my side, to light and guard, to rule and guide…

“Mi scusi?” A deep voice brought you back to the present, much too close for comfort.

Startled, you winced a little and quickly looked up. A tall, well-dressed man stood right in front of you, amusement at your reaction tugging at the corners of his full lips. He was handsome in a way that was reminiscent of Renaissance paintings; Like an aristocrat, or a fallen angel perhaps. 

“Si, signore?” You asked, keeping your voice low.

He gestured towards the candles. “May I?” 

You handed him one, already lit. His fingers just barely ghosted over yours in the exchange, and your breath caught. The small flame cast shadows on his angular face, giving him a more severe look. A bit macabre, too, in a way…

Don’t think such things. He is but a man.

“Grazie,” he said, the smile still not leaving his face.

“Prego.”

You averted your gaze, intent on resuming your work. He stepped to one side, looking over at the statue at the far end of the room — Bernini’s Ecstasy of St. Theresa.

“The pain was so severe that it made me utter several moans,” he recited. “The sweetness caused by this intense pain is so extreme that one cannot possibly wish it to cease, nor is one's soul content with anything but God.”

You followed his line of sight, and before you could stop yourself, you said. “You must see her up close.”

He looked back at you, tilting his head slightly to one side curiously. You tried to keep your eyes on the statue, still beautiful despite endless days of looking at it.

You cleared your throat, continuing almost absently. “There are many proofs of God’s love, but this one might be my favorite. We are most like Him in that through immense agony, we can become holy.”

Your gaze snapped to his, and you stared at each other in slight disbelief for a moment. Just what had compelled you to share such a thing? 

“Are you able to accompany me?” He asked. “I’d be delighted to hear more of your thoughts.”

That made you remember yourself, so you shook your head. “No, signore. Do go on, though. It really is a sight to behold.”

“Very well,” he nodded. “May I ask your name?”

You hesitated, but told him out of politeness. He repeated it slowly, as if savoring it on his tongue. Your traitorous eyes were drawn to the way his lips formed around it, and he didn’t fail to notice. 

Before you could even think of asking for his name in return, an elderly couple came up to you asking questions. You muttered a quick scusi in his direction as your attention shifted, both frustrated and relieved.

He lingered for just a moment longer before continuing on his way, and you forced yourself not to glance back at his retreating form.

Usually, the few brief conversations you had with visitors barely registered in your mind. Seldom did anyone really gain your interest, but on the rare occasion someone did, you had to immediately tamp down any inane desires.

For you, chastity often oscillated between being a cruel companion and a comforting blanket. There were times, in the darkest hour of night, when you couldn’t help but yearn for things you’d long lost. Sensations, images, smells… all vanished from existence.

You had not always walked the path of piety, but the days before you made that change were not ones you let yourself think about any other time. Especially not when those old feelings stirred like ashes in a charred hearth.

Once you were by yourself again, you caught another glimpse of him in the crowd; His long, sturdy frame was hard to miss. He was engrossed in his surroundings  — the gilded architecture, the magnificently carved marble, the myriad scenes of haloed saints soaring through the heavens.

You pulled your rosary out of your pocket, feeling the urge to resume your prayers. The smooth slide of the beads in your palm was usually reassuring, but you were too distracted to even conjure the words.

You squeezed it in your fist, the metal cross digging into your skin. Bright pain ran up your arm as it broke through, a rivulet of blood running through your middle and index fingers.

You released a breath as you relaxed your fist. It was a small penance for a momentary slip, serving also as a reminder of your vows. Pain was the best teacher, after all. It was one of the first things you learned when you converted.

Covertly, you wiped your hand clean with a handkerchief. You stared at the splotch of crimson on the white fabric, slightly entranced by the mundanity of your mortal blood.

Out of your notice, he observed your every move. He wanted to approach once more, to get a whiff of your life’s essence — A sharp note of copper, slightly sweet and endlessly enticing.

But he knew that, like any good hunter who had zeroed in on prey, he had to bide his time.

————

The setting sun streaked the sky in swaths of pastel, orange and violet and pink. The last of its golden rays illuminated the marble floors, setting ablaze the portrait of the praying skeleton.

His eyes lingered on this detail as he silently walked in, his long shadow dragging across it. 

Most of the visitors had left by that time, but a few stragglers lingered for evening prayers. He was delighted to find that one of those stragglers was you, still unaware of his presence.

Your knees were on the worn cushion of the praying kneeler, your clasped hands resting on the bench in front of you. Your eyes were closed, face tilted up slightly in quiet reverence.

He saw the hem of your habit had ridden up a little, revealing a small portion of your calf. Just a sliver of flesh, really, but not one you were conscious of showing. 

Glancing around, he approached slowly, bending down to fix it. You were mid Hail Mary when you felt the fabric being pulled, which made you stumble over the words.

You stiffened, but didn’t move. Instead, you peered from the corner of your eye to see a familiar figure straightening to his full height.

How curious that your prayers seemed to summon him, even if he was not who you called on.

Or was it?

A day had passed and you’d tried as best as you could to banish that whole initial interaction from your thoughts. His lupine features had begun to blur in your mind’s eye, the sound of his voice losing itself in the din of the crowd. What little you slept, you didn’t even dream.

But now that he was back, looming right behind you, you were on edge again. Shakily, you finished the last string of prayers you had left on your rosary. 

Then you did the sign of the cross and rose slowly, turning to face him. Your eyes were darker in the low light, doe-like and fathomless. But there was no naïveté in their depths.

“I hope I didn’t offend you by taking such liberties, Sorella,” he said. 

“Finding me or touching me?” You challenged.

He blinked, stunned at being put on the spot. "I figured you must value your modesty and didn’t wish to see you embarrassed. Forgive me.”

You looked him over, assessing. He seemed sincere, if a little clueless. The look didn’t quite fit him, but you wanted to believe it all the same.

“Thank you,” you said finally, glancing over your shoulder. “Come to see the statue once more? I told you it was striking.”

“Indeed, but not quite here for it,” he admitted. “I was unable to stop thinking of your assessment.”

“Oh, I assure you, I’m not nearly as interesting as you might believe.”

“I beg to differ.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, and you noticed how quickly the light was waning outside.

“Expecting a private tour, then? It’s rather late for that. Doors are shutting to the public shortly.”

“Perhaps I can help you in some way or another. Think of me as a volunteer.”

You huffed in amusement. “Are you trying to get me in trouble?”

He smiled, gesturing around him. “We have God’s eyes on us here. Nothing to fear.”

Why you were even entertaining this, you weren’t sure. It’d been a while since you’d been intrigued by anyone — anything, really — and being the object of someone’s intrigue felt nicer than you wanted to admit. 

You were surrounded by people all day, but that didn’t make you feel any less lonely. Not that solitude really bothered you… for the most part.

You were only human, after all. Full of faults you were meant to atone for.

“Very well, then. Usually, there’s more help, but it seems tonight it’s just us. Start with the candles, will you?”

And so he started extinguishing each candle as you took one last lap around the structure, making sure everything was in place and every last visitor was gone. The two of you worked like a well-oiled machine, covertly glancing at each other whenever you crossed paths. Soon enough, you were locking the doors of the basilica.

Silvery moonlight and a few orange street lamps were the only illuminations outside. The stars above were like the million eyes of an archangel keeping watch over the nocturnal creatures. That evening, it felt like being closely examined, waiting for any slip-up to impart judgement.

You nodded at the night guard as you handed him the keys, and then you descended the steps along with your new companion.

“May I walk you home? It’s not safe to walk alone in the dark,” he said.

 You raised an eyebrow. “Something tells me you’re not really asking.”

He smirked at your cleverness. “I wouldn’t forgive myself if something were to happen to you, when I could have prevented it.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at that, but you opted for being polite. You’d walked the same path many times and had long stopped being afraid of the darkness. What lurked in it, on the other hand…

“I am not so proud that I’d refuse kindness,” you said finally, nodding for him to follow as you turned around. “Wary as I may seem around it.”

“I’ve noticed,” he commented, falling into step next to you. “Has your God been cruel to you?”

You shook your head. “No,  but men have. His most perfect creation, indeed.”

He smiled wryly, enjoying the sarcastic venom in your tone.  

“We can appreciate divinity by bearing witness to imperfection,” he said. “It helps us relate to one another, sometimes on an unconscious level.” 

You nodded slowly, peering over at his profile curiously. There was something truly mystifying about him — as if he was someone that only existed in intervals of time, like the cover of night — which was perhaps what kept drawing you in. 

You walked through the cobblestone streets, speaking in hushed voices. You discussed things like art and poetry, quickly veering into more philosophical topics. His mind was like a maze, clearly difficult to navigate, but you did not feel discouraged.

You did always like a good challenge, even if it wasn’t good for you.

All too soon,  you reached the old wooden door of the small convent. He noticed there was a small smudge of soot on your jaw, so he pulled his handkerchief out of his breast pocket and gestured to your face.

“May I?”

You nodded, frowning a little in confusion. He stepped closer, reaching up and gently wiping off the smudge. You forced yourself not to blush, barely breathing, keeping your eyes averted.

“There we go,” he murmured, pulling back and extending the handkerchief towards you. “Here, you can keep this until you get a chance to wash yours.”

“My…?” You started, but then his words clicked in your mind. 

Your heart began thundering in your chest at the realization, beads of sweat forming on the back of your neck. You took it all the same, finally looking up at him with wide eyes.

You were met with the smirking face of a jackal – a beast turned man. The lamb in you knew this, even if his demeanor was outwardly friendly. The look in his amber eyes was so ardent you couldn’t tear your gaze away, rooted to the spot. 

Had anyone ever looked at you like that? You couldn’t recall, and it didn’t seem to matter.

“What is your name?” You asked breathlessly. “I realize I never asked.”

“Hannibal,” he said. “Doctor Hannibal Lecter.”

————

Much later into the night, you were still unable to sleep. You tossed and turned, the sheets sticking to your feverish skin. You were plagued by contradictions,  internally waging a war against a feeling that had suddenly yawned open in the pit of your stomach. Something too much like hunger, sharp around the edges. 

With a frustrated sigh, you shifted onto your back and stared at the ceiling. You were no stranger to restlessness, but this time, you couldn’t be bothered to kneel beside the bed and pray. There was something far more pressing in the forefront of your mind. 

It was that look, like he could see beneath the veil of your piety — through you, even. He’d seen you punish yourself, too, which was an intimate act all on its own. A subtle art that you’d perfected over time, or at least thought you had.

And still, you could tell he liked what he saw.

Yanking the covers off of yourself, you padded over to your desk, pulling the handkerchief out of your satchel. The material was much finer than anything you’d ever owned, gliding smoothly in your hands. 

Gingerly, you ran your fingers over his embroidered initials, faintly smelling a note of something rich and earthy, like bergamot or perhaps clover. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as you brought it closer to your face, absolutely entranced. It was at these late hours that consequences seemed nonexistent. The truth seemed less frightening when shrouded in darkness, with only the moon witnessing your downfall.

You brought it back to the bed with you, lying down on your back once more. With the silken fabric pressed against your face, you inhaled slowly. The linen shift you wore to sleep rode up past your hips, exposing your legs and part of your lower abdomen.

Your fingers moved on their own, barely dipping into the hem of your underwear before stopping. A sensation akin to electricity crackled inside your chest, seizing your muscles. Blood roared in your ears as your heart galloped frantically. 

Was this what being on the edge of damnation was like? Too much like seeing your reflection on the forbidden fruit, bright red and infinitely tempting?

Your teeth scratching the skin, about to sink into the sweetest of knowledge…

As if scalded, you yanked your hand back, sitting up on the bed. You felt as if air had been squeezed out of your lungs, panting harshly, clawing at your throat. 

The room felt unbearably hot, the walls seemingly closing in on you. You stumbled out of bed and gripped the edge of your desk, knees buckling. The pulsing between your legs quickly simmered into a dull throb, shame, and guilt following in its wake. 

You were being tested, you had to be. What else could explain such recklessness? 

At least you’d gotten yourself away from the cliffside and could still get back on the right path. Surely, the Shepherd would not shun one of his lambs for almost being lured by a wolf.

But how could you ever explain that inane desire of yours to be devoured, ravished, utterly adored in your last gasping breaths? 

He was not blind to the way you’d bared your throat at the first glimpse of fangs.

This time, retribution would require more bloodshed — a lingering sort of discipline. After all, what was one more scar to add to the latticework of pink, raised skin all over your back?

You undid the laces at your throat and pulled your slip off, letting it fall to the floor unceremoniously.  You reached into the bottom drawer of your small dresser, finding purchase amidst the few austere garments you owned.

Your hands no longer shook as you gripped the twisted handle of the cat o’nine tails — it was salvation at your fingertips, and you held on so tightly it left indentations on your palm. You focused your gaze on the wooden cross on the wall, prayers for mercy at your lips. 

And the only other thought in your mind at that moment was ‘Fifteen lashes should suffice.’

——

Perhaps you’d gone overboard. 

In the sobering light of day, you lay on your stomach next to the open window, listening to the trilling of birds. You felt ill with the aftermath of your slight overindulgence of masochism.

Earlier that morning, you’d feigned stomach pain and nausea. The latter wasn’t too far from the truth, and the pallor of your face – which was also dotted with cold sweat – helped sell the lie. 

None of the Sisters – much less the madre superiora –  were privy to your violent bouts of self-discipline. Not only would they disapprove, but… it would lead to situations you did not want to bring upon yourself. 

You were just drifting off to sleep, exhaustion finally overpowering you, when you heard a soft knock on the door. You pulled the blanket back upon yourself, hiding the incriminating evidence.

“Si?”  You called softly, shifting your head to face the door.

It swung open to reveal the madre superiora herself, accompanied by… Oh, merciful God. 

Hannibal tensed at the doorway, his nostrils flaring as he scented the coppery tang permeating the small room. Though the window had been open for some time, your essence still lingered – a narcotic in its own right. He kept his composure as his mouth watered, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“How are you feeling, Sorella?”  the madre inquired, concern all over her gentle, weathered features. 

“Still about the same,” you said, attempting to keep your eyes on her and not on her companion – none other than the man who’d tried to coax you away from the Lord’s pasture.

“Doctor Lecter here said he helped you home yesterday. He expressed concern for your well-being and has offered to examine you.”

“Free of any charge, of course, madre,” he assured. “I merely want to help however I can. If that is okay with you, that is.”

You merely nodded, not trusting your voice at that moment.

“Your generosity shall be returned doubly, Doctor,” the madre said with a smile. “I shall give you some privacy. Please let me know if you need anything.”

And with that, she left the room, shutting the door behind her. 

Hannibal approached slowly, as if you were a skittish animal he didn’t want to spook. You eyed him peripherally, wary all the same. He knelt at your side, taking a moment to observe you. 

“I was worried at your absence today,” he said as a way of explaining his being there, voice low. “I hear it is some sort of stomach bug?”

“Not quite,” you murmured. “It is something far more… visible.”

He slightly tilted his head to the side in curiosity. “May I take a look at you?”

“How can I refuse the most  generous doctor?” 

You shifted your shoulders to indicate he should pull down the sheet. He reached out to do so, finding some resistance. The fabric clung to your wounds, which had crusted as scabs began to form. As he had to use a little more force, you sucked in a breath through your teeth.

Upon seeing what you had done to yourself, he was momentarily flummoxed. His eyes trailed over the angry red welts, appreciating the macabre artistry. The scent of blood was stronger now; A few of the wounds had reopened and were weeping crimson. He stifled the sudden desire to catch one of the drops with his tongue.

“What have we here?” he asked.

“The consequence of sin.”

“And what sin might that be?”

You pursed your lips, refusing to give voice to your faults. Your silence only compelled his curiosity further, but he decided not to press. That didn’t mean he wasn’t good at getting the answers he wanted, though. 

 “I was unaware such practices were still… observed.”

“Not usually. It is my best-kept secret,” your eyes fluttered closed as he pulled the sheet further down, until the barest glimpse of the top of your ass was visible. “Something for my own.”

His response was a thoughtful hum, and he stood to get some supplies from a small bag he’d brought.

When he knelt once more, you could smell alcohol. “Let’s clean these up then, shall we?”

You nodded, attempting to brace yourself. The lacerations on your back sang with agony as he began to dab at them, your teeth clenched so hard you feared they might crack. Still, his touch was so tender — almost to the point of reverence — that you thought you might weep. 

“We are most like Him in that through immense agony, we can become holy,” he quoted, perhaps attempting to distract you. “Is that not what you said? I admire your determination.”

As the sting just barely began to dissipate, you could speak again.

“Think I am redeemed in the eyes of Heaven?”

“Perhaps,” he said. “In my eyes, at least, you are.”

Near delirious with a pain that made your brain feel like glass — and that cursed longing you suddenly couldn’t tamp down — you arched closer to his hands as he dressed the wounds. 

“What do you gain from all this?” You ventured, needing to know the answer.

“Must I gain something?”

“I can’t seem to find another explanation.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I am merely intrigued by you. I can’t help being drawn. Can you blame me?”

“Perhaps I just don’t understand what makes me so interesting.”

“In time you will see. I will make sure of it.”

----

[wireheadbird]

Find Me

(The Vampire Diaries) Elijah x reader

Warnings : Mentions of torture, stabbing, mentions of blood, angst, fluff, kidnapping, mentions of death, written while i was half asleep. Summary : Y/N and Elijah are in a secret relationship, afraid that if anyone finds out it would cause harm to either of them. But eventually Klaus figures it out causing him to kidnap Y/N in jealousy, attempting to convince her to get with him. He ends up having to torture her so she would forget his brother and choose to be with him instead. Elijah finds out where she is and brings her to safety. 1,319

__________________________________________________

I waited on the living room couch for Elijah to come home. Tonight was date night, Elijah had promised we’d watch movies together and just hang out since we hadn’t been able to meet ever since Klaus returned, and he didn’t want to raise any suspicion. Not wanting anyone to find out about our relationship in a town filled with supernatural beings.

Just as the door clicked open I got a message on my phone, ‘Something came up, I'll be home late. Get some rest I’ll wake you when I'm back’. I sat up straight in confusion turning my head towards the door to find no one. I felt that something was wrong and called Elijah, but the phone was immediately snatched from my hand before everything went dark.

____________________________________________________________

I blinked my eyes open, groaning in pain. It was dark and cold and I was being dragged somewhere by my arms. Somehow I ended up being tied to a chair in the middle of a dark room, my head was spinning making me feel awfully nauseous. “Hi there princess, finally awake?” a man with an English accent chuckled coming from behind me. I couldn’t tell who he was at first, just a barely visible silhouette circling around in the dark room. 

“Who are you? What do you want from me?” my voice came out hoarse echoing against the walls. The man stops dead in his tracks at my question, “Do you seriously have no idea who I am? You deeply wound me, darling” he cried in a mocking tone. “I am after all, the talk of the town these days” I felt his breath on my neck making my breath hitch. “Klaus…” my heart sank when I uttered his name in realization. “Bingo” he whispers into my ear, standing up straight. “As for what I want…I want you” his hand caressed my face and I didn’t hesitate to quickly pull away “all to myself”. 

My stomach churns in disgust, fighting the urge to say anything that could make my situation worse than it already was. The hybrid has a big reputation around here and I definitely wouldn't want to be on his bad side, however it seems like I already was. “A little birdie told me, you’re dating me brother. We can’t have that now, can we?” he walks over to a light switch flicking it on. Once the room came into view I realized how bloodied the stone walls and concrete floor are, a table with a variety of tools and…needles? Sat in the center, next to me. My heart rate instantly picked up at that and I’m sure that fear was evident in my eyes the closer he steps towards me. 

“Now now dear, no need to be so afraid. I’ll give you two options, hm?” he kneels down in front of me holding my chin in place so that I’d be looking at him. “I know that I can’t compel you to do what I want because of the vervain my brother makes you drink. But there's other ways this can go.” the demeanor in the room clearly changes when he says that. “You can either forget my brother’s existence and we live a happy life to–” before he’s able to finish his sentence I couldn’t hold myself back anymore and spit on him making him stand up to wipe his face with a rag that laid on the table. 

“I see that we’ll be doing this the hard way. Fine.” His tone darkened as he kept direct eye contact with me while he took off his jacket and took a blade into his hand, the dim light reflecting off of it. “I’ll bleed you, till you comply. And if you don’t…well lets just hope it doesn't come to that my love” the blade glided over my cheek at just the right angle so that it didn’t cut into my skin. He stared at my face lovingly as he lowered the blade away from my face, then quickly changed into amusement as he watched my expression change into shock. Shakily looking at where his hand is, I spot the sharp tool he plunged into my thigh making me let out a blood curdling scream as the pain increasing by the minute. He took it out only to thrust the object into the same spot over and over. I could do nothing but scream and cry refusing to give in. 

____________________________________________________________

Days have passed, or at least that's what it felt like. The only way I could keep track was by how many times Klaus came in with a plate of food urging me to eat, which I profusely refused. I have been bled out so much to the point of passing out for hours on end. Klaus had attempted feeding me his blood but I tried to make a run for it every time I was fully healed. Hence why he sought it useless and chose to feed me portions of food, which I didn’t take in fear of it being drugged. I still hoped that Elijah would find me…if he hadn’t forgotten me. The longer I stayed there the more my hope deteriorates, but I trust Eli, I knew he was looking for me.

I was now laid back against a far corner in the room with the lights off and no longer restrained as Klaus doesn’t see me, a mere weak human, as a threat to him. But he took the tools with him and locked the door so that I wouldn’t escape. Not that I had any remaining energy to move let alone make a run for it. My face sat in my hands as my head spun and the ringing in my ears got louder. I could tell the malnourishment had gotten to me, a person could only take so much. I felt something thud next to me, when I looked at it I realized it was a person but with my blurry vision and the darkness in the room I couldn’t tell who. Placing a finger on what I assumed was his head I quickly retracted it when I felt how ice cold the skin was.

I didn’t hear nor see it when someone knelt next to me on the floor, but when I felt a hand resting on my cheek I peeled my eyes away from the seemingly dead on the floor and pushed away the one in front of me. “Hey hey calm down its me Elijah” I could hear the concern in his voice “Eli..? You found me” a sigh of relief left my lips and I didn’t hesitate to reach forward and wrap my arms around his neck sobbing into his shoulder. 

He picked me up speeding all the way back to my house, the sun shining through the curtains which he quickly drew after carefully placing me on my bed. He helped me into a new set of comfortable clothes but not before checking and inspecting every wound with the look of concern not leaving his face. He bit into his wrist feeding me his blood and I could tell he felt somewhat better when the color returned to my skin but his brows still knit in concern. “It’s not your fault you know, you had matters to attend to you couldn’t have possibly known all this would happen.” I looked at him reassuringly. “I know but if I figured out he was using a witch to cloak your location sooner then you wouldn’t have been as hurt” he explained looking down into my eyes. “I’m well Elijah, I’m healed completely. All thanks to you” I lightly peck his lips and smile at him lovingly. We both laid under the covers enjoying each other’s warmth for a while with his hand playing with my hair, till I eventually drifted off to a much needed sleep.

____________________________________________________________

I really had fun writing this thank you for the request i hope you like it :))

now if you'll excuse me, i have some sleep to catch up on.

(im so lucky my school gave us a vacation rn)

[ghostofskywalker]

Hey Tori! Sliding in with a 3k (yay!!! congratulations🩷) request for Echo our most beloved <33

I am forever thinking about that one scene where Echo says "Harm her and you're a dead man". It lives rent free in my brain and never fails to make me smile the ways is says it is just so-

So maybe something with Echo being a little extra protective over the reader? Looking out for them and making sure they stay safe?

thank you ezzie!! he is just So Lovely!! i don't know if this is anything like what you had in mind but i really hope you enjoy this :)

words: 1,750

summary: rationally, echo knew this assignment was going to be easy, an in and out acquisition of information. he's just annoyed that he's not the one playing your lover at that gala tonight.

clone troopers masterlist || join my 3k celebration!!

Under a Watchful Eye

Echo watched from his seat in the cockpit as you stepped out of the barracks area of the ship, and the dress you were wearing stopped his breath for a minute. It was long and flowing, fluttering and shifting around your legs with every step you took, and the fact that the color was a near-perfect match to that of his old battalion was not helping. 

But unfortunately, he was not the one you were dressed up for. 

Technically, the mission was the reason that you had donned the gown that had apparently come from Echo’s deepest fantasies, not a person. But still, this assignment required two people, as you were going undercover as guests at a banquet. And much to his dismay, it wasn’t him that had the privilege of being the one who played your lover this evening. 

No, that honor had apparently been bestowed on Crosshair. 

Logically, it made sense why you and Crosshair were the ones going on this mission. Even though there was little to no Separatist presence on this planet at this point, you couldn’t risk being recognized, and Crosshair was the member of the team that looked the least like a traditional clone (and he was also the least likely to draw attention to himself in the way that the others would). 

But even though it made sense, it didn’t mean that Echo had to be happy about it. 

He knew his brother, he knew that there was no way Crosshair would willingly put you in harms way or leave you behind, but there was still a festering cauldron of worry in Echo’s stomach as he thought about the fact that all he could do at this point is just sit and wait until you left the function. He would have to sit by if something happened to you in there, and he hated the thought of it. 

“Do I look okay?” you asked, stepping into the cockpit as you finished putting a pair of earrings in your ears. As well as matching the color of the dress, they would serve as a communication device that could easily be turned on and off from a remote location, this way if anyone tried to scan you, nothing would show up. That was Echo’s job this evening: to sit there with Tech, Wrecker, and Hunter and listen to everything that went on while you and Crosshair were gathering the information they would send back to Commander Cody.

It took him a moment to realize that you were talking to him, and his eyes widened slightly before he responded. “You look amazing,” he said earnestly. 

“Thank you,” you responded, and he could see the hint of a smile cross your face. “I wasn’t sure how the dress would look, since I don’t usually wear this type of thing.” 

“Well, I would never know it if I just looked at you,” he said, the urge to walk over to you and take your hand only growing. “I mean it, you look stunning.” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but were interrupted when Tech stepped into the space. “Oh good, you’re here,” he said, directing his attention to you. “Come with me, I have a few things for you to add to the ensemble.” 

The “extra defense” had been Echo’s idea, a way to ensure that you would be able to defend yourself if necessary. Just in case everything went wrong, he wanted to make sure that you made it out unscathed, and it would be a lot easier if you had a tiny blaster strapped to your leg. 

Right as you and Tech walked away, Crosshair stepped into the cockpit. He was a wearing a suit, the tie matching the color of your dress perfectly. Somehow he had found a way to cover his tattoo, and Echo hated to say it, but the image of you and him together screamed “power couple” to anyone who wasn’t aware of your identities. 

The only thing wrong with Crosshair’s look this evening was the scowl etched onto his face. “Do you have all the information from Cody about the mission?” Echo asked, wanting to make sure they didn’t miss anything. 

“Yes.” 

“And you remember where we’re going to meet you when you have the intel?” 

“Yes.”

“And you know-” 

“Echo,” Crosshair said, cutting him off with a matching glare. “I already got this lecture from Hunter, I don’t need it from you too. I promise that I won’t let anything happen to your girlfriend.” 

“She’s not-” 

“-Your girlfriend, I know,” Crosshair said. “Even though you’re acting like it right now.” 

“I’m-” 

But Crosshair silenced him with a look. “You’re questioning me like I’m brand new to the team, and you haven’t been able to stop glancing over at the entrance to the barracks. It’s not that hard to figure out that you have feelings for her.” Crosshair was right, but Echo did not want to admit it. “Look, if you don’t want to say anything to me it’s fine, but don’t lie to yourself about it.”

Echo was suddenly very glad to see you step back into the cockpit, because he had no idea what he was going to say to that. However, that happiness was tempered slightly when he realized it was time for you and Crosshair to leave. After one final check to make sure that everyone was up to date on the plan, he sat down in one of the seats in the cockpit and watched you walk away until you were too small to see. 

Security was bypassed, and you and Crosshair had successfully infiltrated the banquet. This was an assignment that spawned from an unnamed informant to the Senate, so they didn’t have as many details as they would have liked about what was going to go down, but so far it seemed like everything was going to work out and no major catastrophes would happen. 

“Do you see anyone suspicious?” you asked quietly, and you voice easily carried so that the rest of the team could hear you through the small device that Tech made to communicate with your earrings. 

“Not right now,” Crosshair responded, his voice slightly quieter. “But I don’t think we’ll have a good vantage point from where we are now.” 

“Where should we go?” 

“What about over there?” 

They could hear shuffling, so it was clear that you were moving somewhere, but the fact that this device only picked up audio was starting to get a little annoying. Echo wanted to see what was happening, rather than just hear what was being said. 

Suddenly the music suddenly got a little louder, and his curiosity only grew. 

Finally, your voice once again came through the radio, and he was allowed to imagine some of what was going on out there. “Wow Crosshair, you didn’t tell me you were such a good dancer.”

“I’m a man of many talents.” 

“I’m sure.” 

It was only for the mission, it was only for the mission, it was only for the mission, Echo kept repeating to himself. Although he understood the fact that you and Crosshair were going to be posing as lovers for this event, he didn’t really think about what that might have entailed. The thought of you dancing with someone that wasn’t him was almost too much, but he forced himself to keep his cool. 

***

Trouble always found them, there was no way they should have expected anything different with this mission. After you and Crosshair had acquired some very interesting information from another set of guests (which sounded a hell of a lot like what they needed to bring back to Cody), Tech was right about to tell you and Crosshair to meet the rest of them back at the ship when the sound of blaster fire came across the communication device, and they realized something was wrong.

Instantly, Echo jumped into a frenzy. “What’s going on?” he asked worriedly, pulling the radio device up to his lips. 

“Bounty hunters just showed up!” you whispered. “I don’t know what they want though.” 

“That doesn’t matter, you need to get out of there, now!”

Crosshair’s voice came through the device next. “Wow, what am I? Chopped bantha?” 

“You know I meant both of you!” Echo responded, rolling his eyes. He didn’t have time for the jokes right now, not when you were in danger. “Now, before anyone sees you!” 

All they could do was wait until you and Crosshair could be seen through the windows of the cockpit, and it was taking a much longer time than Echo was comfortable with. Although the communication devices you wore were still technically active, the sounds of footsteps and general chaos really were not of any use to them when trying to determine your location. 

Finally though, the two of you were bounding up the ramp of the Marauder, and Tech was pulling the ship off the surface of the planet and back into hyperspace. None of the other batchers batted an eye when Echo got up from his seat and made a beeline to where you had just walked in. 

Crosshair had already disappeared, probably having gone into the refresher to wash whatever was hiding his tattoo, and you smiled at Echo when he got close enough. “Are you okay?” he asked, noticing a few rips near the bottom of your dress. 

“I’m fine,” you responded, reaching out to take his hand. “We got out of there just in time, no one even noticed us leave.” 

“But-” 

“We took a shortcut through some woods and the shoes they sent me weren’t really meant for anything too extreme,” you said, laughing quietly as you reached up to place your other hand on his cheek. Echo’s gaze traveled back up to your face, and he couldn’t help but fall in love with the smile you gave him. “I promise, everything is okay now.” 

“I know,” he said, too busy drowning in the sensation of your fingertips touching his skin to really worry about what he was saying. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Me too Echo,” you said, pulling your hand away from his face. Echo would have been upset at the shift if you hadn’t leaned up and placed the softest of kisses on his cheek. It felt like his skin was set aflame, your lips permanently marking his face; it was evidence that he’d always be yours, even if you didn’t know it yet. “Me too.” 

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[archiveikemen]

"Black Wedding" Story Event: Premium END

Liam's Route

I do not own any of the Ikemen Series content being uploaded on this blog, everything belongs to CYBIRD. Please support them by playing their games and buying stories. Not 100% accurate, expect mistakes.

read this before interacting with my posts

This story is in Liam's POV.

The doors opened, and the woman I loved entered in her jet-black wedding dress.

(... Ahh, she’s gorgeous.)

(So, so, gorgeous… Kate being my lover still feels like a beautiful dream.)

Even though we were on a mission, I couldn't resist being enchanted by Kate.

Liam: … Kate.

I gently wrapped my hand around Kate's, which was cold due to her nervousness.

The Founder’s voice echoed through the church.

Liam: Kate.

Kate: Yes…

Liam: I promise to love you in sickness and in health.

Kate: Me too. I promise to love you in sickness and in health.

(These vows are only pretend ones, but still… they make me so happy.)

As long as it was from Kate, anything would make my heart flutter.

Founder: I hereby pronounce you as a pair who will love each other for eternity. — And now, a kiss to seal your vows.

I lifted her black veil and touched her cheek.

(... I badly want to kiss you right now.)

But the murderous air I sensed was making my skin tingle.

Liam: … We’ll have to put this kiss on hold.

Suppressing my sweet feelings, I protectively hid Kate behind my back.

Kate: …!

In an instant, the cultists that had been standing there in silence took out their knives and guns.

(... Too bad. I’m first.)

With the gun I hid in my breast pocket, I fired at the chest of the man standing in front of me.

Black Haired Cultist: … Guwahh!

Well-Built Cultist: Damn it, why does he have a weapon! Kill both the bride and groom…!

Liam: Looks like it was a good idea to bring a gun just in case…

I shot down the attacking cultists one after another.

Patches of red that resembled flowers bloomed before my eyes with every shot.

(... There's people on the second floor?)

I shot the cultist that was pointing his gun at me from the second floor, and scanned Kate’s entire body.

(... Thank goodness, she’s not hurt.)

Seeing Kate’s relieved face made my heart pound unusually fast.

(I can’t believe you’re the one protecting me…)

Liam: Thanks for protecting me, Kate. You’re the best bride ever.

Liam: … I’ll do even better. Just hang in there for a little while more, I’ll have all of them gotten rid of in no time.

(... I won’t forgive anyone who dares to scare or harm Kate.)

— 30 seconds later.

Every last one of the cultists were lying on the floor, patches of red spreading out around them.

(... Is the Founder the only survivor?)

The Founder stared at me like he was looking at a monster.

But that didn’t affect me at all, as I was used to it.

Liam: This is how those couples who vowed eternal love to each other were killed.

Liam: Their love won’t break or fade away if they’re dead, that’s why it’s called “eternal love”.

Founder: … That's right.

Kate: … Why did you do that?

Founder: Because there’s no such thing as a love that lasts forever in this world.

Kate: Huh…?

(... I knew it.)

Contrary to what I was thinking, Kate appeared to be baffled.

It was impossible for her to immediately accept that the man who claimed to be able to grant eternal love, said that eternal love didn't exist.

Founder: No matter how much a pair of lovers love each other, that love will break eventually as time goes by.

Founder: The once beautiful love turns ugly and starts to rot away, they might even start detesting each other…

Founder: That’s why I want to save something so beautiful and make it last forever.

Founder: … What is so wrong about that?

His eyes were shaky and clouded over, as if he was looking at everyone and no one at the same time.

There must've been something that led him to harbour such twisted ideals, but—.

(... That’s not a reason to kill people who don’t want to die.)

Liam: I get what you’re thinking. Because I, too, don’t believe in the existence of eternal love.

Liam: But my reason is a little different from yours.

Kate: …

I sensed Kate listening seriously to what I was saying.

Liam: Before I met her, I spent my life wishing for my own end. It was the only thing giving me hope.

(Therefore…)

Liam: … To me, “eternity” was too outrageous for me to ask for.

“Eternity” was something that was on the other extreme for me.

I thought that I wasn’t fated to have something so beautiful and precious.

Liam: To me, wanting to live and love for eternity was a miracle.

Liam: That’s why I think that I still can’t say with confidence that I can make such a miracle happen.

(... I really want to be someone who can smile at you, telling you that there is such a thing as eternity.)

(I’m sorry, Kate. I can’t always be a righteous man.)

Liam: But… while wishing for eternity, I want to spend my days with the one I love.

I heard Kate gasp, and I turned to smile at her.

(I want to live today, look forward to tomorrow, and have hope. All of that… is because you taught me love.)

Liam: Kate. I’ll love you with all my heart until the day I die.

Liam: While staying by your side, I’ll wish for an eternity that I’ve never seen before. Because I love you.

Kate: … Liam.

(I’m stupidly in love with you, standing by my side.)

Founder: … Shut up.

Founder: Shut up, shut up, shut up! You will regret this! And before that, I will create that eternity!

Faster than the Founder could pull out his gun and pull the trigger, I shot a bullet that pierced through his heart.

Liam: Good night. … You can continue your search for eternal love in hell.

Afterwards, Crown arrived to clean up the bloody bodies lying around, as well as the corpses that were stored underground.

— Innocent lovers would never shed blood again.

…

Liam: I never thought our first wedding would end up like this.

Kate: Fufu, same here. But I’m so glad that you’re safe and sound…

(I should be saying that.)

Liam: It’s because you protected me. Thank you, my lovely bride.

Kate: Thank you for protecting me too, my handsome husband.

Still smelling like blood, we smiled at each other while in the church’s garden.

(Ahh, it’s a starless night tonight…)

For some reason, I felt like making a promise to Kate.

I wanted to imagine a future with my beloved who was next to me.

Liam: … I hope that when we have our real wedding someday, it will have nothing to do with missions.

(If I marry Kate for real… I might shed tears of joy.)

Liam: I’ll give you a bouquet of modern roses so big that you can’t hold them.

Liam: … And I’ll seal our vows with a kiss. Ah, but I don’t want anyone witnessing that.

Liam: After the wedding ceremony, we’ll go on a honeymoon as newlyweds. What do you think about going to a place where we can see the sea?

Kate: Fufu, that would be wonderful. Let’s lie down on the beach.

Liam: Ahaha, that’s the best!

Thinking more and more about the things I wanted to do together made my heart flutter.

(... Before I met you, I never knew that I was capable of doing this.)

(— Because you gave me your love, I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy. I want to reciprocate the love you’ve given me.)

(Therefore… I have to keep living.)

Liam: I hope to finally reach eternity with you someday. … I look forward to tomorrow whenever I’m with you.

Kate: … Me too.

Kate: Hey, Liam. What you said at the church earlier on made me very happy to hear. Therefore, let me promise you that as well.

(Huh…?)

Kate took my hand and kissed the back of it.

I was so surprised that I couldn't say a thing, and Kate focused on me with her beautiful eyes.

Kate: I promise to love you with all my heart until the day death pulls us apart.

Kate: While staying by your side, I’ll wish for an eternity that I’ve never seen before. … Will you live tomorrow with me too?

Liam: …

(Ahh…)

Liam: … There’s only… one answer… to that…

I pulled Kate into a hug so tight that she almost couldn't breathe.

Liam: … Yes. Please stay like this with me forever.

I smiled and closed my eyes, and kissed her lips.

(I love you so much that I’ll stop breathing if I don’t have you with me.)

(Therefore, please let me stay with you forever.)

Like a fool, I hoped that one day, that kiss would be a real kiss to seal our vows.

[wreckerdecker]

baby!Omega AU, set right after s1e1 on their way to Saleucami. inspired by a tweet by clonekisser over on twitter! i tried to give each boy a solid moment with Omega, but you know i had to stick with Dad Hunter. 1% angst 99% fluff

-

Hunter thought getting Omega off Kamino was supposed to be the hard part. 

And it was hard; by the Force, it was hard. Coming back, finding her, getting stuffed in the brig with her and his brothers. Crosshair’s rant about good soldiers causes Omega to whine and fuss in his arms. It’s bad enough, but when the guards come to whisk Crosshair away, the blow they land to Hunter’s shoulder (so close to her, so close, it’s like they don’t even see her, it’s like they don’t even care--) makes her start wailing. He’s lucky enough Echo steps in and helps calm her down while he catches his breath.

“Where’s the other? And the girl?” the guard asks later, once Tech has shimmied himself and Omega into the wall vents. 

“Harm her and you’re a dead man,” Echo snarls back, and it sounds personal. 

After what feels like eternity, they make it to the hangar. Tech is smart enough to swipe some formula and Echo snags a bottle-- (why is all this baby stuff discarded with the rest of their gear? what were they planning on doing with her had Clone Force 99 not come back?)-- but an unfortunate interruption from their brother slows things down. 

“Have you lost your mind?”

“We should’ve killed that Jedi, and...” His sharp eyes flicker over to the bundle of fabric hastily strapped to Tech’s back, as if wordlessly finishing the sentence, and in that moment Hunter knows his brother isn’t well. 

“I did what I thought was right.” His heart hurts. 

Thank the Maker Tech manages to slip into the ship before the real blaster fire starts. They escape, some more battered than others, into the safety of hyperspace.

But now they’re here, and somehow things aren’t any better than they were before. 

Hunter first blamed Omega’s fussiness on Wrecker’s very vocal displeasure to Echo’s nursing skills. “You’re scaring her!” he hissed, and Wrecker did his best to swallow back his yelps of pain with about a fifty percent success rate. 

But roughly 18 hours later, he’s confident their baby sister has barely blinked, let alone slept, and he just doesn’t know what to do. 

“Come on, sweetheart, just let me...” he grumbles, trying his best to steer a fresh bottle towards her pouting mouth. She whines, turning her head this way and that, milk merely dribbling down her chin and missing her mouth entirely. He sighs in frustration. 

“It is her first time in space,” Tech pipes up, unhelpfully, from the other room. 

“Her first time anywhere,” corrects Echo, sitting in his bunk across Hunter’s. As funny as it was to watch him struggle the first few hours, he’s starting to get a pit in his stomach now. Both Hunter and Omega are exhausted, and it shows. The baby hasn’t stopped fussing since before they left the planet. She’s got to be hungry, so why doesn’t she just eat?

Hunter sighs a full body breath as he shifts her closer, turning to lay back in his microbunk. Omega is resting on his chest now-- she looks comfortable, but she does not fall sleep. 

“Hunter, she’s a child. What are we gonna do with her?”

What is there to do? Echo’s right. She’s a child, a baby. Defenseless. Despite how exhausted he is, and how frustrating her cries have become, the idea of her in anybody else’s arms, in anybody else’s ship, makes him feel sick to his stomach. 

“We’re going to protect her,” he says simply, and Echo allows the answer for now. They stay there for a few silent moments, and just as hope starts to form that maybe she’s drifted off, Omega begins to whimper into Hunter’s chest. Hunter huffs and sits up. 

“Echo, why don’t you take her?” He rubs his eye with his free hand. “Maybe she’s just getting sick of me.”

Echo freezes. Keeping Omega safe and close to him during a mission is one thing, but in the Marauder where she’s already safe? He looks at her, then down at his scomp hand. He finds himself shaking his head. 

“I don’t know, Hunter... I’ll probably just make it worse.” She’ll probably be scared of me, he thinks to himself. 

“Only one way to find out.” And with that, Omega is gently placed in his arms. 

Echo instinctively cradles her. He feels like he might break her, at first, and cringes when his metal arm brushes up against her back. Instead of the screaming he expected, she coos and looks up at him with her impossibly large brown eyes. He looks back down at her, and any questions he had about Hunter’s motives disappear completely. 

He gets it now. 

“She likes you.” Echo doesn’t have to look up to know Hunter is grinning. He hates being wrong, but in this instance he’ll make an exception. 

“Omega,” Echo says slowly. Their sister. His sister. She just blinks at him. Does she know? The fact they’re her brothers, the fact they’re en route to an entirely new planet (the fact Echo would burn down the entirely galaxy if it dared try to hurt her)?

Hunter grabs the previously forgotten bottle and crouches next to them. “Let me see if she’ll eat something, now that she’s calmed down.”

I did that? Echo can’t help but think. He watches his brother gently put the bottle to Omega’s mouth, who whines and turns her head away. Her eyes become teary almost instantly at the mere audacity at the attempt. Hunter swears under his breath. 

“Sorry,” Echo says sadly, as if it’s his fault. Hunter shakes his head. 

“Something’s wrong. Tech told me babies have to eat every few hours, but it’s been nearly a day. She’s going to starve.”

Omega fusses even more at Hunter’s defeated tone. Echo rocks her a little, which keeps the tears at bay, but she’s not happy. “Do you think... do you think she’s scared?”

“Scared? Probably. But I figure a scared baby would be screaming and crying, not just...” Hunter waves his hand at Omega, who’s busying herself with staring at the ceiling. 

“Staring,” Echo says to no one in particular. “Not... sleeping. Not eating.”

It sounds eerily familiar. Out of the corner of his eye, Echo sees his brother tug at a lock of his long brown hair. A habit reserved for when he’s really, really stressed. He’s only done it a few times in Echo’s time working with Force 99. It rarely spells anything good for them. 

“Maybe this Cut guy can help?”

“Force, I hope. But he’s still a half day away.”

Right. Not to mention actually finding the guy, if they do at all. There’s no guarantees anymore. Echo finds himself resting his cheek atop Omega’s curly straw-blonde hair. He lets himself wonder, will her hair stay blonde, like Rex, or darken up like his own did? Will her eyes stay wide and curious, like dear Fives, or narrow into something more serious, like Cody? He misses the rest of his brothers so achingly, but Omega’s roulette wheel of features somehow reminds him of all of them at once. 

Speaking of brothers...

“I’m baaack!” Comes the thunderous roar of the one and only Wrecker. Hunter is on his feet in an instant, hushing Wrecker and waving his hands wildly to hopefully keep him from storming in too loudly. 

“Whaaat, I want to see the baby!” he whines, only managing to drop his volume a little. Omega wriggles in Echo’s arms, and he turns to harshly hush his brother as well. 

“She’s not going anywhere, Wrecker, so tone is down before you make her cry!”

It’s a little snippy, he admits, but he and Hunter and exhausted and-- as much of a relief it is to see Wrecker up and walking again after his meeting with Crosshair’s blaster fire-- they’ve little patience for this excess energy. This seems to get across to Wrecker, who’s smile falters and he hunches in on himself. 

“Sorry,” he whispers. He catches a glimpse of his little sister from over Echo’s shoulder, though, and his smile immediately lights back up. “Can I see her, though? Please?”

Hunter and Echo exchange glances and Echo can feel Hunter’s anxiety starting to bristle. Wrecker would never, ever hurt a sibling, let alone a baby... on purpose, that is.

“You’ve got to be very, very careful,” Hunter says seriously, using his Sergeant tone to make sure to point gets across. 

This would usually earn a sarcastic remark from Wrecker, but he only nods excitedly as Hunter carefully moves Omega from Echo’s arms to his own. The room is uncharacteristically silent. Wrecker gingerly scoops the baby from his brother’s grasp, and sits on the floor with her. 

Tiny. It’s the only word that even gives merit to how infinitely smaller she is compared to her big brother. His hand is nearly large enough to cradle her in one palm, but he instead rests her against his shoulder and bounces her with a newfound gentleness. He strokes down her back with two fingers, and Hunter thinks he can see her eyes start drooping. 

“Hi, baby sister,” Wrecker murmurs, “It’s nice to meet you.” The other two swear they’ve never heard him speak so silently. Even on stealth missions he’s struggling to keep his voice down, but now...

He readjusts so they are looking at one another. Just as she did with Echo, she gazes up curiously with her brown planet-like eyes, and he can’t help but stare back. She gurgles and coos loudly, breaking the silence, and Wrecker laughs.

Then, suddenly, so does she. 

It’s a feedback loop. Her tiny giggles make his body shake with loud, genuine laughter, and the sound of him makes her nearly shriek with joy. She reaches up with her tiny, chubby hands, waving at his scrunched up face and grabbing at his nose. He lifts her, giving her free range of his face, and he laughs some more when she playfully smacks against his cheek. She grabs his lip, tugs downwards, and thinks it’s the funniest thing in the universe. 

From behind them, Tech quickly appears at the doorway, and his eyes are wide behind his goggles. He looks up at Echo and Hunter, as if to ask, How did you manage this? They can only shake their heads and shrug, though they themselves are chuckling at the ridiculous scene before them. 

Soon everyone is smiling. Here, together, protecting one another. 

(if only, if only, if only Crosshair was here, surely this would convince him, and everything would be okay)

Like all good things, Omega’s giggle fit eventually ended, and Wrecker had to hand his baby sister back to Hunter before his legs fell asleep and he could no longer walk (he’d learned this the hard way before). Though not laughing, an innocent and gummy smile remains on her face, causing Hunter to melt a little more than he thought possible. He sits back on his bunk with her, where he closes his eyes in hopes of resting at least a little. He does, but it’s fleeting. He feels Omega start to squirm. He cracks open one eye, and notices she’s locked eyes with the bottle on Echo’s bed and is waving her hands at it. His eyebrow raises. 

“You hungry?” he asks her, and decides to give the bottle one last shot. He grabs it, shakes it up, and offers it to her... she latches onto it and starts drinking eagerly. Had she not been in his arms, he would have stood up and cheered out loud. Instead, he focuses on not letting her drink too fast, and making sure she’s able to finish without making too much of a mess. 

“This is most exciting news,” comes an even voice from the entrance. Echo and Wrecker had gone back to the cockpit, and there stands Tech, watching Omega finish her first meal since before the jump to hyperspace. 

“You have no idea,” Hunter sighs. He puts the now empty bottle down and uses his sleeve to wipe excess milk from her face. 

“I do. I was getting increasingly worried about Omega’s wellbeing.” Tech adjusts his goggles, and sits on the opposite bunk. He looks intently at the baby in front of him. “I came in to tell you I’ve constructed a bassinet for her.”

“You did?”

“Up in the gunner’s mount. I figured now is when our guns would be used the least. There’s enough room for her, and for one of us to rest next to her.” He clears his throat. “Ah, well, you, Echo, or myself. Wrecker, not so much.”

Hunter swallows quietly. “Thank you, Tech. That means a lot to me-- us.”

Tech tips his head in a soft nod. “Now’s a good time as any to test it out.”

“Huh?” Hunter looks down and, sure enough, Omega is fast asleep. A second wave of relief hits him hard. He blinks rapidly for just a moment, and Tech politely pretends he doesn’t notice. 

“Would you like me to take her?” Tech outstretches his hand in offer. Hunter glances between him and the baby. The deep instinctual (and granted, selfish) part of him wants to refuse and keep her infinitely close to himself. But realistically, he needs a break, if only a tiny one. So, he nods. 

“Yes, please.” Tech takes her, ever so gently, and she doesn’t even stir. “I’m gonna wash up, then I’ll meet you up in the mount.”

They do exactly that. Hunter shuffles his way to the fresher, where he washes his face and heaves a sigh into the towel. The excitement of Omega’s milestone is wearing off, and he’s exhausted all over again. 

Tech so carefully lowers Omega into the hand-crafted bassinet. Though it’s made from scrap materials, he does not fret over its structural integrity. He would settle for nothing less than what would keep their sister as safe as the galaxy will allow. He strokes her cheek with the back of his ungloved hand. Never did he think he’d feel this way about a sibling that wasn’t his immediate batch mate. As completely irresponsible, illogical, and impractical it is to bring an infant on board a ship meant for battle, cared for by soldiers bred for war... he can’t bring himself to care. 

“Hey,” Hunter says softly as he steps up the ladder, as not to spook either of them. Tech does not look away from Omega, but he does tilt his head to show he hears him. “I can take over now.”

“I... am not sure I want to leave.”

Hunter chuckles. “Am I going to have to order you down from there?”

Tech finally cracks a smile and looks at him. “Maybe. I suppose good soldiers follow orders.” It’s laced with sarcasm and Hunter rolls his eyes dramatically. The corner of his mouth twitches at the phrase, but he ignores the strange, unfamiliar feeling (it’s probably just nerves from the last 24 hours and nothing more, nothing less) and switches spots with Tech so that he’s right beside the crib. 

“We all need to get some rest before we’re planetside,” he instructs. “Tell Wrecker he’s taking first shift since he slept all day.”

Tech gives him a wordless affirming salute. He glances back at the sleeping Omega one last time, then hops down to make his way to the cockpit. 

It’s just the two of them now. Hunter rolls over and props himself up on his elbow so he can gaze into the bed. Everything about her is... perfect. How is it possible she’s a genetic carbon copy of the rest of them? The clones, they have flaws, and imperfections, and problems. But not her. She’s so flawless it makes his chest hurt as if he made her himself. 

She opens and closes her mouth a little, like she’s dreaming of a fresh bottle. He pets down one of her blonde curls, watching it spring back up again, then rests his calloused palm against her head. His thumb rubs up and down just above her tiny, almost translucent eyebrow. 

“Goodnight, Omega,” he whispers. 

He lays down on the spare pillows Tech had kindly tucked against the wall. Soon, they will be landing on Saleucami, and meeting up with their old friend. He knows there is where their adventure will continue. 

He can only pray it is a safe one. 

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

The Twelve Disciples Ch.3

Summary: Pepper Davis is not unknown to the mob world, she’s well aware of the benefits and dangers of this business, but what she’s about to find out is how dangerous it can be for one to stay in between a brother rivalry.

Pairings: Matt Jackson x OFC Pepper x Nick Jackson

Warnings: +18

Tags: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @aerynscrichton , @daddyhausen , @melissahausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @baysexuality , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @moxkindagirl , @sunshinevirus , @im-just-a-mississippi-girl , @allelitesmut

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

“You’re absolutely insane!” Nick speaks amid laughs “You’re in love with me? You don’t even know me!” He turns around to face the street again, putting the car back into first gear once again and driving into the deserted avenue towards Pepper’s loft.

Matt’s words - that resembled a motherly advice - now echoed in her mind, “If it ever comes to this, dovey. I want you to lie. Lie about your feelings, lie about loving him, about wanting to meet him for years, lie about hating me and wishing you could help him kill me. Do whatever it takes for you to keep your character intact. Lie about everything! Fuck him if you have to, make him believe every single word you say!”

“I do know you!” She began, silently praying her acting skills continue to be as good as they were in her teen years. “I’ve watched you from afar for a few years now. I tried to get to know you but you’ve never seen me. Not the way I see you, at least”.

Nick stopped at the last red light before reaching the loft. Time was not on Pepper’s side and she would have to do the unimaginable to convince him of her words.

She tentatively rested her hand on top of Nick’s hand, her nails traced the thick, warm knuckles. “You always fascinated me. I always wondered what it would be like to be with you, to feel your lips on mine, your hands on my body, waking up next to you, watching you go from boyfriend material to businessman before my eyes, having breakfast with you every morning, listening to your heartbeat in bed at night” Pepper cupped Nick’s jaw, briefly turning his head to face her, and hoping her eyes portray the truthfulness her words didn’t have.

Stormy blue eyes stared back at her, confusion and disbelief poured from them as the most torrid rain from the sky.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do, Pepper, but I suggest you be very careful right now. Just because one of my policies is to not harm women, doesn’t mean I’m not capable of doing so if they do me wrong” Icicles hung from Nick’s words, their sharpness deadly like an ice pick. This wasn’t an empty threat, this was a verbalized warning from a man capable of doing the most horrid things. Nick had no limits, no conscience, no fear, no values or boundaries that prevented him from doing morally condemned actions.

Of that, Matt had also warned her many times “A man without common principles is dangerous, dovey. That’s why you need to be careful with Nick. The only thing he cares about is his pride, and the minute you hurt it somehow he’ll make you pay for it severely. It doesn’t matter your gender, age, or the feelings you nurture for him. Once you mess with Nick Jackson, he can and will make sure you pay for it in ways that will make you wish you were dead”.

Pepper controlled the shiver that threatened to run down her spine and whispered “Everyone told me it was a mistake to do this. ‘You look like a desperate bitch’ is what they all told me. Why go after a man who won’t love you back? Why risk everything if he doesn’t even know you exist? Why potentially risk your life for a man who is incapable of loving anyone?” Pulling back suddenly, she began to dry up the tears she had managed to spill from her dark chocolate orbs “I’m so fucking stupid” She laughed bitterly “I thought that for once things were going to happen the way I imagined, how fucking naive of me to think that you would ever want something with me” Shaking her head briefly, Pepper opened the passenger door and stepped out to the warm late night breeze. Her heels hit the concrete and echoed through the deserted street like a sledgehammer, she continued to walk towards the loft in an attempt of getting Nick’s attention. Theatrical? Yes. Desperate? Even more, she had officially hit her fight-or-flight mode and this was a pathetic attempt to save her flawed character from seeing the concrete floor at a random alley before eating gunpowder for her last meal.

“Someone forgot to take their medication today” Nick murmured to himself as he stared at the woman walking down the pavement “Psycho bitch”, he quickly tapped a few numbers on his phone screen, and while waiting for the call to connect, Nick continued to stare at her.

“Hey, do a thorough search on Pepper Davis for me. I wanna know everything! Even what she had for dinner last night. Spread the word around and give me the info”

“Ok, sir. I’ll work on-”

“I want that information yesterday, Angelo!” Nick rushed before hanging up. He picked up speed as soon as the lights turned green, and while driving next to her he called “Get in the car, Pepper”

She felt her heart skipping a beat when Nick called for her “It’s fine, we’re close enough. I’ll walk to the loft, you can go”

“I’m not going to let you walk alone at this time of night, angel. Just get in the car”

“It’s fine, Mr. Jackson. I can-”

“Pepper!” Nick squealed the tires and abruptly turned the car to the right, just in time to stop Pepper from crossing the street, “Get in the fucking car, goddamn it!”

Caged between the car and the side block behind her, Pepper had no other choice but to get in the passenger’s seat.

The few minutes' ride to the loft was made beneath an uncomfortable silence. Pepper caught Nick’s eyes lingering a little too long on his phone screen, and she was sure he was waiting for something important about her. Perhaps Nick had asked someone to get info on her, her past, or even if she had any connections to his older brother. The only thing Pepper prayed for is that Matt has been able to spread the word about her ‘feelings’ towards Nick enough for it to reach the important ears already.

Nick’s phone rang from the dashboard and he quickly picked up before the first ring came to an end.

“Yeah?” He stood silent the whole call, only hearing the stern, mumbling male voice on the other end of the line. “Ok, send it to me through email as well. Alright, thank you”. Nick shifted into the driver’s seat, and as soon as they reached the loft area, he drove right past it.

“The lofts are back there” Pepper murmured, commenting on the obvious while her eyes kept a fixed gaze on the man beside her.

“I know” Nick grinned before taking a quick glance at her “We’re going back to my place”

“Is there work waiting for us?” She hesitantly asked, feeling that very same shiver from earlier tonight running down her spine.

When Nick’s only response was to laugh hysterically, Pepper felt a tingling sensation settling at the base of her spine, as if Satan’s scratchy fingernail was warning her of the potential dangers of entering Nick’s mansion tonight.

[charmante-mp3]

Devilish - Ch. II

-- Okok we're getting somewhere with this. I'll be straight up the more I write the less I like but, I do love a slowburn.

Warnings below; - This is a demon!Ateez x angel!reader (not for long however) so there is talk of religion. As an atheist I really don't refer to 'God' or Jesus but I do not mean any harm for religion. In this writing I do, however, use real religious names, that being said, this is purely fiction! - Also for confusion purposes, I do cut back and forth from present to future. If you see '~' that is currently what is happening, so be aware! - Finally, Hongjoong's kind of a bitch but he's allowed to be- --

(Severely unedited)

1.3k

Prologue <<prev.<< | >>next.>>

--

Heavy steps echoed through the halls, a slow pace set as he enjoyed the quiet. The ebony crown had rested itself on a neatly styled mass of black hair. A black cloth littered with chains covered his lower face, leaving only the harsh glare of his eyes visible. The footsteps were cut off as he stopped at a large door. As the door opened, a loud crash disrupted the silence, as well as a few obscenities.

“Yunho,” the man said, making his way through the doors. The taller male stopped in his place, looking down at his spilled plate of snacks. 

“Hongjoong, your highness, majesty even! Why are you up? Our new king should be resting properly before fully diving into his duties,” Yunho said, trying his best to hide the spilled plate. 

“Clean it up,” Hongjoong stated. His hands raised to his face, slipping the mask from his ears. His face looked soft, but the gaze of his eyes were demanding and intimidating.

“If you want to stress eat fine, but don’t do it five minutes before the meeting, now come on. It’s hard to round you all up and even harder to keep you from being idiots,” He finished, slipping the mask back on, and walking out the door. Slightly down the hall was his next destination. The doors were already open this time, six others stood around, different crowns held on each head. Soon Yunho followed, minutes before three unknown figures walked in. Just enough time for Yunho to throw on his final accessory. Same ebony colored crown, although a bit smaller than his leaders. Horns were now present on each member in the room, some similar, some different. 

“Ah, the new royal court, it’s such a pleasure,” The stranger's voice spoke, almost dripping with sarcasm. 

“Dagon, drop the false respect.” Hongjoong said as the other seven men circled their leader.

“Tell me why you’re here, I can’t say I have time for this,” Hongjoong had known this man his entire upbringing. He wouldn’t even dare to plan any alliance with a poor excuse of a demon.

“I’m sure you know exactly what I’m here to talk about, your majesty,”

~

Ye’un and I had been pushed in a room, the door locked from the outside. Kneeling at her side, I tried to heal her wounds. While it was a slow process, the warmth finally flowed through my hands, a yellow glow emerging from them. 

“My curiosity got the best of me didn’t it?” She coughed out. 

“Yes it did, how we’re not dead because of you is beyond me,” I said, slumping next to her. The room seemed to be a bedroom of sorts, unlike a gross jail cell. Both of us jumped at the sound of a booming voice. 

“Enough!” rumbled through the air, it was the voice of the man who got so close to me not even minutes ago. 

~

“That doesn’t sound like an answer dear,” The demon king's false comfort had been replaced with rage. His left hand, gloved yet had two fingers free from fabric, raised. My eyes snapped shut waiting for the sharp sting, yet it didn’t come. I opened my eyes only realizing he was just as confused. Instead of a harsh sensation colliding with my cheek, two of his unclothed fingers pressed to my forehead. Suddenly, a warmth filled my body, my wings ruffled in comfort and my eyes closed from glee rather than fear. The feeling was ripped from me and my senses came back, once again face to face with the demon king, yet he looked almost regretful.

“Comfortably escort them to the nearest quarters,” He said harshly to the men holding us. Finally, harsh grips loosened but haste was still a part of the picture. 

~

I could hear footsteps from outside the door, they were slow yet harsh. 

“Ah fuck,” A voice echoed on the other side, along with a dropping of keys. My ears ringed at the use of a forbidden word. The door opened cautiously, a head slowly pushed from behind the door. Even though his cloak was back and pushed over his head, I couldn’t help but notice the shine of yellow hair that slowly bled to orange. Even then, my attention stood on the horns peeking out from the hood. Adorning what the angels called, half horns. Rare among demons, even more rare was the light blue seeping from where the horns met his skin, only for them to fade back into a familiar black. I had been snapped out of my observation when I heard the door shut, also a clinging hand on my shoulder. 

“It’s- your-” Ye’un stuttered and shook next to me, I took in her horrified expression as it filled me with my own terror. He groaned, clearly annoyed, which was soon followed by a harsh plop on the floor closer to us. 

“Yeah, my name is Mingi, great descendant of Belphegor himself blah blah,” He muttered out. 

That’s not why I’m here, anyway you, my doll have waltzed yourself into a funny situation,” He said, making direct eye contact with me. My throat dried as I took in my surroundings, here I sat an angel in hell itself being calmly spoken to by the sin of acedia himself. Not only that, the demon king, a descendant of the most powerful demon that ever ruled this awful plain of existence, Azazel himself. Angels never even dare think of his name, yet here we were being spared, or they’re keeping us for something worse than death.  

“And what situation is that?” I finally spoke, attempting to swallow my fear, the quiver in my voice failing me. 

“I think it’s better if Hongjoong explained this one,” He said, getting up, his hand reaching out to me and yet I made no move to accept it. 

“She’s not going anywhere with you damned demons!” Ye’un jumped up at him, but he simply pushed her off of him. 

“Look if you want your friend here to make it out alive, come with me,” He demanded, his anger more pointed at Ye’un. 

“Fine,” I spoke, grabbing his hand. To my surprise, his grip on my hand was soft, almost as if he was afraid to hurt me. Ye’un was quickly back on her feet, mere seconds from launching herself at the demon again.

“Ye’un!” My voice said sharply, my tone held unfamiliar anger. The longer they held here me the more I could feel the sin creep through my veins.

“Let me handle this, I’ll be fine,” I said, my voice trembling knowing it would be a lie, accepting the fact the last thing I’d see of her would be a look of sorrow.

~

He led me through a course of long and dark halls, then we unexpectedly halted. I would’ve taken it as a moment to run back to Ye’un but the grasp on my hand stopped me.

“I almost didn’t think of it, but your wings wouldn’t be a good thing to have in the open,” He said. His hand left mine for a split second and I should’ve run. The opportunity is greater now than ever, yet I didn’t. I let him drape his own cloak over me, hiding my wings, and pulling the hood over my hair. Grabbing my hand once again, we kept moving through the dark corridors until I was led into a room. It was brighter than anything I’ve seen in this realm. Things were still mostly black, but it was also littered in gold. Soon my eyes caught thrones, more importantly, the people sitting in them. There were eight, the same men I was just kneeling under. My mind started racing again as I remembered the name Mingi spoke in the room with Ye’un. He is the sin of Sloth, one of the seven deadly sins, along with the demon king, his council. 

“My dear, take a seat you’ll need it.”  --

A/n: I might make a character sheet potentially but idk, it might ruin suspense.

[ae-neon]

Reading Throne of Glass (25-30)

Recap

Celaena has undergone a few Tests and while she's been able to maintain a middle place, she is beginning to worry about the difficulty of winning.

Her relationships with both Chaol and Dorian are progressing and Nehemia has insisted that she and Celaena meet up often to teach each other their languages.

She was excluded from the Samhuinn feast but found a secret tunnel in her room and followed it out to an escape route near the ocean. She chooses to stay and finish the competition to guarantee her freedom rather than run and be hated and hunted.

She returns to her room but...

Chapter 25

Celaena dreams she's back in the tunnels and takes a turn she avoided irl. She's lured along by the smell of roses which she's smelt irl in her room before. She's led to the tomb of some old king and queen.

There are wyrdmarks everywhere. Celaena figures out the tombs belong to Gavin and Elena the first king and queen of Ardalan from thousands of years ago. Elena was half Fae? (King Brannon's daughter, who is her mom, why is she half Fae will that matter?)

Elena Galathynius Havilliard. I see.

There's a legendary sword wielded by a human king who married an elf a Fae princess who was the daughter of an elf a Fae king of a forest kingdom.

The sword is called Damaris and hasn't rusted despite sitting there for a thousand years and it was used to slay the Dark Lord Erawan.

I feel some Tolkien inspo. Not a bad thing. Not even really an avoidable thing honestly. Just saying what I'm seeing.

The ghost of Elena tells Celaena that the gargoyles on the clock tower guard the portals between worlds (???)

“Something evil dwells in this castle, something wicked enough to make the stars quake. Its malice echoes into all worlds,” the queen went on. “You must stop it. Forget your friendships, forget your debts and oaths. Destroy it, before it is too late, before a portal is ripped open so wide that there can be no undoing it."

Elena gives Celaena an amulet for protection.

But—if there was a threat like that, then not only her life was at risk. And while she’d be more than happy if some dark force somehow destroyed Cain, Perrington, the king, and Kaltain Rompier, if Nehemia, or even Chaol and Dorian, were somehow harmed . . .

LEAVE KALTAIN ALONE YOU FUCKING PSYCHO??

Chapter 26

Another competitor is found dead. At this rate the competition should last half the time. The body was half eaten and Celaena jokes it was probably Cain.

She made herself grin at him. “Cain is the most likely candidate. You’re from Anielle—you should know more than anyone how they are in the White Fang Mountains.”

I get her not liking the man but her prejudice against these people is so wild???

After hearing the growls and inhuman sounds in her dream that wasn't a dream, she thinks whatever evil Elena was warning her about ate the dead competitor

She passes the body on her way to the library. Most of the organs are gone and someone had written wyrdmarks in blood on the wall.

Dorian and Chaol are sparring, they go back and forth about finding each other visiting Celaena's room in the middle of the night.

“Any word from your father?” Chaol asked in a voice that indicated he knew something was amiss. “I wonder where he went off to.”

Seeing as how Chaol supposedly sent word to the king, you'd think he knew 😑

Dorian’s blood went a bit cold. “You think they’ll try to kill Celaena?”

“I added some extra guards around her rooms.” “To protect her, or to keep her in?” (...) “What difference does it make?” Chaol said quietly. “You don’t seem to care either way. You’ll visit her no matter what I say, and the guards won’t stop you because you’re the prince.” There was something so defeated, so bitter, underlying the captain’s words that Dorian, for a heartbeat, felt badly.

Ouch. Poor Chaol.

Chapter 27

Late that afternoon, Celaena stared at the ebony clock tower. It grew darker and darker, as if it somehow absorbed the sun’s dying rays. On top of it, the gargoyles remained stationary. They hadn’t moved. Not even a finger. The Guardians, Elena had called them. But Guardians to what?

To the portals??

Nehemia warns Celaena to leave the wyrdmarks alone

Yulemas and the final duel are two months away

Does that mean Eyllwe is near the equator? If there's not snow in Eyllwe why is there snow in Ardalan? That the very least it should be quite hot in Ardalan most of the time, they literally border each other.

“Smeared?” Nehemia said, her voice dropping into a hush. “Not splattered?” SJM makes a point that Celaena isn't fluent in Eyllwe but this level of word use is expert??

Celaena and Nehemia get confronted by Cain, he reveals he knows everything about who Celaena is though Nehemia doesn't understand because it's in the common tongue. Nehemia looks out for Celaena and they walk away without making a scene.

Later, Chaol and Dorian are watching Celaena train. Dorian gets jealous of Celaena being close with Nox Owen.

Days later Celaena and Chaol are in the library and she's looking for information on the wyrdmarks

“No. Yes. It’s interesting: some theories suggest the Mother Goddess is just a spirit from one of these other worlds, and that she strayed through something called a Wyrdgate and found Erilea in need of form and life.”

(...)

“There’s an idea that before the Goddess arrived, there was life—an ancient civilization, but somehow, they disappeared. Perhaps through that Wyrdgate thing. Ruins exist—ruins too old to be of Fae making.”

Is this the same Mother of the acotar universe? Did she just go around creating worlds and starting religions?

Shouldn't Chaol be investigating the gruesome serial murders happening in the castle rather than guarding Celaena in the library?? Almost like he's the Captain of the Royal Guard or something

[wyrdgates] were both real and invisible things. Humans could not see them, but they could be summoned and accessed using the Wyrdmarks. They opened into other realms, some of them good, some of them bad. Things could come through from the other side and slither into Erilea.

Maybe the clock tower is a marker for a gate or something

It was a large black volume entitled The Walking Dead in tarnished silver letters. Lolol what the heck is this

Celaena reads from the black book that smells like soil and is giving her chills and spooky stuff starts to happen. She's hearing things. I like these horror elements and I wish sjm would lean into it

There was a scraping noise somewhere beneath her feet—close, as if someone were running a fingernail along the ceiling below. Celaena slammed the book shut and stepped away from the table. The hair on her arms rose, and she almost stumbled into the nearest table as she waited for something—a hand; a wing; a gaping, fanged mouth—to appear and grab her.

It was ...Chaol trying to ...scare her? Um what??

Chapter 28

Celaena is trying to play pool and failing and Dorian manages to sneak up on her again. One might think he was the world's greatest assassin.

Dorian is great at pool and Celaena isn't, I see where this is going.

Though it was the oldest and most shameless trick in the book, he reached over her and put his hand on top of the one that gripped the cue. He then positioned the fingers of her other hand on the wood before lightly gripping her wrist. To Dorian’s dismay, his face became warm. His eyes shifted to her, and, to his relief, he found that she was as red as he, if not more so.

After that we get a montage of them playing pool, eating cake and chatting the night away.

I get what sjm is doing, page time is limited - or at least it once was before everyone and their mom started publishing 800 page tomes of fantasy romance - but this isn't actually showing, it's telling.

We see Celaena's connection to Chaol, we can track the changes and levels of intimacy in their conversations from one to the next but again with Dorian it's a lot of "trust me" writing.

It's better from Dorian's pov because he notes things about her and genuinely wants to know more. But Celaena's pov is just "wow, Dorian is hot, wanna kiss him"

Chapter 29

Another Test, essentially just duels.

Context; Some random makes a remark about Celaena and Nox Owen defends her and it starts a little scuffle

Pelor, who had been lingering nearby, retreated a few steps. Smart move.

Added this just to highlight my fave. Pelor for the win.

Celaena loses her temper and absolutely owns the random dude in a spar without unsheathing her sword.

Kaltain Rompier POV

Across the castle, Kaltain Rompier clapped lightly as a troupe of acrobats finished their tumbling. The performance had stopped at last. She didn’t feel inclined to watch peasants bouncing about in bright colors for hours, but Queen Georgina enjoyed it, and had invited her to sit beside the throne today.

What if I told you Kaltain was against the exploitation of the working class lol

Kaltain is being bewitched. She suffers insane nightmares and migraines and swears she hears a voice in her head.

Kaltain and Georgina gossiping, I love them

“What a pity. I had hoped that you of all people would know. You’re such a clever girl, Kaltain.” “Thank you, Your Majesty. You are too kind.” “Nonsense. I’m an excellent judge of character; I knew how extraordinary you were the moment you entered the court.

Exactlyyy

Kaltain manages to get it out of Georgina that the Queen thinks Kaltain's beauty and wealth more than make up her lack in status - enough to even earn her approval to aim for Dorian.

Chapter 30

“You’re not focusing.” “Yes, I am!” Celaena said through her teeth, pulling the bowstring back even farther. “Then go ahead,” Chaol said, pointing to a distant target along the far wall of the abandoned hallway. An outrageous distance for anyone—except her. “Let’s see you make that.” She rolled her eyes and straightened her spine a bit. The bowstring quivered in her hand, and she lifted the tip of her arrow slightly. “You’re going to hit the left wall,” he said, crossing his arms. “I’m going to hit you in the head if you don’t shut up.” She turned her head to meet his gaze. His brows rose, and, still staring at him, she smiled wickedly as she blindly fired the arrow. The whiz of the arrow’s flight filled the stone hallway before the faint, dull thud of impact. But they remained gazing at each other.

See how different the Chaol x Celaena moments are? The reader is allowed to feel the chemistry for themselves.

It's suddenly 3 weeks since the last competitor's murder so a little over one month left until Yulemas and the final duel

Celaena tells Chaol that Cain knows who she is but they are interrupted to be told another body has been found. It's the random guy that she beat in the sparring Test.

At the crime scene Celaena turns into Sherlock Holmes despite her job not requiring this level of skill and Chaol turns into someone born yesterday with no deductive reasoning despite having been the lead investigator for all murders up until now.

we love breaking the worldbuilding to make our self-insert character look cool

Later, Dorian catches her unaware for the third time. He might as well be his dad's Champion

"(...) But what a miserable day it was! The pups are mutts, and—” He put his head in his hands. “Pups?” “One of my bitches gave birth to a litter of mongrels. Before, they were too young to tell. But now . . . Well, I’d hoped for purebreds.” “Are we speaking of dogs or of women?” “Which would you prefer?” He gave her an impish grin.

...

Celaena's connection to music is further reinforcing the idea that Rhysand is the main character in acotar. SJM cannot help her self-centred writing and I think that slipped from one favourite to the next.

Also makes me think about Dorian as her endgame the way Feyre is Rhysand's.

This is one of the best Dorian and Celaena moments so far. He genuinely wants to know more about her but Celaena has so many secrets she's keeping not from him but from herself - she's locked her past away and she's terrified of opening that box.

He looked at the window and the snow that swirled beyond. “I’m not married,” he said softly, “because I can’t stomach the idea of marrying a woman inferior to me in mind and spirit. It would mean the death of my soul.”

Dorian, you're pretty and I like you but you're on thin fucking ice. Again, Rhysand is just Dorian in a black tunic. The whole "my equal thing" is exhibit E

Celaena drags him for it as she should but not for viewing other women as inferior to him obviously because she's sjm...

You deserve to be laughed at for such foolish thoughts! I spoke from my soul; you speak only from selfishness.” (Celaena) “You’re remarkably judgmental.” (Dorian) “What’s the point in having a mind if you don’t use it to make judgments?” (Celaena) “What’s the point in having a heart if you don’t use it to spare others from the harsh judgments of your mind?” (Dorian) “Oh, well said, Your Highness!” He stared at her sullenly. “Come now. I didn’t wound you that severely.” (Celaena) “You’ve attempted to ruin my dreams and ideals. I get enough from my mother as it is. You’re just being cruel.” (Dorian) “I’m being practical. There’s a difference. And you’re the Crown Prince of Adarlan. You’re in a position where it’s possible for you to change Erilea for the better. You could help create a world where true love isn’t needed to secure a happy ending.” (Celaena)

Nice exchange, good dialogue.

He looked at his hand, still touching hers. “Where did you get that ring?” She contracted her hand into a fist as she pulled it away from him. The amethyst in her ring glowed in the firelight. “It was a gift.” “From whom?” “That’s none of your concern.” He shrugged, though she knew better than to tell him who’d really given it to her—rather, she knew Chaol wouldn’t want Dorian to know. “I’d like to know who’s been giving rings to my Champion.” The way the collar of his black jacket lay across his neck made her unable to sit still. She wanted to touch him, to trace the line between his tan skin and the golden lining of the fabric.

Hahaha, why did we ever get rid of love triangles? I'm kinda enjoying this

Skip to another day and Chaol is watching Duke Perrington and noting the weird expressions that pass over his face every now and then.

Perrington’s eyes fell upon the black ring on his left hand and darkened, as if his pupils had expanded to encompass all of each eye. Then it was gone—his eyes returned to normal. Chaol looked to Kaltain. Had she noticed the odd change?

He later thinks Perrington was watching him right back.

----

Overall still okay with little peaks and dips here and there.

Already rewrite ideas begin to fill my mind about how the core 4 could have been better set up but I'll leave stuff like that for after I've finished this first book at least.

[dearviper]

Certain Dark Things Epilogue

WARNINGS: 18+ (minors dni!)

Table of Contents | My Masterlist

When you regained consciousness, you did not recognize your surroundings. The white walls and sharp scent of rubbing alcohol were unnerving, and you wanted to flee at once.

When you tried to stand, though, you were stopped by a restraint on your wrist. Glancing down, you found you were handcuffed to the rail of the bed you now realized you were laying in.

“Welcome back.”

Your head jerked up at the gruff voice, eyes not focusing on the black mass before you.

“Am I dead?” you croaked out unthinkingly.

“No. You’re not.”

Blinking slowly, you realized who you were talking to as the brain fog began to clear.

“You’re him, aren’t you?”

Batman did not answer, but you needed no confirmation.

Glancing down, you yanked at the handcuffs, trying to free your wrists.

“Those are just a precaution.”

“Please take them off,” you beseeched him, hysteria edging into your voice. “I- he had me tied down so much I just- please let me out.”

After a moment’s pause, Batman stood and headed for the door. At first you panicked even more, fearful that he would leave you restrained.

Instead, he rapped twice at the door. Another man entered, one with glasses and a kind, if tired, face.

“Uncuff her,” Batman said to his companion.

Despite the commanding nature of his words, they came off more like a request than a demand. The other man hesitated and regarded you suspiciously.

“Can I trust you not to do anything stupid?” he asked, eyeing you over the top of his glasses.

I don’t suppose I have to remind you not to do anything stupid? Edward’s words echoed in your mind.

Wincing, you nodded rapidly. “Yes, just please get these off.”

He removed the cuffs, and you rubbed your wrists to chase away the phantom feeling.

“I’m Lieutenant James Gordon of the GCPD. I don’t suppose I have to introduce him,” he said, jerking his head toward Batman.

“No,” you replied. “I’m-”

“We already know who you are,” Gordon revealed, passing you a newspaper and pointing to a front page headline below the fold.

KIDNAPPED BY THE RIDDLER! MISSING WAITRESS FOUND

“Care to tell us what you were doing in the Riddler’s apartment?”

You furrowed your brows, glancing back up at the lieutenant.

“He kidnapped me,” you said slowly, pointing to the paper. “Aren’t you a detective?”

There was a brief flash of a quirked lip on Batman’s face, but it disappeared so quickly that you were sure you had imagined it.

“Your old coworkers at the diner said Edward Nashton was a friend of yours prior to your disappearance.”

“He was,” you ground out. “But that ended pretty quickly after he abducted me and kept me prisoner for months on end.”

Gordon raised his hands in surrender to show he meant no harm. “I’m just doing my due diligence. Nashton has a pretty sizable following. We’ve only managed to track down a few of his accomplices so far.”

Has. Present tense. Edward was alive.

Watching Gordon with guarded eyes, you spoke again. “He can be very charismatic. He convinced them all-” Your eyes widened with horror as you suddenly remembered Edward’s plan. “He’s going to blow up the sea wall! You have to stop him, there are vans parked all around the city perimeter-”

You sat up rapidly, but Gordon held out a hand to stop your warning.

“It already happened.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. “Oh my god.”

Your vision began to swim, though you weren’t sure if it was from the tears now filling your eyes or the shock at the revelation that you were too late.

A firm, gloved hand reached out to steady you, while another held out a cup of water.

“Thank you,” you muttered to Batman after taking a long gulp. He gave an almost imperceptible nod in reply as he returned to his spot against the wall.

Gordon sighed, removing his glasses and running a hand over his exhausted face.

“You’ll need to give a statement eventually, but for now the doctors have cleared you to return home.”

“How-”

Just then, the door burst open. Marisol rushed into the room and flung her arms around you.

“Oh my god, you’re alive!” she sobbed gratefully, squeezing you with all her might. “I thought- I thought you-”

“I’m alright, Mari, but I’m gonna pass out if you don’t loosen up.”

Though she released you from her embrace, Marisol still kept her fingers wrapped around your arms. Her grip was tight, as if worried you might slip through her fingers and disappear again.

Just then, she caught sight of the two men in your room. Seemingly unfazed, she nodded to them.

“Lieutenant. Vengeance.”

“Miss Castillo,” Gordon nodded back to her. Batman remained silent. “I was just informing your friend here that the hospital is discharging her today.”

“Thank God for that,” Marisol muttered, giving you a concerned smile and rubbing your shoulder comfortingly. “It’ll be nice to sleep in your own bed for a change, right?”

You tensed up.

“Um, I… I actually don’t really want to be alone there right now. Edward had an apartment in that building too. I don’t know if any of his… fans knew about it.”

Gordon’s brows shot up as he and Batman shared a look. “That’s news to us.”

“That’s okay,” Marisol assured you quickly, distracting from Gordon’s words. “You can stay with me as long as you need. We’ll just stop by to get a few of your things.”

Turning to face the Lieutenant, she gave an assertive smile. “And I’m sure the GCPD would be more than happy to provide a police escort to ensure your safety.”

“More than happy,” he agreed with amusement. “So long as you point out Nashton’s apartment to us.”

Hesitantly, you nodded. “Alright. Sure.”

You exited the hospital with your motley entourage. The sun was hot on your skin despite the chill in the air.

Gordon led the group to his squad car. Seeing how you blanched at the cage partitioning the front and back seat, Gordon suggested you ride shotgun. That left Marisol and Batman in the back, and the whole car ride felt like the world’s strangest family road trip.

The drive from Gotham General Hospital was not an easy one. Most of the city was underwater, and Gordon had to switch routes every few streets to avoid the flooding.

Eventually, though, the car rolled to a stop in front of your apartment complex.

“You gonna be okay?” Gordon murmured lowly, though there was no privacy to be had in a car as small as this one.

“Yeah,” you replied softly, looking up at the looming building with trepidation.

Feeling like the head of a funeral procession, you led the three into the building and up the stairs.

Unable to even look at the door, you kept your eyes glued to the carpet as you gestured to Edward’s apartment.

“That’s his.”

While Batman and Gordon were occupied with entering Edward’s apartment (likely using some illicit methods, given that the door was most certainly locked), Marisol walked you down to yours.

When you reached the door, Marisol produced the spare set of keys you had given her when you first signed your lease.

“I knew you’d come back, so I kept them safe for you,” she explained, voice choked up with emotion as she handed them over.

Taking a steadying breath, you steeled yourself and pushed open the door. Stale air hit you as you entered, and you wrinkled your nose at the smell.

“Christ, you need to let some fresh air in here,” Marisol complained jokingly. “Do me a favor and open a window while you pack.”

Her jokes eased your tension, and you rolled your eyes. “Sure thing. Why don’t you do me a favor and empty out the fridge? I bet there’s a whole new ecosystem in there by now.”

She pulled a disgusted face but nodded. “Fine, but you only get a few freebies like this for being kidnapped.”

“You’re a saint,” you replied wryly before heading down the hall.

Your bedroom was just as you had left it, which you supposed was unsurprising. It wasn’t like Marisol would rearrange the furniture while you were gone.

You made a beeline for the window and pushed it open. Months of dust had accumulated on the ledge, and you wiped the grime off your hands and onto your hospital-provided scrubs.

Heading over to your closet, you dug through it until you found the large duffel bag you used for vacations. You lifted it up, about to place it on the edge of your bed.

As you did, you caught sight of something that made your breath catch.

Resting against your pillows was a green envelope with a pen-drawn heart scratched into the back.

You dropped the bag, all thoughts of packing having fled your mind, and slowly made your way over.

“You okay in there?” Marisol called from the living room, having heard the thump of the bag.

Your hands shook as you fearfully reached out to pick up the envelope. Slipping a finger under the edge, you peeled it open and pulled out the greeting card within.

The front was adorned with a cartoon cupid with hearts in the place of its eyes. Adrenaline pounding through your veins, you flicked open the card and let out a whimpering cry.

Hearing the noise, Marisol rushed into the room and found you sunk down against the wall, gasping sobs wracking your body as you stared at the card clutched in your trembling hand.

Unable to tear your eyes away, you read the message written in Edward’s uneven hand over and over again.

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Don’t worry, angel

I’m coming back for you!

previous chapter

[itsohh]

Infection Hour 0

A/N: This isn’t taken place in extraction nor chimera. If I had to place it in the timeline it would be in R6S timeline after chimera (but before Nighthaven). This is a reader x doc but he is only mentioned. Friendship with Olivier. While I think this just ended up being gender netural (I think I never used any pronouns) I will state in the odd case that I did that this is f!reader. I never posted anything R6 related but regardless I hope ya’ll enjoy it. 

Summary: While out on a mission you get infected by a virus and Olivier has to deal with making the hard decision of leaving you behind.

Word count: 1695

Warnings: Canon typical violence

AO3

Split from the rest of your squad, tension hung in the air as you carefully walked with Olivier. While you weren't a medical professional you knew the gist of the situation you were in. The gear you wore protected you from the rabies-like virus that had infected the town. Rainbow had been called in to help with the situation. "No response on coms." Olivier's voice cut through the silence and the sound of a male voice caught your attention.

"Get back!" The pair of you turned toward the man on the ground, his arm had dried blood over it, matching the blood stains from his mouth onto his once blue shirt.

"Sir, we are here to help. We mean no harm." He coughed and hacked at your words. A side eye to Olivier, his safety was off.

"Get back! Like hell am I going to be one of those things. Everyone in here is dead walking." He waved his hand and your eyes caught sight of the detonator.

"Sir please put it down. We are here to help." You took a step forward, a wrong move. Olivier's arm wrapped around your waist at the sound of the explosion. He pulled the pair off you to the ground, the blast going off at the same time. Olivier's voice was cut off from your ears as ringing echoed in your head. The only thing in your vision was the black piece of metal- lodged millimeters from your face, the mask protecting your face. In a panicked movement, you yanked the mask off. The acrylic was all cracked and ruined from the piece of shrapnel. With heavy breaths, you calmed down before you rummaged around on your body for a replacement mask. Unfortunately, you didn't have another full face mask but a medical one. It wouldn't protect you the same but it was better than nothing.

After placing on the mask, your previous one lay forgotten Olivier offered you a hand up which you took. "Guess they don't call you Lucky for nothing hmm?" The joke cause a small smile to form on your face as Olivier tried to defuse the situation.

"Yeah, shit." Your shook off the almost death.

"Are you alright? We need to take it carefully, you're at higher risk without proper equipment."

"Yeah let's get going and try to regroup with the rest of the squad. Go for extraction."  

The pair of you continued to walk through the old building, bodies littered the grounds, blood staining the floors and walls. You nodded to Olivier as he opened the door for you. In an instant,  a woman clambered over you. Her voice stopped you from pulling the trigger, "please you have to help me." She clawed at you desperately, her head looking over her shoulder. Her hands found purchase on your mask pulling on it. When she turned to face you she started coughing, blood spraying onto your face and mouth.

In an instant she was shoved to the ground, Olivier's wide eyes had her at gunpoint as she continued to cough. Yet her focus was on the infected behind her. Glassy eyes of those fully infected behind her- foam at the mouth. The virus had a range of possible symptoms, not everyone ended up violent and deranged but all ended up dead. Olivier didn't hesitate as he took them out. The woman moved onto her hands and knees and she continued to cough up blood- gasping for air. She collapsed down onto the ground, blood pouring from her lips as she twitched until she stopped moving. With a tissue from your pocket, you wiped the blood from your face, mask stripped on the ground. Olivier paused when he turned to you. He didn't close the gap. Slowly you got to your feet. Next to you was a private medical room, one which you walked into and locked the door behind.

"Three hours." Olivier's voice came over the coms. It was how long it took for the results of the infection to show. It was a fast-moving virus with no cure or vaccination. There was a small window on the door and you nodded to him. The pair of you stared at each other for a minute before you sat down on the ground, you shuffled so your back was against the door. "There's still the possibility that you didn't get infected." He offered you hope through the coms.

"She coughed in my mouth Olivier. I may be lucky but I don't think I'm that lucky."

Silence. It filled the air after your comment. The seconds ticked into minutes and your nerves started to get the better of you.

"Talk to me, Olivier. About anything. Please." Your voice wavered and you didn't doubt he could hear the fear in your voice.

"I'm sorry. If it counts. I should have been faster to-"

"I change my mind. Not about anything, don't apologise, please. If there was the chance that she was an uninfected survivor panicking for help it was worth the risk. Tell me about something- how's the son?"

Olivier paused as he proceeded your words. "Safe, I doubt I'll see him for a while. No need to put them at risk in the odd case I get infected. He's smart, a good kid."

His voice choked. "Mmm I don't have a kid but my sister did. A girl, about twelve."

"I didn't know you have a sister."

"Had, she died in childbirth. Complications, it wasn't preventable."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Ah it's been a long time, she was older than me. We didn't always get along and all that but… she was family."

"Who looks after your niece?"

"I sometimes see her when I'm in the country and I have time off but she lives with her father. My brother in law, my parents died a while back. He's a little rough around the edges but he loves her to bits. I-" you choked on your words as tears started to form on your face. The thought of not seeing her again. "She struggles in school. I'm helping pay for medical help for her. She just needs a bit of patience and care yah know?"

"What's her name?"

"Hope. My brother-in-law named her. I-I miss her.  My sister and I…We always used to argue but I-I still loved her. She's buried back in my country. I know my body will have to be burnt if ever recovered but could you visit her? Introduce her Gustave for me? God, it's almost surreal, I guess I figured that when I died it would be quick like getting shot."

"I'll take Gustave to see her."

"Gods Gustave is going to have a fit. Whatever he says or does I'm sorry."

"We still don-"

"Olivier, please. You're the biggest realist out of all of us."

"Perhaps Gustave is rubbing off on me."

"No matter what you can't let him do anything stupid or reckless. Please don't let his emotions get the best of him, I don't want him getting hurt. I'm sorry I'm asking a lot of you."

"I assure you it's nothing. You're a good friend to me, Lucky. It's the least I can do. I'll stay with you until we know for certain and then as long as I can afterwards."

"On one hand I don't want you to be at more risk but on the other- I don't want to be alone so I'm just going to settle with a thank you." There was a weary expression on your face, not that he could see it.

"I guess this is going to put an end to the running bet." You rubbed the drying tears from your face at his words.

"Running bet?"

"All of us in GIGN have had a bet on how long it would take for the pair of you to get married- engaged." A laugh stifled from your mouth.

"Oh? And what were the bets?"

"Emmanuelle bet the lowest amount of time at two years. Then Gillies said three and then Julian said five years."

"Five years? Why so long?"

"He figured that Gustave wouldn't do it- not because he didn't care but he thought that Gustave would be too focused on his work or just too nervous. So he figured it would take five years for you to get fed up and ask." Olivier's explanation brought a smile to your face.

"What about you Olivier?"

"I didn't bet. I'm the one that's holding onto the pool."

"Damn really? I totally could have inside traded this." There wasn't an immediate reply and you shut your eyes.

"When Gustave calms down. Tell him I love him yeah? Please tell him that I don't want him to be swallowed into his work."

"I can do that for you."

"Thanks, Olivier."

The red timer on your watch went. The moment of truth. You pulled one of the tests from your leg picked and bunched up your arm. With a quick stab, you jammed it into your arm. Then you waited. Ten minutes passed and you looked down at the result. Silence. You gathered yourself to your feet and then pulled down the rest of the locks for the door. Olivier got to his feet and stared at you through the window.

"Olivier it's time for you to leave." Your voice was just loud enough to get through the communication. You flipped the result and pressed it against the glass window, showing him the positive result. "Please go, you spent long enough with me." Your eyes trained down to the pistol on your belt. "When it comes to it I can take care of myself. There's no reason for you to go down with me." Your eyes met his through the window. "Thank you, Olivier, I've enjoyed being your friend."

Your name left his lips and he paused before continuing. "I'm sorry it ended like this, thank you for being a great operator and friend. I've enjoyed being your friend." A smile was given to him from you through the glass and you gave him a casual two-fingered salute before he turned. "Goodbye Lucky."

"Goodbye Lion."