#there's a lotta hauntings in the area

[charlietheepicwriter7]

"Probably because they don't have a grave," Danny said, pulling out his vape. "Final resting places are--HEY!"

Nightwing held the pilfered vape above his head. "Where did you get this?" he asked, scandalized.

Danny jumped for it, but Nightwing was too tall! Even at 5'7 he'd have to use his powers to reach the vape; he had no chance as a 9 year old. "We're in Gotham! You're lucky I didn't get cocaine instead!"

[sdktrs12]

ch. three requested prompts : enchanted + “no way. i am not going in there.” + visiting a haunted house + carving pumpkins + “that’s how you chose to carve your pumpkin?” + “there’s a leaf in your hair.”  

“Hi, Mrs. Boland. That’s a whole lotta pumpkins you have to carve!” Marcus points behind her toward her strategically packed wagon as she sidles up to the picnic table and Beth folds her arms across her chest, leaning her hip into the curved edge.  

“Actually, those are just for display, but you look like you have some pretty impressive pumpkins there yourself.” Beth lifts her chin towards the assortment scattered across the picnic table and Marcus nods as he turns to survey the carved orange gourds with pride.  

“Yup! My daddy helped me pick them out. Well, mostly—I got that last one myself.” He bookends that tacked on confession with a conspiratorial giggle that has Beth huffing out a laugh of her own.  

“And where is your daddy?” Beth inquires, glancing around the shaded area for any signs of Rio.

“He’s getting us some hot chocolate.” Marcus replies and Beth turns her head, seeking out the food truck she knows carries those beverages. “You’re really not gonna carve any of your pumpkins?” Marcus’ incredulous question pulls her attention back to him and the corner of her mouth twitches up as she shakes her head in earnest.  

“But what about Jane?” Marcus’ eyes widen in obvious distress for his friend and Beth leans forward. “Don’t worry about Jane, she carved her pumpkins already. These are special, for the Halloween festival.”  

“Oh. Well, you can have one of mine if you want.” Marcus climbs atop the nearest bench and stretches across the table to carefully rearrange the pumpkins to face her, as if they were on exhibit.  

read the rest on AO3 here!

[prpfs]

👻 20, he/they. 3-5+ Para lit.

Your new roommate is a ghost, congrats!

Y/C ended up looking into a sketchy ad, on a sketchy site, for a sketchy apartment. Down on their luck and with little other options, they decide to move in to a shared unit. Turns out, the apartment is haunted, insanely haunted. Almost every resident is a ghost, with some sort of unfinished business keeping them in the apartment. And you're stuck with the most troubled tenant - J.

With a punkish attitude, a lot of trauma from their shitty past, and a substance use problem, J (or Jay, with an a-y) is a young adult who wants little more than to live a peaceful enough life on the edge of society. However, things were complicated following their murder and subsequent soul-confinement to the small area around the apartments. Restless, they seek answers as to who is responsible for their life being cut short - whether or not Y/C helps them, that's up to you.

A murder mystery? Interpersonal angst? Freaky FWB? Whatever you want, as long as we've got a chunk of plot, that's all that matters. I'm comfortable with a lot of dark topics, from dubcon to gore, I expect the same from anyone I write with. For reference, J is a drug-addled self-harming mess of a ghost. They've got a lotta shit going on and it's going to come up. Any character from any fandom is fine by me - you can bring your ocs too! :>

Leave a like, and anon will get back to you!

[junebuggeryy]

what's your character creation process? how do you come up with a design, backstory, personality, etc? which ones come first? and how long does it usually take?

ohjhhhHHHBoy. p. int ere st?  lotta pinterest. maybe too much pinterest. little picrew. pinterest and then picrew and then pinterest and then sketchbook, and then crying over one song you attached to them at 3 am. 

design is often the first thing that emerges for me? im a hopelessly visual thinker, enough that it’s exceptionally rare for a character to come to me without any aesthetics attached. doing a character without a design feels like im working counter to all my impulses. i have no clue how there are writers who just Make People without immediately attaching a color scheme to them. (quick sidebar: the most recent OC with this struggle was the character i repeatedly told myself i wouldnt make- which is why i find it endearing how many tags are” #op why would you ever not make this”. i didnt KNOW i was busy not-making a cutesy robot catgirlboy! i didnt know that for months and months at a time!!) 

even though i could probably get away with designing people in pretty clothing for eternity, i find i do often need to tack on one level of story or characterization for a concept to stick in my brain. for whatever reason, with my writing sensibilities, that usually means applying a single level of metaphor, often tying back to the visual element. xeno is x-rays- okay, so xe feels exposed and wants to climb inside everything to see how it ticks. roxanne is cubism- okay, so she likes exploring multiple perspectives but is kinda janky about it. prism is made of light, with multiple eyes- okay, zi loves the spotlight and needs attention or else zi will die. sometimes i have characters that come from the other direction- lorna is closed off and feels empty? okedoke, we'll put a keyhole in her chest and go with locked box metaphors. there's a sorta back and forth conversation where the emotion informs the "element" and the "element" informs the emotion, if that makes sense.

i think backstory is one of those things that can take the longest for me to nail down? its often the area that'll receive the most revision, while i "discover" these people in reverse. i try and keep my creations thematically strong and consistent, and sometimes it takes a while of screwing around with these fellas to really understand what they're "about", and THEN i gotta turn around and rewrite their whole life accordingly. ive definitely set myself up in a worldbuilding playground where the visual design also informs a level of transformation? which is just free backstory, bayybeyy. when characters do emerge backstory first, it's because they're very settled into the world, and these rare instances can actually turn into my strongest narratives?

im vagueposting the robot catgirlboy again.

as for how long it takes?? uhhHHH, sometimes i wind up drawing people for years before they finally tell me who they are. sometimes its instantaneous! sometimes the entity known as “cubsim girl” haunts your sketchbook for years, making fun of your art, before you discover she’s an alcoholic.

she is my harshest critic.

[icedmetaltea]

I don't know you and I don't know your situation. But I do know what it's like to have a high anxiety attack and needing to psych myself out of it. If possible, maybe go outside the camper and have a walk around it? Check the "slope" of the ground (if there is any) and actually whatever breaking/ties that keep the vehicle in place. this would also help your brain absorb just how flimsy/moveable the thing actually is, so that every little rock and wobble won't make the Freak Out part of your brain light up. and being out of the enclosed space for a bit will help brain as well. As for ghosts, unless the area you've parked your thing is haunted/said camper is very old with a tragic past? you don't have a ghost. white flashes is the anxiety.

Yea it's pitch black outside and I'm too scared to step foot out there rn... and no clue about the camper's past, for all I know my parents bought it pre-owned and the person who owned it before died in it or something. Which again, irrational, as much as I like to joke about ghosts I don't believe in them.

But then it's so so easy to believe things that are entirely irrational right now. Like I was talking to myself a min ago, telling myself that ghosts aren't real and even if they are like. Whatever??? So what if it's haunted, if I haven't died yet it's prolly fine. But then there was a bump outside and it scared the shit outta me.

For all I know there are deer outside, that'd make the most sense since I know there are a lotta deer in the area. Or any other critter for that matter.

But still, brain go worst case scenario. I can't believe I'm 24 and freaking out about ghosts, like my anxiety actually makes me this stupid jesus christ

[clumio]

lotta folks talking abt yona but NONE talking abt how nostalgic and sad the zora’s domain and ancient waterworks music pieces are…zora’s domain had pieces of the vah ruta music/instrumentation in it, which made it effectively chilling even with the area being relatively well populated, and the ancient waterway music worked super well with the atmosphere. the area itself made me think of the oot water temple, and the music had a part of the skyward sword Faron woods theme which made me very happy but haunted at the same time…ive loved the music so far but those pieces really stood out to me

[slav-every-day]

[griffintail]

The News

Summary: A part two to A Successful Test. Tommy reflects on the next few days after the incident. 

Pairings: Platonic! Tommy x F! Reader, Mentioned Wilbur x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, angst lotta angst, mentions of a panic attack

A/N: Just a side note, there’s a part where Tommy can touch Ghostbur. It’s my sort of headcanon where everyone can touch Ghostbur because he doesn’t have any other “abilities” of a ghost, he’s just super cold to the touch and is see through.

        Tommy slammed his axe into the side of the tree, his arm aching from the force.

        He didn’t care though.

        A few days had passed since…the test.

        Tommy couldn’t remember much that had happened directly after the explosion. He remembered yelling at Tubbo, he remembered being angry and upset and crying, but he can’t remember what happened after. Tubbo and Sam told him he ran off and Tubbo found him passed out in the snow, bringing Tommy back to his home. The older boy had run off and got Sam Nook, who got just Sam.

        He healed him up and bandaged the injuries Tommy hadn’t cared to notice he had gotten from being blown back from the explosion. The injuries were still there, it had been a little too long for the healing potions to heal everything completely. He had wrapped bandages on his entire left forearm and another on his upper right arm, there had been one around his forehead but he had taken it off two days ago, a scar formed.

        From there, they tried to help Tommy but he just wanted to be left alone. It was better if they stayed away anyways.

        Taking the axe out, he slammed it into the tree again, the sound echoing in the small wooded area.

        They had held a funeral.

        Almost every last SMP resident came.

        Tubbo had organized the event with the help of Eret and Sam.

        Tommy stood silently during the gathering. He saw everyone there, even the family that had betrayed him came out of respect for the woman that…that gave up everything for him. Slowly, people gave their words of respect for her. It wasn’t like Schlatt’s funeral, everyone cared and everyone was hurting.

        Tubbo had coaxed him into saying something, just at least as a final goodbye. Tommy hated the idea but he slowly came forward and stood in front of all the mourning people.

        Mourning because of him.

        “When the war first started…” Tommy spoke, everyone was frozen at his almost silent words. “When we fought for our independence of L’Manberg, (Y/N) stood with us against everything…She lost her first life…for Tubbo and me.”

        The memory always haunted the two boys. Dream and his goons had cornered them into a hole outside the walls and (Y/N) had rushed over the walls without a second thought. She stood as the perfect L’Manberg citizen, screaming at them, egging them on before dashing away, letting the boys escape to the wall.

        As she was making a b-line back for the safety of the walls, she had been shot in the back by Dream. Tommy remembered his scream then. He remembered screaming so loud at Dream, that Wilbur had come rushing out of the van. They drafted the Declaration of Independance the moment (Y/N) was back in the van.

        “She always fought with her words till there wasn’t room to do it anymore. …(Y/N) had stood for L’Manberg but she always sought people first. She tried for peace, for everyone’s freedom. And when…Tubbo was trapped…She gave up everything when I didn’t.”

        Tommy clenched his hands, remembering (Y/N) yelling at him and Wilbur.

        “Techno and Tubbo are alone down there! They’re our friends in case you forgot! If you’re not going, then I will!” She had shouted before ender pearling down, knocking Techno’s crossbow the other way, aiming directly at Schlatt as he pulled the trigger.

        She had pulled the panicking Tubbo out before the three of them booked it as best they could. When Schlatt came stumbling out of the white house screaming for blood, the crowd went into chaos, Wilbur trying to get down to the woman below. It had been Tommy’s fault then too…

        He said Techno and Tubbo had her back, they needed to get away before anyone knew where they were. When they got to base…(Y/N) was there first, she had respawned. She had lost in a fight; Techno, Tubbo, and her having been separated. Wilbur refused to let her out of his sight the next few days as Tommy had felt guilt rack up. (Y/N) assured him though, she was happy he left.

        The reason she had lost was because they stormed the tower and she became reckless thinking they were still in there so she fought to save people that weren’t there…Wilbur and Tommy would have most certainly had died if they had still been there. Or that was what (Y/N) always convinced him.

        It’s his fault she’s gone. It’s his fault she had no lives to spare.

        “She tried to stop Wilbur and prove we could still be the same L’Manberg.”

        (Y/N) had told him one day during his exile, when Ghostbur wasn’t there, that she had been in the button room when it had gone off. That’s how she had gotten Wilbur’s jacket he wore all the time during the era of PogTopia that she had worn till the end, a stitch in the middle of the back of the jacket however where…Phil had cut through. She told him how she pleaded with Wilbur, trying to convince him that they could make L’Manberg right again. Phil trying to help her and assure Wilbur.

        But Wilbur had been too far gone and told her that he loved her before pressing the button. It was one of the few times he had seen the strong woman cry. It was the first time Tommy comforted her instead of her comforting him.

        When the final fight came, she stood as the new spearhead for L’Manberg. In L’Manberg’s last moments, she tried to fight with her words, saying she’d bring the country back to its former days without the need for power but she had lost and they lost the last bit of their nation. From there, she simply just spent time with Tommy, Tubbo, and Ghostbur, doing research and loving them, still fighting for people’s freedom when they needed her.

        “She came to me almost every day in exile. She never gave me pity, she always made me smile, she always…she was always there.” Tommy gripped the end of his shirt as he gritted his teeth. “And the SMP couldn’t have lost someone so great.”

        After the speeches, it was a somber meal. Tommy was just angry at himself. Angry that this was his fault that he had lost the world such a great woman, that he made himself lose the best sister he never had. And his anger had only gotten worse when he had noticed that Ghostbur wasn’t there. Ghostbur was the one person that hadn’t appeared and Tommy started demanding to know where the ghost of his brother was.

        When questioning Ranboo if he had seen the ghost, he only got angrier.

        Tommy slammed his axe into the tree once more, having to let go of the axe from the pain. It brought anger to him now thinking about what Ranboo told him.

        “No, but I need to tell you something, Tommy.” He told him; his tone upset as he held his book. “I…I found (Y/N) before she went to save you. I forgot about it till I looked in my book.”

        “W-What?” Tommy questioned confused. “What do you mean found her?”

        “I was going to Eret’s when I heard her…I heard her screaming for someone. She was in an obsidian box. I broke her out and had to lead her out. She kept mumbling about you and another box. I-I don’t get what it meant…and her eyes were kind of unfocused.”

        Tommy had stood paralyzed in the room.

        “After a minute though, we heard Tubbo on the radio and she kind of shook herself out of it. She said…she said something about a traitor and you and just started running.”

        Someone had put her…

        There had been a second time when Tommy had to comfort his sister. She had fallen into a hole during Tommy’s exile, one of the various ones Dream had made. Tommy had laughed at first but took a moment and noticed how freaked out she was becoming. She was panicking.

        Tommy had quickly gotten her out and yelled for Ghostbur. The ghost had come over and noticed what was going on, quickly putting blue in the woman’s hands as Tommy tried to get her to relax. After, (Y/N) explained how she nearly lost and did lost so much to confided spaces, boxes, that she had developed a fear of them. Tommy understood what she meant, she lost both of her lives saving them from the confines of a box and she lost Wilbur and L’Manberg to the button room, a small space.

        As Ranboo was asking Tommy if he was ok, Tommy ran. He didn’t care about the protests of Phil, Sam, Tubbo, and some of the others. Someone in that room had trapped her. Someone had betrayed her and in her last moments, made her fearful, scared, and alone.

        It had been three days since then and his anger was unbearable. No one bothered him, scared of mood. The only ones that tried were Tubbo and Sam but they only got snapped at. But he wasn’t angry at either of them now, he was angry at himself, the traitor, Ghostbur, Dream. He was just angry.

        All of this is his fault.

        He put his hands on his knees as he felt the tears well up in his eyes again. He just wanted her back, he’d do anything to bring her back.

        …

        Sighing, he picked up the axe and left the tree. He didn’t really need the wood anyway. He trudged back to his house, ignoring the still in construction hotel as always as he came to his home. Coming to his house, he froze as he saw the last person he wanted to see.

        “What the hell are you doing here?!” Tommy shouted at the ghost of his brother.

        “Tommy!” Ghostbur float to him. “I have good news!”

        “Shut up!” The boy screamed. “Where the hell were you?! Where have you been?! (Y/N)’s gone and you didn’t come to her funeral or—or! Even pay respects to her! How could you do that to her memory?!”

        Ghostbur moved sheepishly, uncomfortable with the shouting. “Well…I…the good news.”

        “I don’t care.” Tommy scoffed going into his home. “I don’t want…”

        Tommy stopped as another transparent figure, wearing a large brown coat, turned around to look at him. The figure’s eyes lit up as they rushed in front of Tommy.

        “Tommy! I remember you! You remember me, right? I’m (Y/N)!” She smiled, as she stood in front of him.

        Tommy was paralyzed before tears poured down.

        “Oh dear, are you alright?” She asked coming closer.

        “Oh, here, have some blue!” Ghostbur smiled now, holding out the blue to his brother.

        Tommy didn’t grab it though and instead rushed forward, hugging the woman. He felt like he just fell into a freezing ocean but he didn’t care. She was here in some way…and he’d make everything right. 

         He’d make sure Dream brought her back too and he’d make everything right.

[ren-therose]

Stuck In the Web (Pt. 1)

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader (WC: 3.3k)

Summary: For the first time, you meet and Peter meet face to face. He isn't sure he can trust you, but you are able to prove it to him, which sends you both into the middle of a mess.

Warning: Spoilers up until "SpiderMan: Far From Home", angst, blood, just a really dark plot with lots of context.

A/N: I have been working on this for over two months. It is probably going to be my most in depth series with a lotta, lotta plot. I don't know how many parts there will be, as there isn't necessarily an ending planned yet. But for now, I hope you enjoy a little story for you and our friendly neighborhood Spiderman.

The sun was creeping through the windows, illuminating the sleeping boy on the couch. The growing rays of light caused Peter Parker to stir from his slumber, bewildered by his seemingly random nap. As he rubbed his weary eyes, they quickly snapped open, taking in the eerily familiar surroundings. Sitting up, he looked around, and to his dismay, he recognized the haunting cabin he had been in once before.

"Oh my god," he breathed, heart rate increase with every second of increasing hyperawareness. "...how am I, why am I..."

Peter began to hyperventilate, unable to finish his sentence, as he pushed himself off the cool leather couch. He was no longer in his spider-suit, but in a T-shirt that said "Stark Industries" and dark sweatpants. The oxygen in the air seemed to be dissipating from Peters surrounding area as he clambered over the back of the sofa and ran to the kitchen, searching for any clues on how he got there. There was no one in the kitchen, and no discernable evidence as to how or why he was in his mentors old cabin.

There was, however, a picture frame that caught his eye over by the sink. As he approached the picture, he stopped in his tracks when he realized what was it was.

The day Mr. Stark and I took photos for Aunt May at the "internship".

He pulled the frame off the shelf, a broken smile catching on his lips. His bottom one quivered, as he stared at the greatest father figure he'd had, but saw was there last moments together on the battlefield. He shook his head, placing the picture on the island and continuing his way to the back. His web shooters were still on his wrists, and he adjusted them to strike. As he walked towards the back of the cabin, he saw a door slightly cracked open at the end of the hall. He silently crept towards the door, pushing it open with discretion, as not to startle whomever was inside.

The first and only time he had been in the cabin was at Tony's funeral, so he didn't see much of the house. It hurt too much to smell Tony's expensive cologne lingering in the air, or the sight of his tech all over. Past the door was a well lived-in bedroom, with paintings and other assorted decor across the room. Flowers on a dresser, a few candles scattered about and a large window looking out onto the lake. It was a very feminine room, but more mature than something little Morgan would like. In the center of the room, there was a full sized bed with a rusty orange-colored comforter piled atop it. Peter approached the side of the bed, but stumbled back upon his discovery. There was, in fact, a girl, quite close to his age, sleeping peacefully in the bed.

Hair sprawled out across the pillow, framing your face. Lips swollen from sleep and cheeks softly tinged with pink. You quietly stirred in the sunlight, and Peter couldn't help but admire the way you so easily. It wasn't the most threatening intruder he was expecting. Nevertheless, this is, or was, Tony's cabin and some strange girl was living in it.

As softly as he could, he backed up to the nearest wall, and started crawling up towards the ceiling. He allowed for a web to drip from his shooter down to your nose. It dragged back and forth across the bridge, causing a tickle to rise. You started to stir as the web continued to sweep across your nose. When your eyes lulled open, you saw the boy above you on the ceiling.

"Peter, what the fuck!"

Startled by the girls response, the boy fell from the ceiling onto the bed where you were pulling yourself up while Peter uncrumpled himself from his landing.

"Woah, woah, woah, are you okay? also, you know my name? Who are you, and seriously, are you okay?" He said, signaling surrender with his hands, to show he wasn't a threat. You, on the other hand, were feeling like you could really be a threat to him.

Looking quizzically at him, you debated launching yourself across the room to beat the shit out of this ignorant boy, but decided against it, as you rolled off the bed, your over-sized shirt and shorts falling down to hang loosely on your figure. You began walking to the door, ignoring him.

"Where do you think you're going? Who are you?" the boy stuttered out. You shoved past him, making your way down the hall into the kitchen.

"Shut up Parker," you muttered, not knowing is he was actually listening. He chased after you with annoyance, considering how oddly comfortable you were in Tony's cabin. You were at the coffee machine by this point, turning it on, and reaching for a mug. "Coffee?"

Before you could turn around, a gooey string of web was around your wrist and you were being pulled towards him with great momentum. He caught you, as you struggled against the webbing.

"Who. Are. You." he growled. It almost scared you, having never seen him in such an aggressive state, not even in the throws of a battle. It almost impressed you, but below your nonchalant facade, you were just as angry.

"All these years, and I am the only secret you didn't figure out, huh Peter?"

"What secret? Why are you here? Did you know Tony?" he said with dismay, unsure if he could trust this girl.

"Of course I knew Tony," you snap. "I am his-" you cut yourself short, your voice feeling caught in your throat. You weren't sure if you were ready to admit it outloud to anyone. "Listen, if you let me go, I can make us some coffee and we can talk, Spider-boy," you mock, lightly tugging against your restraints.

"First, tell me your name now," he demanded. "Please," he added quickly, seeing that this wasn't easy for you either.

"It's Y/N, okay?" you say.

"Y/N. Tony never mentioned you," he grumbled, letting go of your wrist.

You stepped backwards to lean against the counter, pulling the remaining webs off you. "Like I said Peter, best kept secret," you shrugged, turning back to the coffee machine and mugs. You pulled two down, and noticed that the picture frame had moved slightly. "Did Tony have a secret daughter? Did he even know you exist?" You looked back at Peter, who was tracking his sight between you and the frame.

You nodded to the frame. "I remember that day. Tony came back particularly happy, saying that he couldn't wait for there to be a picture of him at you Aunt May's house; it was so weird," you chuckled, allowing the coffee to brew into the pot.

"You know my Aunt Ma-Oh shit, Aunt May! I gotta call her, she probably thinks I'm still-"

"I already called her. She knows where you are and she has been moved into protective custody by Agent Fury. We can't have you contact her though; in fact, you can't contact anyone for a bit. You gotta lay low Peter." You were now pouring sugar into the mugs, as the silent drip off coffee created a strong aroma of java beans.

"Oh god...I really fucked up... how did I even end up here?" he probed, moving to sit on the stool under the counter.

"Oh," you started, shifting uncomfortably. "I, uh...well, after everything with that dick Mysterio, Happy knew that everyone would be after you, and they'd look to him to find you. So, that's why when you arrived at what was left of the compound, you kinda...ended up...knocked out..." you breathed out, worried how he might take the news.

He stared at you, questions racing behind his eyes. As he began to speak, the coffee maker beeped. You spun back around, pouring the coffee into the mugs.

"Okay, but I still don't know who you are Y/N. How did you know Tony?"

You sighed, walking towards the fridge and pulling out creamer. You could feel his gaze on you, watching the way your body language shifted.

"Y/N, you seem to know more about me than I probably would ever want someone to, and yet I only know your name. You seemed to have known tony, and he wasn't a very trusting guy, so I am trying to give you a chance. But you have to trust me in return" he said, shifting awkwardly in his stool. You had finished pouring the creamer, and were slowly stirring the coffee as you listened. If only he knew how much it all weighed on you.

Picking up the mugs, you walked over to Peter and sat next to him, setting a mug in front of the boy. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

---

[Year: 2015, New York]

The air smelled sterile, like pure rubbing alcohol that slightly singed the inside of your nose. Your head rolled to the side as you opened your eyes, looking at the unfamiliar surroundings. It looked like a hospital room, but as you took everything in, you soon came to realize that it was much too high-tech to be any kind of hospital you knew of.

All alone, you could feel your heartbeat in your ears, drowning out the beeping of the machines around you. Your breathing quickened, and the beeping sound came back, this time louder and faster. You frantically looked around, trying to find something to hold onto. The panic was setting in when a figure materialized through the wall, shaped like a man. Except he was floating. And red. Your eyes widened, feeling as though you might pass out. And in fact, you did, shortly after he said "Y/N".

That was your first introduction to Vision, and the Avengers building. The next time you woke up, it was in a much cozier room, clearly decorated for a teen girl. There was still more high tech than you needed, but you were a little more comfortable. You got out of the bed and started walking around the room, admiring the thought that someone had put into the space. As you went towards the closet, you heard a knock at the door, and jumped back, startled by the sound. You were barely able to squeak out "come in" before the door opened.

A woman with red hair was standing in the doorway, very relaxed and smiling sweetly at me. But as she watched you back away, she gently placed her hands out, as a gesture to stay calm.

"It's alright dear, you're safe," she said softly. She began approaching as you moved back towards the bed.

"Where am I? I'm scared, please let me go."

"Oh sweetie, you aren't stuck here. I know there is a lot of explaining to do, but first, I wanted to introduce myself. I'm Wanda."

"Y/N. You look familiar, or maybe, sound familiar..."

"I have sat with you for a few weeks now, trying to help you out of your sleep," Wanda said softly, sitting next to you on the bed.

"W-w-weeks? How long was I asleep?" you whisper, afraid to know.

She looked down into her lap, her hands fiddling with each other before she said these words. "Over a year..." she said quietly, afraid it would scare you away.

And she was right. You were more scared than you had been in your life. You had never had parents, you were alone your entire life, but to have lost a year and be placed somewhere else...it was an entirely new fear. You began trembling, searching around the room frantically for more explanations.

"How am I here, how am I...why am I..." you words barely made sense as you sputtered through tears. Wanda gently reached out, placing a hand on your leg.

"Would you like me to explain?" she asked. You nodded frantically, choking back tears.

Wanda explained what should have been your death. The destruction that Captain America and the Winter Soldier had created during their fight left you, at only 13 years old, on death's doorstep. Steve couldn't leave you behind when he saw you laying their, blood surrounding you. You were just a kid. He brought you back to Tony and Bruce, hoping they could do something to save you. What they discovered was that while you were technically alive, you were also brain dead.

They spent months testing every option to bring you back, unfortunately to no avail. By that time, many of the Avengers had grown attached to you, especially Tony. He didn't want to admit it, but he always hoped for a daughter one day. He sat with you every night, telling you about how amazing he is and all of the new tech he was creating in the hopes of saving you. It wasn't until months later, when the threat of Ultron prompted the creation of Vision. The technology used to make his synthetic body, it was exactly what they needed to help you. Brain dead for over six months, and finally, with a little technology, as well as the help of two geniuses, you were supposed to wake up in a day or two. It took several more months for you to wake up. And now, here you are, finally awake and not even aware of what had been done to you.

Wanda escorted you out of your room into the shiny and clean hallways of the building, explaining who you were about to meet. As you walked into the large kitchen, multiple heads spun to look at Wanda and you. Tony, Nat, Steve and Vision were all standing around the island, and were shocked to see you awake and moving.

Vision was the first to speak out of the group. "Y/N, I apologize deeply for startling you earlier, it was not my intention. I have a problem with knowing whether to use the door or just coming i-"

"It's a-alright Mr. Vision," you stumbled on your words, unsure of how to address the AI hero in front of you.

"Please, just Vision," he said with a warm smile (who knew a robot could be as warm as he was).

"I'm Nat. It is so nice to finally hear you speak. We were all wondering what you might sound like," the other redhead said, walking up to place a hand on your shoulder, rubbing slightly as she smiled. "Welcome". She looked back at Steve, who was hanging back slightly. She nodded towards you, and the large man lifted himself off the counter he had been leaning on.

"I'm Steve. I am so sorry-"

"Uh, you really don't have to apologize Mr. Rogers. I appreciate you even trying to save me..." you said quietly, looking down at your shoes.

"Please, Mr. Rogers was my father. Call me Steve." You smiled up at the man, and he began to relax.

"Yeah, hi, and I'm-"

"You are Tony. Er-Mr. Stark," you say quickly correcting yourself. You stepped towards him hesitantly.

"Oh, so you have already heard of me? I am not that surprised, I am-"

"Well actually, I heard you. You were there weren't you?"

Tony looked taken aback by the recognition.

"You heard me?"

"Yeah. You taught me all about the workings of the arc reactor, how you made your own vibranium and why it is better than the original palladium...woah," you exclaimed, feeling a slight rush as you began to crumple. Tony jumped forward to catch you as you slumped down.

"Mr. Stark, my head feels funny."

Tony helped you up, guiding you to a chair, "Yeah, you're gonna feel that for a while, kid. I promise I will explain it to you when you are older."

For the next eight years, more or less based on blip time, you were a mini-Avenger.

---

"That is quite the hero backstory," Peter said with a hefty breath. By the end of your explanation, you had both gone through your first cup of coffee and were on your second. You had also moved to the living room where you sat across from each other in opposing seats.

"It's no radioactive spider," you joke, and he chuckles at the comment.

"So, what did they do to your brain? If you don't mind my asking," he asks with hesitancy.

"Oh, I'm a super computer." You deadpan him as his eyes widen.

"Woah, wait, I thought you were human?"

"Peter, I'm kidding. Kinda. They sort of implanted a super computer in my brain. It keeps my brain functioning, but also gives me unlimited access to the tech that Tony developed for me, as well as, like, the internet."

Peter blinked at you, his jaw slacked a bit, as he scanned you up and down.

"I don't have any metal sticking out of me dork, stop staring," you snap. He sits back, embarrassed that he had been caught.

"How do I know that you are not some person trying to kill me because of London? How do I know that you knew Tony? You could have made all that up!"

You roll your eyes and sit back, raising your hands next to your head.

"Alright, fine Spider-Boy. Believe what you want."

The voice wasn't coming from your mouth. In fact, your mouth was clamped shut, not moving at all. The voice was coming from the speakers.

Peter practically choked on his coffee as your voice projected around him.

"Yeah, and if you still don't believe me, I have something for you." Your voice projected around him.

"Hey Peter, it's Tony."

Peters head snapped up to look at you, as you stared sadly back at him.

"If you are watching this, then you have met Y/N. Isn't she cute? I just know you're gonna like her."

Tears fall from your eyes. Hearing his voice, even if he was totally pushing it with his comment, was nice.

"I wish I could have introduced you myself, but I guess the circumstances dictate that it had to happen now. Anyways, I guess you could call her your 'guardian angel'. She was my right-hand girl when I needed to make sure you were doing okay if I wasn't there. I'd trust her with my life, which is why she has been trusted with yours."

Peter stood from his seat and charged at you, pulling you from your seat. "What the hell is this Y/N" he demanded, tears sitting on the rims of his eyes.

You looked at him with fear in your own. You could tell he was scared, no doubt from the terrible illusions he had endured with Mysterio. Tony continued,

"Oh, shit, projection isn't on. FRIDAY, turn on the recording."

Your eyes widened, and Peter looked back to see a holographic Tony. He let you go and walked up to the hologram.

"So, yeah. Peter, Y/N, and well, Y/N knows you quite well by now. I'm sure you both will get along. I can't wait to see what kind of tech you two make together. Y/N, play nice with him. Peter, I know this is a lot to handle, but I promise you, it will make sense. Oh, and both of you should know that uh, I'm proud of you. Both. So yeah. I'll see you guys later."

The hologram faded. Peter looked limp in front of you, but you couldn't stand anymore. You feel to the ground, a sob escaping from your chest. Peter whipped around, to see you keeled over on the ground. He dropped down next to you as you cried.

"Oh my god, oh my god, I'm so sorry tony, i-i-i'm so sorry...im sorry..." You were veering on hysterical, unable to breath through the pain. Your hair fell around your face, and he saw your neck, which almost looked tattooed; however, Peter recognized that it was a tech grid, one only his mentor could have made. At the nape of your neck, there was, in fact, a small tattoo. It was tony's first arc reactor.

Peter reached out to you, hesitant at first, but gained the confidence to pull you into him. He hugged you tightly, running his hand through your hair as he quietly hushed you. "I believe you Y/N, I'm sorry," he whispered.

"No, Peter please, I-I am so sorry, I am s-sorry, it's all my fault..." you breath into him.

He pulls you away from him gently, looking at your red, tear-stained face. "What was your fault Y/N?"

"Mysterio."

-----

A/N: Please like, reblog and comment if you want more. My motivation is dependent on validation lol, and I also just really value your opinion. Thank you for making it this far.

The next part will be uploaded hopefully sooner than later, and it will include why Y/N is Peters "guardian angel". The fun really gets started up next.

[nikki-writes-stuff]

At the Edge of the Woods (Werewolf!Steve x Reader)

Summary: When you move into a cottage on the edge of the forest, you’re ready to start a new life in a new, quiet town. But when you attract the attention of Steve Rogers, a man who everyone in town seems to dislike and fear, your world is turned upside down after he decides that you belong to him. 

Pairing: Werewolf/Alpha!Steve x Omega!Reader

Read part two here! 

A/N: Hey, guys! So a couple warnings about this one: it contains stalking, a/b/o dynamics, non-con, dub-con, breeding kink, and a whole lotta sin. Also, this is my first time writing anything with alpha/omega stuff in it, so be kind! And let me know if you liked it or if there’s anything I need to work on when writing about this sorta thing. Thank you so much, and enjoy!

It was love at first sight. From the moment you laid eyes on the cottage, you knew it would become your home. The thing was tiny, barely any bigger than a shack, and it was a good fifteen minutes’ drive from the nearest sign of civilization. But you didn’t care; you were enamored with the thick layer of ivy that had overtaken the western wall of the structure, and there were huge bushes of honeysuckle growing along the edge of the forest just a few feet from the backdoor.

And when your real estate agent told you the price of the property, the deal was immediately sealed.

“You’re kidding,” you’d deadpanned. “That’s all?”

“Yep,” she’d grinned, clutching her binder of properties tight against her chest. “Quite the bargain, huh?”

“I mean… Yeah,” you’d laughed. “It must be too good to be true. What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, structurally,” she began, “The plumbing is on the older side of things, but it passed inspection. Same goes for the heating and air conditioning. There’s been a bit of a rodent problem in the past, but the appraiser said that a few mouse traps should do the trick to take care of that.”

Her smile had fallen at that point, though, and she shifted on her feet as she considered her next words.

“What is it?” you’d prompted.

“Well… The thing is,” she said sheepishly, “The locals have this superstition about the woods in this area. People say that they’re, uh…haunted.”

“…Haunted?”

You were barely able to contain an amused grin from overtaking your face, and with a shrug you turned back toward the kitchen, admiring the view of the trees through the little window above the stove.

“I know, it’s pretty weird,” the agent chuckled. “But people around here really do believe it. Something about an urban legend. I will say, though, that coyotes and wolves are known to roam around at night, so that’s probably where the paranoia comes from. Just try not to go out after dark. And if you get any chickens or outdoor animals, I’d keep them inside a kennel.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you assured her. “I’m not exactly a farmer. I’m just looking for a place to settle down.

“And I think this cottage is the perfect spot.”

A month later, after the papers were signed and your possessions were moved in, you found yourself happier than you’d ever been in your new abode. You’d purchased house plants and artwork, designing the small space until it was exactly to your liking. You’d even decided to take up gardening, and your tiny back porch had become dotted with pots filled with flourishing herbs.

You fell into an easy routine. On Mondays, you would venture into town, picking up groceries from the local mart and picking up any other supplies you needed. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays were dedicated to your work; you were the owner and manager of a blog that had become an overnight success several months ago, and so you spent those days curled up in the cottage, typing away at your laptop and creating content.

The only strange thing thus far had been the town residents’ reaction to you. Everyone was friendly, of course, and they’d made it clear that small town hospitality was a value the entire population seemed to share, but you weren’t oblivious to the way they side-eyed you. No one ever looked suspicious, per se, more like…expectant. Like they were waiting for you to say or do something, though you had no idea what it could be.

Earl, the bookstore owner, was by far one of the friendliest people you’d ever met, and after four weeks of the bizarre treatment, you finally asked him about it.

“Oh, don’t mind us,” he waved you off, sliding your new books into a paper bag. “It’s just that no one’s ever lasted long in that cottage o’ yours.”

“…Well, that’s a bit…unsettling. What happened to them?”

“Nothing,” he was quick to assure you. “Nothing bad happens to ‘em. It’s not like they’ve gotten hurt or anything. It’s just that, uh… Well. Strange things seem to happen in that part o’ the woods at night, and it’s scared the last couple o’ tenants off.”

“Huh… My real estate agent did mention something like that,” you admitted, starting to feel an irrational spark of apprehension. “What kind of things did they see?”

“Well… I don’t wanna scare you away,” he grumbled, scratching at his salt-and-pepper beard.

“I promise you won’t. I really like where I’m at right now. I’m just…curious, I guess.”

Earl seemed to consider it for a moment before giving in.

“Alright,” he sighed. “But for the record, I don’t believe any of the silly nonsense some folks ‘round here like to gossip about. This is a quiet town – a safe town. The only dangerous thing about this place is Mary Jo’s strawberry rhubarb pie down at the soda shop – I swear those things are the reason I got diabetes.”

You chuckled at Earl, and he gave you a warm smile before leaning towards you over the counter, propping himself up on his elbow.

“So, anyways, back to your house,” he started. “The last people there were this younger couple. They were nice kids – had just gotten hitched. But after a few weeks, they said they started noticin’ howls at night. Now, that’s normal for this area; we’ve got some wolves. But these howls were close, so loud that it woke em’ up most nights.

“Then, they started seeing people walking around the property around midnight. It coulda’ been that they were smokin’ some stuff they shouldn’a been smokin’, but they swore up and down that they saw naked men traipsin’ around. One time, there was one on their back porch, and the husband ran out to chase him off, but as quick as they saw him, he vanished.

“Again, I don’t know if I believe all of that junk,” Earl huffed. “But… the old lady who lived there before the couple said the same thing before she passed away, god rest her soul. And ol’ Lizzy didn’t lie about this sorta thing.”

You made a quiet hum of contemplation, nodding.

“Well,” you eventually spoke, “if I see any naked men hanging around, I have my handy dandy taser.”

A wide grin broke out over the older man’s face, and he reached over the counter to cuff your shoulder.

“Thata girl,” he chuckled. “I like it. And if you do see people hangin’ around on your property, give me a call, ok?” He fumbled around for a business card, eventually opening the cash register and pulling one out. “Call the bottom number if anyone gives you trouble, ok? I know I’m not the most intimidating guy around, but I keep a shotgun at the house just in case. And if the wolves become a problem, call the police. They’ll send some guys over from animal control to chase ‘em off.”

“Thanks, Earl,” you smiled, tucking the card into your wallet. “Oh, and before I forget, do you have any stationary? Letter writing paper, colored pens, that sort of thing?”

“I’m afraid we don’t. Oh, but Greg and Lou would probably have some. Try their art supply store; it’s right around the corner on the left side o’ the road.”

With that, you thanked Earl and walked out, clutching your paper bag of novels to your chest. You had to admit that the idea of wolves on your property was starting to scare you, but the thought of a naked guy just hanging out in the woods was enough to make you laugh to yourself. Even if it was true, you’d dealt with weirdos before. If that was the worst of your problems, then you’d be a happy camper.

You followed Earl’s instructions and immediately spotted a quaint store with a sign over the door reading “The Brushstroke”. Upon walking inside, you were greeted by the smell of paper and ink, and papier mache mobiles were hanging from the ceiling every few feet, dancing in the breeze that had flown in after you opened the door. Two men were standing behind the counter, sipping from steaming mugs of tea, and their heads popped up as you walked in.

“Hey, there!” one of them called, giving you a wave. “Welcome; come on in.”

“Hello,” you replied with a smile.

“We haven’t seen you around before,” the other man remarked, a kind smile on his face. “You wouldn’t happen to be the new girl in town, would you?”

“Word spreads quickly, I guess.”

“It does when you live in a town like this,” he nodded. “I’m Lou, by the way. And this is my husband Greg.”

Greg nodded in greeting, and you gave them a wide smile.

“It’s nice to meet you guys.”

“Likewise, hon. Can we help you find anything?”

You told them what you were looking for, and they instructed you towards the back of the store, where you found a wall filled with rows of neat packets of paper right next to a cubby of pens of all types and colors. You took your time in making your selections, not even noticing the door of the shop opening and closing; it was only when you heard Greg and Lou’s quiet conversation come to an abrupt halt that you glanced around the corner to see what was going on.

Your eyes widened when you saw the man standing in front of the counter; he was tall, maybe a few inches over six foot, and built like a tank. A thick, well-groomed beard adorned his face, and his hair was on the longer side, curling just past his ears in thick, easy waves. Despite the chilly weather outside, he was only dressed in a blue long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans, and you watched his biceps bulge under the fabric as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“…Steve,” Greg finally said. “Long time no see.”

The man – Steve, evidently – nodded his head as he approached the counter.

“Wh-what can we do for you?” Lou asked, seeming to shrink back as he walked towards them.

“I need a new sketchbook,” Steve mumbled, almost too quietly for you to hear. His voice was deep, resonating, and something about its gravelly edge made goosebumps rise up over your arms.

“You know where to find ‘em,” Greg stated after clearing his throat. “Just get whatever you need and go.”

It looked as if Steve was about to say something, but after a pause, he just nodded, ducking his head and turning directly towards you. You stiffened as he grew nearer, feeling an unexplainable urge to turn and run away from him, but then his eyes met yours, and you were frozen in place.

Blue irises stared directly into you, and you watched as surprise washed over his features. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath in through his nose, and you swore that you saw his pupils dilate as he looked you up and down. When his gaze finally met yours again, and you stumbled back a step, stunned at the look on his face. It was as if he knew you.

But that couldn’t be; you’d never seen this man before. If you had, you definitely would’ve remembered him.

“I-I…” you stuttered. “I’m sorry.”

You weren’t sure what you were apologizing for, but all of a sudden you were broken out of your strange stupor. Fixing your eyes firmly on the floor, you turned and blindly grabbed the first stack of papers that your extended hand came in contact with. You did the same with the pens, grabbing a random pack before turning on your heel and heading towards the front.

Or, rather, heading directly into a broad, firm chest. You hadn’t heard any footsteps, but while your back was turned Steve had apparently stalked up behind you, and now you were so close that you could smell the distinct scent of pine wafting off of him. Pine and…something else, something musky. It made your mouth water and your eyes flutter shut, and you could have sworn that you heard a deep growl sound from his chest.

The noise startled you so badly that you dropped everything, even your paper bag from Earl’s, and you felt as if your entire body was trembling as you turned away. On unsteady feet, you walked back to the front, glancing at Greg and Lou out of the corner of your eye as you headed towards the door. Lou was watching you with a concerned expression painted across his face, but Greg was still staring Steve down, as if he were sizing him up.

The cold, early-spring wind hit you square in the face once you exited the store, and it sobered you up enough to cease your nervous trembling. There was still a sense of blind panic, though, a deep-seated fear that drove you to march over to your car without turning back.

As you peeled out of your parking space and sped towards your home, you slowly began to calm down, taking slow, even breaths to slow the frantic beating of your heart. As you put more and more distance between you and the mysterious man from the art store, you found that, even later on when you were safe in your home, you still couldn’t rationalize why you’d felt the way you had. And that evening, when you were getting ready to go to bed, you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched.

Typically, you kept the curtains in your bedroom open, enjoying the sight of the forest laying just beyond the panes of glass. But tonight, before going to bed, you drew them shut before burrowing under the covers, hiding away from the lingering, unexplainable dread that had followed you home that day.

____________

You weren’t sure what had woken you. When you jolted out of your slumber, you were laying sprawled out over your mattress, your sheets tangled around your ankles. Everything was quiet, unsettlingly so. It was as if your cottage was holding its breath, waiting for something horrible to happen. The world was black beyond your windows, and the clock on your bedside table read 3:42 in the morni-

Wait.

The lingering tendrils of sleep within your brain melted away as you bolted upright, your wide eyes focused on your windows and the curtains that were neatly pulled away from them. Your heart was pounding in your ears as you slowly, deliberately, stood up from your bed, reaching for your phone blindly as you kept your eyes on the windows.

You drew the curtains closed as your thumb hovered over the emergency call button, and you gulped before turning towards your open bedroom door.

“H-hello?” you called out, voice still thick with sleep.

There was no answer, and you took a deep breath before stepping out into the living room. You were relieved to find nothing out of place; the kitchen, as well, was in perfect order, as was your tiny bathroom. You grew bolder as you searched your house, checking underneath your bed and inside of your wardrobe, but still you found nothing.

Eventually, you sauntered over to your back door, and that’s when you smelled it. Smelled him. The same scent that had flooded your senses back at the bookstore was thick in the air right next to the backdoor. You blinked rapidly, feeling a stirring in your gut as you inhaled it, and you gulped as you faced the door.

“…Steve?” you murmured, suddenly unable to make a sound any louder than a whisper.

Without realizing what you were doing, your hand came up to the doorknob, tracing the curve of it with your thumb. A tiny, experimental twist revealed that it wasn’t locked, and a small voice in the back of your head supplied that it was sure you’d locked it before going to sleep.

One more twist, and the door popped open, goosebumps rising up over your skin as the night air rushed over you. You turned on the porch light with a flick of your fingers and stepped out, wincing when the floorboards creaked under your feet. You half expected to see a naked man standing there just as Earl had said, but there was nobody.

You let out a shaky laugh, leaning against the doorway as your eyes flitted over the forest. You felt silly, getting all paranoid for no reason. With a small, sheepish smile, you straightened up and turned to head back inside, eager to climb back under your warm sheets and forget about the whole thing.

But that was when you saw it.

You stopped in your tracks and sucked in a deep breath as the wolf sauntered out from the tree line, its eyes focused directly on you just as yours were focused on it. Its fur was sandy and mottled with streaks of light brown and creamy white, and in the dim light you thought that you caught a flash of blue in its eyes. You took a step backwards as that same smell washed over you, and for a short, fleeting moment, you thought that there was something familiar about the beast.

It took another step towards you, and that was when you realized how massive it was. You’d seen pictures of wolves on the internet; you knew how big they were supposed to be compared to people. But this was another thing completely; this wolf looked to be the size of a grizzly bear, and you knew that if it were to stand up on its two hind legs, it would tower over you.

Abruptly, you broke out of your paralysis, blinking rapidly as you turned back towards your door. You heard a growl from behind you, but you ignored it as you fled back into your house, slamming the door shut and turning the lock back into place. A thud sounded on its other side, followed by the scratching of claws against wood.

You waited several moments, silently begging the animal to stop, but the thumping only carried on, accompanied by muted, distressed whining. Taking a deep breath, you turned to your phone, punching in ‘911’ and holding the device up to your ear.

“911, where is your emergency?”

“U-um… I-I’m at 432 Nottington Lane. Please, there’s this, this wolf outside and it’s trying to get it, and…”

As you spoke, the noises suddenly stopped. You paused, frowning at the door and straining your ears. But everything had once more gone silent.

“Hello, ma’am? Ma’am, are you still there?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m still here. Um… I think it’s gone now. It’s… Yeah, it’s gone. I’m really sorry to bother you guys. Just, uh… Just ignore this call, please. I’m sorry.”

You hung up and set your phone down on the kitchen counter, staring hard at your back door.

“…Shit.”

_______________

You didn’t close your curtains again after that night. You told yourself it was because there was no reason to, that you had nothing to hide yourself from. But, in the back of your mind, you knew that it was because you were too afraid of waking up with them open of someone else’s accord.

Two days went by with no further incident. You kept up with your little routine, throwing yourself into your work and acting as if you weren’t still shaken up from the ordeal. You called Earl and let him know you’d seen a wolf, just like he’d said, and the two of you had laughed over the scare it had given you. But the laughter didn’t reach your eyes or your heart, and it was still hard for you to fall asleep whenever night came around.

On the third day, though, you decided that you needed to get out. Every time your eyes strayed to the forest, you felt a pinprick of anxiety, and you were desperate to forget about what had happened. And so, dressing in your most comfortable leggings and oversized sweater, you ventured out into town, stopping for breakfast at the soda shop.

Mary Jo’s Soda Shop had been open and owned by Mary Jo herself since before you were born. It was located right in the center of town, and it was the closest thing to ‘busy’ that the small township’s population could be capable of. The front porch was lined with old, worn rocking chairs, and empty planter boxes sat beneath every single window; you were sure that they’d be overflowing with petunias as the weather turned warmer.

The atmosphere was warm and cozy as you stepped inside. People of all different races and walks of life found solace under Mary’s roof, and it was clear by the easy smiles, easy laughter, and easy conversation that pervaded the dining room. A teenaged girl, who you’d later find out to be Mary Jo’s granddaughter, showed you to your table and took your order, and as you settled down into the cracked-leather seat of your booth, you found yourself finally relaxing.

It was easy to get lost in your own thoughts, especially with the dull roar of voices and the soft sounds of country music playing over the radio as background noise. You stared off into space as you sipped your orange juice, content to just zone out for a few moments and let your brain go on autopilot.

Maybe that was why it startled you so much when a man abruptly slid into the seat across from you. You were pulled out of your revelry by a dark shadow suddenly appearing in your peripheral vision, and your initial fright only deepened when you looked up to see who it was.

“Steve…”

The man from yesterday was staring you down, dressed this time in a red and black flannel. His hair, too, looked like it had been combed out, and his beard was shiny and soft-looking, as if he’d rubbed oil into it that morning.

You didn’t know what to say as he sat across from you, his fingers laced together on top of the table, and for an uncomfortably long moment, the two of you were completely silent.

“What’s your name?” he finally asked, and you arched your eyebrow at him.

“Why do you want to know?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, and he let out a long sigh through his nose. He didn’t answer your question, and you started to shift in your seat as he continued to stare.

Finally, you told him, murmuring your name under your breath. Upon hearing it, he nodded, finally glancing up when your waitress came back to take your order. When her eyes fell onto the man seated across from you, she visibly paled, her mascara-lined eyes widening as her smile turned to a grimace.

“Mr. Rogers,” she said timidly, “my grandmother told you not to come in anymore-“

“It’ll be fine, Rosie,” he grunted. “I won’t cause any trouble; I’m just talking with (Y/N), here.”

Rosie looked over to you, and you blinked up at her, hoping your incredulity was showing through in your eyes.

“I… I’m not sure…”

Steve huffed and looked over at you, a predatory edge appearing in his visage.

“Go on,” he encouraged you. “Tell her.”

“I really don’t-“

Suddenly, his scent was flooding your senses once more, and you almost gagged on your words as you breathed it in. You wondered why Rosie didn’t seem to notice it as it washed over you, nearly suffocating in its intensity.

“I, uh…” Your voice trailed off distractedly, and Steve’s knee nudged yours under the table.

“I-it’s fine,” you finally managed to stutter, and a pleased smirk appeared over his features.

“See? Everything is fine,” he insisted. “Now, weren’t you coming to take our orders?”

Rosie hesitated, but finally she slipped a notepad out of her pocket and nodded.

“Perfect. I’ll have the sampler with crispy bacon. Eggs over easy. And, uh… a biscuit on the side,” Steve listed off.

After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat, prompting you to jump a little before telling Rosie what you would like.

“Oh! Uh… I’ll have the same,” you muttered, though you hadn’t really been planning on eating anything of the sort.

But Rosie jotted it down in her notepad, all but fleeing to the kitchen after you were done speaking.

“And I’ll take some coffee!” Steve called after her.

When it was finally just the two of you, he once again gave you his full attention, and you fought to keep your mind straight.

“I don’t…know you,” you mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut. “I don’t know you, and you’re making me uncomfortable. Please, just-“

“I really liked the nightgown you had on last night.”

Your eyes bugged open, and your head shot up to look at him. You felt your blood run cold as he watched you with that same smirk he’d worn while ordering Rosie around, and you clutched your purse tighter to yourself.

“Wh…What did you just say?”

“You heard me,” he insisted. “How are you liking living in that cottage? The last few people there-“

“What the fuck,” you interrupted. “You…you were watching me?”

He sighed at your interruption but nodded, leaning forward on his elbows.

“And you were watching me.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I never saw you, or I would’ve called the cops-“

“But you did see me,” he insisted. “While I was in my other form.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, but then understanding came over you, and you shook your head.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered. “You mean…the wolf?”

Steve nodded, looking up when Rosie came back with his coffee. She all but slammed the cup on the table, spilling a few drops of the beverage as she poured it. After shooting him a sour glare, she turned on her heel to attend to the other tables around you, the occupants thereof starting to notice who you were sitting with. The din of voices had gone just a bit quieter as they watched him, and you were starting to realize that the entire town knew who Steve was, and judging on the locals’ reaction to him, his reputation wasn’t on the favorable side of things.

“So… Let me get this straight,” you deadpanned, watching as Steve took a sip from his steaming mug. “You’re saying that you were the wolf I saw?”

He nodded, swallowing his coffee.

“I’m among the last of my kind,” he sighed, tapping his fingers against his cup. “At least in this area of the country. But, yeah, that was me, scratching at your door. I was honestly a little hurt by your reaction-“

“You’re fucking insane.”

A scowl overtook his features, and his hands tensed as his fingers went still.

“I would really prefer it,” he growled, “if you didn’t use that sort of language with me, Omega.”

“Ome- What?” You shook your head, unable to process how insane this man really was. “Ok, I’m done here.”

You grabbed your purse and stood up from the booth, but a hand clamped down on your upper arm as you made for the front door.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Steve insisted, and you felt fear course through you at how possessive he’d just sounded. “We have a lot we need to talk about.”

“Let go of me!” You tried to pull away from him, but you might as well have been struggling against an iron chain. Steve didn’t budge as he held you in place, and a whimper escaped your throat as he began pulling you to sit next to him in the booth.

“Steve.”

Both of you froze when you heard the voice, and you looked up to see three men standing over your table, frowning at the man who still had a firm hold on you.

“Steve, let the girl go,” one of them said, and you saw Steve’s lip curl out of the corner of your eye.

“Rhodey,” he grunted. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Not long enough,” the man fired back.

For a second, you were afraid that Steve was going to ignore them, but then his grip on you disappeared. You hurriedly stood up again, backing away until you were out of arm’s reach from him. The entire restaurant was silent as everybody within held their breath, watching Rhodey and Steve stare one another down.

“This isn’t any of your business,” Steve said, and it was then that you realized you couldn’t wait there any longer. You didn’t care how it played out; you just wanted to get out of there.

And so, while everyone was distracted, you turned on your heel and slipped out, pushing past the front door, running past the rocking chairs and planter boxes, crossing the street without first looking both ways. Your heart was pounding a mile a minute, and you didn’t fully know where you were running to until you were standing in the entry way of Earl’s bookstore.

“Hey, there,” he called out to you, but his typical cheerful greeting died on his tongue when he saw your face. “What happened?”

Twenty minutes later, you and Earl were seated in his office. You’d told him everything, save for the way Steve’s scent affected you. You knew it was crazy, and you didn’t want one of your only friends in your new town to think you were as insane as your stalker.

“…Shit.”

It was the first word he’d uttered since you began telling him your tale, and he rubbed his forehead as he took in your story.

“Shit. I mean… I always knew there was something off about that Rogers boy,” he admitted. “But he’s never pulled anything like this.”

You quirked an eyebrow, glancing up at him.

“Why does everyone dislike him?” you asked. “It seems like the whole town has something against him.”

Your friend sighed and sat back in his chair, stroking his beard in thought.

“It didn’t used to be that way,” he started. “Steve, he grew up here. He was always the golden boy – never cursed, never acted disrespectful. Hell, he was a boy scout for years, and all throughout high school he was the team quarterback. He won so many games that he became a local celebrity.

“But, uh… Well. Shit hit the fan the day he turned 18.”

You frowned; you couldn’t picture the crazy, creepy man you’d just been borderline-assaulted by as a popular, polite teenager.

“What happened when he turned 18?” you asked.

Earl hesitated, wringing his hands. For a pregnant pause, he didn’t say anything, but finally he took a deep breath.

“Look, I don’t personally have anything against the guy,” he finally huffed. “But even I get the creeps when I’m around him. That boy, he was never the same after that fourth of July. Hell, the town hasn’t been the same since.”

You raised your eyebrows expectantly, and finally Earl began the story.

“Steve’s folks were a nice couple. He was their only kid, so each year, Sarah and Joseph would throw Steve this big birthday party. I’m talkin’ fireworks, barbeque, the whole nine yards. But his 18th birthday outdid them all; the whole town practically showed up for it.

“But Steve was off the entire day; I think he was sick or something. He was real sweaty, and his eyes were all…red. Like he’d been scratchin’ at ‘em. And when the fireworks started goin’ off… The boy lost it.

“It was like a flip switched in him; next thing we knew, he was takin’ off into the woods, holdin’ his head like his skull was gonna split in two. His mama went runnin’ after him, and then his pops went to get ‘em after about five minutes or so when there was no sign of them comin’ back.

“After half an hour, we went searchin’ for ‘em, and it wasn’t till dawn that we found the three of them.”

Earl took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes with a trembling hand as he recalled the memory.

“I was in the team that found his parents, and… Hon, they were butchered. The bodies, they were hardly recognizable. Big bites had been taken outta them; blood was everywhere. Another team found Steve about half a mile away, completely naked and shivering by the river.”

“Oh, my god,” you murmured. “That’s… That’s horrible.”

Your friend nodded gravely, but he wasn’t done yet.

“We all figured that it was a coyote that got ‘em,” he continued. “Or a wolf. But Steve… He was in shock, you see, so take what I’m about to say with a grain o’ salt. But all the way to the police station, he kept sayin’… He kept sayin’, ‘I didn’t mean to kill them… I didn’t mean to kill them.’

“O’ course, no one really believed him; it was clear that an animal had gotten to them, and this was Steve Rogers we were talking about. The kid had never said an unkind word to anyone. And his family got along great.

“A few years passed, and Steve was never the same, but we expected as much. Everyone was still nice to him, and he tried for a while, you know? But then Peggy moved into town.”

“Who’s Peggy?”

“She was this real nice girl – British. She moved with her family to the area. Shoot, she was a firecracker. Didn’t take any shit from nobody; the whole town fell in love with her. Including poor ol’ Stevie.

“When the two started dating, we were thrilled for ‘em. Steve was finally starting to act more like himself; you shoulda seen him. The kid was head over heels, and she was the same. About six months went by, and we really thought that they were gonna make it.

“But then…”

Earl swallowed thickly, eyes darting back up to your face before resting once again on his hands.

“Peggy was found one day in the woods, just like Steve’s parents – mauled, butchered…dead.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“No one saw or heard from Steve for years after that. The kid just vanished into thin air without warning. And so soon after Peggy’s death, well… You can imagine the rumors that started flying around about him. Five years went by, and that was when people started hearing and seeing strange things in the woods. And your cottage, it’s right by where the bodies were found; you can’t be more than a quarter of a mile from where they found Peg.

“Eventually, Steve moved back into town, though no one recognized him. He’d always been a skinny, lean kinda guy, but when he moved back, he looked like he does now. And even if he hadn’t changed so much on the outside, no one would’ve recognized the polite young man we’d all watched grow up in this new Steve. He was mean; I can’t tell you how many fights he got in at the bar, or how many times he lashed out at someone just to have an excuse to throw some punches.

“Whatever happened to his family and his girl, he’s never been the same since. And if he really believes what he told you earlier at the soda shop, then he’s finally lost his mind.”

___________

You spent the night at Earl’s house. He and his wife set up their guest bedroom for you, and as you and Sherry ate dinner, Earl called the sheriff. You listened in as he told him everything that Steve had done, including watching you the night before, and after ending the call, Earl gave you the sheriff’s number.

“He said to call him at the first sign of trouble,” Earl instructed. “And he said that he’s gonna head over to Steve’s cabin to have a nice, long talk with him. Don’t you worry; Sheriff Wilson is a tough son of a bitch, and he’s a great man. You’re in good hands with him.”

You thanked the couple profusely, and you were finally able to sleep restfully through the night, knowing that you weren’t alone. You didn’t even mind that you could hear Earl and Sherry’s snoring from all the way down the hall; you hadn’t had such a good night’s sleep in days.

The next morning, Sheriff Wilson stopped by after Sherry had served up breakfast, and you had to admit that you did feel better after talking to him.

“So I set everything straight with Steve,” Sam explained. “He said that he’d been drunk that morning at breakfast, and he admitted to saying some things that he regretted. He asked me to apologize to you on his behalf, and he said that he would stay away from you from here on out, if it would make you more comfortable.”

“I’d be more comfortable if he moved to a different country altogether, but I’ll take it,” you’d joked weakly, coaxing a laugh out of the sheriff.

“Well, I’ll run it by him the next time we see each other,” he’d chuckled. “But for now, I think you’ll be just fine.”

After helping Sherry clean up from breakfast, you reluctantly got into your car and started back to your cottage, feeling your short-lived relief start to dwindle away as you approached your home. Who’s to say that Steve would stay true to his word? And there was something about the memory of him calling you ‘omega’ that didn’t sit well with you. You had no idea what that meant, but the conviction, the possessive, commanding tone in his voice still made shivers crawl up and down your spine.

Once you stepped into your cottage, you gave each room a cursory once-over, making sure nothing was out of place before plopping down onto your couch with your laptop. You were severely behind on work, and you needed the distraction to calm your nerves.

Before you knew it, the sun was starting to slip over the horizon, and as the evening turned to night, your eyelids started drooping. You’d finally managed to catch up on work, and although it took you until 9 o’clock at night, you were back on schedule with your blog.

Finally giving in to your sleepiness, you stood up and stretched before methodically going around to each door and window, making sure that they were all closed and locked. After once more checking that Steve wasn’t hiding in your wardrobe, shower, or backyard, you relaxed and went into your bedroom, changing into a flannel pajama set before crawling into bed.

Sleep came easily to you that night, but it didn’t stay for long.

_________

It was, once again, just after 3 in the morning when you woke up, although there was something different about this time around. There was an almost electric charge to the air, and it immediately made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You sat up in bed and looked around your room, and even though the curtains were still closed, just as you’d left them, you immediately noticed the smell.

Your hand fell onto your nightstand, blindly fumbling for your phone, but it wasn’t where you’d left it. Panic pierced through you, and you frantically reached for your charging chord, but it was no longer plugged into your cell. There was, however, something new sitting on your bedside table, and you flicked your lamp on to see clearly what it was.

Your blood went cold when you saw the paper bag from Earl’s, still filled with your new books, just as you’d left it in the art shop.

“I’d been meaning to give that back to you.”

A scream tore itself out of your lips, and your hand flew up to clap over your mouth as you turned to the man now leaning in your doorway.

Steve was watching you with an amused smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. His hair was wild, and you noticed the way his chest rose and fell with quick, uneven breaths. He looked…unhinged, and Earl’s voice started ringing in your ears, telling you all the gory details about the deaths that had followed this man through his life.

“Steve, please,” you begged, pressing your back against your headboard. “I don’t know what you want-“

“Oh, c’mon,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’re a smart girl; I’m sure you can put two and two together.”

With that, he pushed off of the wall and sauntered towards you, ignoring the way you trembled as he took a seat on the edge of your bed.

“I read your blog, by the way,” he remarked. “I actually liked it; you’ve got a talent with writing.”

You gulped, not sure what to say as he turned to face you. For a moment, something flashed through his eyes, something other than the smug cynicism that usually dwelled there, but he looked away before you could get a good look at it.

“I’m sure Earl told you a lot of things about me,” he murmured. “And I’m sorry that’s how you had to hear them. But I’m not… I don’t want to hurt you. Honestly.”

“Wow, that really puts me at ease,” you grumbled. “It definitely makes the fact that you’ve broken into my house twice now totally ok.”

Steve huffed, and annoyance crossed his handsome features.

“Careful, omega,” he grunted. “I’m trying to be nice, here.”

You wanted to snap at him that he should really try harder, then, but you kept your mouth shut, knowing that you didn’t want to anger him if you didn’t have to.

“…Why do you keep calling me that?” you instead asked, and the fire in his gaze cooled just a bit.

“…I’ve given this a lot of thought,” he finally sighed. “And I can understand why this all sounds so crazy; if I were in your situation, I would probably think the same thing. But just… hear me out, ok? I’m going to tell you everything I know.”

You nodded, hugging your knees to your chest, and after another deep breath he began.

“I used to be normal, or so I thought,” he began. “I used to be like you; I didn’t know what was out there. I didn’t know that certain legends that we’ve all learned to accept as fiction were actually based on fact. But that all changed on my 18th birthday.

“That was the day that I first turned into a wolf.” Steve paused, looking pained for a moment, but after swallowing thickly he continued. “I had no clue what was happening to me. I just felt…wrong, like I was being torn apart from the inside. I fought to keep control of myself, but… I couldn’t keep it in anymore.

“People got hurt; I’m sure you’ve been told all the gritty details. But that wasn’t… It wasn’t me. I tried so hard, so goddamn hard, to keep it inside, bottled up, but eventually I couldn’t hold back anymore. And that was when I left.

“I went looking for people like me. It took me a while, but eventually I found a small group of them in New York. They called themselves the Howling Commandos.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head.

“Not the name I would’ve chosen, but they were good people. They helped me control it, taught me how to remain myself even when I’m in my other form. And I learned more about what it means to be a, uh…

“Werewolf.”

You bit your lip, staring at him as you grew even more fearful; he believed this. You could tell by the way his eyes were glistening with barely-contained tears, and if you weren’t so terrified of him, you would feel sorry for how sad he looked.

“Steve, you… you must realize that this is hard for me to believe, right? I mean… This isn’t Twilight; this is the real world.”

He rolled his eyes at the mention of that book.

“There’s about a thousand things wrong with that fucking story, and I’ll die mad about it,” he muttered under his breath, and you hugged yourself tighter as he stood up.

“You want me to prove it to you? Fine.”

Steve stood still for a long moment, closing his eyes, and you found your gaze straying to the door behind his back. He was distracted, evidently focused on transforming into a fucking wolf, oblivious to you as you slowly moved to set your feet on the floor.

Now is your moment, your brain whispered, and after taking a deep breath, you leapt to your feet. You didn’t notice the way his skin was slowly starting to grow patches of blonde fur, nor did you register that his voice had become more of an animalistic growl as he realized that you were trying to run. You were solely focused on making it out alive.

The back door was closer to you than the front, and you could practically feel Steve’s breath on the back of your neck as he gave chase, and so you nearly yanked the door off of its rusty, old hinges as you went flying out onto the back porch. You just barely managed to close the door behind you, and right before it slammed shut, you were able to make out an open maw filled with sharp teeth. The same thumping you’d heard several nights ago sounded from within your home, but with the way the wood was creaking and splintering, you knew it wouldn’t keep Steve trapped inside for long.

You began to run towards your car, but with a curse you realized that your keys were still resting on your coffee table inside the cottage, and you wouldn’t go back inside there if someone offered you a million dollars to. So, fully aware of what a terrible idea it was, you started running down the length of your gravel driveway, the small stones and twigs digging into your feet until you felt them starting to grow slick with blood.

You didn’t get far at all before you heard the sound of a low, deep howl split the silence of the night, and you pumped your legs even faster when you heard heavy footfalls starting to give chase behind you. Frantically, you turned and made a beeline for the forest, hoping to lose him in the woods. Low branches and brambles clawed at your face, and the cuts on your feet burned so bad that tears started rolling down your cheeks.

It was simultaneously an eternity and a millisecond before you felt a massive weight crash into you from behind, and with a cry you fell onto your belly. Your arms and legs scrambled about as you tried to crawl away, but you stopped with another scream when a set of impossibly sharp teeth nipped at your shoulder. Even though they didn’t cut deep, it was still enough to scare you into submission, and you immediately went still as your captor panted above you.

Your chest rose and fell as you fought to catch your breath, but it felt as if your heart had stopped beating entirely when you chanced a look to your right and saw…a paw. A huge, sandy-blonde paw about the size of your head was planted in the mud right next to your neck. You turned, and on your left side was the same thing.

Slowly, you rolled over onto your back, and you found yourself face to face with the wolf from before, only this time, you were close enough to see its blue eyes clearly – Steve’s eyes.

“…Steve?” you breathed.

Before your disbelieving eyes, the animal hovering over you started to shift and change, morphing gradually back into the man who’d terrorized you so much up to this point. Except now, as he straddled your hips, completely nude, you knew that he’d been right all along.

“Still think I’m crazy?” he panted, still out of breath from the chase.

“I… How…”

“I tried to tell you,” he grumbled, leaning down. You squirmed when you felt him press his nose to your neck, nuzzling it as he inhaled deeply, and you whimpered when his cock twitched against your thigh. “God, you have no idea what your scent does to me.”

You made a small noise of protest when his tongue darted out, laving over a spot right under your jaw.

“I thought it was too good to be true, you know,” he groaned, and you let out a noise that was dangerously close to a moan as you realized you could smell him once again. “I thought that people had to be a werewolf to be an alpha or an omega, but as soon as I smelled you in the art shop… Fuck, I knew you were mine.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tried to protest, but you were silenced when Steve nipped at your neck.

“We both know that’s not true,” he chided. “We both know what my scent does to you.”

Steve dragged his teeth down the side of your neck, and you shivered at the sensation. You wanted to fight this; you didn’t want to give in to him. But something inside of you refused to do anything but lay there beneath him, panting as he tasted your skin.

“I’ve never been with an omega before,” he confessed. “The Commandos told me they were incredibly rare, a dying breed just like me. But fate must have brought us together for a reason.”

“I’m… I’m not an omega,” you insisted, but a soft mewl fell out of your lips when he ground his hips forward, the line of his cock sliding up the length of your clothed pussy.

“Then why do you have a mating gland?” he rasped, his tongue darting out to lick at a spot on your neck.

“A what?” you squeaked, but suddenly his hands were on your hips, flipping you over onto your hands and knees. His palms groped your ass, and suddenly you felt your pajamas being pulled down until they pooled around your knees.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Steve growled.

No, no, no. Your thoughts were swirling rapidly as Steve’s fingers slid down your spine. You didn’t want this; you weren’t an omega; Steve was crazy.

Why does your body want this so bad?

You couldn’t find the strength to try and crawl away when Steve’s hands left you, but your eyes widened when he suddenly spread your legs wider apart. The cold night air was icy against your cunt and your thighs, and when the warmth of his hands finally returned to your body, you couldn’t hold in your moan.

“That’s right, omega,” he panted, his hand reaching down to cup your pussy. “Fuck, you’re so wet; it’s already dripping down your thighs…”

Your pussy made an embarrassingly loud squelching noise as he pushed his finger inside, and your body’s reaction started drowning out your brain. As he thrust his finger in and out, your hips started pushing back against him as white noise echoed in your ears.

“Mmm,” you whined, clenching your teeth. “M-more, fuck-“

“More?” Steve cooed. “You want more?”

You nodded your head, and a gasp parted your lips as he added another finger, curling it in a way that had you seeing stars. Your legs spread wider, and you dropped to your elbows, pushing back in time with his hand.

“This is what you need,” he growled. “You need your alpha to take care of you, don’t you? To use your pretty little cunt and fill you up with my seed. Ain’t that right, doll?”

“Y-yes,” you moaned, feeling your walls start to flutter around him.

All too soon, though, he pulled his hand away, leaving you hanging on the precipice of your orgasm. You burrowed your face into your arms and whined at the loss, but a few seconds later, Steve was gripping your hips. You could feel his fully hard length against your ass, and your breath caught in your throat upon feeling how big it was.

“W-wait-“

Steve shushed you, tangling one of his hands in your hair as the tip of his cock glided through your folds, brushing against your clit.

“It’s ok, omega,” he whispered. “Just lay back and take it.”

With that, his head pressed against your entrance, and your lips parted in a silent scream as he impaled you. Your cervix ached as his dick pressed against it, and you were vaguely aware of the broken moans falling out of your lips.

“Fuck, doll,” your alpha breathed, and you felt him rest his forehead against your shoulder. “Feels so good, so fucking good. My good girl…”

You groaned when he drew his hips back and thrust forward again, jarring your whole body with the movement. Your teeth clenched together as he found his rhythm, the initial stretch still burning. You’d never felt anything like this before, and the pain was mixing with your pleasure until you couldn’t tell one from the other.

Slowly, as the minutes went by, your abused cunt started to adjust, and your moans became less and less strained as you once more felt pleasure start to crest within you.

“That’s it,” Steve praised, pushing your hair away so he could press a kiss to the side of your neck. “Just relax; let your alpha make you feel good.”

You whimpered as he started thrusting faster, his hips snapping as deep, gravelly growls spilled out of his throat. Your own moans filled the air as you once again felt your orgasm build up inside of you. Your pussy walls contracted and fluttered as you got closer and closer, and Steve’s hand came down hard on your ass.

“Go ahead, omega,” he commanded. “Cum for me; don’t hold back. Give it to me; let me feel it. Cum for me-“

With a wail, your body did as it was commanded, and you trembled as you reached your climax. Your cunt squeezed his cock as he slowed his thrusts, and your hips moved of their own accord as you rode it out. Quiet, hoarse moans were still trailing out of your mouth as you came down from your high, and Steve’s beard tickled your skin as he pressed kisses along the curve of your shoulder.

“Good girl,” he praised, and you were sickened to realize that you enjoyed his words of encouragement.

You were surprised when he pulled his cock out of you, and you allowed him to flip you over onto your back. His cheeks were flushed, and he was panting, and your eyes trailed down to see his cock still painfully hard.

Without warning, he shoved it back inside of you, and your hands flew up, digging your nails into his back as he once again started thrusting at a brutal pace.

“’M gonna fill your fucking pussy up,” he was moaning, his hair falling into his eyes while his mouth hung open. “Gonna breed you like the little bitch you are-“

Despite having just cum, shocks of pleasure spread through you as he filled you, and in this position, you could watch his muscles bulge and flex as he chased his release. His eyes were squeezed shut, and one of his hands was pawing and kneading at your breast as he used the other to support his weight. The veins in his neck throbbed as he grew closer and closer, and you were taken off guard to find that you were approaching your second climax with him.

“You already gonna cum again, baby?” he whispered. “Do it. Give it to me; I want it.”

You closed your eyes and arched up, frenzied moans of yes, please, God, more, I need more, spilling past your lips almost unintelligibly. You were so close – just a little more and you would be pushed over the edge.

Just before you could reach it, though, Steve’s eyes snapped open, focusing on your neck hungrily. You should have felt fear, knowing what he was, what had happened to his parent and his last lover. But instinct took over, and you found yourself tilting your head back, baring your neck to him in a sign of submission.

With a feral growl, he lunged forward, and you shrieked as his teeth pierced your skin, right where he’d claimed earlier your ‘mating gland’ was. You closed your eyes, expecting to feel your life fade away, ready to see blood spurting up from the wound. But that never happened; no, instead you felt as if you’d just been electrified. Every sensation you were feeling was suddenly amplified tenfold, and your vision went black as you came for the second time.

Your ears were ringing, but you were still able to hear the primal roar that Steve let out as he came, painting your inner walls with his seed as hips finally slowed to a stop. For several long seconds, the two of you were perfectly still save for your chests as they rose and fell with your heavy breathing. Steve’s cock began to soften inside of you, but he made no move to pull away. No, instead he collapsed over you, his head resting against your chest as his heated skin shielded you from the cold air.

“You were perfect,” you heard him whisper, and one of his fingers came up to trace the bite mark he’d left behind on your neck. “Your bond scar is gonna be so gorgeous, little omega.”

Sleep threatened to overtake you as you lay there, not truly processing Steve’s words as his weight atop you lulled you towards sleep.

“Go ahead and rest, doll,” he murmured. “I’ll carry you back home, and then we can go again. Don’t worry, doll; I won’t stop until you’re nice and round with my babies.”

You should have felt scared – you should have pulled away and ran into the woods. But instead, you let out a content noise of acknowledgement before doing just as he said. The last thing you registered before slipping into a deep, dreamless slumber was his arms as they wrapped around you and picked you up, carrying you away from the road and into the forest.

[husbando-collector-sanctuary]

Commandant Noir Headcanons.

(because @asoundofdrop has this beautifully developed Commandant, and they inspire me to keep developing mine.)

• He would be voiced by Shameik Moore, as I love Shameik as Miles Morales from 'Spiderman: Into the Verse'. Plus, Noir and Miles have that same gentle, laidback and amicable aura.

• Noir helps Kamui decorate the dorms with seasonal and holiday decor. He admits to feeling like a selfish coward, because he does it to 'run away from the shit that haunts me', but Kamui thoroughly enjoys his company anyway.

• Noir shares a pretty strong similarity with Kamui: if they're both quiet, something's gravely wrong.

• Noir randomly hugs Lee not just because he knows it annoys him, but also because he believes Lee deserves all of the love in the world.

• Despite having a crush on Chrome, Noir's much more comfortable confiding in Lee or Watanabe than Chrome. Noir dismisses it by saying he doesn't want to bother a Captain of a different squad, but he really doesn't want to burden someone he has feelings for.

• He enjoys cooking with Lucia. Even though she's astronomically bad at it, he's not that great at it either. Just being by her side is therapeutic because she radiates strength and devotion.

• He has the softest spots for Kamui and Nanami. Their adorable, off-the-wall personalities provide him with infinite comfort. unfortunately for lee, this means noir sides with kamui by default, which kinda has him betraying gray raven for a strike hawk operator lol

Noir Dialogue:

"Gotta make sure we evacuate the area, team. Let's not leave any stone unturned, a'ight?"

"Looks like we're dealin' with a lotta high level threats, gang. S-tier shit. You guys got this, though. Know ya do."

"You're pretty good at what 'chu do, Lee. I'm proud o'ya."

"You okay over there, Liv? Stay with us. Don't push yerself."

"Me? I learned from the best: Mercury Wing."

"Ay, I ain't no expert on cookin' or nothin', but I REALLY don't think fish is supposed ta look like that."

"Lee, c'mon now bro, give Kamui a break."

"...whaddya mean, I'm always sidin' with 'im? Ain't nobody playin' favorites up in here...Liv, who told you t'keep score?"

[littlemisslol-fic]

Summary: Two years after the events of Barviel Keep, Varian has tried to adapt to the expectations brought by being a King’s Ward, with mixed results. Haunted by ghosts, Varian is forced to face the demons he tried to leave behind in Bayangor when his abdication is forcibly stopped by a third party, out for revenge against the Bayan Royal bloodline. On the run, with few allies left to turn to, Varian finds himself chasing a ghost through a series of tests that only a true heir of Demanitus could ever hope to pass.But the shadows are ever present, looming and dark, and not everything is as simple as it might seem.

Notes: There are many things of interest, buried deep in the earth.

The adder stone was a slight weight in Varian's hand. He idly played with it, watching how the carved runes seemed to glitter in the sunlight. It was hypnotic, the shimmering light of subtle magic playing through the stone in delicate wisps. Ori had said it was good for lost things, whatever that meant, but he’d neglected to give any more information after that, instead opting to shuffle them out the door with a grin and a wave.

They'd gone back to the boat after the events of the early afternoon. Ori's cabin, it turned out, was only a small walk back to the center of town, so the trip had been brief at best. Rapunzel had kept a hold of Varian's hand the whole walk back, her grip tight and unyielding as she borderline dragged Varian back to the known territory of the Oracle.

The boat rocked softly under them, still tied off to the pier. Eugene bustled in front of a small cook-stove, one made of thick metal to avoid burning the wood of the deck. The man's jaunty whistling mixing in with the gentle beating of waves against the Oracle's side. Varian could smell some kind of fish cooking, alongside some roasting onions if his nose was correct, and tried to ignore the small pang of hunger he felt at the smell. Ruddiger made an impatient chirp next to him, making grabby hands towards Eugene.

"Almost time, bud," Varian gave him a scritch behind the ear. "Be patient."

Ruddiger huffed but settled, curling closer to Varian's leg on the crate they were sitting on. Varian snickered, giving the raccoon another scratch for his trouble.

The boy took another look to the adder stone, twisting it between his gloved fingers. It looked relatively normal, save for the shimmering runes of subtle magic, but he knew better than to trust something based on looks alone. He turned it again, seeing his palm through the smooth, circular hole carved in the center of it.

He brought up the stone, at least somewhat familiar with the mythos surrounding it, and held it to one of his eyes. He squeezed the other shut, peering through curiously. Everything seemed relatively normal, if not a little duller in colour, and he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. He looked around a little more, trying to see if anything looked interesting. He saw Eugene, just as dulled as the rest of the Oracle, the deck of the ship, up above he could see seabirds flying without a care.

"Varian?"

He twisted a bit to look at Rapunzel. Through the adder stone he could see her entire figure glowing a bright yellow, like an aura. It was similar to how she'd glowed when using the power of the Sundrop. Varian blinked, lowering the stone. Without it, Rapunzel looked normal, if not confused about what he was doing. He brought the stone back up once more, noting with a little bit of childish delight that he could once again see the glow.

"What are you doing?" she asked, tilting her head. "Isn't it just a rock?"

"It's a special rock," he grinned, lowering it again. "Lets you see magical things easier. You still glow!"

"I do?" she asked. He handed her the stone, and she peered through it like Varian had been, looking at her own hand. "Huh," she said, "That's different."

She passed him the stone back, letting Varian continue to look around with it. He didn't see much else on the boat; Ruddiger seemed even more monochrome through the stone, which was kind of funny but not important, and though Rapunzel glowed it wasn't exactly breaking news that she'd had magical ties.

He twisted again, this time looking at the town through the stone. Like most things it was dulled, almost black and white, save for one noticeable difference.

Off in the distance, in the same way Rapunzel glowed, was a shining blue light. Varian tilted his head, standing up to try and see what was causing the light, but it was too far away. He let the stone drop, trying to for a better look, and caught the look of a clearing in the trees at the far side of the town.

"What're you lookin' at, kid?" Eugene asked. Varian didn't turn around, still squinting in the sunlight.

"I'm not sure," the alchemist replied, "But I think there's something at the edge of town." He un-twisted, looking at Eugene. The man pursed his lips, thinking.

"Think it's her?" he asked, "No one in town seemed to know who she was, but if Ori's weird rock is giving you hints, maybe that's where we're supposed to look?"

"Maybe," Varian shrugged, "Can't hurt to check, I guess."

He felt that creeping disappointment from town creep up again, at the reminder that they hadn't found his mother yet. He'd been nervous, and excited, to meet her, and the sting of a failed day was still fresh. He let himself sink back onto the crate, looking out over the water to where he'd seen the light.

Eugene seemed to pick up on his mood, the man smiling easily and scooping up some fish with his spatula. He plated it, along with a few other odds and ends, and gently set it next to Varian. It smelled good, but Varian didn't break eye contact with the shoreline.

He felt Eugene put a hand on his shoulder, patting gently.

"It's okay, goggles," the man said, "We'll find her. Just gotta keep trying, right?"

Varian smiled, weak but there. "Yeah. Of course."

Eugene's grin got wider, more real. "There's my boy," he nodded. "Now eat your lunch, you need some meat on those bones."

Varian snorted, but took the plate nonetheless. He fed Ruddiger in between bites of his own, eyes drifting to where he'd seen the glow. From the way the trees broke, there was definitely something there, though he couldn't tell what it was. The sound of conversation behind him fuzzed out, the boy focused on the parting of the trees.

The town may have been a bust, but they weren't out of ideas yet. With a newfound determination he shoveled food into his mouth, ready to take on the next step.

He just had to keep trying, and eventually he'd find her.

No matter what it took.

>>>><<<<

The gap in the trees, it turned out, had been a graveyard. An old one, from the looks of the crumbling tombstones and large, creeping vines covering everything. Probably abandoned, Varian thought as he almost tripped over an exposed root, or at the very least uncared for.

They passed by a large mausoleum, one of many littering the grounds, and reached the center of the graveyard. It was oddly huge, for being near such a small town; the graveyard for Old Corona had been maybe a quarter of the size. When Varian pointed it out, Eugene just shrugged.

"Maybe the town used to be bigger," he said, "Or there was a lot of deaths. Sometimes there's things like plague, fire, flood, things like that... that'll make a graveyard double in size in a short time."

Varian grimaced at the implications, the numerous gravestones suddenly seeming all the more sinister. The sun blazed high above them, hot and brutally beating down on them all. Varian looked around for a second, noting how isolated they were, before dropping his hood. Rapunzel made a nervous noise when he did, but a nudge from Eugene and she dropped it.

Varian looked around again, unable to see anything that seemed out of the norm. Just a creepy, old graveyard, he thought, a little fed up.

He reached into his pocket, drawing out the adder stone and holding it to his face. The rock was warm to the touch. He peered through it, but had to bring it away from his face with a grimace when everything was glowing the same blue he'd seen from the boat.

He blinked the spots out of his vision, looking through again more carefully. Sure enough the entire graveyard was permeated by the blue glow, a soft, seafoam shade. It covered everything like fog, making picking any sort of source impossible. Varian let his drop with a scoff.

"Useless," he mumbled. Though, if there were something around here sending this much magical energy into the surrounding area, it must have been powerful.

Or, theymust have been.

Eugene set himself down on a fallen log, looking around the graveyard. "Got anything?" he asked, "Cuz I'm seeing a whole lotta nothing, I'll be honest."

Varian snorted, scratching at his chin in thought. "Nothing yet," he admitted, "But I'll keep you posted. There's gotta be something around here to cause the glow, even if it's not... not her."

He combed over the graveyard for the rest of the afternoon, slowly growing more desperate as the time ticked on. Soon enough the sun was beginning to set, casting the graveyard into shadow. Varian had walked the perimeter of the graveyard six times, had looked at every tombstone and mausoleum a hundred times over, and even had climbed a tree at one point to try and get an areal view, only for all of his ideas to end in nothing. It was more than a little frustrating.

"There has to be something," Varian grumbled as he threw himself down next to Eugene. The man had given up an hour ago, he had long since slouched against a rock and covered his face with an arm. Eugene snorted awake when Varian flopped next to him, blinking rapidly.

"Ehm-up!" he slurred, "What's first, captain?"

Varian rolled his eyes, glaring around the graveyard again. "I must be missing something," he said, "A key, or a clue, or a cypher, but whatever it is I can't find it."

Ruddiger chittered in consolation, patting Varian's knee. The boy scratched his pet with a frown, leaning back against Eugene's rock. The sun was nearly down for the night, but Varian wasn't ready to give up. Rapunzel was nearby, picking her way through the graves carefully.

She'd been quiet since they'd gotten to the graveyard, but Varian was slowly growing used to being able to get his way through a full sentence. It was oddly... nice. He felt the sting of guilt for feeling that way, but shoved it aside. He could have something to himself for now, even if it wouldn’t last forever. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. One problem at a time. Rapunzel knew what she'd done, even if she'd apologized Varian wasn't quite ready to forgive her for the note-

Wait.

The note.

Varian pulled out the note from his mother, looking it over again. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but... well, it was worth a shot. He snagged the adder stone out of his other pocket, setting the note down on his lap and lifting the stone to his eye.

He squinted through the green haze caused by the graveyard, looking down at the dull page. The letter was the exact same as always, though when Varian looked down to the very bottom he noticed a subtle green glow. He tilted his head, peering closer, and blinked in shock when words began to appear at the foot of the page.

He moved the stone away to double check, and sure enough the words vanished without a trace. Varian felt a grin split across his face, bringing the adder stone back and took a better look.

"I lay within the gaze of our ancestor," he read aloud, voice soft to not break the quiet of the coming evening.

"Whazzat?" Eugene asked. Varian let the hand holding the stone drop down, shaking the note gently.

"I found the missing piece!" he crowed, shooting to his feet. "She left me a clue, I just needed to look closer!"

"That's great, kid!" Eugene got to his feet as well. "What did it say?"

"I lay within the gaze of our ancestor," Varian repeated, putting the note away with the adder stone.

"Great!" Eugene said, "...What does that mean, though?"

Varian paused, unsure. "I don't know," he admitted. "But has to be a reference to something, right?"

The man nodded, but stopped when Rapunzel cleared her throat from nearby.

"We should call it a night," she said, "It's getting dark."

Varian felt his heart sink. They'd been in the graveyard for half a day, and she wanted to leave just when they found their first real clue? He didn't want to leave yet, not when he'd finally had a break! He knew the second she succeeded in getting them back to the boat, it would be a fight to get back here tomorrow. He needed time, and space to figure this out, and he wasn’t about to get it back on the Oracle.

"I think I'm going to stick around," he said. He tried not to feel cowed when her eyes snapped to him, but it was a near thing. "I'm going to look around for something to do with the clue."

Rapunzel pursed her lips, looking ready to argue, when Eugene piped up. "If you're going to stay, then so am I," he shrugged, "No sense in splitting up. It'll be a team awesome sleepover under the stars, right kid?"

Varian couldn't help but chuckle, nodding. "Sure, sounds like fun."

The boy could see the way Rapunzel wanted to argue, the way her shoulders were raised, and her mouth opened only to snap shut when she realized she was out voted.

"I'll start the fire," she said flatly, spinning on her heel and leaving the boys behind in the graveyard.

Varian sighed, slumping a little. He felt Eugene put a hand on his shoulder, and looked up at the older man with what was probably a very kicked puppyexpression from the way Eugene frowned.

"She'll come around," he soothed. "She's under a lot of stress, and we both know how this whole thing makes her feel. Give her some time to get settled. She was the same when Cass- well, when they had their problems."

Varian slouched a little more. As much as it hurt, this was something he had to dig his heels in over. If he didn't, he'd go right back to being dragged everywhere by the wrist for the rest of his life. He couldn't do it again, not now that he'd finally broken through that boundary. He wouldn't be shoved back into the mourning waif box, even if it was causing strife with Rapunzel. Not after all the progress he’d made while out of Corona.

But that didn't make the sight of her retreating back any harder to watch.

>>>><<<<

They'd set up a fire on the outskirts of the graveyard. Nowhere near the tombstones, more of an open field that was next to the graveyard to be honest; just far enough to feel respectful. Varian huddled close to the fire, wrapping his dad's cloak tightly around himself to ward off the cold. It didn't do much, but he was, at this point, used to the chill in the spring air. Eugene was nearby, as was Rapunzel, the two of them quietly talking between themselves.

Ruddiger purred as he snuggled close to Varian's hip; the boy smiled and ran a soothing hand down the raccoon's spine, lost in thought. The note was on his lap, just as cryptic had it had been before. Varian grumbled, flipping it over and staring at it through the adder stone. Other than the new sentence, the note didn't have any more secrets to give, it seemed, and Varian couldn't help but feel a little disappointed at the fact.

Rapunzel quietly stirred a pot that they'd put over the fire, filled with some kind of soup. Eugene had said what kind, but the specifics slipped Varian's mind in favor of staring at his mother's handwriting. He pursed his lips, flipping the paper over again and letting the adder stone drop. He chanced a glace up when Eugene pushed himself to his feet, the man stretching.

"Gunna get more firewood," he explained when Varian shot him a look, "You two don't burn anything down while I'm gone, yeah?"

Rapunzel patted his knee with a small smile. "I'm sure we can handle that, between the two of us," she said. Eugene took her hand, bending at the waist and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. Varian made a dramatic gagging noise, pulling a face at the lovey-dovey display; doubling down when Eugene stuck his tongue out in retaliation. The man laughed, walking past Varian and taking a second to rustle the boy's hair as he passed. Varian grumbled at the attention, swatting at Eugene's hands, but took it with grace. Eugene's footsteps faded behind him, the man wandering off into the forested section in the middle distance.

Varian sighed and looked back to the note, gnawing at his lip. It hadn’t given him any more clues, and he’d be staring at it for hours now. He’d be content to stare at it for hours more, but not even a minute after Eugene left, the silence was broken again.

"Can you please put that down for a second?" Ah, Rapunzel.

Varian looked up, blinking in question. Rapunzel wrung her hands, looking at the note.

"I- sure, why?" he asked her, folding the note and putting it away in his cloak pocket.

Rapunzel visibly relaxed with the letter out of sight. She waved him over, shuffling over to make room when Varian got up and shuffled around the fire to sit next to her. He waited, knowing Rapunzel enough to know she would speak when ready. She didn’t usually ask for his undivided attention unless she had something to say; and he was willing to hear her out, for now. He wanted to try and mend things, but if she wasn’t willing to give ground, he wasn’t sure if he would accept that. Rapunzel seemed to finally get her bearings, twisting her hand around her brunette hair.

"I... know you're excited," she started. "To find your- well, to find her."

Varian felt a tingle of apprehension in his gut, but tried to ignore it. This was the first time Rapunzel had said anything beyond flat, safe statements regarding Aisha, and if this was her way of making a step towards reconciliation, then Varian was willing to hear her out.

"I am," he admitted. "Excited, but mostly nervous, I guess?"

Rapunzel smiled, her face drawn and tired. "I understand that," she admitted. "When I first- well, when I first came home, after the tower, I felt the same way about meeting my parents."

Varian nodded. He felt the urge to hold her hand, to reach out to her in comfort, but refrained. He still felt a little off when it came to her; if he pushed too quickly, he knew he'd let her steamroll him once again.

"Sounds stressful," is all he said, trying to get a laugh. It worked, Rapunzel huffing out a breath. The fire in front of them crackled, bright and cheerful. Varian felt himself relax a little, forcing his shoulders to lose their tension. Rapunzel shook her head fondly, obviously lost in her memories.

"It was," she agreed. "I didn't know them, didn't know what they were like. After m- after Gothel, I had a few days to think about what they could be like."

Varian felt a rock settle in his gut, starting to get an inkling of where she was headed with this. He clenched the hand farthest from her so she wouldn't see the reaction, and kept his face carefully blank, hoping beyond hope that he was wrong.

"When I first met them, I had this... idea, of what they'd be like," she mused. "I was wrong, for both of them. The real version of them turned out... a lot more complicated, then I thought they'd be-"

There it is.

"-And I had to give up that perfect idea of them, to see how they really were. I'm sure they had to do the same thing for me. But if I had clung to that imaginary version, I'd never really meet them. See them." She huffed another breath, toeing at the ground with a bare foot. Varian's hand clenched tighter, the apprehension settling into proper dread.

"I just want you to be careful," Rapunzel said, and bingo, we're back on this. Varian had to refrain from rolling his eyes, not really wanting to have this conversation again.

"I will be," he soothed. "I know, she was evil incarnate, I remember."

Rapunzel's face fell at the sass, the woman leaning forward and wrapping her arms around her knees.

"You know I didn't mean it like that," she said firmly, but Varian cut her off. He was over trying to dance around each other, if she wanted to have this conversation, then it was time they had it.

"Then how?" he asked, not harsh, but firm. "How did you mean it? Because you've made it perfectly clear what you think of me trying to find her-"

"I'm just trying to keep you safe!" Rapunzel argued, "You seem to think that you're going to find her and everything's just going to work out!" She slouched again, shaking her head. "Things don't always happen like that," she said, "And I just want you to be ready if something goes wrong."

Varian scoffed, looking away. He didn't want to admit she was playing to some of his insecurities, the nerves that had been plaguing him for days since finding the note stirring at her words. They’d been whispering in his ear since he’d arrived on the island, but he wasn’t about to let them ruin what he was trying to build. He ignored the insecurities, shaking his head. He knew exactly why she was trying to feed those doubts.

"Are you saying that because you're worried about me?" he asked, "Or because you want to see this go south so you can be right?"

Rapunzel reeled back, bodily flinching. "What?" she asked, stunned. "How could you think I'd want that?"

"Because I'd go home with you." The feeling of apprehension in Varian's mind was long gone, replaced by irritation. "Because if this all goes to hell, then you get exactly what you want. You want her to be terrible, so I'll run back to Corona and hide in the castle with you until I'm old and grey."

Rapunzel balked. "Is that really what you think?" she breathed. "You think I'd ever want to keep you somewhere you didn't want to be?"

"You already lied to me." Varian pointed out. The letter in his pocket felt impossibly heavy. "Honestly, I'm not sure how far you'd go."

"I just want you safe!" Rapunzel finally seemed to lose her cool, her volume raising. "After everything that happened, why do you think I want anything else? I'm trying to protect you!"

"You're trying to keep me in a box!" Varian snapped back, "So yeah, I might be safe there, but I wasn’t ever given a moment’s peace! And everyone treated me like glass all the time, and I couldn't escape, Rapunzel, every time I looked around there was something that reminded me of- of him, or of Meave, or my dad-"

"And what, you think finding her is going to solve it?" Rapunzel seemed more agitated, "That if you just pack up and abandon everything that it'll be like nothing ever happened? It doesn't work like that, Varian!"

"It's better than staying!"

"Is it? You'd leave everything and run away just so you can keep ignoring Bayangor?"

"If that's what it takes!"

Rapunzel threw her hands up, shaking her head. "You can't just run forever," she told him. Varian felt a pulse of panic as the conversation quickly got away from him. Rapunzel didn't realize, continuing to rant. "I knowit's hard, out of everyone I promise you I relate the most out of anyone, but that's why I'm telling you that you can'texpect finding her to make you suddenly-"

"Suddenly what?" he demanded, "Suddenly my own person? Someone that I actually am instead of what you all want me to be? I want out so I can be treated like I'm not going to shatter the second anyone looks at me wrong!"

"That's not what this is about-" Rapunzel was as tense as bowstring, "-And you know it! You just want something to chase, so you don't have to work through things back home. I was the same, with the Moonstone! And look how well that turned out! You wanted to leave before you knew she was alive!"

"Which you lied to me about!"

"So you wouldn't use it as an excuse!"

This was getting too close to the chest. Varian could feel himself start to hyperventilate, the breaths coming quick and stuttering. He pushed himself up off the ground on shaking hands, refusing to look at her. He hadn't meant for that to come out, hadn't meant to get that close-

Rapunzel's hand grabbed his, keeping him in place. He whipped around, tugging fruitlessly at his arm to try and pull himself from her grasp. Rapunzel held firm, irritation clear on her face. Varian's panic only grew, the boy tugging harder the longer she refused to let go.

Rapunzel stood, the woman still taller than him. "I'm letting you do this-" she said, the bitterness easily apparent in her voice, "-Because you want to do it. But I'm not going to pretend like this is going to fix all our problems, no matter how much you pretend they will."

Varian tugged again, nearly frantic. "Let go," he breathed, voice weak. "Let go."

Rapunzel didn't seem to hear him, still on her own train of thought. The alchemist gasped again, yanking his arm away.

"Stop touching me," he wailed, backing away and tripping over a rock behind him. He felt a pulse of pain on his spine where he landed, one of his wrists smarting as well. He sat there for a second, stunned, before pushing himself up into a sit and looking at his sister with wide, fearful eyes.

Rapunzel stopped dead, blinking in shock at his reaction. "Varian-" she started, reaching for him.

Varian scrambled back in the dirt, ignoring any sort of decorum in the animal urge to run. "Please," he gasped, "I just, I need space."

Rapunzel flinched back like he'd burned her. She brought her hands to her chest, closing them into tight fists. "I- are you okay?" she asked, eyes bright in the light of the fire. They were wide as saucers, the princess seeming unable to process what exactly had just happened.

There was a long beat of silence. The only sound was Varian's heavy breathing, like he'd just run a mile. Varian felt himself tense when she shifted on her feet. He- she wouldn't hurt him, he knew that, this was Rapunzel, but something in him still looked at her, looming over him just like Father had, and screamed threat.

"I need space," he gasped again, finally getting his feet back under him. He turned and nearly ran in the opposite direction of her, unable to look at her broken-hearted expression for another second. He sprinted for the trees; he tried to ignore the feeling of salt burning his eyes, of dampness on his cheeks.

Tried, and failed.

>>>><<<<

The next morning, it was raining.

The air was considerably tenser than it had been before; any sort of tentative truce between Varian and Rapunzel had been shattered. Varian refused to even look at his sister, keeping to himself as he paced around the graveyard in the light of a new day. Rapunzel seemed to get the hint, maintaining the distance that Varian had created between them.

Dead grass crunched underfoot. Varian paced towards the center of the graveyard, slowly circling it by walking through every row. He kept an eye on names, bitterly wishing he'd listened more to Aldred's insane rambling- how was he supposed to know what ancestor Aisha had been talking about? In theory he wasn't even supposed to know about any of this.

He entered into a section of mausoleums, all of them surrounding a large statue. Varian looked at it, and was startled to see in the light of day that it was Demanitus. He peered closer, noting how worn down the statue looked in comparison to the ones he'd seen in Corona; it seemed the graveyard really hadn't been cared for in years. Something in Varian felt sad at the thought- he personally made sure that Quirin's grave was kept spick and span no matter the weather, just as his dad would have liked it. It was upsetting to think that all of the people buried here didn't get the same treatment, that they'd been forgotten here.

It made him despondent, the idea that someday Quirin's grave would likely end up the same. Hells, his own would too. It made him feel... cold. Eventually no one would be left, and they would all fade into nothing but dust. He looked back to Demanitus, deciding to drop that train of thought.

The great inventor hadn't been buried here. Varian knew that, the boy had been to his tomb in Corona, after all. To see him here, on a tiny island's disproportionately large graveyard, was a mite bit suspicious if he did say so. Varian drew close to the statue, inspecting.

Demanitus looked the same as he always did, the cracked marble doing nothing to hide the statue's visage. Varian chewed on his lip, thinking. Aisha had said our ancestor, the only one Varian knew of was Demanitus himself; in theory all of Aldred's family history was null and void, as it was Aisha's family line that would hold the clue.

Varian walked around the base of the large statue. He squinted up at the statue, noting that the eyes were indeed focused somewhere other than directly ahead. In fact, they were looking off to the side, towards another mausoleum. Varian fetched the adder stone, peering through it. Sure enough the marble building glowed the same bright blue, though it seemed to be much stronger than the light on the outskirts had been.

Choice made, Varian marched to the thick, iron doors of the tomb. Eugene was nearby, having been kicking stones, and wandered over when Varian moved.

"What's up, goggles?" he asked, eyeing the tomb. Varian reached up and rattled the door, testing it.

"I think it's in here," he said. Eugene went a little pale, eyes flicking between the mausoleum and Varian.

"You think she's... in the tomb," he said, apprehension obvious. "Are we, uh, are we sure about that?"

Varian nodded. "In the eyes of the ancestor," he repeated, pointing at the statue of Demanitus. Eugene turned toward the statue, then back to his charge.

"This feels morally wrong," he said thoughtfully, before his tone turned giddy. "Look at my little man, all grown up and graverobbing!"

Varian snorted, moving aside as Eugene drew a lockpick from his boot. The man-made quick work of the door, the old iron creaking open. Varian peered into the looming darkness with apprehension. Eugene stood next to him, brushing off the knees of his pants.

"Et, voila," he said, gesturing with his hands.

Varian didn't tear his eyes away from the tomb, slowly taking a step inside. "Thanks," he mumbled, offhandedly, already distracted by the interior.

The mausoleum was the same white marble as the outside had been, a large space that was nearly five meters square. In the very center was a single, stone coffin, topped with a sculpture of a woman. Varian could only assume that was the person buried in there, though the thought made him a little squeamish. At the foot of the coffin was a large, ornate design in the floor, a compass rose with north pointing towards the coffin.

Varian nearly jumped a foot when the torches on the walls all sprung to life at once, the flames all starting without a trigger. He let out a very manly yelp, nearly falling on his ass when his boots slipped on the marble. Ruddiger hissed, digging his little claws into Varian's shoulder to keep steady as the boy found his balance.

"Magic," Varian muttered, "Why is it always magic?"

"Kid?" Eugene. "Everything okay?"

Varian turned, shrugging as Eugene and Rapunzel entered the crypt. "Everything's fine," he said, trailing off. "I just need to figure out the next step. She said she was hiding, in the note, right?"

Rapunzel nodded, looking around at the blank, stone walls. She fidgeted, obviously a little unhappy with being in such a small space, but did aid the boys as they began to search. The stone was cold, unnaturally so. The rain pounded on the old roof, leaking through in a few places and making the polished stone slick. Varian walked the perimeter of the room, a hand on the wall. He didn't feel anything odd, nothing that would indicate a secret door or compartment at least, but he refused to give up.

"Guys?" Rapunzel's voice drifted across the room. Varian paused his pacing to look at her; Rapunzel's green eyes were locked on the compass rose design on the floor. "This isn't right," she said, tilting her head.

"How do you mean, sunshine?" Eugene asked. He walked over to Rapunzel, looking at the design as well.

"It's pointing the wrong way," Rapunzel explained. "Look, it's got its north pointing towards the south." She pulled out a working compass from the duffle bag, holding it up. Sure enough she was right, the arrow spinning and pointing toward the door. Rapunzel remained kneeling near the design, running a hand along it once more.

Varain drew close, inspecting it again. It was a darker stone, embedded in the marble with perfect accuracy. When Rapunzel squatted down next to it and ran a hand across the compass her fingers never hit even a groove. Varian mimicked her, pausing when he saw something strange in a puddle nearby.

It was on the edge, overlapping where the two types of stone met, and in the puddle Varian could see small bubbles of air floating up. He scooted over. His brows furrowed in thought as he swirled a finger through the rainwater, disturbing it roughly. When it settled again, Varian noticed that the bubbles began to rise once more.

"There's something under here," he said softly.

"What?" Rapunzel asked, leaning closer.

"Look," he pointed to the bubbles. "There must be a space under the floor, there's air coming up through a seam in the rock."

Rapunzel blinked, nodding. Eugene took a peek as well, patting Varian on the back.

"Good catch guys," he said, "Now we just have to figure out how to get down there. I don't suppose either of you brought shovels?"

Varian huffed a laugh through his nose, poking at the design again. Rapunzel did the same, to his left.

"I still don't understand," she mumbled, "Why include a compass and have it point the wrong way?"

Varian tuned her out for a second, watching the bubbles. Eugene began to poke at the center of the compass rose, Varian was ready to ignore him too before a subtle click was heard. The boy snapped his attention back, seeing Eugene fiddling with the center of the design, which had popped up and out of the floor.

"Woah," Varian said, "How'd that happen?"

Eugene shrugged, tugging at the centerpiece. Varian and Rapunzel scooted backward, watching with curiosity as the entire design of the compass rose slowly lifted from the floor, held by a small contraption in the very center. It was only a few inches off the ground now, but Varian still looked at in in fascination.

"Rapunzel," he caught her attention, "What way did you say true north actually was?"

Rapunzel caught on to what he was asking, pulling out her compass. "It's towards the door," she said. She twisted a little, looking directly behind them. Varian smiled, feeling a rush of satisfaction as he grabbed one of the points of the compass, the west one, to be exact, and gave it an experimental push. Sure enough the large design began to spin on its axis, still parallel to the floor and supported by the mechanism in the center.

The alchemist kept pushing, slowly rotating the stone until it had gone in a perfect half-circle. The north arrow finally pointed to true north, as it should have. Varian then pressed gently in the center, putting it back down into its original spot in the floor.

They all held their breath, waiting for something to happen. Rapunzel reached for Eugene's hand, eyes wide, while Varian set a hand on an anxious Ruddiger's paw. Varian held his breath, listening for anything at all; the only sound was the pelting rain above, an occasional gust of wind, and his own excited heartbeat.

They waited a second more, before Eugene slumped forward with a dramatic sigh. "Damn," he sighed, "I was actually thinking we had it-"

The coffin in front of them burst open like a balloon.

All three of them shrieked, jumping out of the way in a tangle of limbs and panic. Varian ended up with an elbow to the gut, letting out an oomph as they all hit the floor. His own landing was soft, cushioned by poor Eugene. Stone fragments rained down on all of them, clattering to the floor like hail. Varian covered his head with his arms, keeping Ruddiger covered as well; it wouldn't go well to get a shard to the eye.

Eventually the aftermath settled. Varian chanced a look toward the tomb, grimacing when he saw the entire lid, statue included, absolutely decimated by whatever explosive had been set inside.

"Is everyone okay?" he asked, slowly pushing his aching body into a kneel. Eugene groaned, facedown on the floor and seemingly unwilling to move but unhurt. Rapunzel was behind him, sitting up and rubbing at her head.

"We're alright," she said, "Are you?"

"Fine," Varian dusted a bit of the dirt from Quirin's cloak. "Fine, I think Eugene broke my fall."

"Yer we'chom," Eugene grumbled, his voice muffled by the floor he refused to get up off of. Varian bit his lip, trying not to laugh, and instead forced aching arms into pushing the boy to his feet. He slowly approached the coffin, coughing and trying to wave the plume of smoke away from his face.

"What was that?" Rapunzel asked, "Some kind of explosion?"

Varian coughed again. This probably wasn't good for his lungs. "Gunpowder, I think," he replied.

He inched closer, peeking into the gaping maw left behind. Varian blinked, a wry smile crossing his face.

The coffin was not only empty, but not a coffin at all. Varian waved dirt from his face, looking down into the hollow shell created by the coffin, covering a dusty old stone staircase that led deep into the earth. There was no corpse, hell at this point it seemed like the entire tomb had been a coverup for something much, much bigger.

"Guys," he waved them over. "I think we just found our way in."

Eugene and Rapunzel were taking behind him, but Varian tuned them out and put his hands on the lip of the coffin, swinging a leg over. He tested the stairs, grinning when they held strong. He brought the other leg in, taking the first step down.

"Ah, hey kid?" Eugene asked, "Maybe we shouldn't be going down the creepy staircase in the graveyard. Do you want ghosts? Because this is definitelyhow you get ghosts."

Varian looked down into the darkness, shrugging.

"I dunno, I have the afternoon free," he replied.

Eugene paused, before rolling his eyes. "If we end up haunted, I'm blaming you, goggles," he grumbled. Rapunzel giggled next to him, following Eugene's lead as they trailed Varian down the steps.

The stairs were long and thin, a straight shot down into the deep. Much like in the mausoleum, torches sprung to life when they drew close, only to snuff out once they'd passed. Varian grew used to the dim light, his eyes adjusting slowly to the darkness the further down they got. Rainwater followed them down, drip, drip, drip that echoed in the quiet.

Soon enough they hit the bottom, after nearly a full minute of descent. It was cold, so far underground; Varian couldn’t help but shiver as he peered through the darkness at the foot of the stair. There was nothing but a hallway; one way forward. Varian peered into the depths, not seeing anything untoward lurking in the dark but still cautious. He turned to his friends, seeing both of them looking nervous.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"I think it's creepy-" Eugene began, but Rapunzel cut him off.

"It might be dangerous," she admitted. "But if she- if your mother needed a place to hide, I could see this being a good one. If you want to keep going, we will." She pulled a piece of chalk from her dress pocket, and made a little arrow on the wall, pointing toward the staircase. "I'll add these as we go, that way we can find our way back if we need it."

"Haunted," Eugene grumbled again.

Varian snorted, taking a small step back toward the stairs. He felt his foot catch on something and looked down with a gasp. A small trip wire, barely noticeable, was caught on his boot.

"Oh, that's not good," he muttered. Eugene and Rapunzel followed his gaze, the two of them already moving. Varian felt two pairs of arms grab his own, dragging him forward and away from the stairs in a dead sprint as there was a loud poppingnoise coming from the walls.

With a horrible BANG the ceiling above the staircase crumbled, the large stones dropping to the floor in a plume of dust and smaller rocks. The noise it made was deafening, echoing through the thin halls and into his chest, rattling up his spine and into his brain. All Varian could register was the noise, flinching away as the ceiling continued to collapse.

Rapunzel and Eugene stopped a few meters away, all three of them watching with horror as the rocks continued to crumble down, quickly covering the way they'd come from with a pile of boulders and loose earth. The light from the staircase got dimmer and dimmer, unable to break through the stone. Varian felt a pulse of pure, primal terror as the sunlight was thinned out to a single, weak beam. With a tense note of finality, the last stone came down, covering their last hint of the surface and cutting off the light once and for all.

And then, there was nothing left but the dark.

[keyheartsia-dorm]

*Sighs*

I’m bored let’s do a lore dump

It’s a Map~

Oh Yeah I mentioned a Sprinkle of Final Fantasy and KH but I haven’t talked about that Aspect of my Canon At all have I? Well truth be told it’s cause I’m focusing on getting the more Basic Aspects of my Oc’s Before I get into that but Guess who made this Baby on a Whim!

So this is the Map of the Isle of Light well the Main Island at least there are other Littler Bits of land Yet to surface I̶t̶’̶s̶ ̶t̶o̶t̶a̶l̶l̶y̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶s̶o̶ ̶I̶ ̶c̶a̶n̶ ̶A̶d̶d̶ ̶o̶n̶t̶o̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶L̶a̶t̶e̶r̶ ̶h̶a̶h̶a̶ oh yeah did I mention it’s a FLOATING ISLAND!! Yeah P Sick right? Okay so I’ll go into the Island’s History and it’s Area’s but it may have some Spoilers I guess you could say but honestly I wouldn’t wait on me making a full fledged...Anything outta the Story I’ve made like I’ll sum it up (not here but like in general) but comics are hard Videos are hard Fics are hard maybe not individually but this is more of a Anime Series then an Anime movie if you feel me without further ado...Stuff

Oh god this was longer then expected

Some General Background

So The Isle of Light was Originally the Black Forest A Place of Freedom and Expression for all who lead lives who Needed to hide Such and Some Such was The Coven of the Black Forest made up of 3 sisters (not biologically also there was a 4th) they all found comfort and love with each other one being the Princess of the Kingdom nearby (The 4th and Littlest one) She had a fiancé who was Mad with a Lust for power and Control over things he Didn’t need power and control over He Treated the Littlest one Cruelly when the other 3 Decided enough was enough when he did...SOMETHING to Part of the Forest so Horrible it turned Dead and Cruel (Subtle Subtle Hint Hint Wink) When all 3 Of them saw the Ruin They went so mad they turned to Darkness and fought him and all his Manmade monstrosities there when the Princess Arrived there was so much Dark energy everywhere it was Bad like Real Bad So with her friends now monsters she Fought them with a heavy heart her heart broke so much she fell afterwards immediately Unintentionally Sending her Kingdom to somewhere nobody knows where she is though...That’s an even bigger question BUT the story would live on as a Weilder of the key blade who slayed 3 evil witches...(Oh yeah did I mention Crowley knows And that’s Why He Let the Girls Attend because he thought they might be the Black Forest Coven Reincarnated And the Prophecy that when they Awakened the “Keys to their Hearts once more” They’d Free The Princess From her Mirror Prison Oh Yeah also the princess DID Die But her Reincarnation Goes inside a Mirror and is trapped there when she turns 17 and Doesn’t leave until she dIES ALSO ITS HIS OLDEST DAUGHTER THIS TIME ALSO YES HE HAS 2 DAUGHTERS...Okay lemme just calm down..Also yeah she thought of the Princess System) but After a Wish got safe haven for all Keyblade Weilders (I have KH Oc’s other then these don’t ask Longer story they live and basically founded Fortana Haven) I guess the Isle of Light Rose from the Shadow Realm to be just that oh yeah also the Isle of light is literally that kingdom if ya didn’t know

Fortana Haven

(Some Love Nikki BGs for Visualization if I’m Wrong about this from being from Love Nikki Correct me pls and if this is your art sorry and I’ll take it down)

Okay this Place Basically a Modern Fairytale Everything is so Rustic~ but they Have Cafe’s and Stuff~ They’re still very much in Development as a City..or town..or whatever Boss of everything Locket Clover (An OG KH OC) Runs Everything Wonderfully she welcomes everything with open arms and If you wanna run a shop or want a Building for a particular Thing or Activity she’s Pretty open to the idea unless it’s Incredibly Dumb But she will make you get The Wood and Supplies and The Bricks and the Brick Stick Sauce or whatever it’s called she might get give you help constructing but dang is she a firm believer in “DIY” but I like how she’s Determined to Have a Good Balance between Industrial and Rural In fact there is a Mall (God knows how it got there) And that’s pretty much all there is for your Juicy Capitalism Fix She Runs “Hope Stir” Workshop according to Her boyfriend Ephmer It was always Called a workshop but for the longest time she did EVERYTHING Subtle Farmwork And Animal Husbandry ACTUAL Workshop things all cause she wanted to help every Weilder she knew out and made sure they had a place for food and such She is a bit of a Moneyholic but when you’ve been doing what she’s been doing I bet you’d be too overall While it doesn’t have much History yet Fortana Haven (4-Tana is how you say it btw) Is truly well a Haven

The Crowned Castle

(More Pics for Visuals I don’t think this is from love Nikki but if this is your artwork same applies I’m not gonna be the guy who Claims just cause it’s on google it belongs to everybody or something even though yeah I did find it on google)

The...Crown of the Isle of Light Before We came to the Isle for the first time Apparently Everyone In Fortana thought it was Haunted! Which..Fair enough Before we Placed the Princess Medals (Okay QUICK SUMMARY OF THIS BIT Okay so in the KH Mobile game there’s Medals and I wanted them to be in my story basically They’re Memories formed into powers when all my Oc’s Met the Princess’s Of Heart They Each got a Medal Representing them and then the Medals Restored the Castle I left out some details but basically that’s it) This Castle is the BOMB There’s Cool Pretty Princess Room’s And a Bedroom JUST FOR SLUMBER PARTIES!! And it’s just a good Place to Vibe and Hang out with your friends (I’m sorry I’m about to Lore Dumb all over this place) The Princess’s Fiancé Made a Crown for her before she could put it on he put some of his Subconscious in it poor Eden When she wanted to get stronger for Malleus (Malleus is her adoptive big brother and she was upset cause she felt she wasn’t good enough ran away to get power and found the crown) It really did almost completely overtake her I shudder thinking about it “Kachow”...Ew (The fiancé said that a lot ok) a lotta bad stuff happened here but as selfish as this may sound I feel like I earned my spot here and I wanna keep sharing it with my friends

The Matteria Deadland

(Also Imagine some Pointy Mountains and some Lite Mech debris)

Man What to say... So Much Happened here as well probably Tragedy I can’t comprehend there is a few good places about this place though Diane likes to Scavange around Here for Interesting Debris Eden doesn’t like the Air around here but she says she finds Interesting Jewels here and Latte says the same thing so there is good to be found here We all come here every so often to try to help..Anything grow but they don’t call this deadland for nothing but still ya can’t give up hope! I wanna grow some beautiful Lillies here one day! Also hey! Also pretty cool name (Matter-RI-a is how you say it btw) All the sadness that happened here it actually did make the land rich in Metal if nothing else there’s even a whole Cavern we found in the mountains...it almost killed us but we found it

Opal Cove

(also these are Gacha Backgrounds)

Is this Place an Actual Cove? Idk

Is this Place super cool and pretty? Yeah

Is this one of my favorite places in this whole Isle? FRICK YEAH

okay I love a lot about this Isle but Opal Cove!!

Our mermaid friend Mitella I guess “Runs” the Place Our KINDA merman Friend Skye also spends a whole lotta time here Basically it’s a Giant Pool and rumor has it...It’s endless Water...CAUSE IT IS SOMEHOW CAUSE I KNOW weird thing is the Sand it’s at the end of the Isle so there’s not really a beach just...Sand Near Water Odd The Coral Near the Bottom or well “Bottom” Is SO PRETTY it’s like Crystals in the morning the light shines its SO DANG PRETTY I’m glad Mitella is a Sea Witch Or else we couldn’t go so deep underwater it’s SOOO worth it!! She does NOT let a lotta people at once though Heck she doesn’t like Skye that much from what I can tell but she makes an Exception for ~friends~ So...BE NICE TO OUR CUTE MITELLA I’m glad we have a Convient Place for Blitzball practice and also Swimming around with pretty Mermaid Tails (New Nix Mermaid Action Fashion Doll only 25.99! Get it for your Child or they’ll cry!! Also a 5 dollar Boy doll take his Shirt off! That’s it!) Hyde Mi And Skye are kinda an Iconic Trio Mi Also Teaches how to swim with a mermaid tail better for the Weilders who wanna go to Atlantica Hey Mermaids gotta eat so get a Swim Lesson! (And also a transforming Mermaid Doll!)

Bianco Nero Forest

Well tbh I have the least to say because it’s Appeal is simple ADVENTURE AND MYSTERY! Lots can happen in Bianco Nero it’s Basically the Base foundation of the whole Isle! Presumably cause it’s the Black Forest or was at least though it can be dangerous it’s the only place heartless are know to appear in the whole isle (So where you’ll grind In the Video Game that’ll definitely happen :Says the girl who can’t commit to a single comic) They drop all sortsa cool stuff! Heck you can FIND Cool stuff just...Around so..Yeah!!

It’s 2 am maybe I’ll edit this later thanks for reading sorry I got obviously tired by the end goodbye my dearests~ (Seriously y’all deserve like a reward for reading this dumpster fire) I was inspired by those maps in those scholastic books like the Rainbow Fairies I think it was called (Anyone remember those?) that had lil maps in the beginning and also the map’s stickers all on PicsArt

[the-holy-ghosted]

Fate Worse Than Death

Regarding some unfinished business jon must attend to.

WARNINGS: major character death, assisted suicide (technically, in the supernatural sense), whole lotta angst

wrote this for tma villains week but they rbed my ao3 link post, i just put these here as text posts anyway, have some Lonely!Breekon content

"Er... Jon?" Martin asked, coming to a halt as the ground changed from dirt to pavement. "What are we doing here?" "What do you mean?" Jon stopped as well, turning around to face his companion. "This is The Lonely, right?" Martin stared out at the cold fog rolling over what seemed to be a vast parking lot. "We did this already, didn't we?" "Oh." Jon nodded. "We did, yes." "Then what are we doing here again?" "Hmm..." Jon thought carefully of how to phrase his words. “I suppose... This is just the way we’re going.” Martin saw through Jon’s thin excuse. “Jon. Tell the truth.” Jon made a resigned noise, "There's something here I need to take care of. Unfinished business." "... Unfinished business." Martin sounded unamused, raising one eyebrow. "With a... Person?" "You could call it that." "Uh-huh..." Martin shifted his feet. "Will it hurt us?" "I don't think it can," Jon pondered. "It has the strength, but not the will." "Great," Martin said, not sounding thrilled. "What- what is this anyway, a parking lot? Are we going shopping in a haunted Westfield London?" "A warehouse," Jon replied, grabbing Martin's hand and walking forward. This clarified nothing, but there was no use in prying for more questions. If there was nothing out for their blood, Martin supposed he could go along with Jon's vague descriptions. At some point, cars started to pop up in the distance. Not quite cars, more like U-haul vans and mail trucks. They were spotty, far enough in the distance to where he couldn't make out the company name. The logo looked familiar, though, the shape recognizable enough to ring a bell in the back of his mind. The farther they walked, the closer they were parked together, rows of idle vans on either side of them into the far and foggy distance. They were untouched and dirty, the company name still illegible. They almost warped somehow, preventing Martin from reading them no matter how hard he focused. He tried to walk towards one, just to look inside. Jon pulled him back along. They didn't need to investigate, he supposed.

Jon was right, Martin thought, as the silhouette of a large warehouse seeped into view through the mist. Its presence grew larger the closer they got, looming dark and dull over them. They approached large garage doors, but Jon took a hard left to a small side door near the corner. The door was up a few steps, two piles of mail sitting untouched beside it. Martin didn't get a good enough look to read the names on the envelopes. "Hey, Jon..." Martin whispered, stepping into what looked like someone's office. "Do we know this place?" "It’s a... It was a relatively well-established delivery service. It's a bit more niche, now." Martin understood where they were, then, and could guess the vague 'unfinished business' Jon eluded to. He caught a look at a broken picture frame on the cluttered desk, the smiling face of a man he didn't recognize staring at him. Jon seemed to not know where to go next, stopping at the office door. "You nervous?" Martin asked. "It's... It's hard to see." Jon replied. "You could try opening the door, usually that helps to see outside of it." Martin joked, and Jon chuckled. "Martin..." He sounded very serious suddenly. "This domain… it plays tricks on you. Just stay close to me and be wary.” Martin gave him a half-smile, unnerved by the ominous statement. Jon opened the door, the creak echoing into the giant warehouse. The lights were high above their heads, doing a poor job of illuminating their surroundings. Fog rolled over the ground, wafting out of their way as they stepped in and closed the door behind them. There was a hum of an air conditioner from somewhere far off. Around them were stacked boxes and crates; containing what, Martin could not guess. The other side of the building was nearly too far to see, blending in with the mist. The far wall seemed to have a door, maybe two at either end. He wondered where they led. "Now, Martin..." Jon whispered, not wanting his voice to echo. "Please don't stray too far. This place will trick you, you'll hear things that aren’t- Martin?" Martin was gone, enticed by a shadow that passed behind one of the box towers. He thought it looked at him, a glance telling him to follow. He couldn't stop himself, already turning the corner to find nothing there. Heavy footsteps echoed in front of him, Jon's voice no longer able to be heard. He waited for the footsteps to be followed by a person, but they stopped suddenly, nobody appearing with them. After a moment of waiting, he kept walking. He felt like he knew where he was going, but to where he wasn't sure. It was dim, but the fog before him showed a path of disturbed mist, curling its way around another corner. Martin turned around, Jon nowhere to be found. Perhaps he didn't need Jon, though, he felt confident enough to make his way alone. He followed the subtle trail, pulled around corners and through dark areas by shadows and faint footsteps. The path it led him down made no sense, but he felt close to something. At some point he looked inside one of the boxes, only to reveal nothing. Tapping his fingers in them as he passed revealed the same thing, they were all empty. The sound of his own footsteps flattened to the left of him, and around a pile of boxes was a door. It was left ajar. Whisps of fog rolled against the wall, suggesting someone had just opened it. The signs were clear, and Martin approached.

The door pushed open to reveal a nearly identical warehouse space. Boxes were still everywhere, but the fog on the ground was untouched. The motion of the door blew it out of his way, almost like a welcome. The air was thicker, somehow, and the hair on the back of Martin's neck stood up. Something was in here. It was dimmer and more difficult to see, every other ceiling light turned off. Martin approached another stack of boxes, tapping the sides of each. All empty. He looked around for any sign of the direction of where to go next. His mystery guide was nowhere, leaving him to wander by himself. He walked slowly, not so sure where he was going anymore. There was a presence somewhere beyond the cardboard maze, a presence Martin assumed he was supposed to find. Which one, though, was a mystery.

He heard shifting from beyond the cardboard, and carefully looked around a corner to find exactly who he assumed he was looking for. In an open circle, sat atop a crate, was a delivery man. He sat forward with his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. As martin stared he watched his shoulders shake, sniffling softly. Which one of them he was, though, was difficult to discern. He couldn't tell, the only noticeable feature being his sheer size. Even from Martin’s distance he was giant, his hands large and covering his whole face. Martin noticed a ring on one of his fingers. He couldn't recall seeing that there any time before. He stepped out from behind the wall of boxes and carefully stalked towards him. The shake in his shoulders stopped abruptly as Martin called out. "He-hello?" He called gently. "Are you alright?" He was roughly 8 feet away now, the delivery man's size more apparent this close. Slowly he pulled one hand down, glaring with one dark, empty eye. He looked at Martin for a good few seconds, sizing him up. His hands slid off his face and hovered in the air, his head turning slowly to stare directly at Martin His movement was unnatural and unnerving. The way he stopped seemed almost mechanical. His eyes bore holes into Martin. "I asked if you were alright." He repeated himself. A moment of silence followed his inquiry. "... Do I look alright?" Said the man in a tone surprisingly deep, Martin took a step back. "You don't... Seem to be having a good time... No." Martin said slowly. "Which- which one are you? If I may ask?" The thing in front of him said nothing, simply staring with an inanimate stiffness. "Like are you Hope? Is that you're name? Or is that the other-" "Breekon." It replied, his voice stopping just as mechanically as his movements. "Hope's dead." "That's.. hm." Martin shifted, crossing his arms. " S' a bit on the nose, innit?" "Are you real?" Breekon asked, sounding genuine. "Am I- yeah? Yeah, I'm real?" Breekon stared disbelievingly, squinting at him. He sneered slightly, bearing inhumanely sharp teeth. "What do you want?" He asked, lowering his hands to hold his legs. Martin noticed an identical ring hanging on a string around his neck. "To find you, I think," Martin replied. "Some, uh... Unfinished business?" "What business do we go- do I got... Do I got with you?" "Oh, uh, not me personally." Martin glanced around, wondering where Jon was. "Jon does, though. Apparently." "... Who?" "You know Jon, the guy you kidnapped and almost got skinned once." Martins tone was sour. "Did that a couple times." Breekon huffed. "Gotta be more specific than that." "Jon sims?" Martin tapped his foot impatiently. How did he not know Jon? Everybody knew Jon. "The archivist? The all-seeing-" "He's here?" Breekon's face suddenly changed, looking the slightest bit hopeful. "Well, yeah, He's looking for you." Breekon looked surprised, with the minimal expressions his face made. He seemed to be considering the unfinished business in question. "Wait..." He started, speaking slowly. "I know you. You're one of Magnus' lot, right?" "I guess... Not really anymore. I don't think." Breekon huffed, sounding like an attempt at a chuckle. "He want revenge?" "I dunno," Martin pondered, trying not to wince at his embarrassingly exaggerated accent. "He'd be valid to." "Whatever." Breekon hung his head and rubbed his face, his gold ring the brightest object Martin had seen in the domain so far. Marting stood awkwardly, looking around for Jon to come and wrap up whatever he was there to do. Martin knew he wasn't in danger, technically, but Breekon's presence still unnerved him. He looked out of place in the warehouse but simultaneously blended in with the atmosphere. Martin thought out loud, "you know, I thought you'd be in a different domain. Aren't you a Stranger or something like that?" "Sure." "But you're... Not in a stranger domain?" "Does it look like it?" "O-kay..." Martin put his hands on his hips, a little displeased with the attitude Breekon had the nerve to have. "You know, one would also think this whole nightmare world is a dream come true for you things. You don't look very happy." "Do you think this is our- this is my dream come true? Do you know what it's like in here?” “I don’t-” “The shadows, the voices… they led you back here didn’t they?” Breekon paused, staring at Martin who timidly nodded his head, “that’s what it’s like in here. Ye’see all these boxes, do you? They’re empty. There’s nothing in there. No signs of life, nothing to deliver. We- I’m… I’m a delivery man. Do you think being led around in nonsensical directions is my idea of paradise? Wandering aimlessly and wishing for something to snap us-- snap me out of it? It always feels like there’s something I could be doing, and I always think the shadow and the footsteps will lead me to it. They never do.” Martin stared at Breekon, alarmed by his eloquence. He didn’t want to feel bad, knowing the horrible things they’d done to people. But looking into his sad eyes and the glimmering ring that looked too empty, he couldn’t help but understand. It lost its purpose. It lost hope. “If I were in another domain, maybe I could be put to use. If we were complete, maybe we could have done something together. But as is? No. Can’t say I want this to be my forever.” Martin furrowed his brow, in contempt but almost in empathy. Breekon hung its head as it quietly continued, “Can’t even remember what he looks like. S’not like his shadow lets me get close enough to, either.” The air felt stale and Martin looked around, desperate for something to end the conversation. It didn’t feel right to feel pity for the thing in front of him. He snapped his head towards footsteps coming from behind him, Breekon raising his head as well. Jon speed-walked towards them both, a nervous look on his face. He recognized Breekon, and the nervousness gave way to distaste. Breekon’s hopeful expression hardened into the understanding of his inevitable end before him. Jon’s pace slowed to a halt at Martin’s side. “Hello again, Breekon.” He said flatly. "Yeah.” Breekon replied just as stale. He hunched over and slowly rose to his feet; he was much taller than he looked sitting down. Martin followed his piercing gaze as it ascended to stare down at the both of them with hatred, and an exhaustion one could only imagine weighing on their soul. “Been told you got unfinished business to settle. Deliver the wrong package?” “Funny,” Jon sounded unamused, “but no. It’s a bit more personal than that. You want something from me.” “So kind of you to come to my aid.” Breekon attempted a chuckle, but it fell flat. “... Maybe.” “Say it.” there was no compulsion in Jon’s eyes, no new thickness in the air. A beat passed like a century as Breekon stared dull knives into Jon’s. “Kill me.” “What?” Martin gasped, not expecting this to be the business Jon had left unfinished. “I should have killed you when you gave me the coffin,” Jon said, his tone almost smug, “would have saved us both some trouble.” “You didn’t, though.” “I didn’t.” They stood in tense silence for another moment; Martin stared at Breekon and tried to comfort himself with strength, not the will. “I know what you’re feeling. This is a lonely place to be… a lonely way to live.” “You don’t know anything.” Breekon spat, “you can’t understand. Knowing is different from experiencing, we’re both aware of that… Maybe I could rip him away from you, see how you like it.” “You can try.” Martin scoffed, Breekon’s harsh gaze turning to him. “I…” Jon cut in, turning its attention back. “I can do it for you. I warn you, though, it will hurt.” “Only until it doesn’t though,” Breekon spoke low, its eyes glistening like the gold ring around its neck, “right?” Jon seemed to choke at the statement, thinking momentarily. “... right.” “Good luck.” Martin offered, stepping back as Jon closed his eyes and relaxed his shoulders in preparation. “Whatever.” Breekon replied, not moving.

The air felt heavy as Jon took deep breaths. He spread his arms slightly, palms facing towards Breekon. He looked quizzically at Jon’s strange ritual, but the hair on the back of his neck rose with the static, and he squinted at the shrill ringing in his ear. “Ceaseless Watcher,” Jon began, the muscles in his hands tensing. His eyes shimmered an unnatural green like a cat in a camera flash. “Turn your gaze upon this thing, this lost and broken splinter of fear.” The fog that pooled around their ankles quickly retreated and the lights above their heads began to flicker and squeal. Breekon’s hands shook, his face twisting into fright and pain. He squeezed his eyes shut and emitted strained protests, his voice scratchy. “Take what is left of it as your own and leave no trace of it behind.” Jon chanted, the sputtering bulbs above their heads further illuminating his wide eyes in the unnatural green shimmer. Breekon groaned and shrunk into itself as Jon’s ritual reached its climax. “It. Is Yours.”

Breekon howled in agony, his cry echoing into glitchy static. The ceiling lights flashed a bright green, and Breekon dissipated into the air. Jon lowered his arms and took a deep, shaking breath. Martin put a hand out to grab his shoulder, Jon leaning into the touch. "You alright?" "Yes, yes..." Jon stammered. "You alright?" "I... I will be." Martin cradled Jon momentarily, giving him something to lean on above his shaky legs. Jon wasn't usually this wiped out after a kill. “Was that one… different?” Martin asked carefully. “Was what different?” “Y'know, the speech thing.” Martin glanced back to the dark spot in which Breekon was evaporated. “Your Ceaseless Watcher thing. It sounded different from the other ones.” “Oh.” “I mean, it almost sounded like you felt bad.” “I did.” Martin looked back at Jon, surprised that he would feel pity for something that had harmed him. “Martin, I…” Jon stared somberly at his shoes, “It’s not like the other times. That thing couldn’t have been killed with all the horrors it’s brought upon the world. It enjoys it. It loved the fear too much to be brought down by it. “Okay, but so did Jude Perry, didn’t she? You killed her with her fear imprint, didn’t you?” “I did.” “Why not this one? I mean, god, they’ve been around longer than anybody can guess, why-” “Three hundred years.” “Th- three hundred years, sure. How are three hundred years of horror and misery not enough to kill just half of it?” “Because it's just half of it.” Martin pondered over that for a moment. If it were half, wouldn’t that make it weaker? Breekon sure looked miserable. “You don’t know what that thing felt.” Jon’s voice became sorrowful, almost sharing Breekon’s mournful tone. “There is nothing in this world or any of that thing’s lifetimes more painful than losing its other half. They relished in the fear, it wouldn’t have made a dent. But its loss? Its loss is something greater.” “... huh,” Martin hummed, thinking over it. “I mean, yeah I guess.” “There is something very powerful about having the one thing you love to be torn away from you. Being reduced like that. Killing it was a mercy.” “I’m not entirely sure it deserves mercy, though.” “It doesn’t.” His voice sharpened with his eyes, but after a beat, softened again. “... but I know I wouldn't want to suffer the same fate.” Martin hummed in response as they both glanced back to Breekon’s resting place. The fog slowly rolled back over it. “Has business been taken care of?” Martin tried to liven the mood just slightly. “... Yes.” Jon took a deep breath and recentered himself. “Yes, it has. Come on, let's get a move on.” Jon grasped Martin’s hand and let them quietly away. Jon pondered to himself if he should feel so bad about killing his previous kidnapper. He shouldn't, and he didn't entirely, but the thought of losing what he loved was a fate worse than death that he could empathize with at the very least.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Jigsaw // Black : Part Two

I Promise

A/N: Time’s up. Frank’s here. It’s all about to end. Will Billy be able to finish it on his terms and keep his promise to you? 

Warning: gun violence, weapons, major character death

Word Count: 3,770

“You’re almost done, Billy.” He leaned back in his chair in the communications tent, eyes closed, just listening. The cushioned headset he wore drowned out most of the background noise, letting him focus more clearly on you. If he concentrated hard enough, he could pretend that the muffled voices of the men right outside were just your neighbors, arguing again. He could pretend that he was sitting across from you in your living room instead of across oceans and continents.“Less than three months now, then you’ll be-” He swallowed, squeezing his eyelids shut at the way your voice betrayed you, hitching before your muttered ‘fuck’. You took a breath to steady yourself but he could hear the tears behind it. Fuck, he repeated to himself. “Then you’ll be back home, Billy.” 

 The last time he’d been able to talk to you, it had been a video call. The screen froze and the audio lagged at certain points, but getting to see you- the way your eyebrows would jump and your eyes would grow round before your smile overtook your face, or the way you’d look down and shake your head before you broke into a laugh-  getting to see you was more than worth the technical frustrations. But this time, a video call wasn’t an option. His unit had recently moved to a new location, and things weren’t entirely set up yet. He dragged a bruised hand down over his dirty face, palm curving around the overgrown beard covering his chin and jaw. Despite the fact that he wanted nothing more than to have you right there in front of him, to take you in his arms and feel you warm and real against him, he was glad that the network wasn’t set up yet, glad that you couldn’t see how drained and ragged he knew that he looked; he was glad that he couldn’t see how broken you sounded. The past few weeks had been tough on both of you. He was glad he didn’t have to see it on you.   

 “Yeah,” he forced the exhaustion down, like he’d been trained to do, replacing it with a stability that he didn’t feel. “Yeah, that’s right.” 

 “Like you promised,” you breathed, giving in to the tears. 

 Fuck that goddamn promise. On nights like this, when he could feel the odds tilting against him, he hated the fact that he’d given you hope where he had no business to do so. “Yeah,” he answered. “Yeah, like I promised.” I’m tryin’ like Hell. 

 A door opened and someone called his name. “Time’s up Russo.” 

 “RUSSO!” The harsh scrape and cold metallic clang of the warehouse door accompanied the wild roar of his name. Pupils dilating and attention snapping back to the present, he inhaled through his nose and silently rose to his feet, back to the wall. Why did I...why that… “RUSSO! Where are you?” Frank bellowed as the door slammed shut again. But Billy knew he’d be there, knew he was coming. What he didn’t understand was why he’d recalled that conversation. He’d talked to you a handful of times between that night and the night he’d sent the email that had ended things. So why… Why was his battered brain replaying that scene? Why now? “Bill! Goddamnit, Bill, I know you’re here. Where are you?” Time’s up.

 Frank’s booming voice echoed in the steel and concrete space, his boots crunching over broken glass from the fallen panes. Billy inched his way around the corner, the brick wall to his back as he slunk in the shadows until he could peer over the edge of the broken window into the room below. He cocked his head to the side as, unseen, he watched Frank stride into view. In the past Frank had been beside him when he’d taken the high ground on an enemy. This was a different angle, one that made his stomach lurch. Shit. Suddenly, eyes trained on his former friend, he realized why that particular memory had come to him. Goddamnit it, Frankie. 

 “Russo, I feel like you’re someone I can depend on,” Rawlins spoke casually, even when the topic was anything but. Billy couldn’t stand the man, but he knew that he had endless resources at his fingertips, knew that he was the kind of man that could make things happen. “Am I right, soldier?” 

 Billy regarded the cocky little bastard, weighing his response. What’s in it for me? “Yessir,” he answered, thinking only about self preservation, thinking only about how to fulfill that damn promise to you. 

 “And Castle?” The man shifted his weight, beady little eyes on Billy. “Is he someone I can depend on? Or is he going to be a problem?” 

 “I trust Frank with my life, sir.” Billy answered without hesitation. 

 Rawlins smiled, taking a step towards Billy, shaking one finger. “That’s nice, soldier.” The way he said the word, employing all of the superiority that his rank allowed, made Billy cringe. “But that’s not the question I asked you.” 

 “No, sir,” Billy dished the emphasis right back. “Frank won’t be a problem.” We gotta get outta this, Frankie. You gotta trust me, brother. 

 “Alright then, Russo, you’re dismissed. Go take your turn in the comms tent. I’m sure you’ve got someone to call back home.” 

 It was still weeks before the fateful night that Billy tore Frank away from Rawlins’ twitching, bloody form. But it was the first night Billy knew that shit was going south, and that his only chance of coming out of it on top was to convince Frank follow his lead. We do what he says and we walk away from this. We go home, start that security team...He thought of you as he followed his feet to the communications tent. After a string of rough missions and a stretch of sleepless nights, all he wanted was to hear your voice. Frank goes home to his family. I go home to her. 

 That’s why… 

 That’s why he was standing where he was, scarred and carved out and hollow. That’s why Frank was downstairs, blinded by rage and fueled by vengeance. Damnit, Frank, why couldn’t you see it? 

 Billy watched as Frank turned, slowly pacing and scanning the dark room. With another bellow of Billy’s name, he finished his circle, facing Billy’s direction. Stark white against the jet black vest, the skull that haunted him for months seared through his memory, burning every single page as it flipped back to the night on the carousel. The night l lost her. He flinched away from the razor sharp memory of that last kiss as he begged you to leave the park, get far away from him. The night he took her from me. The razor zipped back through his brain to show him your lifeless body, the eerie blue lights reflecting off skin that was already growing cold as the ponies carried him away from you. He took everything from me. He watched Frank’s shoulders hunch and tense up as the man prepared to shout again. His heart thumped wildly in his chest, his blood pulsing behind his eyes. Time’s up. 

 “Right here, Frankie boy,” he sneered, stepping away from the wall. He had Madani’s gun pointed right at Frank’s head, and in less than half a second Frank had returned the favor, spinning on a dime to find Billy and line up a shot. Some things never change. “I’m right here.” 

 “You alone, Russo? Huh? Anyone else here?” Half of Frank’s face was obscured by his gun and his outstretched arms, but Billy recognized the flame in that man’s eyes. It was the same fire that burned in his own. 

 “Yeah,” Billy spat from behind his own weapon. “Yeah I’m alone. You made sure’a that, didn’t you, Frank?” You lost your family so you took mine away.

 “Ah, c’mon, cut the shit, Bill, you can’t put this on me. You know you can’t.” He was slowly advancing towards the staircase, Billy moving along upper level as Frank moved below, like magnets pushing and pulling against one another.  

 Billy’s lungs heaved under his ribs, massive intakes of breath that made him fight dizziness. Can’t put it on you, Frank? Anger ripped through every cell in his body leaving his bones vibrating.  “YOU. SHOT. HER!” His voice tore and frayed into threads as he squeezed the trigger of his gun. It was a poorly timed and badly aimed shot and he knew it. It was an emotional reaction and he cursed himself for it as the bang reverberated in the warehouse. Fuck! He told himself he wouldn’t waste the few bullets he had, and he’d blown one within the first minute. Frank had dodged the shot, reading Billy’s telegraph and rolling closer to the staircase. “Don’t, DON’T, tell me it’s not on you, YOU KILLED HER!” He kept his gun raised but refrained from shooting again until he knew he had his shot. Until he gets up here. Right up close.

 Frank groaned, as though he was tired of the topic. “And why were we there that night, huh?” He slowly made his way up the rickety stairs. “Why did I kill her? Why is my family dead?” Billy’s nostrils flared as he tried to get his breathing back under control, gun still pointed at Frank as he backed further into the lofted area. “That doctor,” Fuck that doctor. “Madani,” Billy seethed as he tightened his grip on her gun. “Lotta bodies, Bill. Lotta Blood on your hands.”

  Lotta blood on both our hands, Frankie, or did you forget that? “Yeah,” Billy scoffed. “Yeah. Just got one more to add.” Then I’m done. 

 Frank was only one step away from the top when he locked eyes with Billy and pulled the trigger, a gravelly yell coming from him as he did. Just like Frank had done, Billy was able to throw himself sideways and out of range, ducking behind one of the overturned file cabinets that he’d moved to take cover. Frank let two more shots rip, the bullets lodging in the thick metal, denting it with deadly force. Billy waited for the ringing to subside, until he could hear Frank’s footsteps again, before he moved. The bandage he’d wrapped around his arm after leaving Madani’s apartment had torn off as he landed behind the cabinet, cool air hitting the wound as warm blood seeped into his shirtsleeve. “You’re not gonna kill me, Bill! I’m not the one who dies!”  

 “You’re not gonna die today. Dyin’s easy.”

 The garbled music of the carousel played like a soundtrack as Frank’s words echoed in his memory. “You had your chance to kill me. Now it’s my turn.” He slid along the cabinet as Frank circled around, firing two more shots into the space where Billy was just seconds ago. Getting the drop on him, Billy stood and quickly spun behind another shelving unit. “I’m a hard man to kill, Frank.” Especially now. I got nothin’ to lose. He aimed through a busted shelf as Frank gaped around the room looking for him. He fired at the exact moment that Frank moved, the bullet only grazing the man’s shoulder and giving away Billy’s location. Damnit. 

 With a grunt, Frank turned in Billy’s direction. “You’re right, Russo. You are a hard man to kill. I shoulda finished things that night, I shoulda,” he reached into his pocket and Billy’s eyes went wide. Oh, shit. “Not makin’ that mistake again, Bill.” He pulled the pin from the small metal orb in his hand, cocking his arm back. 

 From the shape of the grenade, Billy could tell it was just a flashbang, a non-lethal blast that was used for distraction or to flush an enemy out. The combustion alone wouldn’t usually be enough to kill anyone, but whether or not Frank was aware of it, the warehouse was full of old aerosol paint cans, and they, as they caught fire and exploded, could certainly be deadly. “No! Don’t!” He shouted as Frank released the grenade, but he was too late, the cannister tumbling towards him through the air as he dove as far as he could. 

 The flash ignited instantly, a brilliant burst of light followed by a loud crack as Billy flew through the air. Just as he knew would happen, the blast sparked a flame that spread in a matter of milliseconds to the pile of spent spray cans that had fallen from the shelf. Frank was blown backwards as Billy landed, cans exploding to send twisted bits of hot metal and plastic through the room. Searing heat and a deep, burning pain told Billy that he was still alive, and he blinked and coughed, scooting back against a damaged door frame. Finish it. Gotta...gotta finish it. He blinked again and again, trying to clear the brightness, your face flashing behind his eyelids every time. “Billy,” you reached for him like you had in his mind the night in the park. Hang on, he begged you. I’m comin’. A groan from the other side of the room and a shuffling sound told him that Frank had survived the blast, too. Just gotta finish this. Almost done.      

  Deafening bangs tore through the air as several more paint cans exploded, flames flaring as they burst, brilliant orange and raging red. Billy crouched with his back to one of the door frame as the cans turned to shrapnel and flew in all directions. As the shock of the explosion subsided, he found the source of that burning pain. He looked down at his right thigh, black jeans torn, blood and mangled skin visible through the tear. Shit. He knew he had to stop the bleeding, knew he didn’t have long if he couldn’t. He had eyes on Frank and saw that he was hit, too, clutching his left bicep near the crook of his elbow, and knew he had a minute to recover while Frank did the same. Hands shaking, he pressed his palms around the pointed piece of aluminum protruding from his leg. Wincing, Billy determined that it was too deep to simply pull out. He recalled the crash course in IED wound care that he’d taken years ago. If the shrapnel hits the femoral artery, apply pressure and call for a Med-Evac immediately. He removed his hands from the wound and blood spurted out around the edges of the jagged metal, hot and thick as it soaked his pant leg. He slowed his breathing as the rapid blood loss threatened dizziness, and focused on tearing the bottom hem of his shirt. It took more strength than he thought, but he tore the material and wrapped it tightly around the wound, surrounding the piece of metal to make sure it didn’t move. 

His heart drummed loudly in his ears, like it was warning him that it was beating out it’s final rhythm. Not yet. Not...not until I finish this… He squeezed his eyes shut to try to focus, opening them again as he heard more movement from Frank. He’d secured his own wound, picked his gun back up, and Billy could see him staggering to his feet. Time to move. He tested out his injured leg, putting weight on it slowly until he was standing, too. Another shot caught him off guard as Frank took advantage of the fact that he’d found his feet first, ripping into his side, right next to the long, puffy scar that Frank had left him with the last time they’d done this dance. A burst of air left his lungs as he fell back into the wall and fired his own shot, the last bullet in the chamber finding its mark and tearing into Frank’s collarbone, right above the vest he wore. Both men slid back down, clutching their new wounds as blood spilled over their fingers. That drum beat in Billy’s chest changed tempo to tell him time was short. His breathing came shallow and rapid quick as color faded from his vision, everything turning a drab gray or a thick, heavy black. He choked as dark, hot blood dribbled from his lips and exhaustion filled every muscle, slowing his movements. Almost done. 

 “How’d we get here, Bill?” Frank groaned the question, and Billy could tell that he was in rough shape, too. “How’d...this...goddamnit, Russo, how’d we get here?”

 “Could…” he coughed, spit and blood spraying from his mouth. “Could ask you the same...question, Frank. You…you did this. You…” He felt his voice break as the weight of everything he’d lost pressed down on the shell of his body. You. Him. The Castles. Everything. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes, burning from the smoke and from the way he felt you reaching out to him. “Remember the fires, Frankie? ‘Member… remember how they smelled? Rubber’n oil and…” he wrinkled his nose, the acrid memory filling his nostrils. “Shit like that… it’s burned in there, Frank.” He pressed the ball of his hand into his eye, palm and fingers curving around his brow. “And now she’s…” He winced, coughing and squeezing his eyes shut as tight as he could. “Now she’s there, Frank, she’s there,” with the fires, and the bombs, and, and the nightmares, and it’s not right.”

 “You put her there, Bill...It’s your fault she’s there.” He choked the words out, absolute conviction filling what was left of his voice. 

 “No.” Billy clutched the top of his head with one hand as he shook it to clear Frank’s accusation. No. No, it’s not. “No, no! No, Frank, you did! You killed her like you killed your family.” He shouted across the vast space, voice cracking and breaking, throat raw from the hot, smoke-filled air. 

 “Bullshit!” Frank lobbed his response around the corner like another grenade, the absolute hatred in that one word raining more rubble down around the remains of what they once had. “They loved you, Bill. They- and you…” He paused, a breath leaving his lungs in the form of an anguished grunt. “My kids, my wife! They loved you like you were one of us, Bill.” I know they did, that’s why I… He doesn’t see it, he still doesn’t see... He pounded the cinderblock wall behind him with the side of his closed fist in frustration as Frank continued. “And you betrayed them. You killed my family and-” No. 

 “I tried to save your family, Frank!” Billy cut him off, spit flying from his lips as he screamed, fist slamming the wall twice more to open up small cuts on the meat of his hand.He didn’t feel it, numb to everything except the acidic sting of Frank’s inability to see. He took a shuddering breath, fighting harder and harder to fight the slow, creeping cold that was starting to shut him down. Why can’t he… “I tried to warn you. I tried to...but you didn’t...you didn’t listen, Frank, you never...listened! That transfer? You should have… god damnit, Frank, why didn’t you take that fucking transfer?” She’d be alive. Your family would be alive, we’d all be… The room spun, vision taking longer and longer to come back after each blink, coming through darker and darker. He’s not gonna...I can’t make him see. I can’t. He shoved his hand in his pocket, fingers wrapping around the blade handle, knuckles brushing over the photo. Gotta finish it. 

 Frank continued his protests as Billy harnessed as much strength as he could, refusing to fail as he forced himself to his feet. He saw you in that blue dress that you wore in his conjured vision from the ball. Another can burst somewhere to his left as he took a step. You stretched your arms out wide in front of Alice and her bronze companions, thick blue scarf wrapped around your neck. A shattered pane of glass fell from the window that looked out over the bottom floor, and there you were, next to him on that carousel, begging him to hold on. Another step. Another flash. “X Marks the spot, Billy” He pulled the knife from his pocket. “Like you promised.” Frank let the last of his bullets fly, grazing Billy’s shoulder. “I love you, Billy”.  He kept moving, kept coming, kept going, and Frank couldn’t get out of his path. 

 His knee hit the ground, his whole weight behind the drop, letting gravity help him as he caught the back of Frank’s skull with his free hand, driving his knife through his throat until his knuckles touched flesh and his forehead fell against Frank’s. “Dyin’s easy.” He heard the words again and watched how true they were as the man he once called brother spasmed and fell silent, his blood coating Billy’s fingers, his weight heavy in his arms. It’s over, Frank. It’s done. Billy set his body down, a new level of emptiness scraping at his battered heart. It’s done. I’m done. He closed his eyes as the fires swept through the building, but you were there, and you were calling him, and he couldn’t let go until he found you. Opening his eyes, he gasped and gulped for air as his fingers relaxed their grip on the blood soaked blade that he held, diving into his pocket to find the bent, glossy print instead. A sob fell from his lips as his eyes landed on your face and he whispered your name. 

 He kept his eyes on the photo until they burned from the smoke, until they blurred and filled with tears. He wiped them roughly away with his sleeve before squinting back at the image for another few seconds.  “I want a picture of us. Here.” Your voice filled his ears, replacing the roar of the flames and the pop of the bursting cans, taking him out of the warehouse and back to the park. “I… you’re leaving, Billy. In a few days and…”  He slid his thumb up over to cover his own face, as he’d done the first time he’d been handed the photo. “And I want a picture, before you go.”  But this time when he slid it back down, a smear of blood kept his likeness covered, leaving only you, smiling up at the faceless man. “Okay?” 

 “Okay.” He looked over at Frank, at the flames and the broken glass and he knew this wasn’t where he was supposed to be. “Okay,” he moaned weakly, tears falling and lungs heaving as he dragged himself to his feet again. “Okay, I’m comin’...I promise.”

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@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @gollyderek @thesumofmychoices  @obscurilicious @traeumerinwitzhelden @jigsawlover10 @getlostinyourparadise @breanime @nananananananananananabatman @lexxierave @songforhema @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @lysawayne @roses-in-your-country-house @ymariejp @belladonnarey @audreychaz @songtoyou @stories-you-wont-hear @luminex3 @ificouldhelpyouforget

[10millionyearsdungeon]

Digitalis

A/N: So! I had an idea sitting on the hard drive for...well, ever, and this was it. It’s a magic/demon AU with an OC I’ve had tooling around for a few months. It’s part of a longer multi-chapter piece that’s been collecting dust. With the grand opening of the Dungeon I figured why not release it into the wild and see what happens. 

Her soft blue eyes widened at the haunting sound riding on the wind. It was low, gravely, almost a snarl that tore right through her core. Her room was empty, just as it was before her ritual. “What...who's there?” Silence was all that answered the young witch's question. Her mouth pressed into a hard line as she collected her things and returned her altar to its usual neat state. Ayame's joints ached from sitting in her summoning circle for so long; she felt decades older, ancient even. When she returned her area rug to its usual home in the center of her floor, she noted scorch marks where her circle once was. Careful fingers brushed the smudged soot and she quietly marveled at the warmth that remained. Pushing her questions out of her exhausted mind, Ayame continued to tidy her room and blew out her candles. Amateur magician and summoner Himewari Ayame nuzzled into her pillows and let herself drift off to sleep.

Ayame clutched her pillow tightly to her resting form, tears welling in her eyes as she reached out in her dreams for the same boy with sandy blond hair and intense scarlet eyes. How those eyes burned through her, haunted her since that afternoon in the garden so many years ago. It was quiet in the loft she once shared with her aging aunt above the apothecary, only the sounds of her unsteady breathing welcoming the moonlight through the slatted blinds.

“Oi! I'm talking to you!” The voice echoed again, but Ayame only rolled over and held her pillow over her head to muffle the sound. It growled, frustrated by her avoidance. Deep claret eyes bore into her sleeping form. “The fucking nerve of these witch bitches! No fucking follow through,” he spat, stretching his clawed hands. His gaze didn't waver as he watched her sleep. A thought occurred to the apparition-- if she wouldn't interact in the physical realm, maybe he could get her attention in another? A deep scowl marred his otherwise handsome features. It wasn't his style to go chasing after idiot witches, but this pretty little idiot left him in the lurch after offering just a taste of her power.

Brushing a calloused, careful hand through his caller's ink-black hair he glared down at her sleeping face. With a forceful sigh, he crouched down at her side and whispered into her ear. “You called me. You brought me here. Now come and face me.” Under his touch, her hair shifted from pitch to finely spun silver, surprising the unexpected visitor. Her face screwed into a frown under the heat of his hand. Unbearable, white hot like embracing a star, she melted into his hand with a soft gasp.

“About time you got here, moron.”

Ayame blinked dumbfounded at the sturdy male before her. With his tanned arms crossed over his broad chest he spat at her feet and leveled a scorching glare that burned right through her. Her mouth opened, but her words ran dry, evaporated in the oppressive heat. Her dreamscape was never quite as arid as it was when the invader occupied it. Instead of lush forest and a sprawling riverbed all she could see was cracked earth, a wasteland ravaged by slow dying embers and wind. Her eyes took in his sneer, the sigils etched into his sun-kissed shoulders and calves. His eyes were garnets that twinkled ominously under the shock of ash blond hair.

“Wha-...do I know you?” The question stuck to her mouth like dry spices, numbing her tongue and making it impossible to swallow. The apparition's handsome face split into a wicked grin, pointed canines glinting dangerously in the bright sun.

“This is a waste of my fucking time,” he spat. “Dumbass little witch-bitch doesn't even recognize greatness when it's staring her in the fucking face.” Ayame's chest puffed in anger, her sky eyes darkening to a dangerous navy blue. She glanced at her fingertips-- still stained back with soot from her summoning circle, and then back at the foul-mouthed spirit before her. “Bet'cha don't even know what you summoned in the first place. Tch, shitty girl.”

“I know what I intended to summon, and it certainly wasn't the likes of you,” she spat back. Her gaze darkened until her irises were midnight-blue. “I was calling for my familiar, not to make a pact with some weak-ass fire spirit with a complex!” A growl ripped through the blond male's chest as he closed the distance between himself and the summoner. His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits as his presence bore down on her much smaller frame. Ayame growled back, rising to her full height and meeting his challenging stance with one of her own. Despite the top of her head meeting his chin power crackled through her bones and down her fingertips as she glared back at him.

“I'll show you fucking weak, cunt,” he hissed dangerously, the tips of Ayame's hair singed with proximity to the heat rolling off his body. “You got a lotta fucking nerve to forget me, shitty girl.” He brought a clawed hand up to strike the imperious witch, but found his hands bound in front of his chest with a chain of white light. He struggled against his bonds, but Ayame held fast to her chain. “LET ME GO!” he roared, fire spewing from his lips. His palms crackled with small explosions as he gnashed his fangs in protest.

“Not until you give me your name.” Ayame kept her tone low, voice lethal as if she could end him with a word. In her dreamscape she felt power surge through her unfiltered. He spat at her feet, and was met with another chain lashing around his ankles. With a flick of her wrist he was brought to his knees. He breathed fire from his nostrils and dug his fingers into the baked red earth. Ayame kept her gaze distant and cold as pale, soft ears laid flat against his fluffy head. The sigils tattooed onto his limbs glowed orange the harder he fought against her hold on him.

“LET ME GO!!” Then came the tails, beautiful, full fox tails swishing furiously, stirring the dust and sending glittering embers toward the witch. “I swear you'll fucking regret this if you don't let me go!”

“No.” Her response was soft, but cut through his rage. “You can't hurt me here,” she murmured, crouching to his level on the parched earth. “I don't think you want to, either.” She raised her hands to his face and studied how his sigils, heavy golden markings climbed from his strong forearms across his shoulders and up to his stunning face. He flinched under her thumbs as she gently traced the outline of his heavy sigils under each eye. “Why else would you have answered my call?” Her words poured over him like ice water, dousing his fight and fire. Her fingertips felt like feathers brushing tenderly across each cheek, soothing his fury and wiping it away with loving hands. He shook his head from her grip and gritted his teeth at her, refusing to feel diminished by such a novice in the slightest.

“...Bakugo. M'name's Bakugo.”

His piercing red eyes lingered on the subtle quirk of her lips as she smiled. She was too close for his comfort, but with her chains binding him from escape he knelt in the dirt waiting for her response. “Himewari Ayame. Pleasure to meet you, Bakugo.”

“I know who you are, you shitty girl,” he spat. Rage seeped from his sharp eyes and bleed into the hellscape surrounding them as she took in her new captive. She rose to her feet and dusted her knees off. “So, what's a fire spirit doing answering familiar summons?” Her question hung on the dry air as she took in the hellscape around them. “You did this. You changed my sanctuary,” she murmured to herself. Bakugo pulled against his bindings again, hoping they would weaken with distraction. With a huff, he relented and thumped his magnificent tails against the dust impatiently.

“Tch, fucking party trick compared to what I can really do.”

“You really like chatting yourself up.”

His cheeks flushed dark pink at her pointed retort. If looks could kill, Ayame would be dead in a heap. “Are we done here? Let me go, ya dumb bitch. I've got places to be.”

“And yet you answered my summons...despite all your supposed power...” her voice trailed as if in deep thought. “Why would you answer my call if you had 'places to be'?”

Her question made his mouth run dry. “Tch.” Sucking his teeth, he hung his head and turned from her eyes. He could swim in the cool blue waters held in those eyes if his pride would let him. Careful hands carded through his untamed hair and his whole body froze. It took all his self-control to keep his tails from wagging when she absently rubbed his velvety soft ears. “You're energy's hard to ignore...rare delicacy,” he grunted, nuzzling his head into her hands embarrassed.

“Does this mean you're answering my call?”

Garnet met sapphire when he sneered up at her and held out his bound wrists. The brilliant orange of his sigils shone on his skin like condensed sunlight. “Wake up and find out.”

Ayame woke with a gasp, cool morning air filling her lungs with much needed respite from the arid heat of her dreamscape. Light filtered through the leaves of climbing ivy and spider plants hanging in the window and onto her pale face. Soft moans broke through the silence of her morning reveries and she stretched her lithe limbs under her quilts and rolled over to brush her nose with the cold, wet leather nose of an ash blond Fennec fox curled on her opposite pillow. It huffed annoyed that its sleep was disturbed and cracked a brilliant scarlet eye at the girl. Cautiously, she ran the tip of her index finger between his ears and held her breath. “Bakugo..?” she whispered at the small animal and was met with him blinking at her slowly.

The small fox stretched his tiny paws in front of his body and yawned impressively before turning back in on himself in a tight coil and nestling his head into his fluffy tail. Through pursed lips, Ayame slowly exhaled and sat on the edge of her bed. It wouldn't be long before her shop would have to open, and she still had plants to tend, herbs to gather, and talismans to charm before the morning was through. “I don't suppose you'd like to lend a hand this morning, oh-powerful-one?” Bakugo sniffed at her disdainfully and narrowed his splendid eyes in her direction. Ignoring his response, she rose to her feet and stretched toward the ceiling again. Bakugo continued to watch her as she prepared for her day, eyes lingering on the pale swath of her midriff as she dressed. He finally stood and rolled his tiny, furry shoulders and hopped down from his pillow to the floor. With a yip, he dodged tumbling fabric and growled at the witch as she warmed her bare skin under the morning sun. If foxes could blush, Bakugo's face would be as red as his eyes. His fur bristled at the sight of her nubile body in the garish sunlight.

“Oh, don't act like you've never seen a naked girl before.” The melody of her laugh lifted over the dust and greenery in the loft. Bakugo lowered his ears and turned away with a huff. Ayame pulled a white knit sweater over her bare torso and slipped on a pair of black leggings. Her black hair brushed down her back in soft waves, a glittering river of silk tempting the fox to turn his head and observe his captor in her ministrations. He followed her down the stairs from the loft to the store front and jumped onto one of the emptier bookcases; he settled himself between half-burned taper candles and a cleaned coyote skull to survey the whole store. His large ears twitched at the soft melody she hummed to herself. Dust hung suspended in the air with her voice, and for a moment since being taken captive Bakugo felt he could breathe. Ayame strode by his hiding spot and smiled tenderly at her new roommate. “Still sore about me beating you, huh? That's okay,” she hummed and scratched between his ears. Silence hung between them for what felt like hours, an uncomfortable void that was only made more tense with the ringing of her shop bell.

“Morning, Himewari. Did you get my order in yet?” Bakugo cut his eyes at the intruder and snarled, fluffing up his sandy blond fur. Wide forest green eyes stared curiously at the small animal. “When did you get a pet?” Midoriya canted his head and held out a hand to the furious ball of fluff, only to pull it back with a cry.

“Midoriya! Your books came in yesterday,” Ayame hefted the stack of dusty tomes on her glass counter and frowned at the fox. “I'm afraid he's not very sociable yet,” she chuckled and moved closer to her freckled regular to inspect the bite on his finger. A light pink dusted Midoriya's freckled cheeks with every brush of Ayame's skilled hands on his own scarred ones. Bakugo let out another snarl and barred his fangs at the dark-haired witch, as if to frighten her into pulling her hands away from the small bite on Midoriya's hand. Pursing her lips, Ayame tsked her tongue at the ill-tempered creature. Without a second thought, she conjured a small blue flame and engulfed the bite, causing the pink in Midoriya's cheeks to deepen into a bright red. Satisfied with her work, she offered him a small smile and dropped his hands. 

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Bakugo continued to growl and observe the interaction between Midoriya and Himewari. Something felt off about how overly familiar the green-haired boy was with his witch. As they continued to chat over superfluous human nonsense like the weather and the cost of bread Bakugo leaped from his perch and climbed up the stairs to the loft away from their nonsensical prattle. Try as he might, he couldn't block out the sound of her voice following him into their shared sanctuary. Rolling his garnet eyes, he shed his fox fur and growled at the faint outline of his new tether around his wrist. His eyes followed the trail it left back to the young woman casually leaning against her shop counter as she continued to chat with her customer. If he didn't know any better he would have thought she was flirting with the extra, but the white light of her leash on his wrist told him otherwise. 

Her energy was sweet, unadulterated and raw; he glowered down at her and swore to himself that it would be his. Carding a hand through his pale hair, his claws digging roughly at his scalp Bakugo sucked his teeth and thumbed his nose. The bell chimed again, signaling Midoriya's departure. Once again, Bakugou felt like he could breathe again without the other, lesser witch's energy stifling him.

“...Bakugo? Are you still here..?” she cautiously approached the staircase. He bristled at the sound of her voice and bit back his response. “Are you still mad about last night..?” His eyes rested antagonistically on her dark head at the stairs. She expected to find the angry little fox in her room and was surprised to find the same handsome, fiery man sitting cross-legged on her bed glowering at her with stunning red eyes. He lifted his bound wrist and tugged at the tether of light binding him to her.

“Get this shit off me.” His voice was dangerous and low, but lacked the same edge it had in her dreamscape the night before.

“You can't break it yourself?” Ayame tossed her hair over her shoulder and folded her arms under her ample bosom. Bakugo let out a snarl and rushed to his feet. Nose to nose with the witch, he growled and reflexively clenched his fists at his sides. Small explosions crackled in his palms and fire danced in his garnet eyes.

“You know that's not how this shit works, princess, now take it off!”

“I don't think so. What's going to keep you here if I do?”

“Keh, don't you know who I am? I'm fucking Bakugo, and no one-- not even some pathetic, low-rent little backwater witch with a busted memory is gonna keep me where I don't wanna be. I go where I want, when I want. Got it?!”

She narrowed her blue eyes at his red ones and held him there with just a look. A different kind of fire built in Bakugo's core, and he wasn't entirely sure he liked it yet. Ayame raised her brows at him and flourished her fingers over his tethered wrist with a sigh. “Fine,” she huffed. 

It was a single word, but held an abyss of sour emotion. Turning on her heel, she retreated back down the stairs and shook her head. In that moment, Bakugou could have sworn he smelled salt and despair on her. Ignoring the tug at his heartstrings, he flexed his untethered wrist and glowered back down the stairs. Freedom from her tether wasn't as sweet as he imagined. His limbs felt lighter, but his chest tightened at the sound of her dejected sigh from the floor beneath him. Suddenly his human skin felt uncomfortable in the waking realm. The soft chime of the shop bell signaled another customer to her dusty shop. Ayame shoved down the twinge of hurt from Bakugo's outburst and attempted her brightest smile for her customer. 

“Welcome. How can I help?”

“Herbs. I'm afraid I'm short on white willow bark and Valerian root.” She was an older woman, squat and bent over with the years of her practice. Her steel-gray hair piled high on her head, the healer-woman adjusted her glasses and held firmly to her cane with a weary smile. Ayame returned the worn smile and climbed her apothecary ladder to retrieve the desired herbs and her scales.

“Do you need it powdered, stem, or is dried whole fine?” The older woman shook her head.

“Powdered is fine. About 2 grams of each, please.” Ayame gracefully descended the ladder with her jars of herbs and her brass scale and set them on the glass counter top. “Do you grind them yourself, miss?” The younger witch nodded. 

“I do. It's a one-woman show around here, I'm afraid,” she offered with a small chuckle. Deftly, she pulled her dark hair back in a loose bun atop her head and set to work measuring and preparing the herbs. There was something therapeutic about the grinding and mixing of herbs with her mortar and pestle. Distracted from her less savory emotions, she let her hopes seep into the herbs as she pulverized them into dust. “May this ease your fever and pain...may this bring you restful, dreamless sleep...” she thought as her hands worked. When she finished, she gathered her powdered herbs and carefully packaged them in apothecary jars. “Do you need me to carry these out to your carriage, ma'am?”

“Shuzenji, miss. And no, I think I can manage.” The older woman took her packages and paused at the door. “But you should consider hiring extra help, or put that lazy familiar to work.” Bakugo growled at her closing remark and popped off a battery of small explosions from his palms. Ayame laughed, and the popping ceased, but to Bakugo's keen hearing it was a hollow sound, a ghost of what her real laugh should have sounded like. 

“Oh, I don't have a familiar yet, but I'll put up a notice for a hired set of hands,” she countered. Shuzenji sniffed and shook her head, offering a wave before bustling out of the shop. The soft chiming of bells signaled her departure, and the atmosphere in Ayame's little world grew heavier with the closing of the door. Her smile fell, and her wide blue eyes scanned her shelves. “Perhaps...” she murmured to herself. “I should consider restocking some of these wild varieties...at the very least it'll get me out of the shop.” She collected her gathering supplies-- a knife, her basket, and several small apothecary jars, and locked the shop front door. Wordlessly, she slipped out the back door and out the garden gate into the woods alone, leaving Bakugo to mull over his capture and subsequent release. His ears twitched with the soft closing of the back door. 

The sun still hanging low in the sky, he leered at her back as she strolled down the deer paths into the thicket at the edge of the forest. “Tch, idiot witch.” Katsuki's fierce gaze fell back onto his left wrist again, chewing on her last loaded word. It echoed in his centuries old mind. He didn't need to be bonded to any stupid witch.

“Why else would you have answered my call?”

His fangs dug into the inside of his cheek as he traced scorch marks into the floor with his pacing. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he relaxed briefly against the bed they shared the night before. Before he realized what he was doing, his nose was buried into her pillowcase breathing deep the heady sandthorn and sandalwood scent of her hair. The residual energy she left in her wake was intoxicating, lighting his veins aflame with molten gold. Abandoning her bed, he followed the trail of her magic to her work station and let out a low groan. It burned him from the inside out how potent even the traces of her work was. Running a deft finger along the rim of her mortar, he brought it to his lips and keened at the thought of devouring her essence. Capturing the digit with his tongue, he buckled against the counter and let out a barking laugh. If anyone had been in the shop they would have thought he was a man possessed. 

“Fuck me...” he cackled holding his head in his calloused hands. “That's it. That's the answer,” he rasped out between laughs. “Shitty girl...you'll remember soon enough.” As if on cue, Ayame returned with her basket of fresh herbs and bark. For a moment, her sky-blue eyes widened with surprise at the fox spirit, but the moment passed and her expression grew stoic as she processed her finds. Bakugo leaned against the counter and watched her lay stems of wild angelica and belladona on sheets of muslin cloth with curiosity shining in his garnet eyes.

“I would have expected you to be gone by now,” she sniffed, keeping her attention on her plants. Bakugo sucked his teeth and steadied his temper. “I thought you didn't want to be here.” He watched her hands work quickly, stripping the berries from juniper boughs and tying the stems of her other herbs in neat bundles to dry. 

“Yeah,” he started, licking his lips. “Well, I changed my mind.” Carefully, he took the twine and herbs from her hands, ears flattened on his head as he looked into her face. “I'm sorry I was such an ass,” he mumbled, barely loud enough for her human ears to hear. He shrank under her azure gaze, as if she could see right through him to his core and engulf him with just her stare. “Stop that,” he grumbled.

“Stop what?” “That,” he nodded at her face. 

“That thing with your eyes. It's creepy.”

“...You mean looking at you?” 

He huffed out exasperatedly and took her hands in his. “The other thing. Where you keep me from going anywhere.”

“Bakugo, I lifted the bindings. Nothing is keeping you here but you.” He shook his head and laughed viciously. Her skin burned where his fingers touched, leaving pink prints on her pale wrists and hands. “Are all apparitions as strange as you are?” She tore her gaze from him and Katsuki felt his breath hitch in his chest.

“No.” He met her eyes again and held her chin between his thumb and forefinger. The heat she felt on her arms now was felt on her face. Again she felt the desert heat, the blast of dry embers raking over her cheeks with every breath the fox-spirit fanned across her features. He drank in her expressions like they were his life-water, savoring every heartbreaking nuance. “Tell me you want me to stay,” he ordered, smirking at the panic playing in her eyes.

“I don't...understand.”

“It's simple, princess,” he growled, lips dangerously close to hers. “Tell me you want me to stay. I won't stay where I'm not wanted.” Ayame's breath hitched, nose brushing against his. His heat permeated her being. “Well?”

“I...” she began, voice trembling.

“Use your words, princess. I haven't got all day,” he teased. Ghosting his lips over hers, he grazed her lower lip with the tips of his fangs.

“Please stay,” she whispered into his mouth, crushing her lips against his. “Please stay with me,” she chanted into each kiss. He set a blistering pace, threatening to overtake her if she gave him even the smallest opening. Capturing her lower lip between his fangs, he groaned into her mouth at the flash of blood coating his tongue. Overcome with the taste of her magic on his tongue, he lapped greedily at her torn lip. Curling a calloused hand into her dark hair, he probed her hungry mouth with his tongue, chuckling darkly as her hair shifted from pitch to moon-pale silver. Her magic crashed against his own, a siren song luring him to the edge. He wanted more from her tight body than just a taste of her power. 

Katsuki smirked when he pulled away from her, admiring the mess he made of her just from a kiss. “How do I keep you?” she whined through kiss-bruised lips.

“I can show you, little witch,” he murmured, tracing her lower lip with his thumb. Ayame parted her lips slightly and nodded slowly. Katsuki's face split into a wicked grin, his eyes glinting ominously in the dying light of day. His tongue darted between his lips and licked the remnants of her blood and saliva. Drinking in the stunned expression on the witch's face, he released his hold from her hair and quietly observed her hair color revert back to its natural midnight and starlight shade. She chased through his veins like a tempest wind, fanning the flames of his own immense power. Their compatibility undeniable, Ayame couldn't help but feel a rough yank in her core when he locked eyes with hers. 

“Follow me.” He tore away from her stunned frame and casually strode toward the back door to the shop.

“W-wait.”

He jerked his head back and scowled. “Do you wanna know how to perform a binding the right way or not?” This was what she performed the summoning for in the first place. All the literature she had read about familiars differed depending on source, but the augmentation to her abilities with a familiar guiding her progress, the additional protections to her shop were appealing to say the least. She felt another abrupt tug in her chest, like a single scorching chain had wrapped itself around her heart and was pulling her toward the otherworldly fire apparition. Ayame narrowed her blue eyes and nodded. 

“Then let's go.” Wordlessly, she followed the fox-spirit into her garden. His tails twitched as he browsed the various plants growing behind the shop. He stopped in front of a bed of clustered bright orange flowers. One hand buried deeply in his pocket, he brushed his fingers against the delicate petal-cup tenderly with an unreadable expression. Ayame paused and smiled at his attention to her plants before following him out the gate. She brushed her fingertips gingerly along the soft bell-like petals of the closest cluster. 

The briefest spark of a memory played out in the edges of her mind-- a boy, dirty-faced and foul-mouthed once looked at her flowers with the same expression. “Digitalis,” she thought to herself. “Ironic he'd be drawn to my fire foxgloves.”

“You know the woods, right, witch?” Pulled from her thoughts, Ayame pursed her lips and released a shaky breath. He noted the nod of her head and his face split into a feral grin before taking into the trees. “Try to keep up, princess.” With a flurry of flame and pressure, he vanished into the wood.

Ayame glared in the direction he disappeared in and broke into a sprint into the treeline. The sun sunk low beneath the horizon and as the sky faded from wounded crimson to bruised violet. She could feel her magic thrum in her veins with the gradual rise of the moon. It was different this time; instead of its usual tidal ebb and wane it raced through her, propelling her deeper into the heart of her forest. The violent yanking in her chest grew stronger with the intense vibrations of her magic. Something pulled her into the darkness of the woods; it sang to her-- a secret serenade only for her, and it rang loudest in the clearing at the very heart of the forest. Her chest heaved as she caught her breath. Cypress bark dug into the palms of her hands as she rested against the trunk, allowing her eyes to adjust to the low light. 

In the center of the clearing, her eyes rested on a familiar beast. Massive and imposing, it raised its large white-gold head and fixed its stare at the young witch. “Red...red eyes, take warning,” she whispered and hugged the cypress tree. Its scarlet gaze tore through her and another ripping pull burned through her mortal body. Dark strands of black hair framed her glistening face, her messy bun now a cascade of night waving down her back. Despite the moon slowly rising above the trees, the only light was radiating from the monstrous beast and the symbols bleeding sunlight from its fur. The beast snorted gilded flames through the nostrils of its black leather nose and let out a low, rumbling growl. Her breath caught in her chest, she shielded her eyes from the sudden spark and counted each pale tail as it thrashed behind the beast. 

“Seven tails...red eyes...those markings...you're a god-king, aren't you?” she murmured, slowly approaching the beast. The closer she drew, the more familiar it became. Her eyes traced the tale tell rivers of gold tattooed under its eyes and down its limbs in symbols thick with magic. Cinders flickered from its tails, and the heat radiating from the beast wilted the greenery surrounding them. Rising to her full height, Ayame inhaled deeply and pushed out her own aura, letting it wash over the clearing like a spring rain. The monstrous kitsune lowered its head and purred at her aura, reveling in her display. She rested her hands on its magnificent head and nuzzled her face into the pale fur of its neck, inhaling his sweet smoke and sugar scent.

“I...I remember you now...the boy from my dreams, the memories of us in the shop, in the garden...I remember it all. You...you showed me how to conjure. You said you'd never leave.” She pulled away and held her hands out before him, conjuring her own blue-bell flames.

“Took you long enough, princess,” an all too familiar voice echoed in her ears. The tips of her ears flushed soft pink at the voice. Gravelly and coarse, it carried a certain softness she almost could mistake for fondness. The light he radiated softened with every stroke of her trembling hand against his fur.

“I'm sorry to keep you waiting,” she teased back, her bright blue eyes almost silver in the starlight. Her fingertips carded through the dense blond fur, nails grazing the neglected skin beneath, earning another purr from the beast. “Now that I see you as you are, tell me. Tell me how I can make you stay.” The bark that erupted from the beast almost mirrored a laugh, bringing a knowing smile to her face.

“Say my name, tasty little thing.”

“Katsuki,” she whispered into his neck. The intense pressure exuding from the beast began to dissipate but the heat remained. Where the kitsune sat, a shining feral young man crouched in her arms. The sigils branded on his arms and legs lit the meadow a soft gold. “How do I keep you?”

His garnet eyes raked over her frame and a wolfish grin crept across his features. “You're really that desperate for a familiar, little witch?” He was fast, much faster than she was when he overtook her, pinning her to the wilted grass beneath them with his larger frame. Katsuki ran his nose along her thin neck and breathed in the subtle musk of her perfume. Mouth watering, he ran his tongue along the same path and growled into her skin. She moaned in response and lifted her body to meet his. Her magic molded to his, sending sparks with every skin to skin touch. 

“You sure you don't want to be my devotee? Make me your patron?”

“Are you that desperate for a witch worthy of your attention?” Ayame moaned. Black claws shone in the starlight as he tore at her leggings, revealing the smooth, pale skin and leaving her bare to him in the wilderness. He drove a clawed hand between her thighs and chuckled darkly at the slick he felt under his fingers. Keening into the night, she arched into his hand. Her eyes closed tightly when he slid a single finger into her drooling heat.

“Ah-ah, princess. Eyes on me.” 

Her eyes slid open, fogged with lust when he brought his slick-coated fingertips to his mouth. Blushing at the sight of the powerful fire god sucking her essence from his fingers, she shuddered into his gaze as he moaned at the taste. Katsuki Bakugo was drunk on her very presence, and every cell in his body urged him to claim more. “Keep those pretty eyes on me,” he ordered, sliding her thighs over his shoulders. Instinctively Ayame gripped at his hair, dragging her nails along his scalp. She fixed her gaze on him as he instructed, but couldn't stop the full-body spasm she felt rip through her when he lowered his head and dipped his hungry tongue into her dripping core. Magic surged through her body, pouring into Katsuki's mouth with every moan. 

“That's it, tasty little thing,” he growled into her pussy. His tongue lashed from her tight hole to kitten lick her swollen clit, earning a loud cry from the moaning magician. “Give it to me. Cum for me,” he purred. He slipped a finger into her fluttering cunt, carefully searching for that spongy spot that made the edges of her vision fade to white.

“K-katsuki!!” Her head thrashed on the forest floor as she moaned and tugged at his hair. He grinned against her clit and ran his tongue in slow circles along the sensitive bundle of nerves. Coaxing a second finger into her heat, he scissored them and delighted in how responsive she was to the stretch, only to dig them up into that spot once more to watch her spasm on his fingers. She panted and writhed against his hold, whimpering softly as she came down. 

He brought his fingers to her lips and wordlessly she understood. Greedily she took his cum-slicked fingers into her mouth and wrapped her tongue around them. He drank from her source, lapping at her folds until she quaked beneath his hold. “Such a good little witch,” he crooned into her needy cunt. Pulling back, she whined at the loss of his touch. Katsuki smirked, her slick still glistening on his chin. “Beg me to stay,” he growled, roughly shedding his trousers. 

She leaned up on her elbows and watched him lazily run his hand along his hardening member, unwilling to disobey the powerful spirit. “Katsuki...please.” The shared power between them lit a new fire in his belly. In that moment sprawled under the stars she was nearly his. Fitfully, she stretched her arms up to touch the creature that left her looking so completely debauched it made her cunt flutter around nothing but the memory of his fingers. A translucent bead of precum rested on the head of his cock like a jewel as he continued to work his length. A dark thought crossed Katsuki's mind as he watched her mewl for him-- he had the power, he could keep her and drink from the font of her magic, but at what cost? What was freedom if it meant he'd be without her unadulterated power feeding his own impressive abilities?

“You're sure you can handle it?” Haughty in his control, he loomed over her and ran his red, angry head along her slit, gathering her slick on his skin. In the haze of her lust, Ayame held him by the wrist and nodded. The subtle tingle of their merged magic danced on his skin, turning the gold of his tattoos the softest silver where her fingers met the glowing brand.

“Are you, familus?” Her voice was barely a whisper, but the steeled resolve of her decision weighed heavily on their shared atmosphere. With every glide along her sopping folds, she bit back whimpers and tensed against the damp of the forest floor. Burnt caramel and damp earth overwhelmed her senses, the only thing grounding her to the present was the god-king kneeling between her milky thighs. Katsuki's eyes darkened with every quiet moan and shuddering breath. He focused his attentions on her swollen clit and reveled in the jerking spasm of her body against his.

“So sensitive.” 

A dark chuckle broke through his smirking lips, still glistening with remnants of her juices. The sight of her breasts rising and falling with every gasp had him reeling. “Give yourself to me,” he murmured, aligning himself with her dripping hole. “Beg me to stay.” His lips pursed together by her ear, his own shuddering breaths coming out in haggard bursts as he fought to maintain some illusion of control. He could feel her swallow hard and almost fell when she nuzzled her soft cheek into his neck.

“Please...” she whispered, just softly enough for his fox ears to pick up. The sound was pitiful.“Please don't leave.” Her hips came up to meet his, her pale legs wrapping themselves around his hips to pull him into her needy body. She craved his heat almost as much as he needed her energy. He gave a hesitant push, slipping the tip of his throbbing cock into her heat. Wincing at the stinging stretch of accommodating his girth Ayame tossed her head back and cried into the night, her fingers instinctively curling into the earth. Katsuki answered with a growl in return.

“So fucking tight...” Red eyes raked her shivering form and smirked. “Should have known you'd have one of those undefiled cunts,” He dug his claws into the mossy ground below and thrust deeply into her quivering pussy. Tears rolled from her eyes, stealing their bright-blue color and leeching them to a pale morning gray. Katsuki leaned in and dragged his tongue along the trails left by her tears and moaned at the taste. He kept an idle pace rocking his hips into hers. 

“Tell me, tasty little thing,” he purred into her ear. “Tell me how you dreamed about taking this fat cock, how you've always wanted to be a god-king's slut.”

“Mm, it's all I've ever wanted!”

He kept murmuring those lewd words in her ears so sweetly she wept openly. The delicious pain from the stretch subsided into a deeper kind of pleasure. Keening into the night, Ayame wrapped her arms around his neck and dug her nails into the meat of his shoulders. He groaned at the bite of her nails and smirked at her rolling her hips in response to him. Leaning up to fully admire the debauched vision beneath him. He reached for a pert, pink nipple and twisted it viciously between his clawed fingers. The cry she released was music to his ancient ears. 

“Sing, little witch. Give in and sing for me.”

“Ah...please stay,” she whimpered, dragging her nails down his chest, leaving angry red trails along his tanned skin. With a flash of his fangs, he hilted himself fully into her warm cunt and held himself within her trembling walls. She was close and he could taste it on her. Tightening his hold on her breast, he licked a trail between her breasts up her neck and rested his lips along the hollow of her neck just behind her ear. “I want you...please, I want this,” she sobbed, the edges of her vision beginning to feather into white emptiness. 

Sweat slicked their bodies, and their shared heat threatened to engulf the entire forest in white-hot flames. She was lost in his touch. Slowly he began moving within her again, feeling every ridge until he bottomed out again. The more he needled that spongy patch within her depths the needier she became, the tighter she clenched around his length. Feeling she was at her end, he dragged his fangs along her neck. 

“Cum for me, princess,” he snarled, knot beginning to swell at the base of his thick cock.

“Katsuki,” she moaned, her hair spread around her head like a fading silver halo of black waves. Pink burned high on her cheeks as she rode out one orgasm and quivered on his cock, knot threatening to slip into her tight cunt. Fear flashed in her eyes briefly as he pushed his knot slowly into her sopping hole. Her weakness brought him over the edge. 

He did this, he brought her to the precipice and took her over the edge. Waiting for the moment the velvet walls of her cunt seized around his length, he finally sunk his fangs into her skin and pounded her through what would be the first of many shared nights. “Katsuki!!” she screamed, tensing into his muscular form; his knot deeply seated inside her, she trembled beneath her god-king and relinquished her power, body, and soul to him. Stars exploded in her eyes and all she could feel was his teeth in her skin and the delicious warmth in her core. 

His hips stuttered with her cry, moaning into her skin. Her blood washed over his tongue and ran down her pale skin in dark rivulets he caught with his lips. His heart hammered in his chest at the taste of her, feeling that shared tether between them grow stronger with every synchronized thrust of his hips against hers. Pulling back from her pale neck, he admired the wanton expression on his witch's face and how carelessly she moaned out his name. When her eyes caught his, he almost fell over the edge himself.

“Shit...” he huffed, chasing haphazardly after his own end. Ayame leveled her silver gaze at him and reached her thin hand to caress his cheek, keening softly at his forceful thrusts. “I...fuck, I'm close,” he growled. He continued to rut his hips rhythmlessly into her.

“K...Katsuki,” she whimpered. His name was her new prayer, a shared secret between the two. She looked so soft under him, yet she held the power. Even drained of much of her essence, he never felt weaker than when he was caught in her starlight and sapphire eyes. “Come home,” she gasped, arching into his solid frame. With one last thrust deep into her heat, he howled and spilled into her. Almost instantly the heat consumed her, causing her to writhe wildly against his already oversensitive cock. Open mouth kisses brushed away the last tears rolling down her cheeks as the fire settled in her womb and the heat engulfed her wasted body. 

Forehead to forehead, Katsuki kissed and caressed his witch as his essence melded with hers. His knot still tight inside her, she whimpered into his touch and nuzzled into his embrace. “You're mine.” The words had an over-reaching sense of finality. Kneeling between her thighs, he ran his hand over her lower belly and smiled at the fresh golden sigil branded into her porcelain skin. As it crawled and smoldered against her skin, Ayame winced. Her winces grew into gasping cries. It curled and sizzled its way up her ribs and climbed between breasts with a flourish of white flame. It threatened to burn into her neck. 

Acrid smoke choked the air and the stench of burnt hair stung his eyes and sensitive nose; her flowing river of jet hair was singed off at the shoulders in a crude bob by his creeping mark. Mouth open wide with soundless screams, her face twisted into one of excruciating pain. Katsuki brought a clawed fingertip to his wrist and slashed a small cut across his unblemished flesh. Pressing his bleeding wrist to her open mouth, he clenched his fist and squeezed a few drops of blood into her mouth.

“Swallow,” he ordered, “Before I force you to swallow something else.” Obediently she gulped down the bloody offering and sighed in almost instant relief. Her brand, a true witch's mark settled to a dark blue against her skin. What was left of her beautiful, flowing hair was now a pale silver, gently curling around her neck and shoulders. The burning she felt cooled to a pleasant warmth that settled into her bones, and power she had never felt before thrummed potently in her veins. 

“It's done, little witch,” he crooned, voice carrying a note of tenderness she hadn't heard in this realm before. “You belong to me now.” Ayame sat transfixed by his words. The gravity of what they had done had yet to break on her, despite the sparks flying casually from her fingertips with every flick of her wrist.