#or torture me or possess me or something. but it just stood there still breathing and looking at me. so like i said; i’d forgotten about

[fingertipsmp3]

Had another sleep paralysis incident last night

[maskedbyghost]

jealous!Simon is on my mind 24/7

even better if the two of you are secretly fucking bc he is scared of feelings, commitment, relationships, and blah blah blah…

and simon wasn’t used to feeling jealous. he had trained his emotions out of him long ago, or so he thought. but as he stood in the doorway, watching you stroll across the shared kitchen on the base, your back turned to him, the name "mactavish" boldly displayed on the long-sleeved shirt you wore, something twisted in his chest.

the sight of you wearing his shirt, so casually, stung in a way simon hadn’t expected. he cleared his throat, trying to sound indifferent, but the edge in his voice betrayed him. "that’s johnny’s shirt."

"i know." was the only thing you said, smirking since he couldn't see your face. you knew exactly what you were doing, but in that moment, you didn’t care.

"why is johnny's shirt on you?" simon asked, his voice low but tight with tension. he tried to keep his tone neutral, but the undercurrent of jealousy and frustration was hard to hide. seeing you in johnny’s shirt stirred something uncomfortable deep inside him, a mix of possessiveness and insecurity that he wasn't used to feeling. he hated how something so simple made his chest tighten, how the sight of you in someone else’s name made him feel like he was losing control of the one thing he was afraid to admit he cared about.

"oh, he gave it to me because i was cold," you said, pouting slightly as you turned around to face the only man you ever wanted "he is such a nice guy."

simon managed a slight nod, his mind blanking from the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him. everything felt too much, too fast. meanwhile, you casually turned your back to him again, giving him another clear view of soap's name stretched across your shoulders as you began making your tea. the tiny grumble that escaped simon’s lips didn’t go unnoticed—it sent a wave of satisfaction through you, a small victory that made your day. you loved torturing him. and, after all, he did deserved it.

frustrated, he walked over to the sink, grabbing a glass of water, hoping it would cool the fire raging inside. but as he turned, his grip slipped, and the water splashed across your front. simon froze, watching the water drip down your shirt, half-shocked and half-relieved for the excuse to make the shirt disappear.

simon froze, his eyes glued to the water dripping down your shirt. after a beat of silence, he muttered, "well, guess you’ll need to take that off now. what a shame."

shocked, you watched as he put the glass down and left the room, still feeling the cold water seeping through the fabric. did he seriously just accidentally splash you and then walk out like nothing happened? that bitch.

*

later, as you slept in your bed, wearing your shirt this time, you stirred slightly at the feeling of someone’s arms wrapping around you. you didn’t even need to open your eyes or turn around—you already knew who it was. that familiar warmth could only belong to simon.

"simon?" you muttered groggily, barely able to make out the shape of him in the dim light. "what are you doing here?"

"shh, just sleep, pretty girl," he whispered softly, his breath warm against your ear. "i just wanted to apologize for how i acted earlier."

"i'm listening," you murmured, your voice barely more than a whisper.

simon’s arms tightened around you as he spoke. “i’m sorry for earlier. i know i’ve been pushin' you away and acting like an idiot. seein' you in johnny’s shirt... it just brought out this jealousy i didn’t want to admit i had. i hate feelin' like i’m not enough, or that someone else might have a piece of you. the truth is, i want you to be only mine. i can’t stand the thought of you being with anyone else. i just wanted you to know that, even if i messed everythin' up.”

“well, isn’t this a surprise? i didn’t realize it took me wearing johnny's shirt for you to admit your feelings.” you said with a hint of a smile, turning around to kiss him softly. simon sighed into the kiss, his arms wrapping around you with a sense of relief and affection.

simon pulled back slightly, his eyes intense as he rested his forehead on yours “i mean it, you know. you’re mine—only mine. no one else gets to touch what’s mine.” his voice was firm, yet tender, which made his words more meaningful.

"did you have a similar conversation with soap?" you asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

simon grinned, leaning in even closer. “yep, told him to keep his wardrobe to himself unless he wanted a 'property of simon' label slapped on everything he owns.” he sealed his words with a gentle, lingering kiss, his lips tenderly brushing against yours as if to mark his claim in the most intimate way.

*

soap: so, i guess it worked?

y/n: your shirt got wet, but i got what i wanted. thanks, bestie.  

soap: i think i got worse treatment from simon than the shirt did, but anything for my two lovebirds.

[cloudywriting05]

dollhouse — coriolanus snow

“torture me to sleep, have your way with me.”

» part two of one of the girls, can be read after or alone.

word count: 2,965 words

warnings: borderline physical and verbal abuse [DDDE], blindfolding, p in v, hardcore smut, bdsm, rough sex, slapping, mdni

tags: @urfavnoirette < even helped with the plot ugh 🫶

“What? She fucked him?” The blonde boy asked.

“Trust me, I get it. It’s fucked up. I mean, Sejanus? And not me? We didn’t even believe him until we saw them talking, he definitely fell in that pussy, man.” Festus remarked as he stared at Coriolanus, the blonde boy gazing into the distance at nothing as he soaked in the information he was just told. "Before me too, it's fucking diabolical, dude."

It was true, you had sex with Sejanus. Coriolanus stood there, enraged. Were you, his girlfriend? No, you weren’t. Did he feel betrayed? Cheated? Yes, absolutely. The revelation had his chest tight, his temper soaring, his breath shaking. His girl touched a man, not just any man, the one he hated the most, Sejanus goddamn Plinth. The root of all his problems, self-doubts, and hatred. The boy with the perfect ending, a Capitol success story comes to life, a district boy who rose to the top with his family. Just the mention of his name had Coriolanus completely enraged. There’s nothing Coriolanus wanted more than to kill Sejanus, more than usual right now.

“Are you sure she did? I don’t care, just curious," he questioned, his attention now glued to Festus's lips, making sure he didn't mishear the information.

"Didn't you see them at assembly? They were totally giggling and touching each other, they're definitely fucking, man– plus, Sejanus said it himself, he's one lucky mother fucker, I'll tell you that."

Coriolanus tried calculating when and why you fucked Plinth, or what possessed you to. He knew of your friendship, but nothing else. He always despised when Sejanus would team up with you for projects, the idea of you two alone would kill him every time because he knew something like this would happen; and it did. He was right. Was it because he fucked Livia last weekend? What could possibly be the reason? He couldn't find a reason, but he found a very serious problem. In the blonde boy’s head, he could sleep with half the school, and you still weren't allowed to touch another guy. You were his when you played with toys in the sandbox in pre-k, and you are still to this day. It’s never been said explicitly, because to him it never had to be, he just expected you to know.

“That’s fucking disappointing, isn’t it?” Coriolanus remarked, anger brewed within him.

“I guess…? By the way, are you going to Arachne’s birthday tonight? Everyone is going and I don’t know what the fuck to wear. Exams are fucking me up, man.” Festus whined, rubbing his temples.

“Wear whatever, it’s not like it matters. See you tonight.” Coriolanus replied, walking away to his last period.

Coriolanus knocked on the front door of the overly large mansion, loud electronic music evading through the walls, red and pink lights flashing through the window, eliminating the grass in the front yard. He stood there for a moment until one of his peers opened the door, Clemensia.

“Coriolanus…” she cooed, throwing herself towards the boy into his arms.

He held her as her drink spilled down his side, rolling his eyes in disgust. “Get yourself together, are you alright?” 

“No, but you look good… I like your shirt,” she remarked, her finger tracing over the patterns as she leaned against him. She’s fucking insufferable, he thought to himself.

“Thanks, now get up, pretty.” He stated, lifting her onto her feet and turning her around.

With a firm grip on her shoulders, he guided Clemensia through the entrance of the house, closing the door behind him. The volume of chatter grew even louder, an interesting scene in the apparent living room where people were lounging around, kissing and hugging. Releasing his hold on Clemensia, she joined her peers in the room. The blonde boy proceeded down a lengthy hallway, exchanging brief smiles with classmates lining the walls, their conversations blending with the music. Reaching the end, he pushed through holographic streamers dangling from the ceiling and stepped into what resembled a second living room, where vibrant lights flashed, fruity alcohol lingered in the air, and the heat hit him stronger than expected.

He stood there, observing the people he’d been in class with a few hours earlier, now dancing relentlessly against each other under the pulsating music. The bright flashing lights washed over their bodies, while pairs, trios, and groups gathered around, indulging in drinks and cigarettes. Amidst the vibrant chaos, Festus caught his attention with an unfamiliar girl. Navigating through the crowd, Coriolanus reached the center, where he firmly grabbed Festus's shoulder, prompting a swift turn in response.

“Dude! You scared me! You’re here pretty late!” he yelled as he leaned in towards Coriolanus.

“Yeah! I know! Have you seen Sejanus?” Coriolanus yelled back, his body being pushed by people jumping and dancing around him. 

“Dude! Yeah! He’s on the dance floor with your girl, man! Look!” Festus’s arm extended and pointed towards you, lost in the music as you danced with Sejanus.

Coriolanus watched your body pressed against his as you winded your hips, Sejanus’s hands resting on both sides of you, pushing up against your back. He let out a sigh as you whispered something into Sejanus’s ear and led yourself out of the crowd. Coriolanus took the opportunity to pursue you, pushing through everyone. He followed you closely behind, watching your hands struggle as you turned the doorknob and entered the dark bedroom. Keeping his footsteps light he entered behind you, closing the door. He stood silently as you threw yourself onto the bed, letting out a loud groan as your chest hit the mattress.

“Nice dancing back there, whore.” Coriolanus remarked, sending you into a panic.

“Fuck! What the hell are you doing in here, you fucking psycho? How long were you standing there?” you shrieked as you glared at the boy in the corner, your heart pounding inside your chest as it rapidly raised up and down.

Coriolanus let out a dry laugh and sighed, “I knew you could be dirty; I just never knew you could be so fucking cheap, and easy.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Snow?”

“You fucked Sejanus— now give me one reason why I shouldn’t strangle you and shoot him,” Coriolanus spoke calmly, stepping towards you as you sat on the bed.

“Holy shit, you’re insane, Snow. Does it matter who I fuck? You slept with Liv on the weekend and my entire friend group over the summer, so kiss my ass.” you exclaimed, keeping your stance.

“You’re too pretty to be acting like this, doll. So, get some fucking self-respect and never go near him again.” Coriolanus suggested, his finger running down your cheek. 

You slapped his hand from your face as he stood in front of you, looking up at him. “But, why? You’re not my boyfriend, and contrary to your personal belief, you don’t fucking own me, Coriolanus.” 

“You said I did when I fucked you so good that you came back for seconds and thirds.”

“I hate to break it to you but, your personality is not as likable as your dick, Coryo. Now get the fuck out.”

“No, not until you apologize for having sex with the biggest bitch of Panem.” he protested, causing you to erupt into laughter. 

“Fuck, you really are crazy, Coriolanus... If you won’t get out, I will myself. Move.” you shot up from the bed, your chest grazing his as you pushed past him.

You stalked towards the door, Coriolanus grabbed your arm and pushed you, slamming your back into the wall. You cried out in pain. The boy stood an inch from you, his hands pinning yours against the wall. Your body was engulfed in complete fear, you were horrified.

“If you think for a second, I’m gonna let you go out and grind against that fucking bastard, you’re wrong. You’re staying here, I don’t care when the party ends,” he declared, his face centimeters from yours, your wild eyes staring at his.

“Coriolanus, let me the fuck go,” you spoke calmly.

“Why? Why are you acting like you don’t want this? I know you’re probably getting off to it because this is the type of shit your sick brain likes.” he sneered, adorning a vicious smirk.

You hated him. You hated him because you knew he was right. The heat between your legs, his breath against your neck, his grip on your hands. You wanted him so badly, and you hated that he knew it. “Why the fuck would I want you to touch me?”

He raised your hands above your head, keeping them first against the wall. He let his free hand travel down your side, his other hand clasping at your wrists, holding them in place. His hand wandered to your bare stomach, his fingers then wandering under your skirt. Drawing circles against your clothed pussy, the same pussy that was begging for his touch. “I can already fucking feel it, you’re wet. Such a whore, now tell me what you did with Sejanus.”

He spun you around, your chest slammed against the cold wall. His hands still clasping at your wrists which were now behind you, resting on the lower curve of your back. With the side of your cheek pressed against the wall, you breathed out. “I fucked Sejanus.”

“Say it again.”

“I fucked Sejanus Plinth and let him cum all over my face,” you admitted, your voice shaking. 

“Good girl for being honest for once, hm.” he sighed. 

He freed your hands, but they still found a way to stay put behind your back. The blonde boy raised his hand and landed it against your ass as hard as he possibly could, conjuring up all his strength to do it a second time. You shrieked in agony, as you bit your lip.

“You know, sluts like you should get worse, but I’m so fucking nice to you. So, fucking nice. You’re just so pretty it hurts to hurt you,” his hand traveled up to your chin, caressing it, then gripping it firmly, forcing your head to turn in his direction, “but your mouth, my love. Your fucking mouth gets you in trouble.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t care, doll. Give me the ribbon,” he tapped his finger against the ribbon around your left thigh, and you untied it, handing it to him shamelessly. “Get on your knees.”

You dropped to your knees, shuffling around to face Coriolanus. His pelvis hovered in front of your face; you peered up at him as he glared down at you. You could still make out his features by the bright lights flashing through the edge of the door frame. Your last look at the boy’s pretty face. He caressed your hair before tying the ribbon around your eyes firmly, and your breath hitched.

“Feel how hard I am, doll. Do what you do best, whore.” he remarked, grabbing your hand, and placing it against his achingly hard cock. 

Your hands scrambled to unzip it as fast as you could without your vision. The rush consumed you as you successfully unzipped his pants, sliding your hand inside his boxers, earning a groan from the blonde boy. You pulled his pants down slightly, completely freeing his hard cock. Your hands flailed in front of you until you found it, gripping it firmly. You let the tip of his cock into your salivating mouth. You spat on it mercilessly, stroking it with both your hands. You placed his top against the flat of your tongue, running it against it in circles. Coriolanus choked back moans, refusing to feed your ego. 

Your lips puckered around his tip, sucking on it, the pre cum now on your tongue. You began to take his dick into your throat, deeper with every head movement. You felt his cock slide in and out of your mouth, moving graciously against your tongue. Your hands moved to massage the base of his cock, alternating between his massaging his balls, and flowing the movement of your mouth. Coriolanus’s chest heaved as he moaned shamelessly, not caring about your ego anymore. 

His hand moved to grab a chunk of your hair, forcing his cock deeper into your throat as you mercilessly sucked his dick. Your head moved vivaciously as his cock thrusted in and out of your mouth. Coriolanus pulled his cock out of your frantically, not wanting to cum inside your mouth. He rested his tip against your open mouth. You sat there, tongue out and eager. He slapped the tip of his cock against your tongue a few times before stepping away. 

“Get up, pretty.” he purred, helping you off the floor and onto your feet. He began removing your clothes piece by piece, throwing them to the side without struggle, he’d done this before. 

You stood completely bare, blindfolded, solely relying on the same boy who swore he was going to kill you. Coriolanus led you towards your bed as you followed him blindly, silently instructing you to position yourself in the center of the bed, which you did without saying. He pried your legs open, revealing your glistening pussy. 

“Did Sejanus get you this wet?” he asked, you shook your head frantically in reply. “I know, darling, what a shame.”

He traced a finger towards your heat and then started running it through your folds, causing soft moans to escape from your lifts. His finger traveled up and down your wet folds, pressing against your clit with each movement. Coriolanus watched your body react as you arched your back towards him, he sat beside you, his hand between your legs, studying every bit of you. He moved two digits towards your entrance and pushed inside slightly, he watched your lips open to let out a staggered moan, your hair caught under the blindfold. His fingers went deeper within you a second time, causing you to gasp, and then the boy didn’t wait to pick up a rhythm.

His fingers slid in and out of you, your wet vagina aching, as its own lube, you began to moan out for the boy with your sight still completely covered. “Fuck, Snow.” 

“You like this, don’t you?” he asked, lowering his mouth to your nipple, lapping at it before you could answer.

His fingers still pumped in and out of you, “I do, you’re so good.” 

He raised himself to look at your face again, he figured you weren’t in the state he wanted you to be in. His pace began to pick up, but instead, he used the flat of his palm to rub and press on your slit. The friction catches you off guard. His palm slid up and against both your folds and clit, sliding back to push his fingers further into you. His pace sped up, your back arched itself so your hips raised towards his hand. He watched your facial expression change as he mercilessly fucked your pussy with his hand. “Wait, Coriolanus!”

“No, I won’t. Now shut up and take it like you took Plinth’s dick, whore.” he snapped, breathing against your neck as his hand fucked you. He tapped on your side and without saying you flipped over, knowing what he meant without him having to say a word.

He snatched the thick ribbon from your chest and slid it around your neck, the two ends of the ribbon in his grip as it pressed against your neck. Pushing his cock into you, he smiled. “Does that feel good?"

You nodded through your moans as his cock slid in and out of you. He yanked on the ribbon suddenly, thrusting your head back towards him. You struggled as he restricted you from breathing while he fucked you. You didn’t know how you could be so helpless with him, how you let him do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted but he got you regardless. Coriolanus’s cock thrusted into you mercilessly, watching your ass bouncing against him. The door creaked open causing the boy to snap his head.

Plinth stood in horror, not being able to register the scene in front of him. Sejanus stood with his mouth open, Coriolanus briefly stopped thrusting and glared back at him. A smile crept up on the blonde boy’s face as he picked his pace up again you moaned beneath him completely oblivious, Coriolanus still glaring at Sejanus who began to close the door. You smiled to yourself as his cock filled you with every movement, completely satisfied, in complete bliss.

“Plinth could never fuck you like I do, okay?” he remarked through his moans, his cock still plowing into you.

“I know, I’m, I’m so sorry, Daddy. I’m so sorry. You’re just so good,” you cried out, his hand pulling on the ribbon this time forcing you to look back at him, “Do what you want to me, I’m gonna cum, please!”

He watched your body retract against his cock, shaking. You fell onto your chest, the boy continued to fuck you.

“You’re so pretty but so stupid,” he stated, his pace not slowing down, “don’t know how to keep your legs closed.” 

His free hand landed against your ass. “Now, you’re gonna sit here and swallow Daddy’s cum, okay?”

“Yes, I will, please.” He pulled his cock out of you as you turned around to face him, not hesitating to place his cock on the flat of your tongue.

You stroked it slowly, watching his eyes roll, “Fuck, you’re so eager for me,”

“Always.” you breathed against his cock, his cum spilling against your tongue, cheeks, and forehead. 

He fell onto his back, your eyebrows cocked upwards. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course, Mrs Capitol, tell me,” he replied as you lowered yourself next to him.

“I never fucked Sejanus.”

[dark-and-kawaii]

I've always wondered how would Raphael or Haarlep react to another devil/incubus stealing their Tav away. Would they get jealous and protective? Or would they be angry that someone is stealing something that belongs to them?

Oooooohhhh I love this!!!! Hehehe love me some angst!!! Let’s do it!!! I couldn’t pick so I did both :3 because they are both perfect and we love them both (≧ᗜ≦)!!!

♡ Pairings: Raphael x Tav/Reader - Haarlep x Tav/Reader

♡ Content: Angst

₊˚⊹♡ Raphael ♡⊹˚₊

Papers, once carefully organized, lay strewn across his grand flooring like fallen leaves in a storm. His bed, once a symbol of everything sinister he’s done to you and you to him was now shattered, its luxurious fabrics torn to shreds, the feathers from the pillows still falling from the air. However, the most telling sign of his fury was the portrait -one of his most prized possessions- now bore deep, jagged marks from his own nails… A testament of his uncontrollable rage as he found you missing- taken from him by another…

Raphael’s breathing came out in ragged gasps, each exhale a growl… The room echoing from the sounds of his heavy footsteps as he paced, his mind racing with ways of torturing the one who dared lay their filthy hands on you, his little mouse…

Closing his eyes, he tried to take a deep breath to calm his nerves, but his mind flashed to the moment he realized you were gone. The emptiness of your usual spot, laying on his bed, awaiting for his return. Your arms always held out to him, your arch devil… Your king… The spot usually lingering the scent of your presence now tainted by the stench of another devil. It was a violation… You were his little mouse, his precious treasure… His possession. And now, someone had you all to themselves… Raphael’s nose scrunched at the thought of what this devil might be doing to you…

His claws flexed, the tips scarping against his wall with a screech that resonated throughout his house of hope. He would find you, and he would tear apart the very fabric of Hell if he had to.

Moving towards the shattered bed, his eyes narrowed as he spotted the tinniest pieces of torn fabric… Your fabric from the dress he gifted you. Picking up the golden red piece, Raphael brought it to his nose. Your scent was faint but it was enough to cause his tail to flick in anger, “They shall pay dearly, my little mouse.”he vowed, his voice barely a whisper, “I will devise torments beyond the darkest imaginations of any devil.”

And with a snap, he was gone.

₊˚⊹♡ Haarlep ♡⊹˚₊

Haarlep’s heart pounded in his chest as he took in the scene before him. There you were, in the arms of another incubus, their arm around your neck, their tail creeping up your loose shirt. The desperation in your eyes to get away was evident, tears brimming as you choked out your beloved incubus’s name, “H-Haarlep…”

The incubus holding you smirked, it’s tongue dancing along your ear, “I’ve heard this little thing of yours in quite the prize, Haarlep . You should be a good little devils pet and share.”

Fury and fear clashed within Haarlep, emotions he’s never experience when involving another… And something else- something protective swirled within him.

He’s played games like this before, he knew how to get what he wanted- especially from a lowly creature, they were simple afterall, he should know. Haalrep’s hips swayed seductively as he approached where you stood, his fingers tracing the ornate posts of your bed, “Why would you ever want a soft, squishy little toy like her,” he purred, his voice dripping with honeyed temptation, “when you could have me~”

The sounds of fire dancing around Haarlep filled your ears as he shifted into your form, every detail perfect down to the last scar, “I feel like her~ sound like her and~” he stopped just in front of you and the other incubus, his eyes locking onto the creature’s with a challenging gleam. Slowly, teasingly, Haarlep removed his top, revealing your identical chest, “you can’t break me like you could with her~ Haarlep taunted, his voice so confident, his eyes flicking to you, “you can use me to your heart’s content~”

Haarlep's eyes stayed on you for a moment, his little dove. He’d never share such a treat, such a delight that belonged to him with another. No other would ever taste you, feel you, suckle on your soul as they fed off you… No, your entire being, your body, your soul, it all belonged to him.

The promise of an unbreakable plaything was tempting for the other incubus. And just as the incubus reached out to grasp your- Haarlep’s chest, Haarlep's hand shot up, gripping the incubus’s wrist, allowing you to wriggle free and escape their grip. Fleeing behind Haarlep, you held onto his back and watched as your incubus had his fun.

“You shall make a pretty decoration!” Haarlep grinned wickedly, he would use this creature as an example, a warning to those who else dare try to lay claim to you. String up their empty husk like a decoration, their tail used like a makeshift string in a tree… Yes, it would be the most beautiful display of a warning. You were his, and he’d make sure all knew this.

[aphroditelovesu]

The Lost Queen - XIV

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, possibly smut.

— pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!generals x female!reader.

— word count: 3,040.

— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @silmawensgarden, @elvinapandra.

— the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 14

It had suddenly started raining. A good omen, you thought, but when you heard the screams outside your tent you realized that it wasn't for the Persians.

As the raindrops fell from the sky, you moved restlessly inside your tent in the Persian war camp. Your anxiety and stress levels were high and you were afraid that this could affect your pregnancy.

The conversation with Darius and Bessus — you shuddered just remembering the last man, — hadn't been productive and you feared what that might mean. By now Alexander had probably already been notified of your disappearance and was going crazy.

Nothing good would come of Alexander's anger. You placed your hand on your stomach, on your not-yet-growing belly, and took a deep breath. You needed to calm down, all this stress wouldn't do you any good, it would only make you more anxious.

"Excuse me." You were startled when you heard a low voice with a strong Persian accent next to you. You looked at the owner of the voice and relaxed when you saw that it was Bagoas, the eunuch. His footsteps — was that him? You weren't sure — were really silent.

Darius had assigned this eunuch to you as your servant, in this case, personal slave, during your time here. Bagoas would be perfect to satisfy your wishes, the King had said. You felt like slapping him. You didn't need a slave and you didn't want one. Even in Alexander's camp you refused to keep slaves but rather free servants to serve you.

You nodded, waiting for him to continue talking. Bagoas kept his gaze down, not daring to look at your face. He was a slave, you remembered. And like all slaves he was trained to be submissive, not to look free people in the eye.

Your heart ached remembering this, remembering that slavery was common and accepted. That what they did to Bagoas and many others was natural.

Bagoas spoke softly, "Do you need anything?" His voice had a very strong Persian accent but you understood him perfectly.

You shook your head, "No thanks, Bagoas. I'm fine."

Bagoas nodded and silently moved to leave, until you called out to him.

"Bagoas?" You called his name, "I'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's okay with you."

Not that he had a choice, you mentally cursed yourself.

Bagoas nodded slowly and stood in front of you. You pointed to a chair next to you, silently telling him to sit down. Bagoas did as he was told.

''You...'' You started to say, but realized you didn’t know what you really wanted to say. Realizing this, you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Bagoas, in turn, remained quiet.

You cleared your throat and tried again, ''Would you like some wine or water?''

Bagoas blinked slowly at your request, clearly surprised. He nodded slowly after a few minutes of being completely still. You smiled and took the pitcher of wine and poured it into a cup for him, who hesitantly accepted the cup.

"It's not poisoned." You joked softly, trying to lighten the mood.

Bagoas glanced at you lightly and you could see something amusing sparkle in the eunuch's dark eyes. He raised the cup to his lips and took a sip of wine, his eyes fixed on his feet. You smiled lightly and drank some water.

"Would you like something to eat, Bagoas?" You asked, pointing to a silver tray that held cheese, bread, and a piece of honey cake. Bagoas looked at the tray and shook his head.

You frowned. Bagoas was thin, very thin.

"Are you sure? The honey cake is delicious." You tried again but the eunuch just denied it.

"I thank you but no, your Majesty." Bagoas said, his eyes never meeting yours.

"I understood." You sighed and decided there was no reason to say anything, "You're dismissed then."

Bagoas placed the cup on the small table and bowed gracefully to you and silent as he had entered, he left.

You leaned back in your chair, rubbing your sore neck. You closed your eyes but opened them quickly when the tent flap was lifted and you locked eyes with the intruder.

Perdiccas.

"What do you want?" You practically growled, not bothering to try to be polite.

Perdiccas frowned and sat down next to you, "I have news, my love."

You tried not to make a disgusted expression when he called you “my love”.

"And what would that news be?" You asked uninterested. Perdiccas grabbed your hand and squeezed it gently. You frowned at his boldness.

Perdiccas rubbed your fingers, "We are going to Babylon."

You choked on the water you were drinking and the cup was placed sloppily on the table.

"What?!" You questioned him, standing up quickly. Perdiccas didn't seem bothered by your outburst, however.

"We are going to Babylon." He repeated as if you were a child with a learning disability, "I talked to Darius and he agreed that it's safer for you than staying here."

"I am not going." You growled, not even bothering to try and contain your anger. You were tired of men trying to tell you what to do. It could be the custom, the normal thing at that time, but you weren't from that time and you didn't care anymore.

Perdiccas raised an eyebrow, "That's not your choice."

"You don't give me orders." You said confidently. Perdiccas seemed to be getting angry.

Good. That would make two of you.

Perdiccas grabbed your face with one hand and forced you to look into his eyes, "We're going to Babylon and that's final."

Before you could say anything, Perdiccas pressed his lips against yours violently, practically swallowing you. You gasped and tried to pull away but his touch kept you in place.

It was wrong and disgusting on so many levels to feel him kiss you again. At that time, you were desperate and wanted comfort and that's why you kissed him but now it felt wrong, not only because he was forcing you, but also because you didn't want him anymore. You didn't even notice when the attraction you felt for Perdiccas started to wane, you just knew it disappeared.

Now all that was left was a spark of what had once been your friendship. But did this friendship really exist?

When Perdiccas finally released you from the kiss, you noticed that his lips were slightly swollen and you shivered in disgust as you watched him lick them. Before you could think or say anything, you raised your hand and slapped Perdiccas across the face, the sound echoing through the tent.

Perdiccas' face turned to the side from the impact and you knew it hurt when he placed his hand where he had just hit and hissed in pain.

Good.

Perdiccas looked at you in disbelief. He looked at you as if he had seen a ghost and not the woman he knew.

"W-What happened to you?" He asked, still holding his hand over the area where he was hit.

You stared at him with contempt shining in your eyes.

"I happened." You said, your eyes narrowing as the words were spoken, "And don't you ever touch me again without my permission, understand?" Your words were harsh and one could feel the anger reflected in them. Perdiccas swallowed hard as if he had just had a divine revelation.

He finally noticed, you realized it. Perdiccas finally realized that you are no longer the desperate and terrified woman he had met a few months ago.

You were a Queen and you were starting to act like it.

Alexander's tent was eerily silent on that restless night. One might think that the great King was resting, but the flickering light of the flames danced across the walls of the tent, betraying the agitation that consumed him. Alexander found no peace, not while his beloved wife was missing.

The entire Macedonian camp shared his anguish. News of the Queen's kidnapping had spread like wildfire, plunging soldiers and officers into a mixture of fury and despair. No one dared to blame Alexander for his insomnia, as everyone knew that the emptiness next to him in bed was an open wound in his heart. He spent hours pacing back and forth, his troubled thoughts reflected in the flickering shadows the flames cast.

Inside the tent, the atmosphere was filled with tension. Maps and parchments were spread out on the table, fingerprints and wax stains bearing witness to long nights of planning and worrying. The heavy curtains that bounded the space swayed gently in the night breeze, but they failed to carry away the feeling of helplessness that permeated the air.

Every sound outside the tent, whether the distant noise of the watchmen or the low murmur of the soldiers on watch, seemed to amplify Alexander's inner silence. His eyes, fixed on the flames, burned with the determination of a man who would not allow his wife to remain a captive any longer. The King of the Macedonians was prepared to move heaven and earth to bring her back, and everyone who knew him knew that nothing would stand in her way.

The entire Macedonian camp reacted with deep consternation to the news of the Queen's kidnapping. The atmosphere, already tense due to the nature of the military campaigns, became even more charged with discontent and suspicion, especially among Perdiccas' men. These soldiers, in particular, were disgusted by their general's actions. How could Perdiccas betray everyone's trust by kidnapping the Queen? By committing such an act, he not only condemned himself, but also cast a shadow of distrust on his subordinates.

The growing distrust between Perdiccas' men and the other soldiers in the camp was palpable. Loyalty, a fundamental pillar of the Macedonian army, was seriously shaken. Alexander had established that any fight between soldiers would be punished by death, a drastic measure to maintain order and discipline. However, the ban seemed to be ignored. Physical conflicts broke out with alarming frequency, and punishments were equally frequent, but they failed to stem the tide of violence and resentment.

The situation reached a critical point when even two of the most prominent generals came into conflict. Hephaestion and Craterus, known for their skills and loyalty to the King, became involved in a fight that shocked the camp. The details of the incident were hazy, but the essence of the conflict seemed clear: Craterus blamed Alexander for the Queen's kidnapping, a serious accusation that infuriated Hephaestion. He, in an effort to defend the honor of his friend and King, confronted Craterus, but the fight only served to increase anxiety and chaos among the troops.

The tension in the camp was almost palpable. Each soldier knew that the unit was crucial to the survival and success of their campaigns, but the shadow of Perdiccas' kidnapping and betrayal put everything at risk. Uncertainty about the Queen's future and safety hung over everyone, exacerbating the tension and making each day more difficult to bear.

The other generals were also overcome with fury at the betrayal. Cleitus, who had now recovered well although he was still too weak to fight, personally wanted to ride a horse with a group of soldiers and scouts to search for the Queen. However, Alexander did not allow it, which resulted in a heated argument that had to be ended by Ptolemy.

Hephaestion spent most of his time at Alexander's side, desperately trying to calm his friend. He was rarely seen outside the King's tent these days, his loyalty and concern evident in his every gesture. Ptolemy, on the other hand, stood out for his calm and rationality. Although he was also deeply upset by the Queen's kidnapping and Perdiccas betrayal, he tried to keep a cool head, aware that one more angry mind would not help anything.

Cassander was equally furious, but he controlled his words carefully so as not to say something that could get him killed. The tension made him clench his fists and grind his teeth, but he knew he needed to maintain his composure. Parmenion and Philotas, in turn, maintained a facade of indifference. They didn't show much concern or emotion in public, but everyone knew that deep down, they cared deeply. The Queen had won their sympathy and respect, and the apparent coldness was just a mask to hide genuine concern.

The camp was on the verge of emotional collapse. Every decision, every word, carried weight. The generals knew they needed to remain united and focused, but the shadow of the kidnapping hung over everyone, making any semblance of normality difficult.

Something needed to be done, and Alexander knew it. He had plans, detailed and strategic plans, and he was determined to carry them out above all else. His mind worked incessantly, tracing every movement, every step necessary to rescue his Queen and punish the traitor.

Inside his tent, Alexander prepared himself. His eyes, burning with a mixture of pain and fury, reflected the intensity of his determination. He knew that once he got his hands on Perdiccas, nothing would stop him. Perdiccas would pay dearly for his betrayal.

Alexander was willing to do anything to get his Queen back, to get you back. The thought of you being in danger tormented him, and he would not rest until you were safe by his side again. He summoned his generals, outlined his strategies and prepared his troops, ensuring that each soldier knew the importance of the mission.

With each passing moment, Alexander's resolve solidified. His leadership, fierce and relentless, galvanized the Macedonian army. The search for the Queen was not just a military operation; it was a rescue mission that touched every soldier's heart. Everyone knew that under Alexander's leadership they would be relentless in their pursuit and punishment of Perdiccas.

As the camp buzzed with preparation, Alexander remained focused. Nothing would divert him from his goal. He would do anything, face any obstacle, to bring his beloved Queen back. And when he finally rescued you, justice would be done, and Perdiccas's betrayal would be avenged with all the fury of a betrayed king.

The night was cold and silent, very silent. The rain from earlier had made the air colder and not even the heavy fur clothes seemed to contain the cold outside.

But you thought it was because most people had already gone to sleep, only you were awake and getting ready to leave the Persian camp.

You sighed and looked around, noticing some guards and servants tidying up everything. You sat down on a rock and tried to contain the excitement that was growing inside you. A part of you was furious with the events, especially with what had happened between you and Perdiccas earlier, but the other part was excited at the prospect of seeing a historic place in person, of seeing Babylon at its height.

You just didn't expect it to be like this. You were a hostage and you knew a lot could go wrong. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

"A kiss for your thoughts." You opened your eyes when you heard a voice. You sighed as you realized it was Aslan— or whatever he really called himself — talking to you.

"What do you want?" You asked, adjusting your robes.

Aslan frowned and said sarcastically, "In a bad mood, cara mia?"

"Just tired." That wasn't a lie, not completely. You were exhausted and couldn't sleep well at night with everything that was going on.

"Hmm..." Aslan murmured and sat down next to you, looking at the night sky, "I heard about what happened in your tent with Perdiccas today."

You gave him a sideways glance, ''Leave it alone.''

Aslan shook his head and you could swear there was barely contained anger on his face, "No, I won't let it alone. That wasn't right... Him forcing himself on you like that." The way his words seemed sincere took you by surprise.

You raised an eyebrow and glared at him, ''And do you care?''

"I'm not the bad guy here, (Y/N)." Aslan said and you scoffed, "Despite what you may think, I genuinely care about you."

"Care about me?" You laughed darkly, "If you care about me, then why the hell did you bring me here? What's the point of all this?!"

Aslan sighed, "You'll understand eventually. Now is not the time for you to know the truth, but..." He took your cold hand and rubbed it, trying to warm you up, "I promise I'll take care of you."

You couldn't help how your body shivered at his words. You found yourself watching him closely, his attractive features. Aslan was a handsome man, you finally realized, and although you didn't trust him, there was something about him that attracted you.

He seemed familiar to you somehow.

Aslan brought his face closer to yours and you felt your heart beat faster. He brought his lips to your ear and whispered, "I promise I'll make him pay for laying his hands on you."

You closed your eyes, feeling strangely warm inside at his words, at the promise in them. Aslan's words brought you comfort, something you hadn't felt in a while.

He smiled and kissed your cheek lovingly, "I need to go. I have things to do but I'll take care of you." Aslan let go of your hand and stood in front of you, he placed his hand on your face and lifted your chin, making you look into his dark eyes.

You couldn’t look away and you didn’t want to. Aslan rubbed your chin and brought his face closer to yours, his lips brushing yours, he said, "I promise I will always take care of you."

The frigid night air didn't seem so cold anymore as Aslan's words were heard by you over and over again. You were standing still, not knowing how to react, just watching him walk away from the camp.

There was a lot to be discovered, you realized. Maybe Babylon had the answers you needed.

— lady l: a calmer chapter but that's because chapter 15, which I'm already writing, will be more chaotic. Aslan is a complex character but does he care about Reader? That leaves the doubt... 👀

I hope you liked it, forgive me for any mistakes and this week I'll release the next chapter! Unti thenl!! ❤️

[yellowbunnydreams]

The Blood Runs Thicker (part 17) ~vampire!William Afton x F! Reader~

~I have many plans for this series still! I wanted to thank everybody for their continued support.~

Tag-List; @ruh--roh-raggy @randymeeksisafinalgirl @sleepy---head @robin-the-enby @hungrhay @likoplays @slxsher-whxre @nicolezghostz @spiderlilytengu @yondus-girl @puppetstr1ings

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Want more or something different? *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

CW:Minors DNI, (18+ ONLY), Female Reader, legal age gap (Reader- 20's, William - ??), graphic acts of violence, biting, knife-play, blood, blood-drinking/licking, mention of dead children, anaemia. Mentions of torture. Drama/Angst. Possessive behaviour. Descriptions of a medical nature and disability.

Charlie's words still rang softly in your ear by the time you crawled into bed.

You hadn't quite believed that you had heard them, you asked the half-ghost what she had meant, but had only been met with silence in return. You supposed she had made her request, and it was time for you to enact it before William decided you were leaving to where-ever the next stop on his little road-trip was.

The vampire hadn't crawled into the large bed with you, but rather, Henry had given you separate rooms. You supposed it made sense, since he was probably very unsure of who exactly you were and how you were acquainted with William Afton, but you felt a little hurt that you hadn't been stood up for by William, that he hadn't said 'we're together'. This was the first time you'd seen the vampire get emotional though, uncomfortable, you had seen him confused and afraid when Michael and Elizabeth arrived, but even then he came back out swinging.

This was the first time he had really been vulnerable.

Getting up, you sighed and ran your fingers through your hair, taking a deep breath before slowly standing up and stretching your back. Padding out into the dark hallway, only the soft beep and whine of Charlie's medical devices to accompany the low lighting as you made your way down the stairs and to the kitchen, hoping to grab a glass of water and take it back up with you.

Instead, you found Henry Emily in his kitchen, fridge door open as he poked around inside it. His face ghostly in the blue LED from inside as he glanced up, eyes unfocused for a moment before he seemed to gain some clarity and smile at you.

"You're up late, young miss." Chuckling as you rubbed the back of your neck and gestured somewhat loosely to himself.

"Same could be said for you, Mr. Emily."

"Please, call me Henry. I appologise for not telling you you could earlier. I just..." he seemed lost for words as you both looked at each other for a moment before you piped up.

"Had a lot on your mind?" The older man smiled and nodded his greying curled head.

"Yes. Probably the best way to put it. Please, take a seat, I'll make some proper tea." Your stomach turned at the thought of more incipid tea, and you shook your head lightly. Henry chuckling as he moved carefully to one wall and flicked on the light switch, taking your sight for a few blinks. "At least let me make you proper tea, I realised after you went up to see Charlie how bad it was. I'm surprised you drank it at all."

Your shoulders relaxed an unknown tension in them. Despite the fact that Henry had seemed so full of rage and sorrow before, he felt more like a dad now as he shuffled around the kitchen and boiled some water in a kettle on the stove. The warm light of the aged kitchen making you think to your grandparents house that you used to visit when you were small. Somebody was always in there, making something that smelt great, and the light was always some form of sickly yellow.

He placed a mug down after a few moments and he held ones in his frail hands too, the banding across his knuckles telling you that despite his age, he was once a strong man. Perhaps not as strong as William looked, but he seemed to have been healthy and fit, once upon a time. Sipping the new drink, you were pleasantly surprised that it had a spice to it, sipping it again and your brow furrowing as you realised that there was cinnamon in the tea.

"Oh, I must have used the cinnamon sugar! I'm so sorry, I can make it again, it's how Charlie likes....liked...it." his lips pursed as he trailed off, the years catching up with him once again as you reached your hand out and gently held onto one of his cooler ones.

"It's nice...It seems like Charlie has some good taste." Henry smiled and he chuckled softly, his thumb idly stroking over your knuckles and you weren't sure whether he was trying to soothe himself or you. But you were sure that in that moment, but you felt like you really were being soothed by a parent.

"Yes, I know I'm biased since she's my little girl, but she was always a special girl." Swallowing thickly, he glanced up at you and held onto your hands with both of his, giving you a warm smile. "I wish she could see William again one more time, she adored him growing up."

You weren't sure how to react. You knew that William had killed probably killed children before thanks to the ghosts of Freddy's that seemed to haunt the animatronics, but they had never mentioned knowing him. This felt different. You weren't sure that Afton was capable of leaving somebody alive unless they owed him something, but Charlie...He seemed almost surprised that she was alive, like he hadn't expected her to be.

And then there was her request.

"I'm sure they were close." A tactful response, rather than the thoughts that wanted to spill from your lips.

"They were...and I know William would want to kill the bastard that did this to her." There was something icy in his voice that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and your heart begin to race in your chest. Despite his initial anger at William, the confusion, the hurt, he still sounded somewhat warm beneath it all.

"P-Pardon?"

"They said it was an animal attack, but Charlie had barely an defensive wounds. I love her, but she was a trusting child." The venom slowly creeped into his voice as his grip tightened on your hands, his knuckles turning white as you realised that despite looking older he had maintained quite a lot of his strength.

"Henry..." The older man's eyes began to well up with tears, loosening his grip on you as you stood and came around the kitchen table, gently hugging him to your side and soothing his curly hair as he began to cry silently.

"Will..He was my best friend..And he disappeared when I needed him, and then he turned up and I just..."

"I get it, it must be hard to see him after all this time." You didn't get it though, you had assumed initially that perhaps William had maintained contact with the man he had brought the both of you to. But all you were finding was that William Afton left people broken in his wake, even before he was a monster.

Henry clung to you like your life depended on it. Like he couldn't bear to lose another daughter. Your t-shirt that you had changed into for bed was stained with tears before he seemed to take a few shaking breaths and look up at you. Frowning as he seemed to notice something whilst looking into your face, flinching slightly when his hand reached up and brushed against your ear. You'd forgotten that Will had bitten your ear whilst at the mall on the way to visit Henry, and you could feel the small puncture in the skin and cartilage catching on his rough fingertips. Heart racing in your chest as he seemed to notice the faint scarring on the inside of your wrist, the four pointed bite mark on your neck from where Will had bitten you during your 'thanks' for saving him.

Suddenly, why Will had wanted you to wear a turtle-neck made sense.

"I'm very clumsy! Don't know how Will puts up with me." Chuckling nervously as you reached up to rub your shoulder, inadvertently touching where Michael had nearly drained you dry what felt like a lifetime ago, but really may have only been weeks. Swallowing down the nerves, you offered Henry a large smile, watching the old man blink in confusion before giving you a soft, concerned smile back.

"Will...Has always been unique." He said, making you furrow your brow in confusion, watching as Henry gently patted your arm and stroked it for a moment. "As long as you're being safe. Maybe eat some broccoli? You're looking a bit anaemic."

Henry stood slowly, holding onto you and the table for support before he grabbed his tea and made his way towards the stairs, slowly sipping at the warm drink and leaving you standing in his kitchen, the yellow light casting what felt like a sickly glow onto you as you picked up your own drink and took a few more sips before taking it up stairs with you.

His comment had shaken you slightly, and you couldn't help the sinking feeling that Henry Emily knew more than he was letting on.

In the morning, you could hear pottering about downstairs and so you headed down. Glancing into Charlie's room and noticing she had been moved out of bed and dressed, loose comfy clothes that wouldn't hinder her care as she stared wordlessly at the TV playing some kids programme. You could vaguely make out the ghost lingering nearby to her body, prompting you to go inside and change the channel over to something a little more her age before heading back to your room when you realised you should cover up again.

'Thank you.'

You got changed quickly, finding the pile of clothes you had left on the floor and giving them a quick sniff before pulling them back on. Padding back down the stairs, you noticed Henry pottering about once again. He seemed calmer this morning, unlike what was really a precious few hours ago, and that concerned you greatly. His curly head turned towards you and he had that same fatherly smile on his face as he lifted a pan filled with bacon, eggs and what smelt like fried bread.

"Morning sunshine! I've made breakfast for you." You were clearly over thinking, perhaps he was substituting you for Charlie in his mind, but you didn't blame him. You'd spotted photos of his family in the lounge before, a happy one, a wife with blonde hair and a bright smile. Charlie beaming at the camera. You'd also noted the obituary, paper yellowed with age and sun exposure, tucked behind a photo of his wife.

"Oh, thank you Henry, you didn't have to." Sitting down at the breakfast table, you went to sit with your back to the door, but Henry shook his head and gestured to the seat on the left. The one that looked the least worn down.

"I did! It's been a while since I've been able to cook for somebody and I have to get you to try this. Sorry about the chair, my mother always said bad things happened to people who sit in doorways." It seemed like a strange superstition, but you supposed that there were many cultures and personal experiences that shaped them.

You were just happy to oblige as Henry piled your plate up with fried goods that William would never let you eat in a million years, and poured you some apple juice.

The bacon and eggs were even arranged into a smiley face on your plate.

You heard footsteps coming through the house and turned your head to see William entering the kitchen, his hair perfectly slicked back and wearing his shirt that he'd had on the day before, minus the sweater. His golden aviators sat a little low on his nose as he pushed them up, Henry giving him the same warm smile. You noticed then that there were only two plates of food dished up, and you felt an intense guilt in your stomach that Henry could probably only afford to feed you and William since Charlie undoubtedly had expensive medical bills. His smile fading as he gestured to William's glasses with a frown.

"You've got something on them." Will frowned back and you saw his eyes moving about like he was looking for the dirt that Henry had pointed out.

"Where?"

"Right there, don't you see it?" Will shook his head and reached up to pick his glasses off of his face, squinting as he held them up to the light.

"Might as well clean them, but I can't see shit on them." Sighing as he moved his glasses to the bottom of his shirt, untucking one corner from his waistband and moving to clean them with the fabric. You couldn't help but smile, they were like an old married couple in their own way, and part of you wished that you had known them back in the days of Freddy's so you could see them working together.

That thought was broken when a pan went sailing at William's head.

You heard Afton swear as the heavy 'thunk' of the cast iron hitting him square in the face, blinking rapidly and stumbling back as with surprising grace and speed for an old man, Henry Emily vaulted part of the table and landed on top of his old business partner. Pounding into him with a flurry of fists and fury, you could hear the meaty 'thud' of flesh hitting flesh already.

It took you a few seconds to react to it all, brain short-circuiting as you tried to process what was happening. William's hands moved up and he was scrambling to push off Henry, but you could hear the sound getting wetter and noticed a bit of blood splattering across the tiled floor. A cold spot behind you told you that Charlie had decided to come and watch as you managed to peel yourself off of the chair and rush forwards.

"Henry!" Calling his name as you wrapped your arms around his torso and tried to pull him off, grunting at the unexpected work-out of trying to remove a very angry human man off of the vampire. You could hear William growling and his hands flailed, legs scrambling for purchase on the floor as Henry began to slow down, landing a few more blows before sitting back on his heels. Breathing laboured.

Will's face was swollen and you could see there was the start of two rapidly developing black eyes and a broken nose, skin mottled and bruised as you noticed the split lip and nose-bleed. Henry's knuckles were bleeding too as he stood up and headed over to the sink like nothing had just happened.

"William!" You called out, shaking his shoulders and hearing the vampire groan as one eye fluttered open. Unsteady and unfocused as he gripped onto your arm tightly enough you knew there would be more bruises later on. Shuffling so that his head rested on your lap, you looked up at Henry, eyes wide in shock and horror. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"He'll be fine." Was the calm reply, the man bringing a first aid kit down from a cabinet and opening it to retrieve some sterilised alcohol to clean his knuckles up with.

"You've beaten him, of course he's not going to be fine! Fuck I don't-"

"And yet, you're not worried enough about him to call an ambulance."

The silence that hung in the air for a beat was intensely uncomfortable, it felt almost like ozone settling around your skin. Henry was staring intently, hyper-focused on you as you realised he had caught you in a lie you didn't even know existed. You didn't know how William felt about hospitals, whether he would flag up as something not human when they performed tests, but he was still healing from the springlock failure and he was slow to heal from relatively minor wounds compared to what you'd seen from two vampires fighting.

William took a few shuddering breaths as he seemed to gain his bearings, slowly sitting up with your help and nose dripping blood as he reached for his glasses on the floor. Wiping them with a clean part of his shirt and putting them back on his nose, reaching it up and hooking two fingers into his nostrils before using the other hand to crunch it back into place. Sniffing deeply afterwards as his slowly swelling eye focused on Henry.

"Bastard, the fuck was that?" His own breathing laboured as he reeled from the ambush by his best friend.

"I've only seen those four points that your friend here has on her shoulder once before, do you know when that was?" Henry queried as he put down the alcohol and picked up some bandages, wrapping them slowly around his shaking hands to protect them.

"What marks, I don't know what you're-"

"Oh, but you do William. You know, I thought at first it might be co-incidence. Charlie gets hurt after you go missing for two days, you disappear again two weeks later after your youngest dies. Michael shortly after that along with Elizabeth. But then you come back twenty years later, and so do those marks."

It took your brain a moment to tick over, but it snapped into place all too quickly as you felt yourself blanching.

"Charlie. They were on Charlie." You whisper, watching as Henry shifted his attention from his hands to you as he nodded, with the same fatherly smile he had given you when he was serving eggs. William looked startled and you could see the gears turning in his own head as he looked at Henry. A million and one little expressions flickering across his features.

"Hers were much deeper, and a lot more jagged of course. Tore half the back of her neck out, crushed part of her spine, but the doctors said it all came down to six points of contact. Four on top, two on bottom." He picked up the plate that had been left on the table and brought it in front of him, looking at the selection of knocked over condiments and straightening them up after he had vaulted the table.

"I don't know what you're-" William began, but Henry sucked on his teeth and tutted, shaking his head at the man slowly trying to stand and supporting himself on the chair so that he could sit down.

"You do William Afton. I know what you are." The tone was so cold once again, but the cold air surrounding you didn't help either as you tried to control your shivering. William blinking slowly and unsurely up at his friend before he curled up his lip into a snarling growl. Bloody spittle coating his now very visible fangs, the double set you were more than acquainted with. Henry's expression softened a little as he watched his former business partner growling ferally. "There you are. I knew you would never tell me."

"Henry?" You asked, confused by the last bit of his statement before the older man got up and walked over to the fridge, rummaging around like he had been the night before and throwing something to William, who managed to catch it despite the fact his face was slowly reducing the swelling, leaving behind some bruised and blood-shot eyes staring angrily before his attention flickered to what was in his hand.

"I suspected something about him had changed back in eighty-seven, after Charlie was attacked, he was acting strange. Speed walking from the room if a kid so much as fell and scraped a knee, wearing sunglasses through the light-shows or if he was outside. Never taking his lunch, or if he did, I noticed there was half-chewed food in the trashcan nearby soon after." Henry explained, and you listened, realising that Henry had known something was wrong with William since the attack. He more than likely had his own suspicions about his involvement in Charlie's attack.

Hearing gulping next to you, your eyes widened as William slammed a glass bottle down onto the table, the thick claret inside clinging to the glass as you watched his face slowly returning to normal. Well, as slowly as William Afton could heal.

"So you decide to beat fuck out of me to test your stupid theory?" William growled, and Henry shrugged his shoulders, beginning to tuck into the breakfast before him.

"Oh? No, that was for Charlie, and it felt damn good." Nochelant as you stared incredulously between them, wondering why and where Henry got glass bottles of blood from, how long had he had them. "Figured it was better twenty years late than never."

"Well, at least I know you're keeping yourself in good health." Afton brought the bottle to his lips again and drank from it like it was a cold beer at a BBQ. You were still shaking and incredulous.

"Sorry, what? How would you...oh." The realisation set in as you looked at Henry, who did seem a little paler in the yellow kitchen light than you remembered being the night before. "Did you ...just so you could...?"

"Oh, yes. I know you would never have intentionally hurt Charlie, Wills, but you understand, I had to do something."

"How do you know it wasn't intentional?"

"Because of the times I caught you at the hospital despite the lights hurting your eyes, by her bedside and holding her hand. Telling her 'I will put you back together'." Henry said softly, and you watched as William stiffened before his expression softened too. The two men either side of that small kitchen table, Henry sat so he was blocking the daylight from the window behind him getting into William's bruised face. It almost looked like a halo from where you sat.

The clock in the lounge ticked by for a while as nobody said anything else. William occasionally drinking and Henry eating his breakfast, you picked at yours, heart racing as you wondered if another fight was going to break out between the two of them.

"I don't expect you to forgive me, Henry." William eventually spoke, making you jump slightly as Emily paused and looked up at him too. Raising an eyebrow as if to prompt him on, Afton sighed before continuing. "I...I didn't mean to hurt Charlie. And one day, when...when this is all done, I'll tell you my reasons. But I will hold myself to that promise."

The vampire slowly stood and began trudging back through the house, leaving you and Henry in the kitchen as you stared at his broad back. Wondering how he was going to fufil his promise, you wondered if he was going to end the fact she was trapped between life and death. Wondering how Henry would take having to bury his daughter.

"You're right. I don't forgive you. I just wish you had enough trust in me all those years ago to tell me."

William nodded his head and carried on, you stood up to go after him, but Henry gently pulled down your arm and forced you to sit.

"Leave the demon to his demons. Rest, find peace." He murmured, waiting for you to nod before he let go of your arm and you couldn't help but wonder how much of this mess was all your fault.

[rheareadsss]

Mistake 11

Hope you guys enjoy :)

Leave me your thought :)

•••••

“And it was a mistake” he admits

Nesta shook her head “you can’t do this to her, she has been through enough” she argues in a low voice “do you know how much pain she went through while watching you with my sister?” She adds

Nesta could see the fight in his eyes, he was fighting so many emotions, it didn’t pain him like it had pained Gwyn but he was possessive and Nesta knew things could turn ugly so fast.

“Go back in to the house with Elain” Nesta suggests

Azriel growls his response but decides to do as suggested, yeah he wanted nothing more than to rip her away from Balthazar but knew it wasn’t his spot to do so, he instead walks back in to the house.

•

Later that night

Nesta has asked Gwyn to stay back, she has spoken to Elain and things weren’t great with Azriel for them just as she has suspected.

Nesta knew she shouldn’t meddle but she also didn’t want to keep things from Gwyn.

“I need to tell you something important” she said once they were in the library.

“What is it?”

Nesta sighs “Azriel’s side of the bond snapped”

Gwyn stood still in shock “what?”

“His side snapped when you were at Day” Nesta whispers

“Is that why he’s acting strange?”

Nesta nods

“I- I-“

“I know it’s a lot to take in”

“He’s being a jealous freak lately” Gwyn whispers

“Maybe you guys should talk? Set up some ground rules” nesta suggests

“Yes! He has a vendetta against Balthazar lately” Gwyn says

Nesta rolled her eyes “he has asked Cassian to dismiss Balthazar from training”

“What- I need to speak to him, he can’t do that” Gwyn says now annoyed

“It’s the bond, it’s not making him think rationally” Nesta adds

Gwyn sighs and touches the shadow that is always with her.

“I gotta go and think this throughly before facing him tomorrow” she says looking down at her hands

Nesta hugs her and nods

•

Gwyn decided to skip the training the next day, she told Emerie she was staying in, Emerie knew that Gwyn need some time alone as she had seen her friend struggling.

Emerie sent word with Balthazar that she would stay at the house of wind a bit later than usual.

Gwyn curled up in blanket and her favorite reading chair when she heard the knock, she looked out the windows and saw how dark out it was.

Had Emerie forgotten her keys or did she had a late visitor?

She stood up, book on the little table, the blanket still wrapped around her and she went towards the door. She wasn’t ready for the view on the other side of the door.

Her eyes widen as she takes his state in “what happened?” She asks worried and concerned

“Can I came in?” He says looking defeated, worn out

She opened the door wider and quickly shut it after him “let’s get you cleaned up” she said leading him to her bedroom while letting him lean on her, her arm around his waist “are you okay?”

“It’s not my blood” he whispers admitting as he just lets her lead him in to her room

“Oh I know that” she said after walking towards her bathroom and sat him down on the edge of her bathtub “let me” she said after she grabbed a washcloth

Azriel nods, letting her soak that wash cloth and begin cleaning his face and neck

“You should really bathe” she whispers while wiping the blood off of him

“I- I can’t-“

Gwyn took a deep breath and starts undoing his leathers, Azriel didn’t object as she undressed him and placed all those hidden weapons on her bathroom counter. He only stood to let her work on him, he really wasn’t feeling like himself

When he was down to his pants, she motioned for him to go into the now half filled bathtub.

Azriel did what he was told and then when he was in the a bath his pants disappeared, she once again grabbed a washcloth and began washing him and rubbing the dirt and blood off of him. The water fast going shades of red then brown.

“What happened Az?”

“I was in hewn city” he admits

“I kinda figured-“

“I tortured someone more than I should have- I have always done my job and let it be that but today-“ he paused “today I took out my anger on someone- mind you he wasn’t the best and probably deserved it but I have never taken my anger out on someone”

“It made you feel-“

“Like a monster” he finished for her

Gwyn stayed still and then she began massaging those muscles in his shoulder and he let his head hung forward “you’re the only one I thought to came to, the only who would understand”

“We all have bad days, I think we all do things we regret because of the spur of the moment but you have to dig deep, what triggered those feelings?” She asks

“You’re not going to like this”

“Azriel..”

“I can’t control my feelings, seeing you with Balthazar, it doesn’t matter if he’s just your friend, it triggers things” he admits

He leaned his head back, resting it now on her shoulder, her hands now going to his chest, caressing him slowly “I think we shouldn’t be in the same circle” she whispers close to his ear

“You did it, you endured seeing me with Elain for months, I think I deserve this and more”

“This is different, you are married and I was in pain not trying to murder someone”

He turned to look in to her eyes, he can see slight pain in them. Yes the bond is severed on her part but her feelings for him were real, he can now see how his were very real as well.

He might have been in denial at the beginning, wanting to stubbornly stick to the relationship with Elain out of entitlement but he can see it in her eyes, those teal eyes that he has love and cherished since she came in to his life.

He cupped her face, she just stayed frozen and blinked when he got closer, slowly he brought his lips closer to hers.

Gwyn felt something flutter in her chest as their lips met, their kiss was soft and tender, no more than their lips meeting for the first time. It wasn’t lust that drove him to kiss her, it was the love he felt for her and she felt it, felt the love, the pain, the sorrow, regret.

“You are married” she whispered as soon as their lips parted, a tear now rolling down her cheek

Azriel wiped her tear and kissed her cheeks “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to hurt you”

Gwyn gave him a small smile “let’s get you cleaned up and ready to go home alright?” she said pulling away and giving him the washcloth to finish “I’ll get these cleaned up fast” she said picking up his leathers by the door.

Azriel was defeated, he knew he messed up with his rushed decision.

•

Gwyn held her chest, a thread now shining brightly and stronger than she has felt it before but she knows she can’t acknowledge it, she has to block it out.

She shut her side of the bond, she sat in her bed until she heard that he was out of the tub. She walked over to her bathroom and placed the magically cleaned leathers by the door, she knocked “leathers are cleaned, so are your boots” she said walking back to her bed.

She waited for him to get out, once he did he went and sat on the bed next to her.

He leaned his head on her shoulder, her hand went to touch his.

“I’ll talk with Rhys and Elain” he began once their hands were intertwined

Gwyn met his gaze “what- don’t”

He looked confused “why?”

“We had a chance Az, I told you before you got married and you went and did it” she said now standing up, beginning to her mad at him for their situation

“I-“

“Elain doesn’t deserve this! You chose her and she chose you” she said turning to look at him

“Gwyn-“

She shakes her head “You need to stay away from me Azriel” she says more sternly

“Gwyn” he stood up reaching for her

“Please leave” she said taking a step back

“You can’t mean that” Azriel says reaching for her again

Gwyn met his eyes “this could have been avoided, I told you, we can’t just disregard Elain right now because it’s convenient for you and I, I’m not going to be the reason she gets hurt” she says

“Gwyn please” he begs still trying to get close to her

“Please Azriel” she pleads wanting for him to leave before he can notice

“I will make this right” he promises before walking towards the door

Gwyn only nods

Azriel walked out of her room and she waited for him to leave her apartment entirely before she went over to Balthazar’s apartment, asking him to take her to the house of wind.

[captain-mj]

MJ!! HOLY!! That warrior AU is freaking amazing!!

I'm humbly begging for a part 2 🙏🙏🙏

I'm way to invested now haha

A ton of people sent me Requests and i appreciated all of them so much!! Here y’all go. Part 1 here

Also I am so willing to make a 3rd part (and possibly more I maybe have several planned already) so feel free to just ask!

Ghost was a great sinner. He had perfected the art of it. Had broken every command. Coveted, killed, used God’s name as a curse. Slept with many people and had never been married.

But right now. This might be his greatest one. 

Soap had fallen asleep. He had moved in the night, gently leaning into Ghost. This was the sin that would damn him. 

Soap’s gentle breaths. He could feel them through his shirt. Gentle and even. Ghost should get up. Should shove him off. He didn’t. He enjoyed the heat of Soap’s body, relished in the false vulnerability. 

The morning light fell over his features, illuminating him. He looked so relaxed. His strong features catching the light in a way that made him look ethereal. 

Soap began to stir and Ghost quickly sat up, trying to erase what he had been doing. He stood up easily and pulled his coat back on. The house was well insulated, but it had still gotten cold in the night with no fire. 

“Finally, you’re up.” Ghost glanced down at him, watching him slowly blink awake. He reached down and cut his binds. Soap rubbed his wrists and Ghost noticed with a wince how red they looked. He’d have to find something a little more permanent soon. 

Soap looked at him with soft hooded eyes. “Ah.”

“Hope it was a dream?”

“Aye. Was dreaming you were a pretty blond lass. Real disappointed to see you.” Soap huffed and sat up. He stretched, muscles rolling under his skin. “How long are we going to share a bed?”

“Until I can find a way to make sure you don’t escape. Thought this was slightly better than tying your ankles to your wrists and leaving you in the living room.”

“Sick bastard.” 

“Never said I’d enjoy it.”

“Don’t have to. Can hear it in your tone.” Soap rolled his shoulders before shivering. He looked... so tiny. So cute. 

Ghost looked away. “I’m going to be busy. A guard will be outside the door. They’re instructed to kill you if you try to escape.” 

Soap looked at him with a small glare but nodded. “Fine.” 

Ghost glared at him. “Soap. Don’t make me have to hurt you. Just stay put.” He really didn’t want to. Just needed him to stay there. Stay safe. 

Ghost was not honest with himself if he could help it. He tried to avoid it to the best of his ability. But he had already lied to Soap and Shepherd, no use also lying to himself. Shepherd believed he wanted Soap to torture him for all he did on the field. That wasn’t even close to true. Soap was told that Ghost did it so he wouldn’t boost Shepherd’s ego. That was slightly closer. 

Ghost thought of Shepherd talking with Price. Price had looked uncomfortable, but Shepherd was there leader so they had to bite their tongues. Shepherd detailed what he would do to Soap. Described how he’d break him. Make him a concubine by a different name. 

Ghost had felt a strong mix of feelings at what he had talked about. Disgust at how casually he discussed assaulting him. Nausea as he remembered his own time as a “Spoil” under a cruel man. A heavy amount of hate. 

But underneath it all was a current of seething jealousy at the thought. It had caught him off guard. Even now, something possessive curled in his organs. He honestly didn’t want to hurt Soap. Soap was defeated after all. No need to be a sore winner. 

That didn’t mean he didn’t want to do other things to him. But lust was a sin and sinning was something Ghost excelled at. 

He’d never let Soap, or anyone for that matter, know any of this. He barely admitted it to himself. 

Before he left, he gave Soap some water and told him to cook if he wanted. 

“Don’t burn my house down.”

“Or what?”

“We’ll be homeless.” Ghost had deadpanned and Soap had laughed, looking shocked before he quickly looked away to fix his expressions. 

“Aye. Suppose we will.” 

Ghost nodded and walked away. He pulled on his gear, feeling Soap staring at him. He tried to turn around to catch him in the act but Soap looked away just fast enough. His hands clenched hard, taking a deep breath. 

Ghost didn’t touch him. Not once that morning. 

Price waved him over and he went to sit next to him. “You knew Shepherd wanted him.”

“Yes. That’s why I asked for him. Knew he couldn’t say no to me in front of everyone.”

“Simon. Careful.”

“I’ll be fine.” Ghost reassured. “It was worth it.” 

Price didn’t looked convinced but he let it go. The two of them talked about any news in their town. Price kept him up to date on things since he avoided leaving his home unless to go fight. His sword felt heavy on his hip. 

Alejandro and Shepherd joined them after a while, letting them finally start the stupid meeting. Ghost hated these. It was full of useless strategizing based on information that was probably fake. They weren’t on the field and none of them would agree on how to handle it, they never did. Inevitably, whoever was out commanding people would make a call and they’d pretend they never had the meeting in the first place. 

It was cycle. A vicious one that Ghost hated. 

The nice servant brought Ghost tea though. It was good tea, strong with sugar. He sipped it as they talked. 

“So, about MacTavish.” Alejandro spoke up and Ghost tried not to look at him, feeling an intense feeling of betrayal. “He still kicking?”

“Yes. He’s still alive.” 

Price looked at him, seeming to have just now realized Ghost never said what was worth it. All three of them were staring at him.

“Wait. He’s still alive?” Price asked.

“What are you doing to him?” Alejandro sounded slightly scandalized.

“What is he not doing to him?” Shepherd sounded a lot more interested. 

Ghost thought over his options. “He’s... alive. He makes a good bedfellow.” Lies. He stole the goddamn blanket. But the double entendre was enough to throw them off. 

Shepherd hummed. “Details?”

“No.” Ghost continued to sip his tea. He could feel Price’s disappointed stare piercing through him. Part of him wanted to explain that it wasn’t like that, that he hadn’t actually done anything, but if they thought he was keeping Soap for that, they wouldn’t question him not killing him. Soap would stay safe. His reputation could take the hit. Hell, may even raise it among certain of his men. He made MacTavish his whore. 

The idea made his nausea return. 

“So that’s why you wanted him. Should’ve known.” Alejandro smiled, but Ghost could see the tension in his shoulders. He was a tiny bit insulted by how easily they believed this now. 

“Are we done?”

“Yes. We’re done. Go enjoy the gift, Ghost.” 

Ghost nodded and stood up, his gear hugging his skin comfortably. The others were using the rare opportunity to wear just a shirt and pants with their coats, but Ghost preferred the leather gear. The weight of it kept him grounded. 

He left with no more fanfare, hating fucking meetings. 

The guard outside his home was still there. Their blade by their feet.

Ghost waved him off and went inside, rolling his shoulders. The place had been cleaned. Not very well, but there was significantly less dust everywhere. 

Soap jumped on him, blade in hand and Ghost disarmed him easily. 

“I’m wearing armor. That knife wouldn’t even… stop struggling.” He held Soap, watching him wriggle like a fish on a hook from where Ghost had his wrists. Soap looked at him defiantly. Ghost felt his breath catch. 

Fucking pretty asshole.

“You done?”

Soap grumbled. “Fine. I’m done.” 

Ghost nodded and took the knife from him. He pinned him to the wall and ran his hands along his sides, checking for weapons. 

Soap flushed hard and went still as possible until Ghost pulled away. He turned around, back flush against the wall. His eyes found their way to Ghost’s and he didn’t move. 

Ghost stared, confused. Soap’s clothes were clinging to him like he had been sweating. It hit him then that he didn’t have anything else Soap could wear than his own things. Fuck, he’d have to let him borrow his clothes. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad yet.

Unbeknownst to him, Soap was waiting for him to hit him. He had just attacked Ghost. In his own home. Honestly, he was half expecting to be flogged. Maybe beaten with in an inch of his life. 

“Do you want a bath?” Ghost didn’t care that he had attacked him. He’d do the same thing.

“What?” Soap stared at him, hopelessly confused by his jailer. 

“A bath. Your clothes look gross. I’ll have a tailor make you some but for now you can just borrow mine.” Ghost tilted his head. 

They stared at each other for a long while before Soap nodded. “Alright. That… sounds nice.” 

Ghost nodded back and pulled away. He luckily had the money and time to have a bathtub set up, but he had to get the water from nearby. He set some to boil so the water wouldn’t be cold. 

The entire time, he considered which clothes he’d let Soap borrow. He couldn’t give him any of his nicer ones. Those were his. 

If he looked hard enough, there might be some of his old clothes somewhere. They’d be a little smaller so they might fit Soap just a little better. 

He finished setting the bath and told Soap so, still very clearly in the bathroom. 

Soap started to undress, seemingly bothered at all about getting naked in front of Ghost. Ghost looked away, not sure if he was ready to commit such a sin yet. He made sure he didn’t see Soap’s body, not sure he wanted that to haunt his dreams. 

“You can leave you know. If you’re going to be such a prude.” 

Ghost took a deep breath. “What if you escape?”

“You know, if you want to see me undressed, you could’ve just ordered me to undress. Not lured me in like this.”

“You would’ve fought me.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Soap sounded amused. “Are you going to avoid bathing with me here as well? You won’t eat in front of me.”

“I’ll tie you up in the other room.” Ghost was pretty hungry. He’d wait until Soap fell asleep to eat. It wasn’t the longest he went without food, but probably best not to get faint while holding someone captive. “Get in before it gets cold.”

“You warmed it up?” Soap sounded genuinely surprised. “Thank you.’ 

Oh. Ghost felt a flicker of something intensely warm in his chest. He didn’t respond. He could hear Soap sink into the water. 

Soap moaned softly at the feeling of the warm water on his muscle and Ghost tensed, hands clenching. The atmosphere in the room changed. He could feel tension like a goddamn storm. 

Soap let out a small sound under his breath, a shuddering shaky thing. Like he was scared. 

Only then did Ghost notice how this probably looked. Ghost’s hand on his weapon, his other hand clenched tight. His posture had tightened, making him look even taller. He was also looking at Soap, though he couldn’t remember turning his head. 

Soap looked afraid. Ghost was only available to see above his chest, but he could see the soft curly hair though. 

The last thing he wanted to do was scare him. 

Ghost was out of the room, door clicking behind him. 

Fucking hell. 

He went in the kitchen, finding that Soap had cooked. Nice. He pulled up his mask long enough to scarf down some food, not wanting to waste too much time. 

Unfortunately, none of the clothes he wanted could be found, so he pulled a random shirt and pair of pants and set them in front of the door. “Clothes are right outside when you’re ready to get out.” 

Ghost perched on the bed, thinking hard. 

This was sustainable, but he couldn’t let him go. He’d have to figure this out. Somehow. 

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 19

An update in less than a month? What is this?

This is the long anticipated update and I'm so excited to share it with you. Please let me know what you guys think!

Words: 5500

Warnings: All the feels! brief violence, language, just grab some tissues.

Series Masterlist

Ivar loathed all hospitals with an unholy passion. Far too much of his childhood was spent surrounded by sterile white walls and people in scrubs giving him pitying looks that boiled his blood. He hated the continuous beeping sounds, that unnatural sterile scent, even the loud-ass flooring that made each step sound like a heavy weight being dropped.  He despised everything about hospitals. 

But none of that crossed his mind as he stormed into the main lobby of one with the force of an unrelenting tornado. 

He slammed his hand down on the counter, feeling his bones rattle and threaten to break but he ignored the pain. He already had one hand in a cast, why not the other? 

“Where is Kari Larsen?” He demanded of the two nurses behind the counter. 

Neither nurse berated him of how he cut in line, bypassing the four other people, to demand their attention. A fucking miracle. As he stood there, waves of anger and desperation crashing over him, he wondered if they could see it and it kept their mouths shut. Was it so obvious how his edges were fraying? How what sanity he possessed was beginning to crumble until he knew - he could see - that Kari was alive. 

One of them glanced over his shoulder, at his father and brother flanking him, and waved him closer. “Give me a moment and I'll check.”

The desire to scream at her to ‘hurry the fuck up’, ‘didn't she know who he was’, and how he wanted to ‘burn this entire building to the ground’ stung the back of his throat. But none of that passed his lips. For immobilizing terror gripped at his heart with claws sunk in deep, making that blackened organ threaten to stutter to a stop. How his lungs ached as if petrifying within his chest causing each breath to be a struggle to take in. 

He had promised her. 

He fucking PROMISED! 

Uncaring of his hardened reputation, of never showing pain, he dropped his head in his hands, the cast rubbing against his cheek. He tried to take a deep breath, but the panic and self-loathing continued to crush his chest like a Medieval torture device. He just needed to know…he needed to see her. 

Please…

The nurse's ‘customer' voice broke through his internal panic. “Miss Larsen is still in the emergency room but has been moved to a separate room for examination.”

Ivar moved before the nurse fully finished her sentence. Ignoring all those around him, he stormed through that hospital with only one destination in mind. At this point, he almost wished someone would try to stop him so he could hit someone, just do something instead of feeling like he was falling apart. Anger, he knew. Anger, he could work with. But not this terror, not this panic that was draining his sanity and attempting to suffocate him. 

Perhaps, it was the scowl on his face that made people jump out of his way, the aura of danger that radiated off of him, or how he was flanked by his father and brother. With only a few concerned stares from nurses or those that worked there, he guessed they recognized him and his family. He had visited this godforsaken place enough times. Besides, he was a Lothbrok. 

And Lothbroks owned this city. 

Hvitserk raced ahead to open the doors leading into the emergency area, separate from the main hospital. They passed through without incident, into the chaos and mayhem. Sounds of a baby screaming, raised voices, the tang of blood and antiseptic cleaner, it all assaulted his senses but it barely phased him. There was only one thing he cared about right now. 

Marching up to the large desk, he stopped, glaring at the first nurse he came across. Her gray hair was tied back in a bun, with a ‘don't give a fuck anymore’ look as she typed away on the computer. 

Too bad she had met her match today. 

“Kari Larsen. Where is she?” He gritted through his teeth. 

The older nurse sighed, looking up at him. “Young man, you need to wait–”

“WHERE IS SHE??!”

Silence echoed in the room. The sudden lack of sound felt like a black hole that suddenly exploded to destroy them all. All eyes turned to the trio at the front desk.

His father put a hand on Ivar's shoulder as he stepped up beside him. Most likely intervening before Ivar jumped over the counter and repeatedly stabbed the ugly bitch with that damn pen she kept clicking. 

“We received a call from this hospital that Kari Larsen was here. We've come to check on her and I am personally paying for any treatment she receives while here.”

“Fine. Your name, sir?”

“Ragnar Lothbrok.” He smirked lazily. “My information is on file. Send the bill to Mr Weber, the CFO. He knows how to contact me with any further questions.”

The five other nurses behind the desk all stared, one or two having paled at the name of Lothbrok spoken. The older nurse before them began to stutter out a response, her eyes having widened and mouth dropped open, like an wrinkly goldfish. 

“Now, you will answer my son's question.” His father's voice hardened in displeasure. “In which room is Kari Larsen?”

“I…um…” One of the nurses stumbled out, clasping a blue patient folder to her chest like it was some shield to protect her from the Lothbrok's wrath. “I brought her for a CT scan…just…fifteen minutes ago, maybe.”

“Excellent, now–” Ragnar started to say but a rasped cry yanked the youngest Lothbrok's attention away. 

“Ivar!”

He spun on his heel, facing the hallway just behind him and slightly to his right. All his fear, panic, anger, self-loathing- it all bubbled up to spectacularly erupt as he heard that voice call his name. Her voice! A voice even after three weeks without hearing its sound, he immediately knew. The voice his soul cried out for. 

And there she was. 

Beautiful…

Perfect…

….with dried blood on the side of her head and splattered on her sweater. 

“Kari!” As quickly as his crippled legs could go, he bolted towards her. 

At his responding cry, she broke away from the nurse walking next to her. The damn nurse tried to grab her, but Kari shook her hand off and began running. 

Running to him! 

With tears running down her cheeks. 

She slammed into him, almost knocking them over with her momentum. Ivar stumbled back a couple steps, barely catching his footing, but he did not care. She was in his arms. Where she should be. Where she was meant to be. Finally. 

As soon as she was enclosed in his arms, face pressed against his chest and hands fisting the front of his shirt, she began sobbing earnestly. He tightened his arms around her, drawing her as physically possible against himself as her whole body shook with each ragged sob. 

Hearing her, he wished he could carve his chest open and allow her to crawl in. Fuck, he would do anything to take her pain, to have her even closer, to prove he was never letting her go again. 

That he would always protect her. 

“I've got you, Kari. I'm here.” The words flowed from him like an anguished prayer. “I'm here, sweet Kari. I'm not going anywhere.”

The scent of blood clung to her but he ignored it for the moment. She was here in his arms. Alive and well. 

That was all that mattered. 

He could have stood there for all eternity, the world continuing to spin and empires rising and falling without an ounce of care from him. None of it mattered. Three weeks he had been in turmoil and despair, waiting, wondering, hoping for a sign from her. Anything to prove she still cared about him, still wanted him. That he had not completely fucked up the best thing in his life with a stupid mistake. He planned on planting roots right here on the dirty hospital floor for as long as Kari needed him. The fucking nurses and other patients could move around his crippled ass. 

His father had other plans though. 

A tap on his shoulder had Ivar looking up into his father's face, a subtle look of relief there.  “There's a room for her. Let's move her there.”

He gave a brief nod. With the movement, he became aware of the moisture on his face. When had he started crying? He had been so absorbed in finally - finally! - seeing his kitten, in holding her and providing any kind of comfort she needed, he had not realized his own roiling emotions had exploded out in tears of relief and gratitude, that he was practically bleeding out his stress and harbored despair. And for one of the first times in his life, he did not care if others saw his tears. 

Somehow he coaxed Kari along as he followed his father. A strange dance as they moved since she seemed to have no inclination of letting him go. Not that he objected in any way. It was in moments like this he cursed his legs, for if he was whole-bodied he could have picked Kari up and carried her. Instead, with an arm tight around her shoulders and her pressed against his side, refusing to release her vice-like grip on his shirt, they slowly moved. 

The ‘room’ they were directed to was just a curtained off section with a single bed, single chair and some monitors pressed against the wall behind the bed. Similar to the many other sectioned off ‘rooms’ of patients waiting to be moved on or sent home. 

Carefully, Ivar maneuvered Kari and himself to sit on the hospital bed. She curled against him, her ear against his heart and one hand toying with his Mjölnir necklace. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her against him. His other hand's fingers were intertwined with hers in his lap. 

Like sentinels, his father sat in the chair, sharp gaze shifting from the closed curtain to his youngest son, while his brother took up position next to their father, arms crossed over his chest. The two began whispering but Ivar only briefly noted their presence.

His attention was drawn to Kari as she whispered something. 

“What was that, kattungen?”

“You came.” She breathed, her voice raspy and shaky as if holding back more tears. “I gave them your number. I–I wasn't sure if you'd come. I just...I was scared and wanted you.”

How was it possible with such a simple statement, it completely disarmed him. His heart lurched at hearing the undercurrent of fear in her voice, sounding like a child admitting they were scared of the dark. What was worse, what broke his heart, was her fear that he would not come. That he would abandon her. 

He pressed his lips to the top of her head in a slow syrup-like kiss, hoping his actions and words would penetrate through her worry. “I'll always come for you.”

“Please don't leave.”

He tipped his head up for a moment, a useless act to try and stop the fresh wave of tears from flowing freely down his cheeks. “I promise.” His voice broke as he answered. “I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave you.”

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” She sobbed out, clinging to him even tighter if possible. 

“Shhh…it's okay. Let's focus on getting you out of here, okay?”

She nodded, a faint thing, but he felt it for how tightly she was pressed against him. 

A couple minutes later, a doctor stepped behind the curtain, joining the crowded space. He paused a moment, seeing to register the group along with his patient. He cleared his throat loudly before glancing down at the folder in hand. 

“Good day, I'm Doctor Schultz, the attending doctor here today. Miss Larsen?” The doctor paused, eyes focused on his patient. 

When she did not respond, Ivar squeezed her hand. “It's okay, søte Kari, I'm here.”

“Yes, doctor?” She quietly, hesitantly, said. 

“How are you feeling?”

With that fucking stupid question, Ivar wanted to punch the absolute, incompetent asshole of a doctor but settled for glaring at him over Kari's head. 

“I've been better.” She replied. 

The doctor smiled. “I'm sure. The good news is your scans came back clean. You do not appear to have any cranial or brain damage more than a concussion.” He hesitated, as if rolling around a question in his mind before carefully allowing it out. “Is there anywhere else that hurts? My understanding is the paramedics said you were initially screaming when they arrived on scene.”

“Doctor, can you explain what occurred? We were not told about the incident beyond the fact that she was being attended to at this hospital.” Ragnar broke in, his voice broking no argument that his question would be answered first. 

“Of course. Miss Larsen and a companion were involved in a car accident. It appears another driver was not paying attention and drove through a red light, impacting their vehicle.”

A car accident.  

A goddamn car accident. 

Inhaling sharply, Ivar felt the air stick to his lungs like glue. Mentally he thanked the gods, Fate and anyone listening for keeping Kari safe. The outcome could have been very different. 

“Is Erik okay?” The quiet query came from beside Ivar.  

“I'm not supposed to speak of other patients,” the doctor said but his face softened as he looked at Kari, “but I just saw him and he sustained more injuries than you. He likely will be walking out of here later today.”

“Erik?” Ivar asked his kitten. 

“My neighbor. He was driving us to the grocery store.”

Erik. Fucking Erik. Ivar did not like the overly friendly neighbor, the twat was trying to encroach on HIS territory. Now hearing this, he hated the man even more. The accident may not have been entirely his fault, but Kari was injured and traumatized while in his presence. That was unforgivable. 

“Miss Larsen, is there anywhere that hurts? You were fairly nonverbal when you arrived.”

“My…my shoulder…and my neck.”

“May I take a look?”

Ivar loathed to separate from her, but he removed his arm from behind her so the doctor would examine her. Damn, if he was going to move though. Plus with the way Kari did not release his hand, he doubted she wanted him further away. 

The doctor opened his mouth, but at the look that promised death on Ivar's face, he wisely did not ask Ivar to move. 

“Hmm.” The doctor hummed as he looked at Kari's neck and ran a hand along the slender column. Gently, he tugged the neckline of her sweater to see better after touching it and asking if his touch caused pain.  

Ivar gritted his teeth, as he glared with disdain at the invasive doctor. He was ready to intervene any moment the doctor went too far in his opinion but a purposeful squeeze from Kari's hand brought him back down. To distract them both, he brought their entwined fingers to his mouth. Teasingly, he kissed each of her knuckles as he held eye contact and gave a cheeky wink. His heart soared as a faint blush warmed her cheeks and a small, shy smile turned the corners of her lips up.

“Well, Miss Larsen,” the doctor stepped back and scribbled on his chart, “I do not see anything too concerning. I suspect the pain is from whiplash and the seat belt tightening. I can already see some bruising beginning on your shoulder, which may worsen. Unless the pain dramatically increases, you will be fine. You will be sore for a few days. My suggestion is to take some over the counter pain meds and rest for the next several days. If the pain worsens, either in your body or your head, come back to the ER. Any increasing headaches, double vision, spots in your vision, fainting, anything along those lines, please return and we will check on your concussion again. Before I release you, do you have anywhere to stay that someone can watch over you?”

“She's staying with me.”

Both the doctor's and Kari's gazes swung back to him but he only stared resolute at the man that needed to hurry the fuck up. 

“Alright…Miss, are you agreeable to that?” 

She nodded silently. 

“Good. One final question, the paramedics were quite concerned about your hysterics. They made note that you only seemed to calm once they helped you out of the vehicle and even then you were silent and unresponsive for a period of time. Do you remember any of this?”

“Yes.” She croaked out, a violent shiver shaking her fragile form. 

“Can you explain what happened?”

“Is this fucking necessary?” Ivar seethed, curling his arm protectively around her and tugging her back into his side. 

“I would like to follow through with–”

Ragnar stood up, blue eyes hard as ice as he stared down the doctor. “Thank you for your time and follow through. If you can finalize the release paperwork, we will be on our way and allow you to move on with your many other patients.”

Bewildered gaze swinging to every person in the room, as if silently questioning Ragnar's subtle rebuke, the doctor sharply exhaled and stepped back to the closed curtain. “I will send a nurse in to provide the paperwork.”

With that the intrusive doctor swung open the curtain and strutted away. 

Once out of sight, Ivar mumbled, “thought he'd never fucking shut up.”

“Be nice.” Kari murmured without any heat in it, more as if it was a reflex. 

Ragnar stepped around the bed and began rustling through the small rolling cart beside the bed. He came back around with an antiseptic wipe. Ivar watched as his father ripped it open and then delicately wiped away the lingering blood on her temple and ear, with far more physical tenderness than he had ever shown his sons. Kari hissed at the initial contact but did not pull away, closing her eyes and slowly taking deep breaths. 

Once cleaned to his satisfaction, Ragnar tossed the wipe into the nearby bin. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair as if steeling himself for something. Ivar glanced over at his brother, who just shrugged, his own gaze focused on their father. 

Ragnar crouched down, bringing himself eye level with Kari instead of standing over her like he had done. “Kari, do you want to leave?” He asked softly. 

What kind of dumbass question was that? Ivar opened his mouth to intervene but a cutting look from Ragnar had him almost biting through his tongue to keep quiet. 

“Yes.” She rasped back. 

“Mmm…” Ragnar nodded. “I need you to look at me, yeah? Good girl. Will you be comfortable riding in a car after this?”

Kari tensed and Ivar wanted to bash his own head against the nearest wall. Of fucking course! Why had he not thought of that yet? 

“I–I don't know…I'm sorry.”

“No, Kari. Don't be sorry.” Ivar pressed his forehead to her uninjured temple. “We'll figure something out. It's not your fault.”

Ragnar spoke again, all soft edges and thoughtfulness. “Driving Ivar's car back would be the easiest and fastest. If you are uncomfortable with that, we can find an alternative mode of transportation or we can ask a nurse to mildly sedate you.”

With a tremor in her voice, she stated, “I can try. I think I can do it. Just…could you maybe drive slow?” 

Ivar smiled as he pressed a kiss to her temple, a silent encouragement, astounded by her quiet bravery. 

“I'm certain we can manage that.” Ragnar grunted, amusement in the quirk of his lips. “One last question.”

She nodded hesitantly. 

“I need to know, if while we are driving, will you start screaming?” 

This time she answered shakily. “No.”

“Do you recall why you were screaming at the accident?”

“Father.” Ivar growled, disliking this turn of questioning. 

“I need to know for our safety.” He returned his sharp gaze back to Kari, but did soften his voice.“Do you remember?”

“Memories.”

“Memories?” Ragnar repeated. 

She hummed. 

“Were you in a car accident recently?”

“No…”

“That's enough.” Ivar snarled, tugging her closer into his side, as her quivering began anew. Whether it was those memories or fear that caused her bodily reaction, he refused to let his father bully her into an answer. He had promised to protect her…even if it was from his father's interrogation. 

Icy blue eyes shifted from his youngest to the trembling, young woman in his arms before nodding and rising back to his feet. “I'll be back.” He swept out of the small room, the curtain fluttering closed behind him. 

“I'm sorry.” She whispered, just before pressing a hand to her mouth and releasing a shaky sob. 

Ivar held her close, sheltering her from her own turbulent emotions, as she tucked her face against him. Careful not to disturb her more, he wiped away the residue of tears from his cheeks with his right hand, mindful of his cast. 

At the feeling of being watched, he met his brother's eyes from across the small closet of a curtained room. His favorite brother had always been an open book, easy to read his emotions. Even now, the relief and concern for Kari was evident in his eyes. Without a word, he nodded slowly and deliberately toward the woman in his arms. Ivar nodded in reply. A silent conversation but Ivar knew what it meant. 

Whatever you need. I'll be there. 

Several minutes later, when Kari's quiet sobs transitioned to sniffles, a nurse arrived with a clipboard and release papers. She nervously asked the two men in the room to step outside so she could ask Kari some questions privately. Ivar's hackles immediately rose, a scathing retort on his tongue ready to unleash on the nurse but a squeeze of his hand made the words fade away. 

“I'm okay.” Those blue-green eyes held his, even though red rimmed and watery, he still thought they were one of his most favorite sights. “It'll only be a minute.”

“I'll be just on the other side of the curtain.” He promised, lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. “Call out if you need me, kattungen.”

The subtle blush that arose on her cheeks drew a wicked smile to his lips. Before he could swoop in and kiss her, making them both forget the outside world, Kari lightly pushed on his chest. 

“Go.”

“As my priestess commands.”

Her quiet laughter followed him out of the room, lightening his darkened heart like an eternal candle. Hvitserk closed the curtain behind them, taking up a position mirroring his own, standing guard in front of the room. 

Other patients and nurses moved about the long hallway, some staring at the two brothers, but they were mostly ignored, the chaos and mayhem of the emergency room taking precedence.  

Ivar closed his eyes, rubbing a hand along his forehead to try and encourage the brewing headache to fuck off. 

“How are you holding up?”

He did not even open his eyes as he heard his brother's question. The exhaustion he had been fighting, dulled by the adrenaline from the phone call and finding Kari, now hit him like a semi truck. At this rate, it was debatable if he would actually be able to fall asleep or his body would crash into a coma, forcing him to rest. He just needed to get Kari to his house. If he could get the two of them there, then they could both rest and recover….and he could beg for her to never leave him again. 

He released a long sigh. “I need a cigarette.” 

“Want to step out? I'll stay with Kari.”

For a second, he considered it but ultimately shook his head. “I'm not leaving her.”

“What's your plan now? Sounds like you offered for her to stay with us.”

“Yeah. That a fucking problem?”

Hvitserk nudged him with his elbow. “You know it's not. Just…make sure that is what SHE wants.”

“I know.” Ivar ran his hand over his head. “I need her close by. After this…I need to know she's okay.”

“Well, with the way she wouldn't let you go, I think the feeling is mutual.”

Ivar chuckled quietly, warmth flooding his entire body at the reminder. He thought that perhaps she had forgiven him and they could move forward after this. Whatever that looked like, he would take. As long as she was by his side, he did not care what title it held. He just needed her. She was his morning sunrise, the stars in his night sky. Without her, his world was dark and filled with pain and anger. 

A new set of footsteps coming down the hallway had the brothers looking up. At the face that came into view, Ivar's fatigue drained away again. Fury pulsated like a second heartbeat in his chest, shooting its tendrils throughout his body like a living organism. 

Without a second thought, his feet moved. 

The nurse walking with the man seemed to take note of Ivar first and her face paled. She halted, eyes darting around as if searching for help, for someone to intervene. It was only then her patient took notice. 

But it was too late. It was time to pass the man's sentence and in this case, Ivar was judge, jury and executioner. 

He stormed up to the man, with rage a phantom above him and vengeance nipping at his heels. “You stay the fuck away from Kari. This is your fucking fault she's here!”

“No, the other driver–” Erik tried to defend himself but Ivar was beyond caring about excuses. 

Ivar shoved him. Hard.

Erik stumbled back and fell on his ass, unable to fully stop his fall with his right arm in the sling. A pained hiss slipped from his lips as his body jolted at hitting the floor. 

“Sir, you can't–” the nurse tried to step in but Ivar pointedly ignored her, his full attention at the man sprawled at his feet. 

“I don't give a fuck! You stay the fuck away from her!” 

He took a step back, his eyes, cold as stone, stared the man down as if daring him to say anything. He could see the scattering of cuts on Erik's face and body, most likely from the airbag, the arm sling, and the wrap around his knee. None of it phased the Lothbrok. He did not give a flying fuck about him or his injuries. Under Erik's watch, Kari had gotten hurt. Something that would NEVER happen again. 

Satisfied he had gotten his point across, Ivar turned to head back to his brother when he heard the resentful mutter behind his back. 

“Psycho asshole.”

He could feel the insult sink in and flow through every part of his body. His concern had been for Kari, with keeping her safe. But now, with that one utterance…the idiot had made this personal. 

Before Erik blinked, Ivar had whipped around and grabbed him by the front of his t-shirt. He hauled him up roughly to stare into his face. The youngest Lothbrok reveled in the shock and fear that coated the blond's face. People always forgot that he spent a good portion of his life crawling around when his legs were unusable due to surgeries or pain, which built up his upper body strength. Even now, he still enjoyed working out his upper body, being as strong as possible, proving he was more than his useless legs. 

“You want to say that to my face, you little fucker?” He sneered. “Huh?”

“IVAR!”

At the shout of his name, he looked over his shoulder. Hvitserk stood beside Kari, the latter with a hand over her mouth and beseeching eyes wide. A few paces in front of them stood his father, the one who called his name, poised ready to intervene and yank his son away. 

Without remorse, Ivar roughly let go of Erik. “Stay away from her, or I won't be so nice next time.” With the threat looming above them, he turned and headed back to his family…

…Back to his kitten and hopefully away from this fucking awful place. 

“Kari, you don't have to go with him!” 

Ivar froze. Again. 

“I–I can drive you home. I'll be discharged soon if you'll just…wait.”

The entire hall waited with baited breath. Only the sounds of the machines beeping could be heard. 

Yet his whole world had narrowed down to Kari. His eyes zeroed in on her, waiting, watching, for a sign, a subtle hint, instruction on what to do next. Did he go to her? Or was she terrified of him once again? Should he turn around and rip that little fucker's spine out of his body? As these questions whirled about like a chaotic storm, his feet remained firmly planted. 

Until her. 

Like a sunbeam breaking through the darkest storm, that was his Kari. 

His light. His life. 

With his name on her lips but no sound uttered, she held out her hand for him. Those stunning eyes focused on him, calling, summoning, drawing him in. 

And like a moth to the flame, he followed. But instead of death being at the source of light for him, there was the brightest joy and affection, belonging and loyalty. 

He reached out, taking her hand as he got closer and drew her back to his side. He planted a brief kiss on the top of her head. “Let's go home, kattungen.” 

Neither Ivar nor Kari looked back at Erik. 

They followed Hvitserk and Ragnar out to Ivar's car. Ragnar drove with his son in the passenger seat, and Ivar and Kari in the back. Kari was still tucked in his side, head on his shoulder and holding hands. 

As the vehicle pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, her body began to subtly shake. Ivar tugged her onto his lap and began softly speaking, trying to soothe her in his native tongue. Like a child, she tucked her face into his neck as if to hide from the world. Her hand gripped his with a death grip, but he paid no mind, encouraging and comforting however he could. 

About halfway through the drive, Kari finally spoke, her trembling having subsided. “Why do you have a cast?” 

He glanced down at the damn thing laying across her thighs. “Broke my hand.”

“How?”

“Boxing.”

“Hmmm…did you win?” 

He snorted, glancing at her, meeting her face with a small smile. “I always win.”

“Uh huh. Sure you do.” She rasped out, her voice sounding a little stronger but still rough. 

“Are you teasing me right now?”

She mock-gasped. “No one would dare tease you.”

He squeezed the top of her knee, making her squirm and squeak. “And you remember that.”

The conversation died out; silence reigned for a while. Ivar rubbed his thumb on the back of her hand as he rested his head on top of hers with eyes closed. Exhaustion crept back in once again, tugging his eyelids shut and numbing his mind. All he wanted to do was crawl into his bed, with Kari joining him, and lock his bedroom door so no one could bother them for at least three days. Maybe a week. 

“Oh no!” Kari gasped, abruptly sitting upright. 

Her sudden startle, sent a shockwave through him. He bolted upright, mind racing. “What?”

“All my groceries. They were in the back of Erik's car. I don't– I don't have money to buy more.”

He chuckled, tugging her back to lean against him. He could not believe she would panic over such a small thing. “Don't worry about it. I've got it.” 

“But, that's not–”

“Kari,” he interrupted her, grabbing her chin and forcing her eyes to meet his. “I'll take care of it. Understand?”

“Yes.”

She answered correctly but he could see - could sense - her hesitation, that wavering confidence. Something he needed to alleviate.

He released her chin to tenderly caress her cheek before guiding her forehead to press against his. “I'll take care of you.” He repeated, hoping his words would sink into her mind and plant there, for he meant every one. “Whatever you need. Groceries. New clothes. A car. I'll get it, you just tell me. Okay?” 

“You don't have to. It's not–”

“I want to.” He interrupted. “I want to take care of you. Don't you understand. I…I failed you but that won't happen again. Please, kitten. Please, just let me do this.” 

Time paused as he waited for her reply, for her agreement, for a sign. Anything! Forehead still pressed to his, she slowly breathed. Panic might have crept in to discourage him if he had not been able to feel her hand playing with his hair at the nape of his neck. She was still so relaxed, so trusting, in his lap. He knew all he had to do was wait.

And so he waited for her. 

Like he promised he would. 

Finally, she quietly sighed out her response before slipping back against his chest and cuddling close. “Thank you, Ivar.”

A wave of gratitude and affection filled his soul. A dopey grin on his face, he tugged her closer and laid his head back on hers. 

“Anything for you, Kari.”

Tag List:

@southernbe @tessakate @ivarlover @nothingtolosebutweight @beautifulweaselplaidsalad @noway4u @cdauni @istorkyou @ringpopdust @lotr-got

[sarahscribbles]

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐘𝐨𝐮

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐚𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟕𝟎𝟕

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

His hands had yet to touch you, had yet to even brush against the skin that never ceased longing for his elegant fingers, yet your heart was already thundering like a war drum in your chest. You craved his touch, yearned for it and the passion and power that danced beneath each fingertip. 

You craved him. 

Always, you craved him.

“Patience, darling,” Loki murmured softly from where he stood behind you. He sounded amused, as though he could hear how badly your body wanted him, how your every thought cried out for him.

The bastard was likely doing it on purpose. 

A very impatient sigh escaped through your nose at his command. When it came to Loki, patience was not something you possessed, particularly when your mind had been torturing you for a better part of the night by remembering the exquisite feeling of his heavy weight on top of you. “I’ve been patient! I need you to touch me!” you half whined. 

A quiet roll of laughter rumbled through his broad chest, followed in quick succession by his cool fingers grazing teasingly over the nape of your neck to brush your hair over your shoulder. They lingered for the space of a heartbeat, as though he were deciding where to start, where he should begin with his assault… 

It didn’t take long. 

His lips, warm and soft and possessive, were quickly at the side of your neck, switching between slow, innocent kisses and sharp little bites that had your knees trembling beneath you. It felt so blissfully good that the power of speech was lost to you, your only focus being on the quiet, wet sound of his lips on your skin and how you were already half drunk with need for him.

“Touch you like this?” he purred, licking a light stripe up your exposed neck that set every nerve ending aflame. 

A shiver wracked your spine and you practically sang for him. “Yes.” The word was all but a breath, a silent prayer to your god that he would bestow mercy on you. 

He hummed his approval and continued covering your neck in his marks, all the while cool, nimble fingers traced your back between the deep V of your gown. There was a reverence to his touch, as though you were the greatest treasure his hands had ever held and he still didn’t believe he was worthy of touching you. 

Practiced fingers released each pearl button from its hole, and his lips turned upwards to your jaw as he pushed the gown off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet in barely a whisper of expensive silk. Your nipples were already peaked when his hands slid around your torso to pinch one between each finger, rolling and twisting until his name fell from your lips in nothing but a desperate moan. 

“What is it you want, darling?” Loki asked quietly in your ear, his warm breath tickling your flushed skin. You almost crumpled to the ground when his teeth nipped at your earlobe.

“You,” you replied in little more than a whisper. “Always you.” 

He gave one last twist of your nipples - one that had you keen for him - and let his hands drift to your waist. Wordlessly, he directed you back towards the edge of the bed, stepping aside just as your knees bent to the mattress. 

“Then you shall have me,” he said, sinking to his knees between your legs. 

Desire for this man was coursing through your veins, threatening to engulf your entire body in flames if you didn’t get your fill of him. Even then, it wouldn’t be enough. It would never be enough. 

A sharp breath hit the back of your throat when Loki’s hands settled on your thighs, pushing them wider apart and discarding your underwear in one quick flick of his wrist. 

Your stockings remained on. 

He settled back on his knees before you, only to lean in and lick a warm, wet stripe up the length of your cunt. You couldn’t contain the piercing whine that tumbled from your lips to ascend to the high beams of the ceiling at finally be rewarded for your patience. 

“Tonight, I wish to worship my Queen.”

Tags: @sailorholly @joyful-enchantress @muddyorbs @ozymdias @fandxmslxt69 @trickster-maiden @lokixryss @silverfire475 @wolfsmom1 @lokisgoodgirl @cake-writes @vickie5446 @lokidbadguy @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @all-envy-suyu @erynion-rogueofthegreenwoods @gortycs @katehawke @123forgottherest @fictive-sl0th @lovingchoices14 @peanutbutter-y-jams @wintermischief @gigglingtigger

[alex51324]

Little snippet of a GO Fic

Not sure if this is anything? It started with the image of if Crowley called the Metatron's bluff re: restoring his angelic status, and then he's just up there wandering around Heaven in full demon mode, and everyone's too polite and/or scared to point out that they can tell he's not actually an angel.

Then I started thinking about plot, and it's not as funny as I was thinking it was going to be. Like I said, not sure if it's going to be anything, but the opening scene turned out OK. I'll be interested to hear if anyone has thoughts on where it could go from here.

Standing by the car, torturing himself with hope, Crowley watched the Metatron lead his only friend away.  The Metatron was explaining something to him, false-genially, and even from across the street, Crowley could see the moment when Aziraphale understood what he was being summoned back to Heaven to do. 

The Metaton stepped into the Transporter, and Aziraphale, who had been pointedly looking nowhere near where Crowley stood, now turned, at the threshold, and looked sidelong at him, pleadingly.

He looked very small, and very alone, and before he could think better of it—before he could think at all—Crowley had pushed off the side of the Bentley and was crossing the street, calling, “Oi, Angel.  Wait up.”

Aziraphale turned to look at him more directly.  Crowley could see him take a deep breath, the kind that shuddered in your lungs.  “Yes, Crowley?” His voice was steadier than Crowley thought his own would be, in the circumstances.

“Are you.”  Crowley swallowed hard.  “Are you sure you want to do this?  Really sure?”

Aziraphale glanced in toward the Metatron.  Crowley kept his eyes focused on Aziraphale’s face--he didn’t care to know what kind of expression the blessed bastard was making—and saw the glint of steel shining out from the cloud of doubt and reluctance.  “I have to,” he said, which wasn’t what Crowley had asked.  “It’s where I need to be.” 

Of course it was.  Aziraphale hadn’t even entertained the notion of running away last time.  Crowley wasn’t sure if his angel was once again thinking—hoping—that he could just explain it properly and the rest of Heaven would see the world was a mistake. 

But even if he’d learned from last time, he’d still think he had to give them the chance.  Even if they threw him in Hellfire for it. 

“Right, then,” Crowley said, turning his face toward the Metatron—still without looking—and flashing a brilliant smile at him.  “If you’re that certain, then we’d better give it a try.”

Aziraphale’s face softened and his eyes widened.  “You mean…?”

Crowley nodded.  “You, me, Heaven.  Doing Good.”

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, his hands coming up to clutch at Crowley’s.  “Are you sure? It—”  His eyes flicked toward the Metatron.  “It could be awfully hard work.”

“Course,” Crowley said, stoutly.  Now he did look at the Metatron.  “If the offer’s still open.”

 The Metatron’s face was very still.  He opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again when Aziraphale said, “Of course it is, you dear old—”  He giggled, shrilly.  “Dear old angel, I should say.”

“That’ll take some getting used to,” Crowley said, stalling for a bit more time to get up the nerve to step into the elevator to Heaven, for the second time in as many days.

“Perhaps,” the Metatron spoke up, “you have affairs to settle here on Earth, before you, ah, assume your new role?  Your,” he looked over at the Bentley, “material possessions?”

“Nah,” Crowley said, taking that crucial step.  “I’ll pop down sometime later and sort that out.  I’m sure we have loads to do up there.  Don’t want to miss anything.”  He turned to face the lift doors, shoving himself in between Aziraphale and the Metatron.  Then, before he could chicken out, he reached across the Metatron and pushed the button for Up.

As the doors closed, Aziraphale looked toward him, and gave him the faintest trace of a real smile. 

Crowley checked the angles of view and carefully, where the Metatron wouldn’t see, tangled their fingers together. 

The ride seemed to take much longer than it had when he’d ridden up with Muriel before.  The doors opened onto the same featureless not-space he’d seen in his most recent two visits to Heaven, but it didn’t seem quite as awful, somehow, with Aziraphale’s hand in his.

He would have let go, when he saw Michael, Uriel, and Saraqael there waiting just outside the doors, but Aziraphale clutched his hand all the harder. 

It helped, a little, that the trio of archangels looked at least as nervous as Crowley felt. 

The Metatron glanced at the two of them.  “Would you, ah, like to make the announcement yourself?”

Aziraphale, with his free hand, made an after you gesture. 

“Very well.”  Turning to the archangels—the other archangels, of the second rank—the Metatron said, “I’m sure you’ll be as glad to hear, as I am to say, that Aziraphale, here, has accepted the position of Supreme Archangel and Commander of the Heavenly Host.” 

They were all too well-conditioned by millennia in Heaven to say What the fuck?, but Crowley could see them thinking it.  Uriel recovered first, and said, in a strangled voice, “Congratulations, Aziraphale.” 

“He’ll need to be brought up to speed on the Next Phase,” the Metatron continued.  “I’ve read him in on the basics, of course, but the rest of you can brief him on all the details, I’m sure.”

The archangels fell all over each other to say that yes, they could, certainly, whatever the Metatron wished.  Michael, with a nervous flick of a glance at Crowley, added, “Although the plans so far hadn’t included any…close liaising with Downstairs.” 

Crowley affected an air of innocence and waited to see how the Metatron was going to deal with that one. 

Not very well, as it turned out.  “Ah, yes,” he said, and then seemed to run out of ideas. 

Glancing worriedly around the little circle of them—Crowley, Metatron, archangels, Crowley again—Aziraphale squeezed his hand and said, “Crowley resigned from the Other Firm a few years ago, as it happens.”  There was a hint of a question in it, and he looked imploringly at the Metatron.

“Yes,” Crowley said, looking at him also.  “I’ve been freelancing for a bit.  Consulting.  But apparently the Supreme Archangel has broad latitude to choose his second-in-command, so….”

Saraqael blurted out, “You can’t mean—” and then abruptly shut up, folding her hands primly. 

“I do,” said Aziraphale, just as primly.  “Crowley and I have worked together on a number of projects.  There is no one I trust more.” 

“But he’s—”  Uriel began. 

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, and nobody said what Crowley was.  Neither did the Metatron explain how this difficulty would be dealt with.  In fact, he began making little I really must be going sort of motions. 

If he thought the Metatron had the means to actually grant what he had offered, Crowley would have happily let him avoid the subject as long as possible.  But as it was becoming increasingly clear that he hadn’t, Crowley slid the needle in a little further.  “Yes, just how is this supposed to work?”  “The, ah.”  He gestured with his free hand.  “Change of status?”

The Metatron looked at him for a moment with intense and open dislike, before the genial mask slipped back into place.  “Well, I should think the place to start would be Form 26-B, Change of Rank.”  With a gesture of his fingers, the form in question appeared, on a transparent glass desk—or, rather, the idea of a glass desk—that had also appeared in front of them. 

Aziraphale picked up the idea-of-a-pen that was next to it, and clicked it.  The first line read Name of Angel.  “Should I put—” Crowley saw his mouth form the shape of a Name that hadn’t been spoken since the Great War, but the sound that came out was, “Crowley?”

The Metatron said nothing, and Crowley answered, “Anthony J., I should think.  Just to be thorough.”

Aziraphale wrote that, and on the line for Previous Rank, put “Hell’s Emissary on Earth, European Division.” 

“Technically, I was a Baron of Hell as well,” Crowley added.  “Order of the First Fallen, Chapter of the Fiery Lake.”

The relevant section of the form expanded to several lines as Aziraphale filled in this information.  “Should you properly be styled Sir Anthony J. Crowley, then?” he asked.

“Eh.  I never used it.”  It had been a small rebellion; everyone else in Hell made as much as they could of whatever titles they had. 

The next line was for New Rank.  Crowley eyed it with wary curiosity.  His old, old post had never been filled, as far as he knew.  He supposed he could bear it, if that was what Aziraphale decided to put. 

But instead, Aziraphale wrote, “Special Consultant and Second-in-Command to Supreme Archangel,” and glanced a question over his shoulder at Crowley.

“To Supreme Archangel Aziraphale, I think would sound better,” Crowley suggested.  Not that Heaven was likely to try to keep him if Aziraphale left, but he didn’t want to take any chances. 

Aziraphale made that change.  “There.  I think that’s all in order.”  He looked round the group with a pointedly pleasant expression, and got no objections.  After signing the document in both ink and a blaze of celestial Light, he pushed it toward Crowley and said, “Your signature, there, on the second-to-last line.”

Crowley studied the form carefully.  In Hell, even a requisition for lavatory paper involved five paragraphs of small print, but Heaven had never quite caught on to the value of a really twisty contract.  All it said was who Crowley was, and the job he was taking.  There was no word of it a lie. 

Swallowing hard, he took up the pen.  Carefully, he wrote, Anthony J. Crowley.  Then, with a glance at Aziraphale, he licked his fingertip and signed his demonic sigil in Hellfire. 

Absolutely nothing happened.  Crowley had known that nothing would, and was definitely not either disappointed or relieved to experience no change whatsoever in his appearance, perceptions, or ontological status. 

If Crowley was any judge of Aziraphale’s facial expressions—and, after six millennia, he was—the Supreme Archangel was also not-experiencing the same jumble of feelings. 

“Well!” the Metatron said, bringing his hands together in a clap, like a primary-school teacher.  “That’s the formalities taken care of.  I’m sure you’ll both want to get right to work.”

While the archangels of the second rank were busy exchanging looks of disbelief, Aziraphale said, “Yes, I believe the office is—this way?”  They hurried off before anyone could get up the courage to say anything.

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter 12: Uncle Jack

Season One | Season Two | Season Three

[Raining Hellfire Season 3]

Word Count: 2896 words

Warnings: swearing, voices, mentions of blood, guns, death just everywhere, mentions of killing

[A/N: I love Uncle Jack so much I named a chapter after him. UNCLE JACK SUPREMACY.]

Uncle Jack

You slipped through the door, entering the white hallway and blinking against the harsh lights.

With a look either way, you try to map it out in your head. You needed to go... right. You’d helped Steve sneak the kids to the cinema on numerous occasions but you had never gone further than the door outside Scoops Ahoy.

You walk at a fast pace, hand hovering over the scalpel you had pocketed from the interrogation room. If any Russians decided to use this hallway, you sure as hell weren’t going to allow any surprises.

Even if they did have guns.

Shit, you thought, I really didn’t think this through.

There’s a whisper behind you and you whip your head around, pulling out the scalpel.

With no one lurking behind you, you quicken your pace, looking out for the familiar sign taped to a door.

“this is the end”

You look over your shoulder, still walking. But no one was there.

Goosebumps begin to trail along your skin and your heart speeds a thousand times faster. It was trying to get into your head again.

You sprint faster, shoes squeaking against the polished floor as you skid to a stop outside your destination.

“THIS IS THE END”

The voice screamed in a terrifying echo down the hallway and you ran inside, slamming the door shut behind you with a pant.

You head straight to the employee room, searching in the dark for the bulky object. Your hand glides over something bumpy. The radio.

You grab it, immediately switching it on.

“Does anybody copy?” You say, radio held to your mouth, “I repeat, does anybody copy?”

“Y/n?” Max’s voice comes out from the other side, a distant rustle in the back ground.

“Max! Thank god.”

“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for ages, Billy-”

“He’s been possessed by the Mind Flayer, I know.” You quickly say, “Look, I’m with Steve and Dustin, Robin and Erica as well, and we’re all trapped in the mall-”

“The mall?!” She sounds startled and your eyes widened.

“Yeah?”

“Look, we’re heading there now. Billy just attacked us and El used her awesome mind thingy so we know about the gate.”

“What? No! Don’t come here, there’s-”

The radio suddenly cuts off and you pull away from it, frowning.

A blinking red light stares back at you.

“Fucking batteries!” You toss the radio back onto the table, running hand through your hair while pacing. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Just as you go to turn, the overhead lights suddenly switch on and you squint against the light, blinking.

Someone was stood in the doorway.

You grab the scalpel, holding it out while your heart hammered in your throat.

“What the hell is going on?!”

You lower the scalpel, eyes adjusting to the light. Your breath hitches.

“Jack?!” Your jaw drops as you shake your head, “What- what are you doing here?”

“I came looking for you when you didn’t show up for dinner.” He frowns, staring at the scalpel in your hand. “Now, going back to my first question. What the hell is going on?!”

You sigh, eyes tearing. But you shake them off, focusing on your uncle.

“It’s really hard to explain-”

“No, kid, tell me now.”

You sigh.

“Okay, fine.” You take a breath, preparing for the greatest ramble of your life. “There’s some freaky shit going on in Hawkins, Billy has been possessed and is trying to kill everybody but it’s not really his fault, Dustin intercepted a secret Russian code which spiralled into him, Steve and Robin finding their base and dragging a ten year old with them so I went looking, especially since I pretty much rejected Steve even though I felt the exact same way, which is how we all ended up caught and interrogated with torture but we all escaped.”

You take another breath.

“Max and the others are in danger, El has powers, Dustin’s radio is broken, Erica wants ice cream, Steve and Robin are drugged, and the Russians are after us with guns because they think that we’re spies.”

You inhale the biggest breath of your life, leaning with your hands on your knees.

You finish panting, looking up and waiting for some kind of reaction. But Jack just focused on the blood soaked bandage on your leg, the way your hair was a complete mess and the various cuts on your face staining your lips with blood.

It was all he needed to believe you.

“Then let’s get you the hell out of here. But when we do, you are explaining everything to me.” He says, walking out.

After the shock left you, you ran out to follow him.

“Wait!” You said as he headed to the front counter, “We need to use the back-”

In that moment, the back door burst open and two very angry Russian men entered the room, eyes focusing on you.

One shouted, alerting the other of your presence and Jack grabbed your arm, pulling you with him.

“Move!”

You sprint out of the shop, avoiding the counter and running out into the first floor of the mall. You turn around to see that Jack has managed to block the door, running over to you.

“Is that even gonna hold them?” You ask.

Gun fire blares into the air and chunks of the door start flying off, the chairs that were stacked tumbling down.

“That’s a no.” Jack says, grabbing your hand and tugging you along with him as you ran across the mall.

Bullets start firing behind you and you scream, both of you ducking down while making your way towards the escalators.

“Shit.” Jack muttered, looking up at barrier put in front of the escalators. “Screw this.”

He tugged against the metal, pulling it hard enough for it to clamber down to the ground and he reaches out to you, pushing you up.

“Keep your head low and keep moving.” He instructs and you follow, practically crawling up the steps, all the way to the top.

There are more shouts from below and, thankfully, you both move out of the way before the Russians fire the guns upwards, barely missing Jack’s leg.

“Move, move, move.” He pushes you across the first level of the mall, panting.

“There.” You pant, pointing to a shop next to ‘The Great Cookie’.

You both start to run over when out of the corner of your eye, you see Steve, Robin, Dustin and Erica slide behind the counter.

“No!” Jack yells.

You stop moving, looking to him. He had his hands held in the air, frightened eyes staring at you.

You turn around.

You had been too distracted to see the man with a ponytail stood in front of you, multiple men with guns behind him.

You freeze.

The ponytailed man stares at you, a smirk creeping onto his lips.

“Found you, American.”

Four heads poke up from behind the counter, obviously as to why the pursuit on them stopped.

You glance over, eyes locking with Steve and you saw his face drop.

The ponytailed man raises his hand, motioning to the counter and the men behind him slowly walk over, guns pointed at your friends.

“No.” You whisper, watching as your friends disappear behind the wood, undoubtedly waiting to be caught and killed.

The ponytailed man raises his own gun in one hand, staring straight at you. “Bye, bye, American.”

And just like that, he pulled the trigger.

You instinctively squeezed your eyes shut. It all happened too fast for you to move out of the way in time.

You waited for the bullet to pierce your skin, already feeling the pain.

You had fought Demogorgons and Shadow Monsters and yet, you were about to be killed by a man-made gun.

How ironic is that?

The bullet never came.

You hear a grunt and you snap open your eyes.

Suddenly, a car crashes into the armed men, twisting in the air to spin and hit the ponytailed man and soon enough, he was flung across the food hall, blood pouring from his head as he laid, motionless.

You let out a breath, turning back to face in front of you.

“El!” You smiled at your uncle. When did he get there?

Jack stood with a sad smile and you frown. When did he get there?

You lower your gaze to where his hands shook.

When did he get there?

Blood stained his skin, droplets marking the ground beneath him.

When did he get there????

Your eyes widen and your heart beat stops. And then, it felt like everything happened in slow motion.

Jack collapses to the floor and you run to him, tears already falling.

“NO!” You scream, falling to the floor and pressing your hands against the bullet wound in his chest, furiously shaking your head. “No, no, no, no. No! This isn’t- NO – this isn’t happening!”

“Y/n…” Jack whispered weakly.

“No, don’t speak,” You sob, pressing down on him, blood spilling out between your fingers, “You’re gonna be okay. You- you have to be okay. Please. HELP! HELP ME!”

He reaches his hand up to you, gently placing it on your cheek. His blood was surely clinging to your cheek now but you didn’t care.

“You…” He struggles to breath, a red line falling from his mouth and down his chin. “Are… the best daughter… I could have... asked for.”

“No, no.” You shake your head, tear drops falling onto your hands as you leant over his body, “You’re gonna be fine. You will- SOMEBODY HELP ME!”

“It’s okay.” He whispers, a weak smile stretching across his face as he coughs, “You’re… you’re gonna be okay, kid.”

“PLEASE!” You scream, your voice cracking through the tears.

You notice Steve suddenly run around from the other side of the wreckage, Robin following closely behind. Once he finally sees why you’re screaming, his heart drops. Robin’s hand fly to cover her mouth, eyes misting over.

“Please don’t leave me.” You cry, staring into his eyes.

Your whole life, you just wanted a father that loved you as much as you loved him. One that could see your faults and still care for you, regardless. Sam Mayfield had never been that father to you. He had let you down in more ways than one and you never thought you’d need any kind of figure in your life again. Not Sam. Not Susan.

You were thrust into Jack’s care in a matter of a night. He wasn’t prepared. He had just lost the only person he had ever cared for and now he was expected to raise a child. But, as it turns out, she was exactly what he needed. He needed the world to tell him that he was needed. And you needed him. He quit drinking. He changed his job just so he could spend more time with you, to make you feel like you had a family and a safe place to come home to. He became a father, for you.

And now, all that time you spent searching for your biological parents had been a distraction from what was already in front of you.

A real father.

“Do me a favour.” He nods, bringing his other hand to grip tightly onto yours.

“No, you’re not dying. Listen to me-”

“Please.” He whispers and you stop, heart wrenching with each second that faded by.

You nod, another tear rolling down your cheek.

“Just remember… remember that, if you love…”

“I will never truly be alone.” You finish, a sorrowful laugh leaving your lips as he smiles up at you.

“You are never alone, kid.” He says before he starts coughing up blood and you straighten, shaking your head.

“No, no! Stay with me! Stay with me, please, god, stay with me!”

You keep screaming until his breathing stops, a stray tear rolling down his face.

The hand that held your cheek slowly fell to the floor and your heart is shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, slicing through the mental armour you had built for years and years.

You lean forward, placing your head over your hands as silent tears come streaming down.

Steve runs over to you, dropping to his knees.

“Y/n…”

“No.” You cry, “No. This isn’t happening.”

Steve shakes away his tears, arm reaching out to hold you and gently tug you away from your father’s lifeless body.

“NO!” You scream and scream as Steve pulls you away, using everything in you to push away from him. But his grip stayed tight.

He pulls you into a firm hug and you still struggled against him for a moment until every fight you had left and you collapsed into his arms, sobbing into his shirt.

“I’ve got you.” He whispered, his arms never loosening their hold on you as you cried, stroking your hair.

He held you like that for a long time, Robin walking over and crouching beside you, offering a hand on your shoulder as she looked to the floor.

“Guys!” Dustin yells, manoeuvring around the wreckage, “Guys, something’s happening to… El…”

He stops, voice trailing, as soon as he sees Steve holding you, Jack led still on the floor. He stumbled back before sprinting over to you, finding the space to hug you from behind.

“I’m so so sorry.” He mumbled, a tear falling from his cheek.

Your tears finally slowed, your breathing becoming unsteady pants.

Every thought in your mind circled around Jack, around every memory. It tugged at your heart, every happy image suddenly burning into guilt.

“It’ll be okay, kid.” Your uncle was stood in the doorway of your room, a sad smile on his face. He could see you fiddling with the ring on your right hand.

“I see you found her ring.” He said quietly. You had found it in one of the boxes of your aunt’s things. You remembered it from when you were little.

“I’m sorry, I can take it off-”

“No. Keep it. It’s time it was passed to the next person.” He smiled. He looked tired, but sober. It was a rare sight for you. “I was the one that gave her that ring.”

You could almost see the memories dancing in front of his eyes.

“Really?

“Oh, yeah. My older cousin gave me it, his wife gave him it, and so on. It’s been passed around for as long as I can remember.”

“Wow.” You looked at the ring on your hand. “How do you know who to give it to?”

“Good question. I never quite understood it. You see,” He took a step forward, moving to the bed and perching on the end, “when my cousin handed it to me, he told me it was for strength. It wasn’t until I met your aunt that I realised it was something we gave to those we care about. Mind you, it didn’t have to be a ring.”

“To think it could have been cold, hard cash.” You sighed sarcastically, earning a low chuckle from your uncle.

“That would have been nice. But the ring… just feels more personal.” He nodded. He sat for a while before letting out a deep sigh and standing back up, facing you.

“You should keep it. Funerals… they’re hard to swallow sometimes.”

“Yeah.” You agreed quietly, staring at your reflection.

“You’re brave.” He said sincerely, stopping just outside your door, “I know how hard this must be. Believe me. You’re stronger than you think.”

“So I guess I don’t need the ring anymore.” You half-heartedly laughed, twiddling the ring.

“Oh, I still think you need it a little longer. Stay safe, kid.��

“I like it here.” You reassure, smiling the first genuine smile you ever gave her, “I have a family here. And… just so you know… you’re always going to be my mother. That won’t change. But… I like living with Uncle Jack. I feel like… we need eachother more than you and I do.”

“Time doesn’t heal things by itself.” Jack shifted closer to you, resting his elbows on his knees as he leant forward, “Trust me on that. No matter how someone we love is removed from our lives, we are always conditioned to feel guilt. To feel like we should have done more.”

“How did you make peace?” You ask quietly and he smiles, thinking of your aunt.

“I realised that I wasn’t alone.” He smiled softly, laughing, “Because I will always have those memories. I’ll always feel that love. To feel something is what rids us of loneliness. And I had this pretty great kid who made me realise that love has a funny way of showing up when you need it the most.”

“You are never alone, kid.”

You finally shift beneath Steve’s arms and he lets you pull away, eyes searching yours. You look down at Jack laying beside you.

All that sadness, all that guilt, it was changing.

Into something much more powerful than anyone ever realises until it’s too late.

“Everyone you love, every person you drag down with you, will be taken from you”

Rage.

“Y/n?” Dustin’s small voice brings back your attention.

“I’m gonna do it.”

“Do what?” Robin asks.

Steve stares at you, eyebrows furrowed. When you meet his eyes, they’re misted over with a concerned gaze.

You stand up, everyone else cautiously elevating to join you.

"I’m going to kill the Mind Flayer.”

[A/N: I just killed off my own character. I'm gonna need a moment.]

Chapter 13: Enemies ->

taglist: @gnnnne / @beepisbeep / @paintballkid711/ @eddiesbirdie/ @livasaurasrex/ @darktimelegends / @jackierose902109 / @mvrylee / @chervbs/ @eternallyvenus / @nervouscatsuit / @f1nn-wolfhard / @hereiamhereigo / @ladybug0095 / @fangirling-4-ever / @astrolockley

[ajgrey9647]

Fox's Eye

Path of Hurt for Augusnippets

Day 1: gaslighting/hypnosis/brainwashing (late)

AU of Mind Games and Quad Life - diverges while Red is still living in the palace but having a crisis of identity.

He could just make out the faint, distinctive scent of rain as he inhaled deeply, the cool wind ruffling his shaggy, dark gray hair and the loose material of the shirt he wore in place of the skintight uniform that was his customary attire. Somewhere in the distance, there was a low growl of thunder, the approaching storm clouds heavy in their slowly gathering dance; a brilliant white arc of lightning illuminated their expansive girth. In the ‘before times’, spring would have been just around the corner, the breeze carrying the aroma of fresh earth while young green sprout pushed their way through the dirt.

There was a unique beauty in the chaos, storms often symbolizing a great trial or tribulation, but also serving as a catalyst for powerful transformation.

‘How fitting…’ he mused, a soft smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

Somewhere, lost in time and place, he’d read a quote about even nature needing to scream. This chapter of his existence, itself one long, drawn-out scream of agony and humiliation, would soon be tapering off to an exhausted whimper. And then, he’d draw new breath, open his swollen, tear-filled eyes, and begin to live…

‘My ‘existence’…an unexpected consequence of psychological torture, a desperate, splintering mind, and a gift from the Grid itself… All of it allowing me to be standing here now.’

Anyone familiar with the lithe man wouldn’t have recognized him as he stood at the window of his alcove. With the newer, less constrictive, modest clothing, black frame glasses, and sane expression on his face, this older man didn’t much resemble the wild, hypersexual human-pet.

The Ghost in the Looking Glass, as Red referred to him, seldom stepped through to take control of their shared, borrowed body, much preferring to keep watch behind the pet’s eyes as days, months, years, all blended together in a tangled mire of an unfair ‘half-life’. However, now time was running out. His canine cousin was in trouble, coming apart at the seams in light of the mounting discrepancies, blatant lies, and obvious facts of reality that for so long he’d been able to ignore or suppress in order to continue the whole charade.

Drakkon was determined to get his dog, hammering the young Jason Scott’s mind with every manipulative, cruel, and coercive psychic battering ram he could imagine. And while the former Red Ranger was strong and stubborn, defying the tyrant’s desires for nearly a year, the fact remained that he was a still just a child, vulnerable to tactics that even grown, hardened men crumbled under.

‘Poor kiddo… He was really a baby…’

Red had given Lord Drakkon his prized pet, the alter created to bear the mantle of living akin to an animal, something humiliating and degrading for a human like Jason. This had been where the Grid stepped in, the residual energy acting like a beacon, alerting the mythical entities that a Ranger was in trouble, that his powers had been stolen, not transferred or willingly given up… With the teen no longer in physical possession of his coin, it made finding him difficult, the ‘tugging on the spider’s web’ coming from a generalized direction but not a definitive location.

Together they’d found the traumatized child, huddled in a quivering ball within the burning ruins of his own psychic interior. The massive, ebony hound with ember eyes that would become Red protectively curled his large body around the boy, soothing him to sleep, while the fox kept careful watch.

And kept watch he had…

The sly, cunning creature watched from behind Red’s eyes, studying the evil Lord Drakkon, learning every nuance and minute detail of his expressions, behaviors, and habits, committing to memory the layout of the palace, of the courtyard and grounds…

Giving gentle nudges to Red, who’d steadily grown sicker, more mentally ill along with his ‘master’, sparking interest in skills and knowledge that would help in surviving alone, hidden away from the world but free.

The fox or ‘Ghost’, who had not yet chosen his name, knew how to grow vegetables, raise farm animals, live off the land… He’d spent close to two decades honing his abilities even as he’d devoured every book in the palace’s library, paying rapt attention to Garrett’s teachings as the old farmer kindly shared his wisdom when Red absconded from home when Drakkon was out…practicing with small potted plants and flowering vines that somehow remained unnoticed by the vile asshole.

There was no way for he or Red to ever return to the Grid, their connection severed once they’d chosen to cross into Jason’s coinless mind, nor would the primary identity be well enough to care for himself, too broken and traumatized to even speak, though he’d tried to engage the human at risk to his (and Red’s) existence.

So, the fox learned how to live in this body, as a person instead of a beast. It was strange at first to look down at his hands and not see his own brown furred paws, to not be able to wag his bushy, orange tail, to be unable to twitch his pointed ears or muzzle.

‘No wonder Red started becoming hysterical… He was finally seeing past the distortion, his unconscious mind putting pieces together.’

The canine was too emotional, unstable, and aggressive now; once he could see the ‘man behind the curtain’, or rather the man behind the dog, he’d remember Jason and what happened to him, leaving him at risk of attempting to attack Drakkon.

‘Which would have been foolish.’

In the twenty years, the fox had been watching him, he’d had to accept that trying to kill the fucker, take his coin, and return their world to normal had the same probability of a snowball’s chance in hell.

‘And death would never be on the table for me… He’d make sure I remained alive.’

Besides, his main objective, Red’s main objective, was to keep Jason safe. He’d always known there would come a time that his master wouldn’t be watching, a time he’d be too distracted or complacent…

When the hidden alter made his move, everything had to be perfect. There would be no second chance. Drakkon must believe that his pet was dead; just running away would only make the tyrant hunt him down, torturing and killing any and all who might hold a shred of information about his location.

‘He’ll never let Jason go… Never stop looking no matter what it takes,’ the fox sighed.

Glancing over his shoulder into the shadowy confines of the hidden alcove, his eye went to the bag he’d already prepared in anticipation of taking off at a moment’s notice.

All he needed was the right opportunity to ‘die’…and not leave a body behind.

[phantomdoofer]

Chapter 10: Moving Day

Not every day I get to talk to a dead man.

Giuseppe typed the last few bits of information into his report, saved the file, then emailed it to the required parties. The interview with Fake had been illuminating, to say the least. While it didn't give them any information on the psychopath's whereabouts, it had given them a lot of insight into his actions... and his mental state. He really is a sadistic nutjob. Vivisection, murder, torture... the clone had curled up like a ball of string towards the end, the memories terrifying them. But they were determined to get the story out.

Giuseppe leaned back. Almost want to cancel my retirement, just to try to find this bastardo. He shook his head. He was tired of doing this job, burned out.

It's in good hands. Just relax, Sepp, the voice of his old friend whispered in the back of his head.

He smiled. Still the voice of reason, eh, amico?

He'd finalized his new apartment's lease just the day before, a little place on the outskirts of the village. His pension was more than enough to live comfortably on, but he knew he'd have to find something to do. I'll go nuts otherwise! He'd thought about seeing if he could get some lessons from Peppino, but he hadn't brought it up yet. Let him get used to the whole thing first.

He sighed and looked around. Most of his possessions were packed already, being shipped. They'd thrown him a retirement party yesterday. While he'd smiled and drank and laughed, it had saddened him just how few faces he recognized. My generation's almost totally gone. Either dead or retired already. It was a big part of why he'd decided to retire to the village - having Mama and Pino nearby would be comforting. Shit, forgot, I'll need a vehicle of some kind. He shook his head ruefully. Getting old, Sepp. That should be proof enough it's time to step aside. Go for a less high-stakes life.

He pushed away from his desk and stood. He ran a hand across the wood, etched with years of scratches and wear. At least they said I could be an on-call advisor.

He snapped the laptop closed, and strode out the door. One last report, then we move on.

Giuseppe couldn't decide if he was more happy or sad about it.

~~~~

Giuseppe waved to the movers as they drove away. His desk had been the last piece of furniture to move. This was home, now.

Now what?

He stared at the pile of boxes and bags. For thirty years, his whole life had been planned out, regimented. Now he had nothing but time. The idea was... daunting. Scary, even.

Despite himself, Giuseppe felt a twinge of panic starting to rise. He tried his normal breathing exercises, but they didn't seem to help. He looked out a window. It was a gloomy, dreary day, promising rain later. I need something to do. Now. Besides be here.

He looked at his watch. 1115. Peppino's should be open.

He quickly grabbed his keys and left.

~~~~

Peppino was holding up the counter. The dreary weather was slowing down customers today, afraid of getting rained on. Gustavo was in the kitchen. Fake was mopping, whistling happily to themselves.

Peppino tapped his fingers on the counter. I need something to do.

Suddenly the door opened, and Giuseppe came in. Barged in, more like. The man looked upset. "Buongiorno, fratello. Something bothering you?"

The other man sat at the counter across from Peppino. "Decided I needed company. My retirement went official yesterday. I've got an apartment full of stuff and no desire to work on it."

Peppino sat up. "And you-a came here instead? I can't say it's much-a better here. Business is slow so far today." He shrugged. "Feel free to stay, of course, but it probably won't-a be exciting."

Giuseppe looked antsy. Was he always this jumpy? He acting more like - like me. Then Peppino chastised himself. Of course he is. He IS me. "Seppe, something else is-a bothering you. I can tell." Peppino leaned over. "Need to talk?"

Giuseppe hunched over. "More like walk."

Peppino called to the back. "Ay, Gustavo, mind watching the shop for a bit? I need to step-a out for a while."

Gustavo's cheerful voice came back. "Nessun problema, amico. I'm really just puttering around back here."

Giuseppe's eye twitched. Gustavo, Peppino thought. "Grazie, Gustavo, I'll be back shortly."

The two men stood up and walked out.

As they walked, Peppino looked at his brother. Giuseppe had his hands in his pockets, and he obviously wanted to go faster.

It's like he's running from something. Hmm. Running. There's an idea.

He ran a bit ahead of Giuseppe and stopped. "You-a know, ever since I met you I've-a wanted to see which of us was faster." He grinned challengingly. "Think you can keep up, Seppe?" Then he turned and took off.

Giuseppe grinned. "You're on, fratellino," and started running.

Peppino grinned even bigger as he accelerated. Villagers gasped and clutched their belongings as he zipped past, wind whipping in his wake. He hadn't had a desire to cut loose like this in months. He glanced behind - Giuseppe was way behind. He called back over his shoulder. "All-a that desk work got you-a slow, old man!" He laughed. He reached the end of town and, with no more fear of property damage, he accelerated.

He glanced behind him. Wait, is he gaining on me?? Giuseppe was slowly but surely catching up, smiling.

Giuseppe started laughing. "You're out of shape, fratellino!" He pulled up beside his brother, flashing him a toothy grin and giving him the finger as he pulled ahead.

Peppino pushed a bit harder, accelerating but still not quite keeping up. How is he so damn fast?? Both men's shoes screeched as they turned to avoid the oncoming cliff. Pepperman was outside his cliffside studio, painting another seascape. They had just enough time to hear a cry of indignation as his painting was whipped away by the force of their wake.

Peppino saw they were approaching the Tower ruins. He's got me on top speed, but I think I've got him on acceleration. Time to show him some tricks!

As they entered the debris field, Giuseppe slowed down to have room to maneuver. Not sure my shield will take plowing through some of this mess. He glanced over and saw Peppino hurtle up a wall, hop across several pillars, dive down, and immediately blast forward. Shit, he's got me there. And I'm out of practice on wall-running. Gonna have to risk it! He charged at a wall, lowering his shoulder into it and pushing his speed as high as he could.

BRAM

The wall burst into shards, Giuseppe laughing as he crashed through. He looked ahead and saw Peppino glance back. He was laughing too. Then Peppino casually ran up another wall, backwards this time, giving Giuseppe the finger as he did. Showoff! He lowered his head and plowed through several walls, as Peppino hurtled across the tops.

Peppino looked down and grinned. His head's as hard as mine. His smile turned malicious. But how's his balance? He jumped, spun, and altered his momentum so he plunged straight down. "INCOMING!" he yelled.

Giuseppe looked up and had just enough time to look surprised before Peppino's impact knocked him off his feet. Damn! Didn't expect that! Before he could get back to speed, Peppino had already blasted ahead, heading back towards the village. Gotta get him on the straightaway! Push it! Despite the fact the was losing, he was enjoying this immensely. Haven't gotten to cut loose like this in years!

Peppino looked back. Giuseppe was grinning maniacally, slowly but surely catching up. Not enough distance left to catch up, though! His heart was racing. Most fun I've had in ages! He pushed as hard as he could, determined to show Giuseppe up. Come on, faster! Faster! If he can do it, so can you!

Suddenly, Peppino heard a loud BOOM behind him and Giuseppe blew past him. The shield blocked a shockwave. Did he just break the actual goddamn sound barrier??

Giuseppe skidded as he tried to stop, shoes smoking as he slowed down. Peppino slowed as well. At these speeds we'd be through a house before we realized it! Finally they stopped just outside the village, where surprisingly, several villagers were gathered, cheering. Naturally, Noisette was at the front. "We saw you two take off! Everyone's been watching! That was great!"

The villagers agreed. "Should've told us, we'd have put up bets!" One said. The others laughed and nodded.

Both men looked sheepish. "It, eh, wasn't-a... planned, it was just... kind of a... spur-of-a-the-moment... thing," Peppino panted.

Noisette laughed. "Next time set it up! That was fun to watch! We can put up cameras, we couldn't see while you two were up at the Tower! We heard it, though!"

As the villagers chattered, Peppino looked at his brother. He seemed a bit winded, but he grinned and gave him a thumbs-up.

Peppino grinned. Maybe that burned off some of that energy. He walked over and slapped his brother on the back. "Mio Dio, fratello, how did you get that fast?"

Giuseppe laughed. "When you have a pack of demons on your ass, you learn to push a bit." He stood up. "You know, that's something we could do together - you're the only one that can keep up with me around here. You want to do some running training?"

Peppino thought, and nodded. "Sì, sounds like fun! I have-a to beat you, after all! I've-a got a reputation to maintain!"

The two men shook hands, and the villagers cheered.

~~~~

They walked into Peppino's, chatting and laughing. Gustavo was standing at the counter, arms crossed, with a sly expression. Suddenly they both started shuffling and hem-ing like a pair of kids caught with their hand in a cookie jar. "I heard what happened. It's all over town. Have a good run, you two?" He smiled.

Peppino scratched his head. "W-well, Gustavo, I just-a thought Seppe needed to blow off-a some steam and-"

"And you two held an impromptu high-speed dick-measuring contest for the entire town to watch," Gustavo interrupted, "and broke the sound barrier while doing it."

Giuseppe blushed. "Yeah, sorry, got a little carried away..."

Gustavo laughed. "Mio Dio, you two are terrible! But everyone's talking about it now. We got a dozen customers in here just from people who were watching your little stunt!"

Peppino perked up. "R-really? But where are-a they?"

Gustavo grinned maliciously. "They left. They're out wandering while they wait for their orders to be made. Now get back there, Peppino! Affrettarsi! I'll keep watching the counter! Giuseppe, why don't you watch? I know you're interested."

Both men looked at each other, grinned, shrugged, and went in the kitchen. Shortly Gustavo heard the sounds of tossed crusts and a lot of questions. There was a plop, a string of Italian curses, and a roll of Peppino laughing.

Gustavo nodded. Those two needed some time. And more. The door jingled as a customer came in. "Buonasera, welcome to Peppino's! Can I take your order?"

~~~~

After closing the pizzeria, Giuseppe had talked Peppino into stopping to get a few drinks. After recent events, Peppino was feeling a lot safer about such things. Have to watch myself, though. Always. So they'd taken them back to Peppino's apartment.

Peppino grinned. They were both gloriously drunk, but unlike the old days, he wasn't drinking to forget. It was... nice. Like old times. Giuseppe was good company.

Giuseppe grinned drunkenly at his brother. "Pino, I got a lotta scars, but I never asked you about any of yours. What you got for me?"

"Well-a course, I've-a got this beauty." He lifted up his shirt, revealing a massive scar right at his ribcage on the left side. He turned, and a similar one matched it on his back.

Giuseppe whistled appreciatively. "That's a nice one! Is that the one that put you out?"

"Yep! This is-a one that almost got me." He poked the center of the scar. "Shattered two ribs an-a I lost part of my lung. I huff and puff ever since, no matter the shape I'm in." He pointed at his right side, where a long line ran from back to front. "This-a one's funnier, though. Squadmate was so busy tryin' to shoot some stronzo he shot me instead! Hurt like hell, but didn'-a do much."

Giuseppe laughed. "So how badly did you beat his ass?"

Peppino laughed. "Well, I was gonna afterwards, but the rest of the squad did it for me! The didn'-a like the cook and medic getting hurt for no reason." He spread his fingers, pointing at a splay of smaller ones just above that one. "Shrapnel. Got-a those all over. Damn bombs would spray-a shit everywhere." He pulled his shirt down, then pointed at various spots on his arms, legs and torso. "Everywhere. Surprised I don't-a jingle."

Giuseppe pointed at various places on his own person. "Same, fratellino, same!"

Peppino leaned over, grinning wickedly. "What about-a you, fratello? I know about-a the neck one, and the face one, but have any-a good ones?"

"Several." Giuseppe, stood up, and pulled the back of his pants down. Clearly visible on both butt cheeks was a pattern of scars.

Peppino burst out laughing. "Oh Mio Dio! How inna hell did-a that one happen?"

Giuseppe grinned as he sat down. "Gustavo! We were in trainin' to handle demolitions and he distracted Anita without meanin' to. She set the timer for 3 seconds 'stead of 30! I barely had time t'get us away before it blew! Still got my ass scorched." He laughed. "Gustavo got his ass scorched a different way, course. Major was furious."

"I bet!" Peppino said. "Funny thing is, I got one like that too, in-a same place!" He stood, turned, and also dropped his pants a bit, showing a strikingly similar set of scars. "Happened in the Tower. Some deep-a part of the place, Pizzahead had sauce pools hot as-a hell. Crazy pepper man with a sword knocked me down and-a my ass went right in. Burned right through my pants. Never stood up so fast in-a my life!"

Giuseppe slapped the table laughing. "That's a good one! Where'd you find a new pair?"

Peppino laughed. "I didn't! Not right away, anyway. Ran whole rest of-a the dungeon with my ass hanging out!"

Both men laughed uproariously.

Giuseppe then lifted his own shirt, showing a long series of claw marks on his left side. Peppino eyed them. "Looks familiar. Talpa?"

"Got it in one!" He mimed a set of claws raking the area. "Lil' bastardo snuck up on me from the side, right where the armor I had at the time didn't cover. Hurt like hell."

Peppino pointed at his nose. "Got some the same way right here. I was being an idiot-a and offered to help one. Lil' shit clawed me in return." He fingered his nose, which popped alarmingly. "This one, though? Football. Ogre on-a the other team decided my face needed rearranging. He knock-a my helmet off, broke my cheekbone and nose. I got him back, though. Punched three of his teeth out!"

"Ha!" Giuseppe slapped Peppino on the back. "Good one!" Then he pointed at a puckered scar right beside his navel. "Speaking of hurtin' like hell, this one took me out fer a couple months. Had to stitch me up inside and out."

Peppino winced. Gut wounds were notoriously painful. "How'd-a that one happen?"

Giuseppe took a long drink, then shrugged. "Y'know, I don' really remember. It was durin' the war sometime, an' Gustavo got so worried he accidentally overdosed me a little on painkillers. Don't remember a damn thing 'bout it, 'cept pain. Woke up in the med ward a week later."

Peppino sighed. "It's-a been so long since I could talk about this with-a anyone besides Gustavo. An' he just-a changes the subject." He sighed again. "I think it-a bothers him, more-a than he admits."

Giuseppe dropped his shirt and sat back down. "We shouldn' forget like that. It's part of us. An' it helps us remember." He yawned, then held up a beer. "To the ones we lost!" He slurred.

Peppino clinked his own bottle against his brother's. "To the ones we lost." They both drank, and Peppino looked down at the table. The ones we lost. It had been so long since he could see their faces clearly. And yet, he found, right now, he could. The looks of hate and condemnation were absent for once. Instead, he remembered them as they had been - laughing, drinking, patting each other on the back and telling jokes. Peppino smiled.It's good to see you again, i miei amici.

He looked up. "Seppe, I-"

Peppino realized his brother was asleep, face down on the table, snoring drunkenly across from him. He drooled just a little, but he was smiling in his sleep.

Peppino smiled. He stood up, wobbled unsteadily across the room on legs gone treacherously rubbery on him, and grabbed a blanket and pillow. He draped the blanket across his brother, put the pillow under his head, and patted his back. It was nice to have someone he could show a bit of familial affection to. He lurched to his couch, turned off the lamp, and laid down. His brother's snores rang from the darkness.

Peppino smiled, his head full of pleasant fuzz and happy visions for once, as he drifted off.

[colorsofmyseason]

WIP word guessing game: smile, scream, sun, hand

Okay, that's a lot XD so here it goes...

Smile

“S-sure,” Leandro mumbles, opening the door wider so Ben could get in. He is aware that it's normal behavior for couples, but his ex never did that, so he never expects such a thing, much less from a fake boyfriend. All the same, he feels grateful for the English center-back, which may have compelled him to say, “Do you want something to drink before we leave? I still need to pack up my stuff, but I guess we have some time for tea.” Ben’s smile is blindingly charming. “I’d love to.” (Leo x Ben, fake dating au, supernatural au)

Martin Odegaard. The captain and star midfielder of the team. Nice, a little shy, with a smile brighter than a thousand suns. Pretty too. And while Leandro definitely isn't the type to quickly fall for someone, especially after everything that has happened in his life, he knows he won't mind having someone like Martin beside him. (Martin x Leo, supernatural au)

With a deep sigh, Matt finally pulls Fairfield's reins, causing the horse to whine. "Alright then," the goalie says in a resigned tone. "But I will make you ride her one day, just you wait." "I know," Rob replies, a smile on his face. "I'm looking forward to that." (Rob x Matt, supernatural au)

He himself has no idea why he does that. Maybe he subconsciously wants to warm Leandro up, or maybe he feels lonely and wants to be with the older man, despite his current resting state. Either way, Martin feels really comfortable there, and soon he drifts off to sleep. Perhaps the coffin isn't that creepy after all… And that's the sight that greets Kieran a few hours later, a vampire and a cat snuggling together inside Leandro's coffin, identical soft smiles on their sleeping faces. (Kieran x Martin x Leo, supernatural au)

Hearing Sun’s cry of pain and feeling his power returning to him after Void’s own death, Moon broke out of his prison and rushed to aid his brother. Unfortunately it’s a bit too late, for Sun had succumbed to his injuries, but not before he saw Moon returning, as safe as sound as one could possibly be after being locked in the darkness for goodness knows how long. He died smiling, telling the younger he loved him with his last breath. (Aaron & Bernd, supernatural au)

His childhood’s nothing but a fuzzy mess in his mind. Whether it’s because he has naturally bad memory or his brain’s so badly damaged by his conditioning, he has no idea. But every time he tries to recall his past, he can’t remember one single kind word, one gentle touch, or even one sweet smile, nothing but screams and yells and spanking and whipping, the last of which still left a few marks on him. And those remained until he grew up and started making his way in the world. (Pablo Mari x Bernd, supernatural au. Pablo had an unrequited love towards Bernd in this one)

He wanted to tell Gabi how glad he was to have the Brazilian joining Arsenal, how they could be a great team and so forth. But Bukayo suspected that many people would’ve told him that already, besides Gabi wouldn’t understand most of his words properly anyway. So he just settled with a wide, warm smile, the biggest he’d ever given to anyone as they shook hands. And as Gabi responded with a shy, tentative, yet genuine smile, Bukayo thought he’d never seen something so cute in his life. (Sakanelli, supernatural au)

Scream

The screams died down at once as if someone just flipped a switch. Pablo stood up straight in front of his superior, tall and obedient, his face showed no signs of any agony that was torturing him earlier. In fact, it’s now completely blank, as if any conscience and feeling he’d ever possessed had been wiped out, leaving an emotionless, mindless puppet at his place. “Ready to comply, sir,” Pablo said. (Pablo Mari, supernatural au. I had a whole lore planned for him don't judge me)

He had yet to state the rule when a burst of light energy suddenly came out of nowhere, knocking him down and sending him crashing to a nearby pillar. Pablo screamed as the light claimed his vision and his Chain of Judgement disintegrated in his hands. He desperately tried to cage himself in chains to protect himself, but the energy’s so massive he could feel the cage shattering around him, exposing him all over, blind and wounded. (Pablo Mari x Bernd, supernatural au. I nearly forget how much I loved him back then)

One swing and it was enough to leave Gabi screaming in pain as he lost the grip from the metal bars. He fell on all fours. Even more pain. The impact ran through the long wound on his arm, a fair few inches of flesh exposed to open air. One more scream, and Gabi forced the blood to clot on his wounds. It didn’t stop the pain but at least he wouldn't bleed to death. (Sakanelli, supernatural au. This part isn't my own writing actually, I give credits to @coffeebreakcreations for this one)

Sun

If Leandro tenses up for one-nth second at that remark, he hopes no one notices. They’re walking to the pitch together, Ben’s arm thrown carelessly around Leandro’s shoulder while the latter’s adjusting the restriction bracelet on his wrist (with a special amulet on it to prevent him from getting burned by the sun) and trying his best to act casual.  (Leo x Ben, fake dating au, supernatural au)

He looked at Gabi, face bright and fresh under the afternoon sun despite the sweat gathering on his forehead, an innocent look inside his dark eyes. The two of them had bonded over those long days of “injuries” and rehabs, and Pablo couldn’t deny that he’d grown a platonic affection over his younger teammate. Gabi also confided a lot to him, telling him every single one of his concerns, be it about football, London, or a not-so-small crush towards a certain teammate, but it couldn’t be said that Pablo had done the same towards him. Partly because he felt that he’s older and therefore couldn’t burden Gabi with his problems, also because Gabi’s too young and pure to know about what Pablo did in his spare time. (Pablo & Gabi, supernatural au)

So he just sucks it up (pun intended), does all his feeding at home or any empty room he can find in the training ground, wears his restriction bracelet with a special amulet on it to prevent him from getting burned to death under the sun, and he thinks he's done a pretty good job passing off as a human that he's not even sure how many of his teammates even knows that he's not. (Kieran x Martin x Leo, supernatural au)

“I drink blood and avoid excessive sun exposure. Oh, and I can probably lift a small car in one go. Aside from that, I’m not that much different from normal humans, Manu. I thought you knew that.” (Neuller, supernatural au)

Hand

He froze for a second and ended up taking a wild shot, and the ball, instead of reaching Gabi, rocketed high to the sky before landed on the other end of the pitch, almost hitting an unplaying Mesut. As his teammates groaned and voiced their displeasure about their “bad luck”, he just stood there, his face inside his palms, cursing himself for losing his concentration there. A gloved hand touched his shoulder, and he turned around to find Gabi. “You okay??” the young Brazilian asked in Portuguese, voice and expression full of concern. (Pablo & Gabi, supernatural au)

"Matty, we absolutely cannot use your pegasus to go to training," Rob sighs. "This is forbidden here and you know that." Matt scowls as he caresses the mane of the said pegasus – aptly named Fairfield – while the creature whinnies and sniffs Matt's hand. "This is much faster and easier than catching an Uber, you know. And this is 100% free." (Rob x Matt, supernatural au)

But the blow never comes. As Leandro slowly unscrews his eyes, he sees that Ben has placed himself between Leandro and Neal. His posture rigid and defensive, his hand grabbing Neal’s raised arm, while their other teammates gather around, seemingly ready to hold any of them back in case a fight breaks out. (Leo x Ben, fake dating au, supernatural au)

Leandro is lying there, perfectly still and silent. His eyes are closed, his lips pale, his hands folded neatly on his chest. And as Martin rather fearfully sticks out a paw to touch his hand, he shudders at the coldness of the skin, the complete lack of any signs of life underneath it. (Kieran x Martin x Leo, supernatural au)

The TV remote Theo is holding in his hand instantly slips and hits the floor. Cursing internally, he ducks to pick it up, not bothering to look around for the source of that voice. Of course it has to awaken, whenever he's thinking about Lucas and his enviable achievements. Of course it has to appear whenever Theo feels like he's at the lowest point in his life. (Lucas & Theo Hernandez, supernatural au)

The Spanish midfielder mutters something under his breath that might be some curse words in Catalan but at that time Bernd can't care less about that. Nevertheless, Busquets finally lifts his hand and starts walking around Bernd, muttering spells under his breath. He takes quite a time doing that. When he finally stops and drops his hand, a sigh escaping his lips, he says, "Well, there is good news and bad news." (Steno, supernatural au, bodyswap au)

He wanted to tell Gabi how glad he was to have the Brazilian joining Arsenal, how they could be a great team and so forth. But Bukayo suspected that many people would’ve told him that already, besides Gabi wouldn’t understand most of his words properly anyway. So he just settled with a wide, warm smile, the biggest he’d ever given to anyone as they shook hands. (Sakanelli, supernatural au)

Gabi was sitting on his bed with knees brought to his face. He was still pale, but at least not chalk-white, and though he’s wearing a hospital gown that covered most of his body, the scars littering his hands and lower legs from the bullets he received back then were still painfully visible, and Bukayo couldn’t help wincing at that. He couldn’t imagine how Gabi had been able to pull that act off, and despite his ability to repel the bullets, it must’ve still hurt like hell, but then again Gabi had been in a perfect trance when it happened. (Sakanelli, supernatural au)

Sooo yeah I guess that's all? There might be many more still but I have no energy to rummage through my whole computer lol. Hope you enjoy it and thanks for asking :)

fanfiction wip guessing game - ask away!

[annhellsing]

The Killing Kind

notes: this is something of a spiritual successor / sequel to my original naraku fic, a hundred demons. it’s a been a minute but simpin ain’t easy rating: teen, we don’t cross the smut boundary but this is just gross in some areas so be warned. pairing: naraku / reader word count: 1,604

His tongue is as a worm, slithering over the bed of your lips as his nails find purchase in your hair. He’s taking back that kiss you asked for, trying to show with the pain of his mouth how wrong you are to desire him.

He is again in possession of a body, with arms that reach and claim. Naraku is a cold husk, home to a hundred parasites. You can taste damp and mildew as you kiss him, the sick rot in his soul tainting his insides.

Naraku holds himself against you, his eyes wide open. Your lashes brush your cheeks, eyes closed and face tilted up to receive whatever he means to poison you with. 

Anything. He could slit your throat, you're so close to him. He could drive his sharp fingers through the soft skin of your eyelid and blind you for his own fun. In his head there are voices chattering away, demanding your sweet life snuffed out. A thousand tortures spring to mind, gruesome ways he could twist your bones and take until your fluttering soul is torn to shreds.

And yet one voice is above the rest, the defeated sound of a reflective monster. It demands him to pull away, and it is powerful enough to take hold of his limbs. Naraku forces himself backward, making you gasp.

Your eyes fly open, finding him and stunning him to silence. In your eyes there is no confusion or hurt. You only blink as a cat does, slowly and before advancing.

Respect is in your cautious steps, as if his arms that have retreated from your waist displease you. You seek to change it with the careful way your hands find his shoulders, slipping around his neck and cradling where his skull and spine meet. You pull him back against you, more gentleness where the tips of your fingers touch him than a shadow cast over his face.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” you say, pressing your chest to his. 

Naraku’s gaze does not waver, but for a moment you wonder if he expects your advances more keenly than he’d like to let on. Certainly he seems to desire them. But he has never been very good at hiding the way his heart is far from hardened. 

“When have you ever been able to control me?” he asks, the sneer in his voice is a knife sharpened too quickly. The blow does not land as he expects, it is the greatest lie he’s ever told.

“A fortnight ago you became very cross with me for teasing,” you smile at him.

And to your immortal shock, his breath catches in his throat when you very suddenly lean towards him. Stopping just short, sighing softly onto the cold lips you hold such adoration for. Such infuriating adoration, one he cannot puzzle out.

For you are content with the worm making a knot in your ribs, it seems. For the demons in his heart to move between your bodies with any connection. 

One of your arms falls to his side, your fingers curling between his. Naraku is terrified for a moment as you touch him, afraid for the first time that a piece of himself may be missing. The human shard in his ribs still cries out for the love of a woman, but the coal-black lump of flesh that was once a heart may very well now reside in you.

His flesh, your flesh. His tongue, your tongue. The rot inside him, the host has no new home to claim in you. There is no room for corruption when you have already stolen and consumed some small part of his immortal body.

Death is a choice that you will not catch him making, but he always imagined himself standing alone. You squeeze his hand tight, and claim a kiss from him even when he has the power to stop you. The soft brush of your lips is a heady contrast to his loving violence.

Naraku never stood a chance at conquering you, not when you’d kiss him both in pieces and whole so reverently. You bring him no pain, no more suffering than what he’s already suffered. His body has been eaten from the inside, holes torn in his soul as it was slowly consumed by moths. You hold what is left of him in your hands, he feels cold as ice.

“Why are you doing this?” he exhales, forcing his eyes open but powerless to do much else. He’s stiff and still as you lay your cheek to the baboon cloak draped around his shoulders.

“Because you’re not dead,” you tell him. 

“I cannot die,” he says, but there is an unsung question hidden in his voice. He makes no move to untangle himself again, having already been humiliated once with your ability to command.

“Then why are you so afraid of me?” you ask, your eyes are now open too. He wishes they would shut, perhaps forever. The intricate web of your eyelashes was more pleasant than the knowing way you stare now. “Why are you so afraid of a love you can’t feel?”

Because he does feel it. He feels it now in the way his misplaced heart careens towards yours, and gives him a hunger again for the long-forgotten peace of a cave with loving hands on him. He wishes for the first time since his devouring that he could be made of the same hope as you contain. The human heart he once kept behind his ribs, instead of a fist leaking poison.

It shouldn’t be allowed, the way you make him feel. The shaking of his devotion to hate and fury, the fire he starts burning twice as bright as that within no longer holds the same warmth. There is now a hole the exact shape of your mouth in his resolve, and you take advantage by kissing him again.

The singing hum of your breathing will not be cut short so easily. The urge in him to see maggots bloom in your corpse is forcefully pushed aside. His demon impulse is always present, but it is nonetheless impressed by your shrewd dulling of his anger.

You introduce an alternative. Not one that Naraku must act upon now, to which he attributes its success, but you feed the part inside of him he thought had died of starvation. Had he ever considered an end to the blood before? To a pocket of pride he could have for something other than destruction?

There is a reason he turned over Onigumo’s heart so many times, never finding the courage to discard it. For all his lust for power, it has never wanted to leave him. The hope that he could still have quiet, if not peace. Understanding, if not love.

“You think yourself clever,” he could spit, rage against the inevitability of that truth. But his accusation is a cold and decisive echo. “You think only of my weakest part, and how it might be swayed.”

His aching, fetid heart. That is what you advance upon, take without asking, borrow with no intention to return. And then you dare to kiss him like that gives you power. And he has to claw his fingers into you to try and bury that he likes it.

“Maybe so,” you relent. Your silly, little smile hovers before his lidded eyes again. Maybe you’ll touch his heart one day with your bare hands, even if it burns.

Your resolve is as strong as his, as bathed in blood and as consumed by evil. You could not purify him if you tried, decay colors your soul as keenly as it does his own. It’s why, he suspects, he feels so safe in your embrace.

For now it leans towards too tight, the strength of your arms crushing around him as you drag him closer. But his chest is to yours, there is a limit to your taking of him. And yet for a moment he wonders if you will succeed in taking more of him.

Your third kiss contains the bones of your teeth against his blushing lower lip. The shock of such sudden desire makes fine hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Your warm, little teeth worry over his flesh like you mean to eat him.

But never do they break skin, they remain consistent in their devouring pressure but offer no real pain. Only gooseflesh on the hands and arms that belong to a hellish collective. His heart in your hands does have power, the power to make demon skin crawl with frightening affection.

Goosebumps, you can’t help but smile as you put your hand to the back of his neck and squeeze. You’ve given him goosebumps.

You’ve made a mockery of his attempts to wound you, to cut a gash into your bleeding heart. Humans are a diamond mine of fragility, your weaknesses create a sick need inside them. A need to exploit that you simply will not allow. It humbles him how easily you can disprove his point.

Still, you touch him. You ghost your hands over the deep separation between human and demon, the scarring on his back with eight, cruel legs. There is a newness in your indifference for his evil that keeps his budding emotions from becoming a threat. Whatever you seek from him, it does not involve turning him from his course.

The world lies before him like your delicate life, easy enough to take. In one palm is a glittering jewel, and in the other are your warm fingers.