#// injury tw - for the last two parts. its not in here

[pin-k-ink]

Oh my god, I love your writing and your blog is so beautiful !!! And I have a request 😭😭 can you write a Illumi x reader again? I read the last one, and it was amazing.

confluence // illumi zoldyck

tw ⇢ illumi kidnaps you (somewhat), mentions of prostitution, mentions of injuries, possessive behavior, imprisonment(?), strong sexual tension, hand job, nipple play, unprotected sex, marking, teasing, pussy job, praise kink

wc ⇢ 6.4k

a/n: the first part is really unnecessary but i like the fact that illumi is unhinged enough to actually kidnap someone just because he wanted to

The worn velvet curtain swept aside as Hisoka sauntered into the dimly lit parlor, his lips curved upwards in a sly smile.

"Ah, there's my favorite," he purred, catching your gaze from across the room. A leaden knot formed in your stomach at his presence.

You watched apprehensively as another figure emerged behind Hisoka - a tall, lean man with dead eyes and raven-black hair. Even from a distance, an aura of danger radiated off of him in waves. This was Illumi Zoldyck, you realized with a spike of trepidation.

"Mr. Zoldyck here has requested your...attentions for the evening," Hisoka practically leered, reveling in your discomfort. "I'll leave you two to get acquainted."

With a wink, he melted back through the curtain, leaving you alone with the renowned assassin. Illumi's hollow eyes slowly raked over your form, betraying neither interest nor repulsion. You felt like a slab of meat being appraised.

Swallowing hard, you managed a coy smile - the mask you had perfected to conceal your disgust. "Right this way, Mr. Zoldyck."

You led him through the rabbit warren of shadowed hallways to one of the private chambers. Every nerve ending prickled with unease at having this deadly man at your back. Once inside with the door closed, you turned to face him fully.

"How would you like to proceed?" you asked with practiced confidence, reaching up to slowly unlace the front of your dress.

In a sudden blur of movement, Illumi's hand shot out and wrapped around your wrist, stilling your movements while his other arm snaked behind your back. You gasped, stunned by his speed and proximity as his intense gaze bored into you.

"That won't be necessary," Illumi stated flatly. "I have no interest in pursuing sexual activities."

You blinked rapidly, his words slowly registering. A tiny coil of relief unfurled within you, though his vice-like grip kept you wary.

"Then...what am I here for?" you asked carefully, studying his expressionless face.

Illumi simply stared for a suspended moment before releasing you without a word. He moved to take a seat in one of the plush armchairs, resting one ankle on his knee as if getting comfortable for a prolonged stay.

"You may do as you wish," he stated dispassionately. "I simply require a quiet space away from prying eyes tonight."

His dead-eyed gaze drifted off, seeming to look straight through you. Utterly perplexed yet not eager to provoke him, you opted to keep to yourself. You passed the long hours in tense silence, stealing furtive glances at the unblinking assassin from time to time.

As dawn approached, Illumi stirred abruptly. Before you could so much as flinch, he crossed the room in a blink and hoisted you over his shoulder in one sinuous movement. You yelped in surprise, too stunned to struggle as he easily maneuvered your dead weight down the halls and out a back exit.

It wasn't until the brisk morning air hit your face that you found your voice. "Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere your...services will be permanent yet underutilized," Illumi replied cryptically as he strode on with disturbing speed and purpose.

The next thing you knew, you found yourself inside the imposing walls of the Zoldyck estate - prisoners of this strange assassin's whims.

You spent those first few days at the Zoldyck estate in a state of constant trepidation. The sprawling manor felt more like an inescapable fortress, with its towering walls, openly armed guards, and whispers of unspeakable secrets lurking around every corner.

Illumi had unceremoniously deposited you in a small but serviceable room, seemingly tucked away in one of the more reclusive wings of the estate. When you tentatively explored the adjoining bathroom and closet spaces, you found them stocked with basic necessities - soap, towels, simple clothing. It was clear this would be your new permanence quarters, for better or worse.

The first few nights, you slept in fits, jolting awake at every creak and groan of the ancient manor settling around you. You strained to listen for any sounds that might indicate Illumi's movements, your heart pounding at the mere thought of that cold, calculating predator roaming the same halls.

Finally, after nearly a week of self-imposed isolation, hunger and thirst pangs drove you to creep from your room in search of sustenance. You discovered the small kitchenette and pantry just down the corridor - clearly meant for your use, separate from the main household staff's facilities.

And so you settled into an understanding of your new role - a quiet, unseen shadow to keep this secluded wing tidy in Illumi's absence. For he was frequently away on jobs that would take him from dawn until dusk, according to the rhythmic comings and goings you deduced over the following weeks.

At first, fear gripped you whenever you sensed his presence upon one of his returns in the dead of night. You would freeze, ears straining to catch any sound that might betray which direction his silent footfalls were taking. Only when you heard the telltale sound of his chambers door opening and closing would you allow yourself to expel the pent-up breath.

Gradually, however, Illumi's routine became enmeshed in your own - an inescapable constant to which you acclimatized like rainfall to a drought-ridden land. You knew when he was home, when he was away, when he paced the halls in twilight like a specter plagued by insomnia.

True to his word, he never once made overt demands of you or behaved with anything more than cold disinterest during the rare occasions you caught glimpses of one another in passing. You were simply...there, serving your unclear purpose of being his secluded personal maid.

So the weeks blurred into months of solitary mundanity, your only duties being to dust, tidy, and keep Illumi's living quarters spotless while he came and went on his lethal missions. You weren't quite a prisoner, yet neither were you free in this dimly lit limbo of the estate's forbidden wings.

Until one night, when the haunting rhythm was shattered.

The shadow fell across your face, rousing you from fitful slumber. Your eyes flew open to find Illumi standing over your bed like a wraith manifested from the darkness itself. In the dim glow filtering through the curtains, you saw the dark splatters that coated his skin and clothes - unmistakably blood.

You jolted upright, mouth opening in a silent gasp as Illumi's penetrating stare bored into you. He said nothing, made no movement. Simply stood there with his blank yet demanding eyes fixed on you, as if issuing a voiceless summons.

Trembling, you forced yourself out from under the thin blankets, bare feet finding purchase on the chilled floor as you faced him fully. Up close, you could see the vivid streaks of crimson painting his porcelain features in macabre patterns. Whatever he had endured this night was beyond the scope of your imagination.

Illumi's eyes finally shifted, silently inclining his head in a subtle beckoning gesture. Throat constricting, you gave a hesitant nod of understanding. He turned and swept out into the hall, ruby footprints stippling the floor in his wake.

You wrapped a robe tightly around yourself and followed, your heart thundering with uncertain dread. He led you to the bathroom adjoining his sleeping quarters, the walk feeling like a funerary march.

Once inside, Illumi simply stood in the center of the room, awaiting your next move with an inscrutable deadness in his lifeless eyes. Gathering your nerves, you busied yourself drawing a hot bath, the rush of steaming water loud against the tomb-like silence.

From there, it became a ritualistic dance of sorts - you meticulously undressing him, peeling away each bloodstained layer until he stood before you in unvarnished vulnerability. His pale, lean-muscled body was a sprawling canvas of old scars and fresh lacerations made apparent.

Illumi stepped into the tub without preamble, lowering himself into the sudsy depths as more tendrils of red unfurled and bloomed across the water's surface. You found a cloth and bar of soap, kneeling beside the tub to gingerly begin wiping away the gore.

He held himself unnervingly still, that hollow stare fixed forward as you worked. You tried not to let your hands linger or trace the topography of his wounds. At least not at first.

But as more of the viscera was gradually sluiced away to reveal the sheer scope of his injuries, you couldn't help but let your fingertips ghost over the mangled flesh with a strange sort of morbid fascination.

You lost track of how long the two of you remained in that surreal, atavistic tableau. Illumi a gargoyle being ritualistically bathed, while you played priestess in undoing the night's violence carved into his body.

It was only when the bathwater finally grew cold and clouded that the spell was broken. As you wrung out the cloth one final time, you risked a glance up at his face and found Illumi's unblinking gaze piercing into you with...something you couldn't quite place.

A silent, infinite moment passed as that indescribable energy stretched to its fever pitch between you. Until finally, a shuddering breath escaped your lips, severing the connection as you felt your skin prickling with an irrational warmth.

From that night forth, his comings and goings grew more erratic. There were long stretches where Illumi seemed to rarely if ever depart the estate. You couldn't be certain, but his constant presence felt deliberate - as if he were now lingering by design.

And in turn, he began summoning you for minor, seemingly trivial tasks around his quarters or even his personal grooming. Requesting you dress gashes that would have been well within his capabilities to handle alone. Insisting you draw his bathwater at certain times, then dimissively dismissing you before actually bathing.

It was all highly mercurial and charged with some underlying tension, yet you remained thoroughly unable to discern its purpose or source. All you could deduce was that Illumi seemed to subconsciously crave your presence now in ways he did not comprehend himself.

So you resigned yourself to simply following his scant demands - becoming increasingly indispensable to him despite the ambiguities shrouding it all. Because in spite of everything, you could not ignore the enthralled fascination that had awakened within you that fated bloodied night you helped unmake his psychic scars.

The pungent tang of copper lingered thick in the steamy air as your hands glided over the taut plains of Illumi's back. Rivulets of diluted crimson swirled away with each firm stroke of the damp cloth, yet his body remained awash in a thousand miniature lacerations.

You worked with the same practiced meticulousness you had honed over these ritual bathings - a silent, meditative task allowing you to commit every meticulous angle and depression of his musculature to memory through touch alone. Illumi remained statuesque under your ministrations, seemingly unaffected by the intimate contact your fingers inevitably made.

Until a sharp hiss escaped through his clenched jaw as you inadvertently grazed an especially deep gash along his ribs. Illumi shifted infinitesimally, prompting you to freeze mid-motion, the washcloth hovering just above that inflamed, lacerated skin.

"My apologies," you murmured for what felt like the thousandth time, awaiting his silent dismissal of your accidental infraction.

Yet this time, Illumi showed no signs of waving away your concern. He simply remained still and tense as a tightly coiled knot of corded muscle flexing beneath his pallid flesh.

Tentatively, you resumed the motions of cleaning that particular wound, handling the area with featherlight caresses until you deemed it sufficiently clear of clotted blood and grime. All the while, Illumi held himself in a rigid line, the sound of his tightly controlled breaths the only accompaniment to the rhythmic lapping of bathwater.

Once you finished, you found yourself unwilling to withdraw contact completely. Almost of their own volition, your fingers traced upwards in a slow glissade, following the stark cords of Illumi's obliques, his abdomen rippling beneath your touch as you went.

There was an undeniable electricity now thrumming through the humid air - something visceral and primal you refused to put a name to. You became arrested by the motion of your own hands roving those slick, tensed contours, deviating from any sense of pragmatic purpose.

A ragged exhalation shuddered through Illumi's form as your meandering caresses drifted dangerously close to the waterline, the subtle motion enough to elicit a reaction. At last, he spoke in a low rasp that somehow cut straight through the dense miasma enveloping you both:

"You are...exceptionally thorough in your duties."

The jarring sound of his distinct timbre instantly snapped whatever unseen forces had lulled you into such an overt trance. You snatched your hands back as if burned, heat blossoming across your cheeks as you averted your gaze in a swirl of shame and embarrassment.

"My apologies, I...I don't know what came over me," you stammered, wringing the cloth futilely as you willed your heart to stop pounding against your ribcage.

Illumi uttered no reply, leaving the space between you suspended in weighted silence and unspoken tension. You chanced a sidelong glimpse to find him staring at you in that same unreadable way, his glassy eyes seeming to take in every nuanced shift in your expression.

Just as you felt you might suffocate under that penetrating scrutiny, Illumi finally broke away, levering himself up from the tub with elegantly economical movements. You instinctively scrambled up, backing away to give him space and turning to grab the nearest towel to offer.

He accepted it wordlessly, toweling off with those same dispassionate, methodical strokes you had so intimately catalogued. But now, you could not allow yourself to so much as let your gaze linger overlong as he wiped away the last vestiges of water from his lithe, sinewy form.

Nothing more was said between you. No dissections of how the evening's events had escalated towards that deliriously heated pinnacle where boundaries nearly dissolved between you.

Illumi simply moved to exit the bathroom on those silent footfalls of his, leaving you surrounded by the swirls of dissipating steam with only the too-loud pounding of blood in your ears as company.

Yet the unspoken undercurrent persisted from that night on. A charge now existed between you - electric, intoxicating, something unquantifiable that spoke to primal yearnings.

And you could no longer ignore the precipice you teetered on each time Illumi's penetrating gaze found yours, nor the dangerous thrills that sparked through your very marrow whenever his pale flesh brushed against yours.

It was maddeningly exquisite torture to be allowed such proximity to this beautiful, lethal creature while maintaining professionalism. But the tantalizing allure of that forbidden craving only grew more insistent with each passing rendezvous.

Until that tension felt fit to detonate you both into an explosion of unfettered need, consequences be damned.

You sat cross-legged on the floor of Illumi's chamber, deftly mending one of his torn shirts with a needle and thread. The mundane domesticity of this task allowed you to sink into a semblance of calm focus amidst the ever-present hum of tension surrounding him.

The soft splashing of bathwater from the adjoining room acted as a metronome, letting you know Illumi was nearby as he went about his evening ablutions. You tried not to visualize the rivulets cascading down those chiseled contours you had so intimately traced in the past.

A sharp prick to your finger snapped you out of your wandering reverie with a muted yelp. A bead of crimson welled up from the pinprick, eliciting a sting. Before you could so much as reach for a towel, a sudden flurry of movement materialized in your periphery.

Illumi appeared before you in nothing but a towel hastily cinched around his waist, still glistening with errant droplets. His expression was as unreadable as ever, yet his eyes burned with an intense, predatory focus zeroing in on the smear of red now adorning your fingertip.

"You're injured," he stated flatly, as if this mere scratch necessitated such urgency.

You opened your mouth to protest, but Illumi had already captured your hand in his calloused grip with one eerily fluid motion. He raised your wounded finger inexorably towards his face, those flinty eyes never wavering.

A shudder you didn't fully understand rattled through you as Illumi's lips parted. Then his tongue slowly, almost reverently, swiped across the bead of blood with one long, deliberate stroke.

You felt your breath hitch at the utterly bizarre, disturbingly intimate gesture. Yet Illumi seemed entirely absorbed, holding your finger hostage as he proceeded to lave away every last scarlet speck with an unflinching focus.

Only once he was apparently satisfied did he finally release you, his gaze darkening with something you refused to identify as he studied the flush creeping across your cheeks.

In one effortlessly fluid motion, Illumi exerted his superior strength and leverage to propel you both backwards until you landed amid the disheveled bedding with a breathless huff. You gazed up at him straddling your waist with an expression of pure shock rapidly morphing into confusion and apprehension as he loomed above you.

The weight of his piercing stare held you transfixed like a moth ensnared in a spider's web. You wanted to protest, to decry how utterly wrong and incomprehensible this situation had abruptly become. But your voice caught in your throat at the first flickers of blatant intent you'd ever witnessed stirring behind those depthless black pools...

Until finally, something akin to panic short-circuited your paralysis. You managed to wrench yourself somewhat free, shoving against Illumi's solid weight in a desperate bid to disengage before...before whatever other forbidden boundary he seemed primed to obliterate occurred.

He permitted you to dislodge him this time, rocking backward into a seated position beside you with that same unnatural poise and composure. As if your breathless scuffle amounted to little more than shifting atmospheric pressure.

Illumi held your flustered gaze for a torturous eternity, neither of you daring to move or speak. Until at last, he extricated himself from the bed with eerie grace and retreated from the room in silence, leaving you in a frantic tangle amid the tumultuous wake of his upheaval.

Several days had passed since that heated encounter where boundaries were nearly shattered between you and Illumi. An agonizing silence lingered in the estate's halls as you avoided one another, equally unmoored by the events.

Until you were summoned to Illumi's chambers once more in the dead of night. You steeled yourself before entering, chest tight with apprehension over what awaited you.

Illumi sat shirtless on the edge of his bed, eyes finding you immediately with their haunted intensity. Your breath caught as you took in the jagged laceration slicing across his collarbone - a nasty wound clearly requiring medical attention.

"Attend to this," he said flatly, though his tone seemed to hold unspoken layers beckoning you closer.

You gave a small nod, throat constricting as you gathered the suture kit with shaky hands. Medical instincts took over as you positioned yourself between Illumi's parted knees, feeling utterly exposed under his unwavering stare.

With practiced motions, you began cleaning the area, unable to ignore the contours of his toned chest rising and falling with each steady breath. You tried not to dwell on how close his lips were, how the strands of his raven hair brushed your cheek as you leaned in.

A tremor ran through you as Illumi's hands settled firmly on your hips when you went to start stitching the wound. His grip was searing even through the thin fabric of your clothes as he seemed to pull you infinitesimally nearer.

"You resisted me, before..." Illumi's low rumble reverberated through you both as you stilled under his touch. "Yet you don't withdraw from me now. I find you...confusing."

You could only manage a shaky exhalation, overwhelmed by the strain of this delirious proximity and the weight of his stare boring into you.

One of Illumi's hands drifted up, calloused fingers trailing over your clothed ribs until curling beneath your chin. He tilted your face up to meet his lidded gaze, now burning with unveiled yearning.

"What is it you want from me?" His words were a low rasp as his thumb traced the seam of your lips.

You trembled under his scrutiny, rendered utterly powerless by the smothering force of his presence. Illumi seemed to study every hitch of your breath, every subtle flutter of your lashes as his palm slid around to cup the back of your neck possessively.

He leaned in until you could feel the whispers of his exhalations ghosting across your parted lips. When he spoke again, his gravelly timbre shot straight through your core:

"Because I find myself...consumed by this insistent need to have you near. Yet I don't comprehend why it torments me so."

A wounded sound escaped you at the molten admission laced in his words. Illumi's grip tightened fractionally, keeping your faces just a fracture apart as his free hand roamed along the curve of your waist.

"Tell me..." he growled, lips catching yours in an electrifying caress. "Tell me what you want."

That final thread of propriety snapped as you succumbed fully, crashing your lips against Illumi's in a searing, desperate kiss. He responded with unleashed vehemence, devouring you as he insistently turned you around until your legs hit the mattress.

You went tumbling down with Illumi's weight covering you in one fluid motion, mouths clashing with reckless abandon. Everything burned with frenzied urgency as his calloused hands gripped and roamed possessively over your prone form.

Illumi pinned your body to the mattress in a frantic tangle of limbs and bruising kisses. His weight was searing, muscles rippling with tightly leashed intensity as he straddled you. You writhed helplessly beneath him, hands roaming over the grooved scarred planes of his back urgently.

Without preamble, Illumi captured your wrists in one large hand and slammed them above your head. His other hand tangled mercilessly in your hair, forcing your head back as he bared your throat to the onslaught of his teeth and tongue.

Between the harsh nips and sucking kisses, he rasped out in a low growl tinged with feral possession: "You're mine...have been since I claimed you from that cesspool."

A whimpering moan escaped your lips at the dark resonance of his words reverberating through you. Your limbs went pliant under their spell as Illumi asserted his dominance with deliberate rolls of his hips grinding his hardened cock against your core.

"The others aren't aware of what's mine," he rumbled with casual vehemence, releasing your wrists to impatiently rip your clothes away.

Soon you were laid bare before his smoldering gaze, trembling with heady arousal as Illumi feasted on the sight possessively. The calculated divesting of his own garments seemed to heighten the frenzied craving fogging the chamber.

As his nude form draped over you once more, he husked against the fevered skin of your neck with gravelly intensity: "That's why I keep you apart...hidden from prying eyes and undeserving hands..."

You shuddered full-body at the predatory promise laced in his tone. Illumi responded by capturing your lips in a searing, devouring kiss, seeming to savor your quiet sounds of desperation in the back of his throat. One hand anchored your hip in a bruising grip as he ground himself against your slick entrance with honed restraint.

"Since that first night bathing you in my sins..." he rumbled darkly, nosing along your jawline and inhaling your maddeningly tempting scent. "I've been consumed by this all-devouring need to have you unravel for me alone..."

Illumi's words dripped like dark honey into the hollows of your very being, setting every nerve ending ablaze. He captured your mouth once more, drinking in your needy, desperate moans as his tongue slid against yours languidly.

Your hips arched off the mattress in an unconscious bid for more friction, the head of his cock now poised at your entrance. Illumi released a low, rumbling groan, breaking the kiss to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

"Say it," he growled, the guttural demand vibrating through you as he teased your dripping folds. "Let me hear you admit who owns you..."

You couldn't stop the keening cry that tumbled out of you at the sheer need throbbing through your veins. A sob wracked your frame as you surrendered to the exquisite torture, arching desperately beneath him.

"Please, Illumi...I'm yours, only yours," you gasped, fingers digging into the corded muscle of his back.

His answering growl was almost inhuman as his mouth crashed against yours once more, his tongue delving deep with unbridled hunger. In one smooth thrust, Illumi sank to the hilt, stretching and filling you completely.

You moaned into the kiss, trembling beneath the solid weight of his form as he began rutting into you in a relentless rhythm. It was all you could do to cling to him, your nails leaving crescent moons along his taut, scarred flesh as he pistoned his hips with growing fervor.

"That's it," he gritted out in a rasp, one hand tangling roughly in your hair as he held you firmly in place. "Let me see your pretty little face fall apart for me alone..."

The filthy praise elicited a shuddering moan from you, sending a new wave of heat blooming through your veins. Illumi's mouth captured yours again, his kiss ravenous and demanding as he fucked you harder and deeper.

The room was filled with the obscene sounds of skin on skin, mingling with the litany of breathless moans and gasps tumbling from your lips. You were completely unraveled for him, a mewling, panting mess beneath his expert ministrations.

"Something as beautiful as you… was never meant to be tarnished by another's touch," he grunted, the primal possessiveness of his words sending a surge of white-hot pleasure through your core. "You belong…only to me."

You could feel your impending release building, coiling tighter with each stroke of his cock buried deep inside you. Your nails raked down the hard planes of Illumi's back as his pace quickened, the bed creaking in time with his powerful thrusts.

"Cum for me," he rasped, the gravel-edged command sending you toppling over the edge.

You cried out as you came, waves of blissful ecstasy crashing over you in relentless pulses. Illumi fucked you through it, his rhythm stuttering as his own release approached. He groaned, the guttural sound vibrating against your skin as he found his own release, spilling inside you with a few final, erratic thrusts.

Your breathing slowed as the euphoric haze gradually lifted, Illumi's weight pinning you deliciously. He pressed a tender kiss to your temple, the unexpected gesture making your chest ache.

"Mine," he whispered against your skin, his lips trailing over the pulse fluttering beneath the hollow of your throat.

You awoke slowly, surrounded by the musky warmth of tangled sheets and the lingering fog of satiated bliss. As awareness gradually filtered back in, you became acutely conscious of the male weight anchored against your back, skin searing everywhere your forms touched.

Carefully, you shifted onto your side to find Illumi already awake and observing you with heavy-lidded intensity. He was propped up on one elbow, raven hair tousled in artful disarray that somehow only enhanced his aura of dark, rugged beauty.

Those fathomless eyes of his seemed to roam possessively over the exposed canvas of your body, taking indulgent inventory of the fading lovebites and crescents from his grasp that now bloomed across your skin like lurid floral tributes.

"You're awake," he stated in that low, disarming rasp that somehow held multiple implications.

You managed a tremulous nod, mesmerized by the aristocratic slant of his features and the exquisite musculature that comprised his lean and powerful frame. The dim morning light sluiced him in a warm glow, accentuating each grooved indentation and ridgeline.

"Your wound has reopened," you murmured without thinking, entranced fingers straying to ghost along the inflamed gash marring his collarbone.

Illumi's gaze followed your perusal with banked intensity, clearly taking note of the concern etching your features. His hand rose to ensnare your wrist in an implacable grip before guiding your knuckles to brush over the seam of his parted lips.

"Then you will need to attend to me again," he stated with an indecipherable undercurrent as punctuated each word with an indulgent sweep of his tongue over your captive skin.

A shuddering breath escaped you at the molten flashes his ministrations ignited along your nerves. Illumi responded by dragging you flush against the sultriness of his bare chest until his viselike arms fully enveloped you in their corded strength.

"See to drawing a bath," he commanded in a rugged timbre that brokered no arguments, even as his lips trailed searing, openmouthed paths along the column of your throat.

"While you seem so eager to care for my...needs."

Those last words were a depraved rumble you felt thrumming through your very marrow. Any semblance of objection instantly dissolved into pliant, smoldering acquiescence at such undisguised desire.

With great effort, you managed to extricate yourself from the delirious haven of Illumi's embrace, pulling on his discarded white undershirt to seek out the adjacent washroom and begin running the steaming tub. You moved through the familiar routine of drawing a steaming bath for Illumi.

Soon the spacious tub was filled with steaming water perfumed by fragrant oils. You turned to find Illumi's imposing, battle-carved form prowling in behind you - a great Renaissance sculpture of clenched muscle and primal masculine power exuding dark covetous intent.

He stepped into the tub without preamble, powerful body submerging amidst the lapping ripples. Illumi held your gaze firmly as he settled back against the curved rim, a clear unspoken directive kindling between you.

Swallowing thickly, you reached for the plush cloth and fragrant bathing soaps, lathering until the lavender-scented lather frothed luxuriantly. With utmost care, you began sluicing the rich moisture over Illumi's exposed torso and shoulders.

He remained unmoving and silent throughout your reverent ministrations. Only the intense weight of his watchful stare and subtle shifts of powerful musculature beneath your administrations gave any indication he wasn't carved from stone.

As your attentions trailed lower down his abdomen, Illumi shifted his hips subtly to allow better access. Those sable eyes glinted with banked smolders, studying each minute reaction flickering across your features.

"Keep going," he rasped in a low gravelly timbre that pulsed straight through your rapidly thrumming heart.

Throat constricting around a shuddering inhale, you mutely complied - allowing the fragrant lather and purposeful sweeps of the washcloth to tease along Illumi's sculpted 'v' line and curly, unkempt pubes below the water's surface.

Illumi's intense regard remained unwavering even as you gradually skirted lower down those powerful muscles, movements growing more sensuous and tinged with unrestrained yearning. Inch by torturous inch, your hands ventured downwards, awaiting his dark approval with bated breath.

"Lower," he rumbled thickly, giving himself over to your ministrations with subtle bucks of his hips and languid reclines that only enhanced the eroticism of the act.

By the time you finally reached the base of his erection, you were trembling, skin feverish and flushed with desire. Illumi's eyes held a dark, primal gleam as he watched your hands roaming over the straining, veiny skin.

A low groan reverberated in the back of his throat, the sound shooting straight to your core. His hand suddenly shot out to clasp your wrist, guiding your motions along the swollen length in slow, deliberate strokes.

"You enjoy serving me," he rasped, watching your face intently as he fucked himself into your hand.

Illumi's other hand wrapped around your waist, effortlessly maneuvering you into the tub to straddle his lap. Your heart thundered at the suddenness, the scalding water sloshing dangerously near the rim.

Yet Illumi's commanding presence dominated the scene - the dark, smoldering depths of his gaze and the iron-barred muscles flexing beneath you as he continued thrusting his cock into your palm.

Your His shirt stuck to you like a second skin, transparent and revealing the hard peaks of your nipples. Illumi's eyes roved greedily over the sight, the hand gripping your waist sliding up to roughly pinch the hardened buds.

A sharp gasp tumbled from your lips at the sudden sting. You arched instinctively, seeking more friction even as Illumi's grip on your wrist tightened, keeping the pace of his cock moving into your hand languid and controlled.

"You look so sweet, so pure," he husked, rolling the stiff peak between his thumb and forefinger with calculated pressure.

"I'm going to ruin you..."

Your mind swam with dizzying heat as his words sank through you. A low whine escaped your lips as his cock throbbed in your palm, leaking precum and swelling with every thrust.

Illumi's hand tangled roughly in your hair, forcing your head back to expose the vulnerable curve of your neck. His lips latched onto the fluttering pulsepoint, biting and sucking a dark bruise into the tender flesh.

You moaned, arching into the sensation as his mouth trailed lower, teeth scraping over the swell of your breasts. Illumi's grip on your wrist eased, allowing you to move on your own volition now.

He groaned, the sound vibrating against your fevered skin as you continued stroking his cock with increasing fervor. You were utterly drunk on the sounds escaping his throat, the sensation of his cock throbbing in your palm, his musky scent enveloping you both.

Illumi's fingers tightened around your nipple, pinching and twisting until the deliciously sharp sting sent waves of heat crashing through you. His other hand drifted lower, trailing down the curve of your ass and sliding between the slick folds of your pussy.

"So wet," he rumbled against your breast, nipping and licking at the stiff peak as he slid a finger inside you.

You moaned, thighs tightening around his hips as he began pumping his finger in and out, the friction eliciting delicious sparks of pleasure. Illumi pulled you closer until your back was arched and your breasts were flush against his face.

He licked and sucked the swollen, aching tips, groaning against your skin as his fingers slipped out of you. The water sloshed wildly as you writhed atop him, shuffling closer until you felt his cock sliding between the slick folds of your pussy.

Illumi's hands gripped your waist, holding you still as he rubbed the leaking head against your entrance, teasing the sensitive flesh with a wicked glint in his eye. Your thighs quivered as you fought to stay still, his gaze holding you captive.

"Please," you whimpered, voice catching on a ragged moan as the swollen head nudged against your clit.

Illumi's grip tightened fractionally as he continued torturing you with slow, deliberate rolls of his hips. His cock slid against your folds, teasing the sensitive flesh and sending jolts of electricity up your spine.

The water lapped dangerously close to the lip of the tub as you rocked into him, desperately seeking more friction. Illumi's dark eyes watched you intently, drinking in the sight of your flushed, trembling body.

His hands slid down to grip the supple curves of your ass, guiding your hips into a slow, steady rhythm that had his cock sliding between the slick folds of your pussy.

You gasped as the head caught against your entrance, sending a jolt of pleasure through your core. Illumi's eyes locked with yours, dark and intense as he guided your hips down, letting the head slide inside you.

You shuddered at the stretch, thighs clenching around his waist as he sank deeper. Illumi's fingers dug into the soft flesh of your ass, holding you still as his cock buried itself in the tight heat of your pussy.

A moan escaped you as he filled you, the stretch sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins. Illumi's hands gripped your hips, guiding you into a slow, steady rhythm as he thrust up into you.

Your hands found purchase on his broad shoulders, nails digging into the taut muscle as you rode him. The water lapped around your hips, adding an extra layer of sensation as the slick friction built.

You rocked into him, taking him deeper with each roll of your hips. His hands roamed over your skin, fingers digging into the supple flesh of your ass and pulling you closer.

The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, the room filling with the sound of wet skin on skin and water sloshing against the side of the tub.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping the thick strands and tugging his head back. You leaned down to capture his lips in a heated kiss, tongues sliding against each other as you rolled your hips, taking his cock deeper.

Illumi's grip on your hips tightened, pulling you down onto him as he thrust up into you. He fucked you hard and fast, the sound of your bodies meeting echoing off the tiled walls.

You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as you rocked into him, riding the wave of pleasure that washed over you with each deep stroke. Your muscles tightened around him, the sensation of him filling you over and over driving you higher and higher.

Illumi's grip on your ass tightened, pulling you down harder onto him, fucking you with abandon. The sound of the water splashing against the sides of the tub was almost drowned out by the sounds of your moans and gasps as you writhed in his grasp.

You felt yourself reaching the edge, the waves of pleasure building with each stroke until you couldn't hold back any longer. You came with a cry, muscles clenching around his cock as the waves crashed over you.

Illumi groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he fucked you through your orgasm, drawing out the pleasure until you were trembling and breathless. He followed soon after, spilling inside you with a shuddering moan.

You slumped against him, muscles weak and shaking from the force of your orgasm. He held you close, hands running over your back and legs, soothing the trembling aftershocks.

The water lapped around you as you both caught your breath, the tension slowly ebbing away. Illumi's hands cupped your ass, his fingers tracing over the soft curves.

"Next," he murmured against the flushed skin of your neck, pressing a kiss to the mark he'd left. "I’ll make you suck me off while you help me dress."

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: The Devildom had been your home for the last two years. As such, you were confident in your ability to carry out a few errands on your own every once in a while. So when you were told that none of the brothers could accompany you in your little shopping trip for project supplies, you were fine with it. You could handle getting those supplies on your own, you had reassured them. So how did a simple outing turn into such a disaster? Pairing: OM!Brothers with GN!MC (can be read as platonic or romantic) Genre: Slight angst, Hurt/Comfort TW: Mc gets hurt, mentions of injuries, mention of blood in Satan and Asmo's part, Satan and Asmo's part is a bit darker than the others, I ran out of ideas by the time I got to the twins

You leaned against a stone wall, panting heavily. Your eyes darted this way and that way, and a lump formed in your throat.

How did a simple outing turn into this?

You sucked in a breath, gingerly lifting the edge of your shirt to inspect your side. A big bruise decorated your lower torso, its redness a garish and painful reminder of the very dangerous situation you had barely made out of.

The Devildom had been your home for the last two years. As such, you were confident in your ability to carry out a few errands on your own every once in a while. After all, you couldn't always rely on your friends to follow you along everywhere, even if they said they didn't mind. So when you were told that none of the brothers could accompany you in your little shopping trip for project supplies, you were fine with it. You could handle getting those supplies on your own, you had reassured them.

And now you were here, hiding in one of the Devildom's many alleyways from the demons that were clearly after your life.

"How could you let them get away like that?!"

A whimper left your lips as you tried to make sense of where exactly you were in Devildom, and how to get back to the HOL without getting caught by your bloodthirsty pursuers.

"... Did you hear that?"

"Yes."

You cursed the naturally superior senses of demons, breaking out into a run in the opposite direction of the voices. You could see streetlights and hear the hustle and bustle associated with Devildom's marketplace. Maybe you would be able to lose them in the midst of the crowd there?

You could hear footsteps behind you, internally thanking that you had taken up on Beel's offers to work out together. Your stamina couldn't fail you, not when those demons had cast a spell that locked your magic and your influence over your pacts. In other words, everything you knew and had was practically useless.

Just a little more, please!

Please!

The universe seemed to take pity on you finally as you saw a familiar figure in the crowd. You could almost cry from the relief, calling out his name as loud as you could.

Lucifer

"LUCIFER!"

Lucifer did not know what to think when he heard you yell his name, followed by you almost barreling into him. If not for his instincts being as quick and precise as they are, you both would have fallen to the ground. And he intended to let you know just how reckless and dangerous that was, at least until he saw you clutching your side with pain on your face. The concern that he'd pushed to the back of his mind in favour of scolding you came back in full force, and he cupped your face, using his magic to soothe you and check what was wrong.

"MC? What is the matter, hm?"

The absolute concern and care in his voice caused the dam to burst, and all of the panicked and scared feelings that you had set aside in favour of finding your way back home appeared in the form of tears. Lucifer pulled you into his arms, the way you were crying, hiccupping and stuttering over your words as you told him everything making him tense up slightly.

Once you were calm enough, he took you to a nearby restaurant, paying for a private area. He ordered a few dishes, and while you waited, he asked you to describe the demons' appearance. He kept you next to him, tracing circles on the back of your hand closest to him as you did, carefully listening (and recording everything on his DDD). When the food finally came, he asked you to start eating, claiming he wasn't hungry yet.

Lucifer hummed reading Mammon's message. Out of all of his brothers, he knew he could count on Mammon to show some restraint and bring the lowly things that dared to harm his human in front of Lucifer, without immediately killing them on sight. He would prefer to not tell his brothers of this incident, but one look at you and they would figure out something was wrong.

Lucifer: Mammon.

Lucifer: Some demons tried to harm MC. This is a description of them. Find them.

att. recording

Mammon: On it.

"Lucifer?" Garnet eyes flew upwards to meet yours, instincts still on high alert for the first sign of discomfort. "Yes, MC?"

You lightly raised your fork to his lips, a wordless request to feed him. Peculiar, that even when you were the one shaken in spirit and hurt physically, you thought about his well-being. It was nowhere near the time he had his lunch. He knew it, and he knew that you did as well. But, he decided to indulge you, letting you feed him and yourself, while he used his magic to counter the spell cast on you and speed up your healing process.

Lucifer escorted you back to the HOL, his hand on the small of your back as he assured you that Levi would get you your supplies from Akuzon. As you neared the house, you could make out Satan standing at the door, a serious look on his face that melted into a gentle smile the moment your eyes met. Lucifer handed you over to Satan after pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Rest, my dear. I have some business to attend to, but I should be home before dinner." He looked as Satan ushered you inside, Asmo's fussing over you audible through the closed doors. Lucifer turned and walked away, eager to see who were foolish enough to try to harm his human, his master.

Mammon

"MAMMON!"

"Who- MC?!?!"

Mammon nearly had a heart attack when you yelled his name. When he turned and saw you sprinting toward him with no sign of slowing down? He was scared out of his mind. Before he knew it, he had rushed forward to meet you halfway, causing the two of you to collide fairly painfully. You didn't fall over like most would think. Unfortunately, in his well meaning attempt to stabilize you, Mammon accidently squeezed right on your bruise, causing you to jolt away from him with a pained yelp. "Woah- Are ya okay?!" he asked, face concerned as his eyes jumped from looking you up and down to scanning the crowd for any possible dangers.

You desperately tried to stop yourself from crying as you quickly gave him a brief summary of what had happened to you. His eyes darkened at the mention of the bruise, muttering apologies and incoherent swears as he pulled you into his embrace.

Mammon let out a low whistle, and the next thing you knew, there was a crow sitting on his shoulder. You could swear it looked sad as it saw you clutching onto Mammon, who spoke to you in a calming manner. "Look, I know ya probably don't want to talk about this, and I really don't blame ya... but do you remember anything about those... vermin that dared to hurt you?" he asked you, one hand rubbing your back ad he glared at any demon that stared at the two of you. His cheeks were darkened slightly, though whether that was from anger or holding you so close, you didn't know. Still, you answered his question to the best of your ability, while Mammon and his familiar listened attentively. After you were done, Mammon decided it was time to go back home, giving his familiar some instructions before letting it go.

Mammon refused to let go of you the entire walk back to the HOL. Once you reached home, he walked past all of his brothers, ignoring them till they two of you reached his room. Opening the door, he murmured for you to go in and rest while he talked to his brothers.

It took him a while before he came back to you. You were sitting on the couch staring off into nothing. Mammon sighed as he walked over to you, sitting beside you. His arm came around your shoulders, pulling you in close. "Whatcha thinking 'bout, Treasure?"

You let out a shaky sigh, pushing yourself back into Mammon like he was the only thing keeping you from completely coming undone. Mammon worried at the lack of response from you as he brought his other hand to hold you properly. "You're safe now, MC. Lucifer'll take care of everything once the kids find them," he said, smiling when you chuckled at him referring to his crows as his kids. That's how the two of you stayed, till Levi came to inform him that the demons to tried to hurt you were caught.

You had fallen asleep a while back, so Mammon picked you up, careful not to wake you, and placed you on his bed. After tucking you in properly and making sure you were as comfortable as possible, he followed Levi out of his room. It was time to teach a lesson to the ones who dared to take his human from him.

Leviathan

"LEVI!"

Levi had not anticipated leaving the house would result in you barreling into him in one of Devildom's busiest streets. In his surprise at your shout, he transformed into his demon form, his tail wrapping around you securely as you both fell onto the ground.

"Ouch... M-Mc? Are you okay?" Levi asked, his voice slightly shaky as his heart raced inside his chest. You laid on top of him, unmoving, which concerned him more than anything else. He lightly shook you, hoping to get a reaction out of you, "Mc?"

His heart calmed a bit when he felt you tightening your hold on his clothes, but immediately started racing at twice the previous speed when he saw you shaking in his arms. Gently, he pried your face away from its hiding spot on his chest, hands shaking as he tilted your face up to look at you.

Levi stopped breathing when he saw your eyes filled with tears, his mind blanking out on everything else as his gaze narrowed in on your face; more specifically, the little cut you had gotten on your bottom lip.

"Who... who dared to put their filthy hands on you?" he asked, in a low and dangerous voice. He wasn't the otaku Levi you knew and loved anymore. Right now, he was Leviathan, the third of the Seven Deadly Sins, and the General of Hell's Navy. But he made you feel incredibly safe as he tenderly cupped your face in his hands, as if he was handling one of his beloved figurines.

As you narrated the entire incident, Levi began to grow more and more agitated. In between hissing that this is why he prefers to shop online and fretting over your well-being, he somehow managed to flood the market square and summon Lotan.

Lotan, ever in tune with his master's wishes and emotions, sensed the demonic trails left on you by the spell, and went off to hunt the demons down, while Levi stayed behind with you.

Once Levi calmed down a little, he insisted on taking you back to the House of Lamentation. He knew Lotan would find the demons for him, toying with them to keep itself occupied while waiting for further instructions from its master. As he walked you home, he was quiet. In his mind, he was thinking of the ways he could inflict the most gruesome of pain on those that sought to harm his Henry.

Maybe he could convince you to move into his room with him. That way, he would be able to keep an eye on you better...

For now, though, he would stick to taking you home, and buying you whatever you needed off of Akuzon.

Satan and Asmodeus

"ASMO!"

Asmo turned at the sound of your voice, an excited smile on his face that dropped the second he saw the panic on yours as you rushed into his open arms. He let out an oof, the force from your throwing yourself at him making him lose his footing and stumble, only to be saved by Satan standing behind him.

"Mc, darling!" "Mc, are you alright?" Both the demons spoke at once, two pairs of eyes trained on your figure as they both sensed the panic lingering in you. Asmo lightly trailed his hand over your back, pressing you close to his chest as he asked, "What happened, darling?"

Through stuttered breaths and coughs you told them that you were being pursued by some demons, mentioning the bruise and the fact that they cast a spell on you to leave you helpless. You watched as something dark and lethal flashed in Asmodeus' eyes before your attention was captured by Satan abruptly leaving your side.

Before you could go after him, Asmo placed a hand on your shoulder. "Let him take care of this, darling. Why don't I take you back home and help you relax? You've had a very difficult day, after all." When you hesitated, he gave you a small pout, his eyes shining brightly in a way that reminded you of a puppy. "Please~ Let me pamper you, help you forget all of this? Satan will be fine..." he said, voice slightly whiny as he clung to your arm, careful not to aggravate any of your injuries.

When you finally relented and let him walk you back to the House of Lamentation, you missed the way Asmo looked off into the direction Satan had left for a brief moment, a cruel fascination in his eyes.

Once home, he quickly ushered you into his private bathroom, running a warm bath for you and adding the scents he knew you preferred. He left you alone in the bathroom after ensuring you had everything you needed, and telling you to call for him if you wanted his company as he shut the door behind him.

Asmo thoroughly pampered you when you walked out of the bathroom, refreshed and somewhat relaxed after your bath. He smothered you with his affection, but you didn't mind. You never did.

It was quite late when Satan returned, walking into Asmo's room to find you sleeping peacefully, your head on Asmo's lap as the demon ran his fingers through your soft hair. Satan smiled, his hand almost resting on your cheek, when Asmo smacked his hand away. "Don't get that filthy blood on them," he said, his usual bubbly nature nowhere to be found as he glared at the blood decorating Satan's hands. Satan nodded in understanding, before leaving the room to get cleaned up.

When he returned, he saw Asmo gently setting a pillow under your head and tucking you in his bed. The Avatar of Lust stood straight after ensuring you were still sleeping, before turning to his brother. "I hope you left some for me?~"

Satan smirked. "I did. I even went ahead and strapped them into those machines you like to use." Asmo giggled, the sound tainted with a sadistic sort of glee.

"This will be fun~"

Beelzebub and Belphegor

"BEEL!"

Beel let out a confused hum as he turned. His eyes widened, protective instincts rampant as he saw you running towards him, and the bag of chips in his hand fell to the ground as he moved to get to you first.

You crashed into him, his arms winding around your back to keep you from falling. "Mc?" came Belphie's voice, as he looked over to where you and Beel were standing. The youngest demon's eyes narrowed in on the slight trembling of your body as you caught your breath in Beel's arms.

Beel looked down at you with a concerned look, then back at his twin. Belphie approached the two of you, gently touching your back and providing the comfort that you so desperately needed. He observed you carefully, trying to pry out what had happened, while Beel scanned the surroundings for any threats.

Soon enough, you told them everything. Belphie's eyes hardened, causing you to flinch at the murderous glint in his eyes. Unbeknownst to you, Beel shared similar feelings with his twin.

"Let's get you home," Belphie said, his voice gentle when he addressed you, with his words making it clear it was not a suggestion he would let you talk him out of. Beel nodded, and the three of you started the journey home.

The entire walk home, Beel did most of the talking, telling you of the doughnuts he and Belphie had gotten from Uncle Demon's. Belphie was content with mostly listening, adding his two cents whenever Beel asked him something.

As soon as you guys reached the House of Lamentation, you were pulled into the attic for a nap by the Avatar of Sloth, while his twin went and informed Lucifer of everything.

When Beel came up to the attic, he found you peacefully sleeping, your head on Belphie's arm and your legs tangled with the youngest. Belphie lay awake, his vibrant eyes watching over your sleeping figure vigilantly.

Beel got into the bed as well, protectively curling around your back as his hand rested on your hip. No words needed to be exchanged between the two of them; they knew that they would soon have the people who tried to harm their human in their grasp.

And once they did, they would not hesitate to show exactly why they were lauded as two of the seven rulers of the devildom.

[cultofdixon]

Small but mighty

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • It’s adorable watching this short and mighty woman take on 6’ foot men that mess with her. It’s a little less adorable when the archer is being carried on her shoulders • ANSGT/SFW • TW: Injuries

Requested by: Anon

After the war, a lot needed to be done to bring every community back to its former glory without the wrath of Negan coming down on them.

Alexandria had more structural rebuilding needing to be done so that was the priority.

“Ready to pull?”

“Like you need my help, sunshine” Daryl scoffs playfully, ignoring the smirk on Y/N’s face as they were helping a few bring up the new wall.

Once they were in a position holding the wall up and letting those taking care of wielding get the job done. Eugene walked over in hopes to find Rick helping out so he could ask him something but he noticed Y/N holding onto the rope with Daryl behind her as his mind instantly went to—

“Yea sure she’s strong enough to help steady the wall in place for a while?” Eugene’s voice directed toward the archer as he gave him a you’re kidding? look before letting go of the rope. “Wait!—-…wait”

Y/N noticed the rope drop from behind her as she gave Daryl a confused look before fixing her stance to have her more cemented. Daryl crossed his arms giving Eugene an annoyed look.

“She can handle herself. Just didn’t want her to strain so much”

“If she holds this ability, mind if she helps me with somethin’ later?”

“As long as it’s before nightfall or imma have to—-“

“I’m not property Daryl, but yeah I’m not working on shit past nightfall” Y/N interrupted as Eugene respected such before getting one last word in to inform him when she’s done.

After helping with the wall it was onto carrying the tech scraps that Eugene collected that were being unused at the Sanctuary in hopes he could make something useful out of it for all of them. Daryl even helped to make the job faster so he could spend some alone time with his partner.

“You can make a radio with these parts. Have stations at each community but you’re definitely missing a few things that could connect them all” Y/N went on while rummaging through the scraps as Eugene took inventory of everything useful.

“We can also improve the solar system we have here in Alexandria by having a sole source. Then bring one to the Hilltop”

“That’s a lot of heavy lifting you’re going to have to do”

“Thank the higher power we got you” Eugene smiles at her before returning to his work. Y/N laughs to herself with an eye roll to his words.

Daryl watches the two work from the door way which gave his position. Leading for Michonne to quickly get his attention for help in regard to watching Judith for the night. He could never say no to the small grimes even if he wanted a peaceful night with his partner.

“Of course it’s okay! How could you say no to this face?” Y/N smiles in the comforts of their basement living holding Judith in her arms.

“She’s gonna want those crackers you stash away for later”

“Don’t bring those up!” She laughs which lead Judith to start laughing. “She can have some but after I try and get her to eat whatever a-n-i-m-a-l you caught”

“She loves r-a-b-b-i-t. And Carol sent over some veggies that have started growin’ since the war ended about a month ago. Jude loves that stew yea make”

“Everybody does or at least I hope” Y/N smiles bringing Judith on her shoulders as she instantly reached for Daryl who closed the distance to let Judith grab at him.

A bit of domesticity was nice after a long day and while Judith currently lays passed out in Daryl and Y/N’s bed. The two were enjoying the other’s company in the mini living room not far from the bedroom, the door being open just in case Jude needed either of them.

“Michonne said they’d be back in the mornin’ to grab her. Then we’ll head to the Kingdom”

“M’kay…guess this is our bed for the night” Y/N laughs softly laying against his chest on the couch feeling his hand gently go up and down her arm.

The two fell asleep fast and woke rather early, the usual habit of feeling unsteady after sleeping. Y/N lifted herself up and off Daryl even with his short lived protests on the matter. She went to check on Judith only to be met with a note that Rick came through during the night to pick her up.

“Guess we have an early start with no baby” Y/N smiles kissing Daryl’s forehead on her way to their small kitchenette. “There’s leftover stew from last night if you’re hungry. But I’m gonna pack my bag for the trip to the kingdom”

“Just toss a couple clothes in my pack and then we’re good” Daryl pulled himself up and off the couch heading toward the fridge to grab the jar of jelly Ezekiel gave him. The archer went to open it only for a struggle that Y/N witnessed when she came back into the main room.

“You want—-“

“Nah fuck off” Daryl continued to struggle, turning away from Y/N’s gaze as she rolls her eyes setting her clothes on the couch before getting his pack.

The second she heard the jar hit the counter, Y/N knew that was her cue for her turn at opening it. Once she did, she left it on the counter for Daryl to approach it later to get a spoon full of what he wanted.

“Okay I did what you said but I also included my first aid. Not like we’ll need it but better safe than sorry” Y/N smiles slipping her jacket on and pulling her pony tail out. She relaxed when Daryl brought himself up behind her kissing the spot where her neck meets her shoulder.

“Let’s get going, sunshine” Daryl playfully pats her butt on the way out of their living quarters.

Then two always stop to hunt for a moment before completing the trip to the Kingdom, but the second the gates opened Carol couldn’t help the laugh to erupt from her watching her friend carry in two bucks on her back while Daryl brought his bike to a stop with only rabbits over his shoulder.

“How do you manage to carry those things from wherever the two of you hunted?”

“Don’t ask questions I’ve brought dinner” Y/N laughs walking past Carol to Jerry who helped her take the hunt to their kitchen to prep it. Leaving Daryl alone with his best friend.

“Why didn’t you carry them in? Why make your partner?”

“Funny you think I didn’t ask” Daryl scoffs. “Besides you know—-“

“She’d argue with you. I do know that” She smiles bringing him in for a hug before pulling away to lead to where they’ll be staying for the night. “You would think someone of her stature wouldn’t be able to carry things four times her weight. But look at her go. Freak of nature…respectfully” she clarified when Daryl gave her a glare to that comment.

“It’s adorable.” Daryl states opening the door for Carol. “Sometimes”

“She opened the jar for you again huh?” She smirks getting a groan out of the man. “Ha!”

“Shut the fuck up” He groans once more as he walked through the mess hall to head into the kitchen watching Y/N prepare one of the bucks. “Need a hand?”

A few hours went by and the two got a lot done in the Kingdom, all they had to do left for their agenda was to set up snares and a few trigger points in case herds passed through. Daryl took care of the trigger points while Y/N set up traps but neither of them accounted for old traps that were still placed just that the environment grown over them making it difficult to spot.

So when the sound of a bear trap went off followed by a thud, Y/N thought it was one and hers and retraced her steps. But the obvious scream coming from the archer, made it clear to Y/N it wasn’t one of hers.

“Fucking—-SON OF A BITCH” Daryl shouted staring at the bear trap latched to his left calf. “Stupid fucking shit didn’t warn—-“ Trying to blame someone else for your misstep isn’t going to make this not happen—after it already did.

The quick steps triggered Daryl to grab his crossbow and aim it, forgetting Y/N was out there with him.

“Woah!” Y/N held her hands up alerting her presences as Daryl drops his crossbow with a huff. “What the fuck did you do?!”

“Oh me?! Look at what yea—-“

“I ONLY HAD ONE BEAR TRAP AND ITS OVER ON THE EAST SIDE OF THE KINGDOM——DONT BE YOU AND BLAME SOMEONE ELSE”

“I THINK I CAN WHEN IM IN PAIN. CAROL SAID THERE WERENT ANY TRAPS OUT HERE”

“STOP YELLING” Y/N was last to shout as she quickly ran in a direction that Daryl had to make his head fall back to see what she was doing which was take out the walker coming toward them after their screaming match. But her sense of heat of the moment action, was to kick the walker down and stomp on its head instead of using her knife. Effective but the whole “you bit?” conversation—-

“You gotta stop doing that!”

“It didn’t bite me!”

“The one you fucking threw the other day almost did!”

“I didn’t have my gun or my knife. I had to think fast! Besides—-Can we just agree it was impressive of me to throw a body like it was nothing?!”

“Can yea PLEASE just help me??”

“Right!” Y/N drops her backpack by her side when she knelt down to Daryl’s leg. “Was it just…under a lot of shit? Maybe we need to start be gardeners and check how many are actually under this grass”

Daryl scoffs, wincing immediately when Y/N held his leg to straighten it a bit so she could get the shirt she pulled out around it to use it as a tourniquet.

“Not too tight! Ain’t losing—-“

“Shut up I know what I’m doing” Y/N ignored Daryl because she does indeed know what she’s doing and his anxiety will only stress her into doing something wrong.

After the tourniquet was on just enough to stop the bleeding but not to kill the foot, she took out her first aid kit taking out the gauze and wrap getting it ready for when she unclenched the trap. Daryl braced himself but when he watched his partner take out her journal, his mind went to its intended use before—-

“Seriously?”

“You want to scream a herd over? Bite down, Dar” Y/N held up the journal as he immediately took it in his mouth before gripping the earth when she didn’t even give him a countdown and quickly opened it. Y/N ignored the muffled scream as she felt her anxiety crawl up her shoulders but she focused on what’s in front of her.

Daryl spit out the journal once Y/N finished getting the gauze and wrap onto his wound. Taking a deep breath even when every part of him is screaming internally.

“Okay. I have to carry you”

“FUCK that. I ain’t about to be carried by yea”

“Well you can’t walk on the leg and you shouldn’t put more pressure on it. It needs stitches. This is only a temporary fix”

“I can walk” He scoffs trying to rise to his feet only to fall on his ass. Daryl groans a bit looking up at Y/N who rose to her feet when he tried to stand. The annoyance grew in her face. “FINE!”

Y/N didn’t even wait another second and grabbed Daryl’s arms before pulling him over her shoulders. Adjusting him enough for his weight to be evenly distributed on her shoulders before starting to walk back to the main gate of the Kingdom.

It didn’t take long for word to travel fast as Carol busted into the infirmary they have.

“The fuck happen to you?!”

“Bear trap” Y/N states sitting in the chair beside Daryl’s bed as he’s already been stitched up and now stuck in the bed until he can get back on his bike. Or someone from Alexandria travels with a car.

“Wow. Well you better stay in the fucking bed, Dixon” Carol sighs. “I’ll go get your room set up and I’ll help you move him later” she stated before leaving as Y/N turned to Daryl who’s annoyed look never left him.

“Not like I need the he—“

“Shut up”

[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC! Part 39 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

Don't be mad at me, ok!

TW- talks of R*pe, SA, Violence, talks of assault, (please let me know if I missed any).

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, not hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @imusicaddict, @b00ks1ut , @mstiemountainhop, @awaterfalls, @lovememadly92 @lucyfromtheoldhouse @blueberry-ovaries, @next-autopsy anyone else please let me know.

It felt as if all the air had been sucked from the room. My body shook with each second that ticked by in silence. The room had frozen, I looked from face to face, each with its own horrified grimace or rage filled stare. I glanced over my shoulder, Bull and Martin still held me steady but their faces had paled in colour, Bull appeared as if he was going to be sick as Martin’s had turned from grey to crimson.  

No one uttered a word, the decision of what we were going to do hung on the Captain's shoulders. Speirs still hovered over the man, his glare set firm. He looked like a man ready to kill, and I was ready to see it happen. 

Speirs cocked his gun, the only sound that filled the room. I stilled. Waiting with anticipation, yes kill him! 

Speirs raised the gun to the man’s head, finger on the trigger. The men stepped back, turning away from the scene. But I watched never taking my gaze off the replacement, I wanted to watch the light leave his eyes. If Emily was really dead like he said, I needed to watch him die just like he had her. 

The thought alone almost broke me, he was the last face she saw. So many questions flooded my brain, did he drag it out? Did he make her suffer? What was she thinking of when she had died? The questions alone filled me with so much fury I clenched my teeth together so hard they felt as if they were going to crack. 

How was I going to survive if Emily wasn’t here? Speirs’ actions hushed my racing mind.  

Speirs stood still, raising the gun at the man, a slight tremor to his hand. I could see him fighting with his morals. But this was Speirs, the ruthless killer. Or were those just tales. The Speirs we had heard about wouldn’t have hesitated, he would’ve pulled the trigger without a blink of an eye. But I watched the Captain, as he stared down the man. The man that had killed multiple other people, had shot Grant, had raped my Emily and murdered her in cold blood. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t shoot the man who had done the most awful things to innocent people. So maybe they were just tales then.   

He pulled the gun back, the soldiers in the room letting out the breath they were holding. Speirs glanced down at his hand covered in the replacement's blood, he wiped it on the man’s shirt. Looking disgusted. He took off his hat, straightening himself. 

I couldn’t hold back anymore, I ripped free from my fellow soldier’s grip. Striding forward I took a hold of the Captain’s collar, I was foaming at the mouth with rage. 

“What are you doing?! Shoot him! Kill him!” Ron’s face remained neutral as if I wasn’t screaming in his face. 

“Malarkey, two wrongs don’t make a right.” Speirs slipped free from my grasp. 

“He killed people! He deserves to die! I thought you cared about Grant and Em?” I threw insult to injury, I wanted a reaction from him, he was too calm. 

Ron’s head whipped around as he stalked back to me. 

“I do care.” His finger prodded at my chest. “He’s a drunk piece of shit that should be held accountable for his crimes, killing him would be putting him out of his misery. I care for my soldiers, Emily included, and that is why I will not kill that man.” Ron’s voice echoed around the room. 

“But they're dead, he took them from us, so now we get to take what is owed.” I challenged him.  

“Have the MP’s take care of this piece of shit.” He ordered the other men standing around us, not giving me an answer. 

“Grant’s not dead Malarkey. His shot wasn’t fatal. I didn’t kill him, because I have every hope that Emily is still alive.” Ron didn’t let me utter another word, he turned on his heel marching from the room. 

“Grant’s alive?” Tab asked the Captain as he left. 

“Kraut surgeon says he’s gonna make it.” The Captain reported. 

“We have to go find her.” I tried to dart from the room but hands held me still. “We’re running out of time! Let me go!” But the man's hand never let me free. 

“LET GO OF ME!” I yelled, but Bull shook his head. 

“No, Don, we need to make a plan. You can’t go running off trying to find her by yourself.” Johnny said as the rest of the men nodded. 

“We don’t have time!” I argued. “She’s hurt, she’s alone.” 

“We know, but Don if we don’t think about this we are increasing her chances of not making it back.” 

“Don, we will find her, she’s tough!” Babe said from over Johnny’s shoulder. The rest of the men agreed. 

They started making plans of teams of people and where they would search for her. I sat staring at the door. Everyone’e voices fading into the background, why didn’t the two men who witnessed it say anything about her being with them. Why didn’t I check on her before we left? I should’ve had her with me in the first place. I was frustrated, and angry. 

How hurt was she? Was she still alive? What if she isn’t alive?

I felt like I was being suffocated. My breathing was shallow and fast. I was panicking. I couldn’t hear anything over my own pounding heart. 

“Ok so Lieb, Babe and Malark are going to go to the road.” I heard Johnny say, I didn’t even wait for him to finish, I was up and out of the room. I heard footsteps behind me as Lieb and Babe fell into step with me.

Emily POV:

“Captain Speirs! Captain Speirs!” I called running up to the man who had left the main building. 

It had taken me quite some time to walk back to the base after the replacement had driven away. I didn’t make it my mission to get back as fast as I could though. I used the silence of walking to process. 

I couldn’t really, it was too hard. It hurt too much. So I grounded myself as I walked, what could I see, hear, touch and smell. Every time I fell back into the event I would ground myself. For now it was something I would push to the back of my mind. The man looked shocked to see me, shit.

“Emily?” The man stopped in his tracks as I approached him. 

“Sir, is Grant alright?” I asked puffing from my run. 

“He’s alive.” He stated, his eyes scanning over me.

“Good! I’m glad! Th-the man?” I asked hesitantly. 

“MPs are sorting him.” I nodded, sighing. 

“Emily, he admitted he hurt you too.” He uttered softly. I nodded again, unsure of what to say. My left hand was clamped over my right shoulder, but I knew that wasn’t the injury he meant. 

“Right.” I hadn’t really thought of what I was going to say, I didn’t really think I was going to make it back. The last thing in my brain had been how I was going to deal with the consequences of his actions. I truly believed that this was my last night here on this earth.  

But here I was standing back at the base, in somewhat of one piece. 

“The replacement hurt me, yes.” I uttered. Ron looked weary, his eyes sunken into his face as lines of worry formed on his brow. 

“I’m ok though, I think.” I couldn’t see the one man who had been so steadfast in all my times of need, looking so distraught.    

Concern marred his face as I lied through my teeth. I wasn’t ok, but I was still breathing, that had to count for something. 

“Em, you don’t have to be brave.” Ron stepped forward, his hand coming to cup my cheek. I stared at the ground unable to look him in the eyes. I knew if I would I wouldn’t be able to hold it together. 

I took a deep breath trying to steady the swell of emotions that tightened my chest.

“I know.” I uttered, my voice not sounding as solid as I needed it to be. 

“Where are you injured?” Ron’s had still held my face, his fingers gingerly titling my chin up so that my gaze met his. 

“Shoulder, throat, cheek, I think that’s everything.” I stated my injuries like they were items on a grocery list. 

“He shot me in the shoulder, strangled me, and hit me over the head with his gun.” As well as violated my body and soul, but I didn’t add that to the conversation. I wanted to keep some semblance of dignity. 

“You need to be treated.” Ron replied in a monotone voice. 

I studied his features, his cold mask had slipped back and was set firmly into place, looking down at me as if I had only scraped my knee. But a flicker in his eyes told me all I needed to know, he was holding it together for me, but only by a thread. 

His stare looked ready to kill, the slight clench in his fist at his side before he flexed his fingers trying to shake loose the rage that rippled through his body. With each breath he took his nostrils flared, like an angry bull. Ron wanted to hurt someone, but he didn’t, for me.  

“The men are planning to look for you, I’ll tell them you’re back.” He turned quickly, going to head back into the main building. 

“Ron.” I called after him. 

At his name he froze, his back still facing away from me. 

“Let me tell them.” My voice was weak, I felt small again, I had been through war literally but in this moment I had never felt more vulnerable. 

Ron turned his eyes scanning me up and down taking in my demeanour. I stood straighter trying to show I was fine, but my face seemed to give me away. 

“I can tell them.” I tried again, putting some strength behind the words. 

Speirs hesitated before nodding. He marched off to where he was going in the first place before I interrupted.    

I took a deep breath before heading to the building I had been only hours before, happy and unaware of my horrific future. Funny how things could change so quickly.  

I made my way into the building, the foyer was empty, but I could hear voices murmuring. Following the sound of the voice I find the men huddled in the main lounge, before I can announce myself I am hit by a solid wall. 

My eyes travel up the figure I barged straight into, trying my best to hide the wince of pain that shoots through my shoulder from the impact. 

Wide-eyed and shocked Don stares down at me, looking at me like he’s seen a ghost. Babe and Lieb peer out from behind the man curious as to why he had stopped so abruptly. Their faces also pale at the sight of me. 

A tight smile finds its way onto my lips, trying to pretend that I am fine for the sake of the men who all look as if they are going to hurl. 

“Em.” Don says softly, moving forward slowly. 

“Hi.” My voice sounds hoarse, I swallow the sharp pain in my throat. 

“EM!” Web calls from behind Don, as he sees me, he surges forward with open arms. 

The sudden movement sent panic rising in my chest, I knew it was only Web but the alarm bells had already been raised. 

I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, as I gasped for air. My brain was only shouting one thing, survive! Survive! Survive!

I stumbled back, raising my hands to fend away his attack. 

“No!” I yelled hysterically. I pitched backwards, my back harshly colliding with the table behind me. The table tipped as the contents that were scattered over it clattered to the floor.  

My breathing was ragged, outstretched hands shook violently, the only sound I could hear was the erratic pounding of my heart. 

Web stopped in his tracks, watching me with concern on his face. As did the rest of the men, they looked at me like a wounded deer. 

I gagged, my stomach churning as it did so. I clutched my hand over my mouth and sprinted back out the front door. I desperately searched for somewhere to hide, I scrambled over to the hedges that framed the front of the property. Keeling over I emptied the contents of my stomach into the bushes. My hands clung to my pants as I reached, dry heaving until there was nothing left. 

A soft hand landed in the middle of my back causing me to turn around in fright. Don held his hands up showing me he was no harm. 

“Sorry, you startled me.” I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth. He stepped forward again but I raised my arm out keeping him at a distance. 

“Just let my panic attack finish and then you can touch me.” I begged, I hated that I had to push him away but I feared if anyone was to touch me at that moment it would trigger another episode. 

I knelt to the ground gracelessly, my jelly-like limbs not leaving much support. My shook with such vigour it chattered my teeth, my breaths were shallow and fast, as the waves of nausea made my head spin. 

Panic attacks weren’t uncommon for me, but I hadn’t had one this bad since my mum died. After she passed I had at least one a day for years. With some anti-anxiety meds and some therapy they finally died down. 

I practised my grounding techniques, focusing on slowing my breathing and distracting myself with my surroundings.    

“What can I do?” Don asked cautiously as he sat at my side. 

“Talk to me, tell me a story.” I said in between my breaths. 

“I will tell you about this girl I met-”

I peeked out of the corner of my eye and a confused look pinched my brow. Don chuckled. 

“Just listen before you get upset.” Don looked over at me, his charming smile shining through the darkness that clouded my mind, a simple gesture eased the pain slightly in my chest. I nodded confirming for him to go on. 

“I met this girl on a tank. She sat up front looking nervous and a bit shell shocked, and for some reason I just wanted to make her feel better. So I asked her where she was from, just to distract her, but I also wanted to see her face clearly in the daylight.” 

New tears welled in my eyes, but it wasn’t from the horrific events prior. He was telling me about the day we met. Right from the start he had only wanted to care for me, he didn’t even know me. 

“We talked for a bit before all hell broke loose, I was kind of in a daze after I had spoken to her. The way she smiled and laughed at my jokes, that’s all I wanted to make her do, smile.” 

I was so focused on his soft voice I forgot completely about the panic that had been strangling me from the inside. I felt my muscles relax and my heartbeat steady. 

“Then we were tossed into battle, she had been ordered to hang back and pick up the strays, but then all of a sudden she was in front of me tending to my best friend. She wasn’t the nervous girl I had met on the tank, she was a force to be reckoned with.” 

“Don.” I whispered. 

“Yeah?” He paused his story, turning to look at me. 

“Thank you.” Reaching out I took his hand that rested on the gravel we sat on. We sat silently, our hands intertwined looking up at the stars in the sky, his fingers brushing over the back of my hand in a soothing manner. 

“Em.” He breathed, I glanced over to him, his brown eyes glazed over as tears brimmed. 

I shifted forward, kneeling beside him as I took him into my embrace. His arms wrapped around my back as he held me tightly, burying his face into the crook of my neck. Don’s body shuddered as he wept, my fingers tangled into his hair as I pressed kisses to the side of his head. 

“I’m ok, Don. I’m ok.” I soothed him. 

“I could’ve lost you.” He pulled back, his wet tears stained his soft checks. Don’s eyes held so much sadness it broke my heart. 

“What would I do without you?” The comment made me think of my decision that loomed over my head. Was I staying or was I going if the time came. 

“I’m here, I’m safe. You have me.” I squeezed him tighter as he sniffed, his hand stroking down my back.   

“I’ll let the guys know you’re safe and then let’s get you to Doc.” He pulled away, letting me dry his tears with my fingers. I bent down pressing the softest kiss to his lips. 

Don’s POV:

I stopped in my tracks, trying not to run into the person who appeared in front of me. My heart almost burst from relief as I took in her face. She wore a blank expression, her cheek cut open and bruised, blood had stained the side of her face, but there were tear streaks that ran through the crimson. 

She gave me her tight lipped I’m-ok smile, which almost always meant she was not ok. I could tell she wasn’t ok just from her eyes. They looked haunted and lifeless. Em’s eyes usually sparkled with joy and light, now that light had been put out, and it killed me. 

“Em.” Her name fell from my lips with ease. I stepped forward slowly, like she was a scared kitten so skittish one false move would send her under the table. 

“Hi.” Her voice was hoarse. Her eyes searched mine, even from here I could see the horror of what they had endured. Web startled all of us, when he yelled her name, running towards her. 

The look of pure panic etched into her features. That moronic idiot didn't even notice until it was too late. She clung to the table, her body shaking as she gagged. Em’s face paled, her pupils  were so big you would think her eyes were black. 

The “no” that wretched itself free from her lips was haunting on its own. But paired with the way she had shaken her head so furiously trying to get her point across, crushed my heart right there in my chest. 

She didn’t feel safe. 

Web stopped, finally taking in her demeanour. But it was too late, she was already out the door quicker than anyone could yell for her to stop. 

Eyes fell on me, but I was already marching out the door, sending a glare over my shoulder in Web’s direction. 

I came outside to find her kneeling on the ground, her body heaved as she vomited. 

Em asked me to distract her, the only thing that came into my head is the first day we properly met. She had sat right on the front of the tank, nervously taking away to Bull, who had been distracted. I watched her realise that he wasn’t listening and let her conversation die on her tongue. 

She nervously shook her leg, even from behind I could see her shoulders were tense as she tried to find anything to distract her. So I had, it was more for selfish reasons really. I wanted to be the one she nervously rambled too, not Bull. 

The whole tank ride we had spoken to each other, she talked so animatedly, her bright blue eyes shining in the warm sun and her rosy cheeks that flushed when I told her jokes. Em was the most beautiful person I had ever seen, inside and out. I think I had fallen in love with her then. 

But then I got closer to her, she made friends with my friends and I found she was the only thing that I could think of, day and night, it was only ever her.  

But I hadn’t told her all of that. I couldn't form the words. 

I sat beside her until she had declared it was over. Pain still haunted her eyes. I was losing her again. I had just gotten her back. I couldn’t lose her. I needed her. I don’t think she even knew the impact she had on me. 

I remembered one night when she woke screaming from her nightmares, she said she had felt selfish. I dismissed her idea immediately. Never had she ever been selfish, she gave everything to me, she leaned on me when she needed and I did the same with her. 

I’m sure she didn’t even notice when she was doing it. Her small jokes, the way she touched me gently, her look of concern and care, the way her eyes found mine in every room she walked into. We looked after each other from the very start.

Em was a light in the darkness. But even sunshine could be covered by clouds. 

I told her I would inform the men she was safe and then take her to get treated for her injuries. I’m sure they had questions, we all did. But she would tell us with time. We wouldn’t push her.

**************************************

Chapter 40

[themadlu]

I absolutely love Zelie!

Could you write something set right after the game ends? She is tired as hell and overstressed and Astarion tries to make her feel better?

Thanks for the ask @spacebarbarianweird! I'm so happy you like her, as I love Tiriel! Wonder if they'd get along, uh.

Premise, I have never done asks (unless it's for a writing exercise) nor I am good (capable?) of writing fluff. So beware, there's as much fluff I can muster here, with a smidge of angst.

TW: none.

Tags: end-of-game spoilers (I haven't finished it yet, so if something is incorrect sorry!), fluff (kinda?), these two love in quality time and acts of service.

Hope you like it!

The charred edges of a frayed shirt stare at Astarion from the floor. He glares at them, at what they represent, in contempt: his return to the shadows. All that unprecedented (and mostly unwilling) heroism he displayed in fighting the Netherbrain served him nothing. Nothing. Not even saving Baldur’s Gate makes him worthy of a life in the sun, it seems, because, as soon as that jiggly monstrosity fell to its death, Astarion began to burn and the hunger tore at his insides.  

On the run, again, nothing more than a ravenous monster lurking in the shadows. 

(Somewhere, his conscience reminds him that real monsters don’t have impossible little heroes shielding them from the harming light with their own broken bodies.)

The elf laughs bitterly at that, hissing when his grimace irritates the still-healing skin around his mouth. 

And yet…

Steps resonate further down the hallway with a familiarity that makes his ears twitch in recognition and his body tense in eagerness. 

…she’s here. 

Zélie opens the door of their shared bedroom (Only theirs, finally.), closing it promptly behind her to block the stray sun rays from the corridor’s windows. A funereal darkness, one that Astarion is all too well-acquainted with, shrouds the room in a still embrace. 

Astarion is almost glad that his Zélie is human when surrounded by shadows. Back then, before the blooming trust, the tense friendship, the impossible devotion, he despised the maddening woman (He was terrified of her, so inconceivably real.) The darkness was the only time he had the advantage when her pale eyes would squint in temporary blindness and not witness the violence her stern kindness did to him. How it undid the tenets of the world, one by one. 

You ruined me, darling. Look at me, a fool in a doomed love. What a ridiculous joke of a vampire you made me!

He should be prowling for blood and cursing the sun, yet here he is, smiling, trying his damn hardest not to rush into his woman’s embrace. You will return to me begging when she’s gone, what’s left of his spite whispers. He ignores it, because that part of him has never known what it means to be cherished simply for existing (It knows all about being wanted, although comparing that with whatever stolen miracle he and Zélie have makes Astarion gag.)

“Finally, darling! Here I thought I’d seen the last of you, lost among all that dreadful politicking—” his snarky quips (They are part of him and Zélie loves them, so he’s decided he’ll greet her with one every single day.) die in his throat when he properly looks at her. 

Hells, he had gotten into the habit of scanning her for possible injuries during their travels, but now the fight is over, without visible wounds or bruises, Astarion can fully see the toll their adventure has taken on her. Her eyes are tired and bruised from lack of sleep (Of course, she’s been foregoing sleep to spend time with him at night.), her face tauter than ever, skin so sallow she looks sick. Astarion presses himself against her and bristles when he feels her ribs poking his body through their clothes. 

Worry, guilt, anger grip him. His brave, little saviour looks so unlike herself. So fragile and exhausted that he fears she’ll crumble to dust should he touch her. He forgets she’s human and not a divine being sometimes, with all that practicality and stony attitude of hers. Never complaining, never relenting (He knows it well.)

You moronic creature! How dare you reduce yourself in this state.

“Darling, what—”

“Oh, hello, Astarion,” Zélie seems to take notice of him only when he’s practically caging her against the door. She’s making an effort not to slide to the floor, he can tell. 

Fucking idiot. 

“Are you well? I hope the room is comfortable enough?” she nearly slurs.  

“Am I well?” Oh, now he’s angry, “Love, what the fuck—”

“Language! No need to be rude,” Astarion feels some relief when Zélie’s irises spark with that annoyed light he coaxes out of her oh-so-well. She inhales deeply, continuing “I came to tell you that I will be late tonight, so you could come and meet me near the main city gate? There’s barely any Fists left, and lots of properties have been robbed or vandalised since there are no guards so Wyll asked me—what’s with that look now?”

The pale elf stares at her perplexed face down his nose, nostrils flaring. “Do you hear yourself, you wretch?!” Her eyes are reduced to judging slits and she’s about to chastise him, but Astarion is undeterred. “No, rather, have you looked at yourself recently? Literal corpses have a healthier…flair than you do now, darling. Myself included.” 

Zélie scoffs (Scoffs!), “Oh Astarion, I admire how far you’ve come with showing concern, really, but,” she tries to push past him, but even her martial art is worthless against his full vampiric strength, “there are things, oh you vexing elf! Things that need tending to even if I’d much rather spend the foreseeable future here with you–hey!”

Astarion feels somewhat proud of the shout she lets out when he picks her up with ease (Not so puny, after all.) She is so light something lodges in his throat (Frustration at his inability to keep her safe.) and he hopes that his renewed strength is what makes his gesture so effortless. 

No one should be this light.

She used to weigh almost the same as him, all muscle and sinew from her training and a life of comfortable abundance; now, her shirt hangs loosely around her frame. 

 Fuck. Why in the nine hells haven’t I noticed before?!

He realises he voiced his thoughts when the woman in his arms replies, “Because critical stab wounds take precedence over hunger, Astarion."

"No need to blame anyone,” Zélie says as he unceremoniously throws her on the bed. She fights not to melt into the mattress. “Astarion,” his infuriating lover speaks slower, as if he were a child, “I need to go. We didn’t save this city only to let it implode in chaos. It needs me; Wyll needs me.” 

Jealousy (Unfounded but very much present.) soars in Astarion’s chest. “Well, darling, our selfless Wyll can kindly go fuck himself and find his own lover and stop pestering mine. I’m sure he’ll have plenty of offers now he’s back in line at the next Archduke. Those horns also add a certain ragged flair that many sheltered young nobles will find irresistible.” 

Zélie rolls her eyes so much only her sclera is visible. She makes to stand up, but Astarion holds her by the shoulders with one hand, pointing an accusing finger at her with the other, “Hush, you. Is that how it’ll be for the rest of time? I am tired of seeing you hurt.” That makes her expression twitch with guilt. 

Good.

He glares at her, “Now, you stay here as the good girl I know you can be and I’ll go to the kitchens to see if anything edible is left. Hopefully, it’ll be better than whatever the wizard cooked.” Astarion forces himself to tear away from Zélie’s inviting body (He did miss her all day.), but she catches his wrist before he can step away. 

“What now?!” he snarls. “You’ve driven mad for days with your ‘Respect others’ and ‘We are a group, Astarion!’ and ‘You can’t be that selfish’, and you won’t let me—”

“The sun,” she simply says, defeated. 

Oh.

How quickly Astarion has forgotten his pathetic limitations. On a quest for tavern food, defeated by the light of day. He can’t even venture outside their room. Zélie is the only person he wants to protect and can’t even feed her when she’s fed him countless times before. He snarls loudly, balling his fists, “Fuck!”

“It’s all right,” Zélie pulls him to her, unfazed by his temperamental mood, and he lets himself fall on top of her on the bed, his mortification soothed by her closeness. 

“Tell you what,” she says, breath tickling his face. Astarion holds her cheeks, sharpened by tiredness and hunger, in his hands. He rubs his thumbs over them in small circles, as if he could make them meatier, healthier, by force of will alone. “I will go downstairs, where a Fist captain is waiting for me. I will tell her to ask Wyll if the issue can wait until tomorrow or if Jaheira or Minsc,” she grimaces in worry at the idea, “can take over for the evening. Then, I’ll see if the cook has something prepared. If not, I’ll make do with some cheese and bread.”

Astarion feels a soft dizziness spreading through him. She is talking with that calm and collected voice of hers as if nothing could ever shake or hurt them when she knows what it does to him. He tangles his fingers in her curls, messing them up (An arduous task when they already look like a harpy’s.), before cradling her face into the base of his neck.  

“Then,” his little hero wraps her arms around him, under his shirt and on his scarred back. Astarion is still unused to how careful her hands are on him, like a gentle breeze. She looks at him in search of discomfort, but she finds none. The elf hopes Zélie knows that nothing she does will be the cause of any uneasiness he may show in the future (Even she can’t shield him from all his memories.)  

“I will come back here, to this bed. We’ll eat and rest and when the sun sets, we’ll go to the rooftop to see the stars and enjoy the summer air. How does that sound?” She boops his nose with hers. 

Astarion swallows loudly, “It sounds perfect, love,” he concedes. That’s as close as anyone has ever come to convincing Zélie to drop her duties and rest. Small victories. He is sure he’ll persuade her to live a life of rest and luxury, one day. If everything goes as he desperately hopes.

He is rewarded with a content smile he does not deserve, so he kisses her soundly instead. 

____________________________________________

The night is warm, comforting even. How strange; Astarion can’t remember darkness in Baldur’s Gate ever being so welcoming. A loud munching resonates on his left, and the pale elf has to keep himself from grinning too overtly at his precious woman digging into a simple beef stew as if it were the nectar of the gods. Her cheeks puff out as she takes another mouthful, her usual composure nowhere to be seen in what Astarion hopes is another first. 

(He wishes he could have been her first at everything, just as she was his.)

Midnight strikes. He would have been in some dirty tavern or dingy brothel by now if the mind flayers hadn’t mercifully kidnapped him. He would have been truly dead if the impossible creature next to him hadn’t insisted he was worth saving.

Zélie looks at him as if he performed a miracle, “This, munch, is, chomp, utterly amazing. The best thing I’ve eaten in a long, long while.” 

“Tut, love, I resent that. And here I thought I was special,” he purrs it in offended seduction just to witness his lover’s cheeks and forehead flush in embarrassment. She looks healthier already. 

Good. 

“Oh, you, sassy, snarky…ugh,” Zélie narrows her eyes at him, then immediately composes herself. “Let me specify, the best thing I’ve eaten of any nutritional value in a long, long time.” 

Astarion laughs so loud that a few pigeons fly away in fear. “Touché, love. Well played.”

“Where did you even find this? When I checked the kitchen—”

When she checked the kitchen, the useless cook was not meant to start his shift for another couple of hours, which left her with two slices of bread and a portion of cheese so small even a rat would have ignored it. So Astarion, spurred on by his newly-uncovered protectiveness, waited for his Zélie to be busy with the Fists captain before putting his daggers to good use. It was convenient that the cook had no will to test out the elf’s gutting technique. 

“Oh, darling, I am extremely resourceful. You should know this by now,” he says with a telling smirk. 

“Right. That means I don’t want to know. Though I wouldn’t be against getting more of this,” she points at the bowl of stew in admiration, “from time to time. It reminds me of my grandfather’s cooking.” 

Astarion tenses a bit at the mention of the family she left behind for him; he waits for (No, expects.) Zélie to eventually consider the whole thing as the massive mistake it is and…leave him. Hate him. Become another person he cheated not of her life (At the very least.) but of her future. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours, dear?” She asks, head tilted. She can see him even without the tadpoles, and it unsettles him in a good way. 

It feels right, to be known by her. To know her in return. 

He doesn’t want to lie to her now (She’s rubbing her annoying righteousness all over him.), so he opens his arms and she scoots against him, full belly and satisfied gaze. 

Lovely. 

Astarion gently guides them to the mattress he brought up from the bedroom and curls up around Zélie. He could laugh. He despised heroes for so long and here he was, lulling one to sleep. But she was his hero, which makes all the difference; he still doesn’t believe in the natural goodness of others, but he believes in hers, and that’s all he needs. 

And she fits against him, around his jagged edges so perfectly, Astarion would believe she was made for him if he were a religious man. 

“Sleep darling,” he coos into her ear. 

She’s already halfway to the dream realm after, but she’s ever the stubborn woman. “But the sun—”

“I don’t need sleep, love; I’ll move us downstairs when dawn comes. I’ve wasted the day in bed already,” he plants little kisses on her hair, her face, her hands. Worships her as much as he can without waking her up. 

“But that’s the issue…want to…spend time with you,” why must she make it so impossible for him not to fall for her?

Every time the elf is sure he hit the bottom of the devotion he is capable of, she pushes him further down. And she doesn’t try that hard, his pesky love. 

“Hush,” he murmurs, wrapping them in a thick blanket to keep his undead chill at bay. “Rest, idiot. I’m here. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Astarion tightens his grip on her sleeping form. “We’ll take all the time we need, love. I promise.”

[astolfofo]

deja vu, Jamis vu

BSD beast au x reader. Based on the end of the beast movie.  AUTHORS NOTE: SO. ITS FINALLY DONE. ITS 4AM I AM ON IPAD TUMBLR AND UHHHH… I tried to edit this. but. TUMBLR WAS BEING AN ASS. and the two hours I spent editing this went down the drain. Mere words could not describe the grief I felt at 3:37 in the morning. I would have screamed if I weren’t so zombieified. Then, I tried to be paitent and edit it another time, but tumblr was like: haha no. so it didn’t save. I swear it’s not my fault if you have a stroke while reading this. I sacrificed my sleep for an entire week to do write this. Please give me some credit for my suffering. /lh

Also keep in mind. I have watched the DA movie and the beast movie a whopping total of 1 time. It’s probably very off from what I was trying to communicate, cause I legit have no clue what goes on in the light novels... spare me the slander. 

Last thing, I tried something new with this one, so there’s weird ahh switches between first person and 2nd person in this. Idk how good it is, lmk if i should never do it again.

Tw: head injury, murder, blood, suicide, yeah I think that’s about it.

word count: 6.8k  

To all the Chuuya enjoyers out there, I’m sorry for being a disappointment.

Tags: @redeemingmygloryintopurgatory

I’m wet.

Im standing outside his door, knocking as it rains outside, without an umbrella, cold, and of course, drenched.

Helplessly, I knock on his door, hoping for a response from him. I know it’s pointless, by now. I should cut him out of my life by now, I should… leave him. He’s not a good person, he’s part of the Port Mafia, for the love of god… I’m scared of him. He could crush me at any moment. Hell, he breaks into my house so frequently, and even though he’s done no harm… he could kill me at any moment. So why am I here? Shouldn’t I be relieved that he hasn’t shown up at my apartment for over a month now? I… just can’t…

Lightening splits the sky in half and the sound of thunder cracks in the air.

Your fist slides down the window pane of the door. It makes a terrible sound, and you wince in pain from the sting of the friction. You should just go home. It was obvious Chuuya wasn’t even home, he never was. And if he wasn’t even home, how would he even answer the door? You regret coming here in the first place, you didn’t even know why you chose to. Was it out of worry? Was it because you had to say something to him? You couldn’t remember by now, it was all on impulse. 

Chuuya had broken into your apartment countless times. Still, no matter how many times you’d snap at him, how many times you’d emptily threaten him, or try to push him off the balcony, he still came back the next day, unphased. You couldn’t get rid of him, no matter how hard you tried. And after many days, you had learned to accept that someone could break into your home at any given moment.

And you had no knowledge of how he knew you, let alone knowledge of how he even got your house key. Or maybe he picked your lock. You couldn’t be sure and you really did not want to know. 

Every day, you’d come back home from work, and Chuuya would be sitting on your couch, drinking your wine (much to your own distaste). You’d usually give him a dirty look, and he’d glare in return but you’d say nothing. You preferred not to talk to him, and Chuuya wouldn’t raise conversations by himself. He always sat in the corner of the room, observing… scrutinizing every move you made. On the rare occasions when you had managed to start a conversation with him, it was always painfully awkward.

You once remember asking him why he was here, what he wanted from you, and his true intentions. Chuuya looked at you in an amused manner and stared out the window. 

“Why I’m doing this? You’ll find out yourself when the time is right.”

By the time you had woken up, he was always gone. As if he was never there in the first place. The only thing he’d leave was the wine glass he’d drink out of, and your clothes you had hauled back from the laundromat messily folded, in your drawer. Occasionally, when it warm out, he’d leave the window open. They were small actions. Meant to be noticed, but not returned.

The splashing of rain intensifies, as you stand on Chuuya’s porch. He’s not home. You can’t stand here forever. You have to get back home before it’s too late.

What a great way to spend my time off work.

But you wanted to try one last thing before you left. Maybe his door was unlocked the entire time. Although you would doubt it, it was worth a try. It was so stupid to do this, all of it was. But your curiosity is getting the best of you, and you desperately wanted answers. Answers only Chuuya could give.

So, you grip the door handle and twist the doorknob. Much to your shock, the mechanics of the door click, and the door opens.

Chuuya had left the door unlocked. He forgot to lock his own door. You take a step up, and stand in the doorway. The rain is still hitting your back, and you groan realizing that you’re dripping water onto the floor. Quickly, you step in and shut the door. You twist the lock, ensuring that no one else would come in.

You sure hope Chuuya wasn’t going to come home tonight. The thought of it made the hair on your neck stand slightly. 

You take off your shoes which are drenched in water and stare in the mirror. You’re soaked to the bone. Your clothes are completely see-through. You’d need to change them. That could wait, though. If the rain stopped, you’d go home as soon as possible.

Okay. Quick in and out it is. I need to find my spare key, and I need to find what happened to him after the explosion in the sky that day. The one that happened on the top of the… port mafia building. You shudder. I wonder what happened. It was so bright that it looked as if the sky exploded for a second. The next thing you know, everything is back to normal… except it isn’t. A dead body is found at the bottom of the building.

Followed by that, I never saw Chuuya again, but many people that were close to me have been avoiding me. When asked why, they avoided my question. There isn’t a strong connection there, but I think… that all of these events are connected somehow. Chuuya never appears again, and the fact he works for the Port Mafia, definetly does not help. 

Additionally, the Armed Dective Agency sent me a letter to be wary of Chuuya. With no additional information. There’s something going on here. Something is wrong. Something terribily wrong.

And I’m scared.

Apprehensively, you take several steps inside the house. You keep getting the feeling that you may get caught. But you don’t hear anything at the door. It’s a painful paranoia.

You inhale and exhale.

I’ll start looking for hints first. I don’t need an answer right away. One hint will be able to give me lots. I’ll start from his room, that’s where people are most likely to hide things.

You walk as quickly as possible across the empty corridor in the house. His house is eerily empty. There isn’t much in it, just a lot of furniture, a shelf of wine, messy papers and a few books placed sparsely across the rooms.

You walk up the stairs, which slightly creaks under your weight. You try your best to ignore any noises and try to stay focused. As you reach the top of the stairs, you see his bedroom, which is the first room at the end of the staircase.

You walk towards the room, you open the door and look around. Chuuya’s room is surprisingly fuller than the rest of the house. There is a dresser, with several items stacked on top of it. It has drawers, which you assume were full. His closet was also filled with clothes, with various hats on the shelf above in his closet.

Chuuya’s bed was neatly made, giving the impression that he had not been home in weeks. Unoccupied, cold, and abandoned. Yet you felt a temptation to lie in it either way. Your eyes dart to the dresser again, and you look at the various items spread out on it. None of these are of much use to you. Besides the gun that seemed unused.

Your hands move to the drawers and you begin to search them. In the first one, there was nothing. Just a bunch of stationery, and papers, some of which had blood on them. You shudder in disgust and move on.

You struggled to pull the second drawer. After a moment, it slides open and you look at the inside contents. You stare at it, wondering if you open it. There is no address on it, and it isn’t sealed. 

You have a bad feeling about this, but your hands move faster than your brain. You pull out the piece of paper and read its contents.

The letter is addressed to you. It doesn’t include much. Just A single sentence that holds an address. 

And then it hits you.

Chuuya had been planning this for a long time. He had purposely left the door unlocked, left his house empty, and left you because he knew you would try to find him one day.

It infuriates you more than you expect. But you can’t stop here. You’ll go to a specific location. 

Just to be sure, you look in the third drawer, you see your spare key, as well as a lock cutter. 

Its dark now. It’s still pouring. You have no choice to stay here for tonight. Begrudgingly, you curse yourself for dragging yourself into this. Still, you were in too deep to back out now. Whatever happens, will happen.

-

You wake up. 

You're lying on Chuuya's bed, in his clothes, begrudgingly. Your own clothes are discarded onto the floor, dried during the time you had been asleep. Still, you don't exactly feel like changing into them. It felt too gross to wear them. 

You shake your head. Now's not the time to be thinking about that. You sit up, and stretch your arms. Then, you walk towards the desk again, and look at the address. You take note of the address, and take your spare key. Before you go, you flip over the paper, ensuring that you didn't miss anything. There's another sentence scribbled on the top of the paper.

I know you're reading this. You want to know why I'm gone, and why I did this. The address that is provided will help you, but it will not give you the answer, nor will I be there. 

…What? 

You read the sentence over and over again. The words sink in, making you feel conflicted. You knew you were getting yourself into a certain kind of danger by doing this, but you didn't expect it to be this risky. Hell, you didn't even know where the man was now, and not to mention… the location…

You look at the location again.

It's on the street where the explosion happened. And you're no fool. If it was on that street, it meant it was that building. There were no other possibilities. You doubt it would be any other one of those tall skyscrapers, anyways. The one where the explosion happened was the only building Chuuya had any affiliations with.

Which was going to be incredibly difficult to get into. Let alone, to the top floor. You'd be dead even trying to set foot into the door. It wasn't worth your life for this. You should forget about it and go back home.

You look through the paper again, hoping there might be something more to help you. Sighing, you came back with nothing. I suppose I really have to go through with this, don't I? There's no turning back. 

-

The walk to the Port Mafia's building was rather short, if you were being completely honest. It was located in the heart of Yokohama, and was one of the tallest buildings there, if that told you anything. 

You stand outside the building, as the apprehension and fear build up inside you. You had never felt as much of a need to run from anything, as much as you did now. The doors, despite their grandeur size, and large glass design, looked uninviting. Almost like doors to a bank vault; the kind of doors that told you, you wouldn't be able to get out, as soon as you stepped in. And from various things people has told you throughout the years, the Port Mafia keeps people it's had come into contact with. It's more powerful beyond belief. 

It doesn't need to control you. You'll be forced into being pliant for them, simply by fear. No one can betray them. Death is almost a guarantee if you do.

And recently, they had also become violent as well. You might as well be walking yourself into a death wish.

But your feet remained rooted into the ground, and part of you remains determined to see this through. So you take a deep breath and walk into the building. 

You try to remain calm as you push through the doors, into the lobby. You pray Hou won't be swatted with bullets as soon as you enter, but much to your own surprise, there's no one in the lobby. It's completely empty.

It doesn't feel right. You wonder if what happened. Well, it's not your business anyways. You couldn't care less. You just needed to find whoever Chuuya's office is and-

"Who are you?"

shit. you curse under your breath. "I-I'm," you turn around to face the person talking g to you. As soon as you do this, the man's eyes widen, and you acknowledge away slightly. "Sorry… um… do you know where Chuuya is?"

You had never felt so idiotic and out of place in your life. You can physically feel your heart pounding inside your chest, as you pray you don't look too suspicious. You can't mess up here. Though the man you are currently talking to isn't holding any firearm. That may just as well mean he has even worse methods to kill you off.

"He's not here."

of course, he isn't. You think to yourself. He wrote that in his own letter, or whatever you call it. 

"He's been arrested." The man looks you directly into your eyes, and as on instinct, you look down, too scared to actually look at him. A few moments pass in silence.

"Can you… perhaps tell me why?"

"After the previous Port Mafia executive committed suicide, Chuuya was forced to lead the Port Mafia. He hated the job greatly, and he eventually…" He stops himself.

"Go on." You mutter.

The man tilts his head and looks at you again. "Are you sure? If you want to see him… it's better just to see for yourself." He stops for a second. 

"No… please tell me. Tell me everything that you possibly can."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Fine then. If you insist."

"Chuuya lost his control over himself. He slowly became more, deranged, if you will, as time went on. After the old executive killed himself, Chuuya had no one left. Or at least, that's what we saw. His orders became more and more irrational, often just resorting to killing everything, and slowly, he eventually broke. He went on a rampage, as you've probably seen, Yokohama is not safe with him around. He almost destroyed Yokohama in its entirety, and it took serveral organizations to stop him. I don't know the exact details after that. He remains locked up underground."

You feel as if you had been doused under cold water. You didn't only have your question answered, but that also explained several other things as well. You try to recollect your thoughts while figuring out what to do next.

"By the way, you look familiar."

"How so?"

"I don't know, to he honest. You look like someone who used to work here. Maybe my mind js tricking me, though. You look too weak to be here."

"Yeah," you force out an awkward laugh, "I could never work here for the life of me."

"Figures."

another awkward pause, as you stare at the man.

"I assume you need Chuuya's location, don't you?"

You nod.

"Here." He hands you a piece of paper, with an address messily scrawled onto it. "Although, I don't recommend going to see him, tell the guards you are a relative of his. Hopefully, it will convince them enough to let you in. Though, if you want, I'm sure you can attempt to knock the guards out. Chuuya's well… very restrained so he won't hurt you."

"Ah… thank you."

"Don't mention it."

You bow and leave.

"Hey wait-" the man calls out, his voice echoing through the empty lobby. He seems hesitant to ask something. You stop and turn around. "Yeah?"

He looks down, and awkwardly avoids eye contact for a second. It's at this moment you realize he's a man with short, white, hair, as well thick bangs that were cut into a slant. He’s rather short, and he’s wearing a long jacket.

He looks… familiar. I wonder why.

“What’s your name?” 

You stare at him for another moment before answering. “It’s Y/N.”

You could have sworn you had seen a face of surprise from him for a second, but it could have been your imagination because the next instant you blink, it’s gone. “I see,” he says slowly. “Be careful then. He’s not the same as what you may remember.”

As… I remember? What….

“Nevermind. Forget I said anything. Just go to the address, and everything will make sense.”

“Hey wait-”

He’s already turned his back and left on you. You’re left with so many more questions than you started off with, and dread creeps up you again. There was a warning tone in his voice, almost as if telling you to do this was a terrible idea. That you were going to be landing yourself in scalding hot water, and you wouldn’t be able to get out. You knew the risks from the start, but…

You quickly unfold the paper, and look for the address. Once again, the address is written in the center of the paper. You carefully look around for any other writing on the paper.

It’s completely white. Blank. Except for one sentence on the bottom: It’s never too late to back out. 

And you stare at it, and think about the several cryptic warnings you received from this man. So… you’re telling me, that after that explosion happened in the sky… a dead body, the previous executive was found. Then shortly after that, Chuuya became the executive of the Mafia. He hated it. But he had no choice and was left alone to do it. Eventually, he lost his sanity and mind and the Mafia… I guess? Because very corrupt, violent, and unsafe. It took many people to stop him, and how he was arrested in an underground cell. At this address.

It’s clear he’s cutting something out. He said to be careful. Of course, if Chuuya has lost his mind, I need to do that. But he empathized that I should be wary of him. Also, he said I looked familiar, and he also looks familiar to me. He mentioned something about… me remembering? Have I known Chuuya for longer? 

But he also said that only Chuuya has the answers to all my questions. So that means in other words, he knows what happened during the explosion, he knows that Chuuya has been breaking into my apartment and he knows more about my entire predicament now, than I do.

Just… who exactly is he? How and why?

You cut yourself off from those thoughts. 

Ugh. this is ending up being so much more complicated than it was supposed to be. You thought in bitterness. So basically, I’ll go to the address, and get the answers to my questions. Sounds simple enough. There’s no need to overthink this. Maybe i’m just being paranoid. What’s the worst that could happen?

Well, a lot. But I’ll just ignore that for now.

You turn around and walk towards the door again. To be honest, you don’t want to know what might happen once you see him. You were already nervous from the implications the man had told you moments ago, and you were coming to realize there were some things that you noticed when you were in Chuuya’s house. Things that you maybe weren’t supposed to know about or see.

In the bottom of the drawer… there were documents. Documentation of everything that happened on the day of the explosion. A bright light illumined the sky, followed by the dead body found; the previous port mafia’s executive; Dazai Osamu. The two closest people to the explosion were a member of the port mafia, Atsushi Nakajima, and a member in the training of the Armed Detective Agency, Ryounouske Akuwatagawa. They are believed to be the cause of the explosion.

No one knows the exact events inside the Port Mafia on that day, except for the individuals involved in the actions that happened. According to the Armed Detective Agency, Akuwtagawa had barged into the Port Mafia to challenge the Port Mafia Executive. He accordingly, fought many individuals in the Port Mafia, a body count is yet to be determined. Data from thereon forth is unknown until the individuals reach the top of the building, where the most notorious event stated above occurred.

Additionally, after thorough examination of the body of the previous Port Mafia Excuetive, it can be concluded that he had committed suicide by jumping off the building. 

The document ends there, and the paper is ripped in half.

-

It felt like every meter you travelled towards that location was walking towards a terrible, yet inevitable fate. The drive there, dragged on and on as if mocking you for your choices. You find yourself counting down the seconds until you can arrive at the location given.

Oh, how you wished you had stayed at home instead of seeking him out. If only your morbid curiosity hadn’t gotten the best of you.

You’ve lost track of the time you’ve spent on the train, only waiting for the loudspeaker to announce your stop. The location you figure you were given led you to a rather remote area, likely in the outskirts of Yokohama. If not further. The man had told you he was locked underground, completely isolated from everything.

You found that part the most unsettling. If they needed that many security measures to keep him in place, it was likely he was completely gone. Gone beyond saving. If he had succumbed that much to his own grief and madness, it would be a question of whether he would still remember you or not. 

You look out the window again, enjoying your last moments of peace.

This is the eerie calm before the storm, isn’t it?

Moments after you think that, the train halts to a stop at the last station in Yokohama, and you get off. Your heart is pounding wildly in your chest, and you’re not sure if you can stop it.

You try your best to remain calm. Force yourself to keep going. He’s special to you. You can’t lose him, even if you hate him. You need him. He’s the only one who still cares. 

And above all, he’s the only one who remembers you at all.

And so, you go. You take all the correct turns. You try to walk as quickly as you could, to arrive at the destination. You keep going, and going and going until…

You’re here.

It’s one of the better buildings on the outskirts of the city, yet… it looks incredibly unsettling. It’s a mundane building, one made from standard concrete, and glass. Yet. As you stand so close, you see cracks in the building. The door is partially cracked as well. 

Well, I’m here already. Whatever happens, happens. I may die in there, still, before I die, I have to know the answer. The answer… why can’t I remember? Chuuya. I want him to tell me, what he did to me. Why he came to my apartment every day. Why he’s… he’s…..

Oh. My hands are shaking. Surely I cannot be this terrified can I? I will do this even if it kills me.

You pull the door open and enter the building. The piece of paper told you that it was on the lowest floor. Your footsteps echo in the empty building, and it feels creepy no one is here.

Huh. Gives some Deja Vu, doesn’t it?

You proceed towards the elevator at the end of the hall, and press the down button. Almost instantly, the elevator makes a “ding” noise, and the doors open. You quickly step in and look for the lowest button. With a deep breath, you push the button, and the door closes.

You stare at your face in the mirror. You look terrible. Pale and your hair is completely dishevelled and a mess. If you didn’t know any better, you’d look like you were sick. You had been extremely anxious about this for an entire day, after all.

The elevator doors once again slide open. 

Here goes nothing. You sigh. I’d better hear you talking today, Chuuya. You have a lot to tell me. And you’d better tell me it all.

You step outside the elevator. There’s nothing. Absolutely nothing, and no one here. The halls are empty, and the strong scent of stale air, combined with dust fills your nostrils. You feel like coughing for a second, but you hold yourself back. You didn’t want to make any noise to give away your presence. You take another step.

Despite what the man said, it was clear that there was no one else there. No prison guards, no other cells inside. It was clearly a floor made, simply to detain one individual in particular. Isolated, and secure enough that they’d never be able to escape. Deep enough underground that they’d never even know where they were.

Your footsteps tap loudly against the concrete and echo everywhere around. As you walk down the hall, the lightbulbs behind you light up. The man had told you it was in the deepest part of the prison. However, what he didn’t account for, was that you had no idea how this floor was organized. 

Not to mention it was starting to get creepy really quickly. Although there should be nothing else in here, you were starting to get the sense that there was something dangerous that might lurk in the air. You tell yourself it’s probably just the dark and your own fatigue and you were imagining things.

The emptiness of the entire building creeps you out. It’s eerie. It feels like you were lead into the wrong location, and you were walking into a dead end. It almost felt almost like a trap that you had been lured into. And every second, the floor grew significantly more eerie. The lack of any presence and the darkness despite the very few lightbulbs attached to the ceiling enhanced that. 

I should be getting close now… right?

You were. You could see a light at the end of this hallway, which was illuminated with an orange light. It must have been where Chuuya’s cell was. There was no other place as illuminated as this, and there was no reason for it to be.

You had gotten this far. There was no reason you should be stopping now. Should you? The answer… you had always looked for, you could get it now.

Chuuya always hid something from me. He has never answered once, one of my questions. He’s never told me why he comes to my house every day, he never told me once why he was gone. For as long as I remember, I’ve been coming back from my job, and seeing him there. But one day, he disappeared. No reason why, no reason of how. He just did.

But apart from my job, there’s another piece missing to this puzzle. There’s something else that I’ve always wanted to ask him besides why he’s gone missing, and the explosion which I already had the answer to. He knows me, better than I know myself.

What was I before all of this happened?

I know there’s something before all of this. It just doesn’t add up. The man I saw in the mafia looked familiar. The building itself was in a place that I had felt I had been in at some time before. There’s deja vu there.

But when I first walked into the apartment, the first day before I saw Chuuya, I had jamais vu. A familiar place, that I didn’t know. And consequently, I couldn’t remember much before that. So what-

“I know you’re there, (Y/N). You’ve been standing there for quite some time.”

Shit.

Your thoughts are cut off by that voice you instantly knew. Chuuya was indeed, there. But his voice didn’t sound the same as you remember. There wasn’t any of the snarkiness, or egotistical attitude in his voice anymore. Instead, his voice was laced with aggression, and a malice that made you hesitant to even come forward.

You open your jaw to speak, but almost if Chuuya knew, he spoke before you. “I know what you’re thinking. You want to know why I left you, don’t you? I assume that someone has already told you about what happened on the day I stopped seeing you, and I’m sure you know all about the aftermath of that.”

You feel like you are doused in cold water. How did he know? Did he plan all of this. You want to open your mouth and tell him to slow down, but he continues, anyways.

“And you’ve been having deja vu for several days, too. You feel like you know the Port Mafia building, you feel like you recognize everything you saw, including my home.” Silence, as he pauses for a second. “So why don’t you… come and face me, and I’ll tell you what actually happened?”

“Chuuya-”

You hear no response. You sigh and walk towards his cell. You’re not ready to hear this, and you’re not sure you can face him.

He’s different. He’s not the same anymore. He sounds more violent, his composture is much less controlled than it was before. What…what happened to him?

And then you approach his cell. He’s got cuts everywhere, specifically the gash on his face. You instantly feel the need to run away, to get this image out of your mind. He was thin, his face was significantly more gaunt than it had been the last time you had seen him. And the most unsettling thing was how he was kept. Both arms were harshly chained to the ceiling and the wall. The chains were wrapped around his arms several times (you would assume most likely to stop him from breaking free), and they cut deeply into his arm. Then his body was also tightly bound to a chair, and his legs were bound to the chair’s legs. His body you noticed, was bound so tightly to the chair, you wonder how he still managed to breathe. Still, nothing would be as unnerving as to look at as his eyes. They were not dull per say, but they were empty. Not in the hopeless kind of way, but in the tormented sense that he had been tortured so badly that it would be unlikely he ever saw the light of day again.

Truly, he was a lost cause. You could only describe him as tortured and traumatized, as you couldn’t glance at him a second time.

“Hey. You done oogling yet?” His voice came out as almost an aggressive snarl, and you instantly look away. “Look at me.” You do your best to look at him, while trying to avoid looking at any part of his face in particular. You didn’t want to see it. Truly, you don’t want to look at him in any way whatsoever. So you settle on looking at a corner of his hair. The only thing that was still familiar to you.

“I said look at me. In the eyes.”

You don’t want to.

Chuuya sighs. “I know I probably look terrible right now, but please. Just do it. For the sake of me. Just look me in the eyes. It’ll probably be the last time I see someone for a long time.” He draws that last sentence out for longer than you expect, and you start to feel uneasy again, but you try to ignore that and ask him the question. The question you had been dying to ask for an undefined amount of time.

It’s a second before you can really bring yourself to ask it. “Chuuya. Where are my memories?” your mouth tightens… “Who am I? Why did you… do this?” You take a deep breath, to stop yourself. “Just tell me. Please.”

There’s another stretched-out pause before Chuuya responds again. “I knocked you out.”

“You… you what? N-no… you’re kidding right?” Your voice wavers slightly, before seeing Chuuya’s face again. He’s dead serious. “Why would you do this?”

“You were in danger. I couldn’t help it, alright?” He yelled, and you flinch. He takes a deep breath in again, slightly more calm, and continues. “Let me explain.”

“You were part of the Port Mafia, (Y/N). In fact, you, me, and Dazai used to be assigned to the same team all the time. Of course, it was always despicable working with Dazai. He never told us about anything, instead only telling us what to do, while he schemed about whatever he damn chose.”

“You can’t be serious…”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Do you think I’m joking right now? That I’m making a story and pulling it out of thin air for fun? You wanted answers. I’m giving them to you right now.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Chuuya ignores you and goes on. “Out of the three of us, you were always the weakest one, without a strong ability, nor any supportive abilities, however, we always had to drag you along anyways. To every mission gaven to us. Dazai would always make a plan, and we’d have to follow through. And if any of us ever messed up, we’d always get into trouble.”

“I bet you wanted to know how you got that bruise on your arm, that’s never healed, huh? Well, it’s cause you messed up one of the missions, and one of the higher-ups broke your arm. It never completely healed, and it was a warning that you should never mess up again.”

You look at your arm, where the ugly purple bruise marred your skin. It had never healed, and you couldn’t do anything heavy with it. Although it made a lot more sense than the reasoning you were told, you found this all too unreal. There was no way you were a mafia member. You were always weak. There would have been no reason for you to join. But even past the static buzzing in your brain, you could make out everything he said feeling familiar. As if your memories were just behind a wall you couldn’t break through.

“Still, I wasn’t able to do anything at the time, and Dazai didn’t care too much for you. The damned bastard treated everything and everyone like a chess piece, and played them as he wished. You were constantly treated as the runt of the three of us, and often used as the punching bag when missions weren’t successful. But, over time, you managed to become more ‘competent’ and not ‘drag us back’.”

“Of course, that all was, until the Dragon Head incident. All you need to know was that it was a bloody fight, and most of us were sent to deal with it.”

“As always, we were sent to deal with the mess. Dazai and I were obviously vanguards during the entire ordeal, and you were backup. When we had found the person behind it all, I used my own ability to kill him. We had won, but just barely.”

“You had managed to find the location of the man first, but you didn’t notify us. This person later told us that you actually refused to tell us. Ultimately, you botched Dazai’s plan, and almost destroyed an entire city, because you didn’t follow his instructions. Of course, Dazai was disappointed, even if he didn’t say anything. He essentially dismissed you, and planned to go back, and remove you from the Port Mafia. But, I didn’t want that.”

“So after a very long fight with Dazai, I managed to make a compromise with him. You would not be killed for betraying the Port Mafia, however, you wouldn’t be allowed to go back. But if I told you this, you would have rather accepted death, since the Port Mafia is the only thing you have ever known. You couldn’t go into the real world since you have no identity there.”

“So later that night, while you had looked like you were at least, partially asleep. I had no choice… but to give you severe head trauma, which would make you lose all your memories.”

There’s an unspoken silence between the two of you. You had always been told that your head was fragile. When you tried to think about your childhood or teenage years, your head would fill with static and it would hurt. Never had you ever expected it to be… this…

“You must be shocked. You probably think I’m not being serious, or that I’m joking. Well, I’m not done yet.”

“You were in a coma for years after that. For about two or three years, if I remember correctly. I had to make sure that you wouldn’t remember anything, so I bashed your head, pretty hard against the concrete. I brought you to the hospital after that, and told them that you had been injured badly, because you had attempted suicide. A balatant lie, but I couldn’t tell the doctors any more than that, otherwise I would have been detained.”

“For several years, you stayed in the hospital, completely unconscious. I’d visit you everyday, and see if you would wake up. At one point I had considered just giving up. But eventually, you did wake up. But, you didn’t have an identity in the real world, let alone education, or anything that would let you survive. When you were discharged, I paid a company to forge you a fake identity, which is what you live by now.”

“I’ve watched over you for so long, (Y/N). You once asked me what you needed to be protected from. I didn’t answer that question because I didn’t think it was the right time to let you know the truth. Alas, you’ve come searching for the truth yourself. The Port Mafia was after you for a long time. I had to constantly monitor you, you were constantly on my mind every day. And even when you were discharged from the hospital, I still had to watch over you while you slept. They wanted to kill you. I didn’t want you dead, in fact how could I?” Chuuya laughs in bitterness. “I loved you for a long time. I did all of this to make sure I’d be able to see you happy, for once. And you were. You moved into society rather nicely. You were simply not meant to be part of the Mafia, despite the potential in your ability.”

“You have the gun I left on my desk, didn’t you? You knew you had to take it because you might have been in danger.”

“Chuuya… stop.” You’re still in shock, but you know you’ll never properly remember any of your memories now. You can only trust him. Whatever he says, you have to believe. He’s not lying. He never was lying.

“That was Dazai’s gun. The gun he left before he killed himself.”

“No… please. Stop. Chuuya. Don’t do this please…”

He chuckles. “I have no merit in my future, I am simply left to rot and die here. You wouldn’t understand, (Y/N). I spent so much time in my life for you, that it would have been simpler to just kill you. But I can’t do that.”

“But in a life where you don’t return any of that to me isn’t worth living either…”

“CHUUYA,” you scream. “Stop this. Don’t…”

“So shoot me please. I know you’re dying to do it. You brought the gun with you, you wanted to kill me. I know you do. Why? You’ve reached into your pockets serveral times while I was telling your past. My life is hopeless, completely doomed. I’ve lost everything I once had, except for you. And I can’t even see you now.”

“So kill me. Put me out of my own misery.”

He smiles, in a twisted sort of way, expecting you to shoot.

“You won’t regret it.”

And it’s true. You were planning on killing him, but you don’t want to now. But if what he said was true, you were also ruthless as he was. You had to make a choice, quickly.

Your hands move faster than your mind, and you can’t stop yourself.

You shoot once. Once at his chest.

You can’t bear to see what you did.

But you also can’t see control what you were going to do next. You hear another gunshot being fired, and you weren’t if it was from yourself, or maybe someone else in the floor.

Your vision stops and you feel yourself falling to the ground.

[litmisfit]

— 𝙒𝙃𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝘿𝙄𝘿 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙎𝙋𝙄𝙉𝙀 𝙂𝙊? (𝙄 𝙆𝙉𝙊𝙒 𝙄’𝙑𝙀 𝙂𝙊𝙏 𝙉𝙊𝙉𝙀)

—.🌿. PAIRING. hwang hyunjin x f!reader

—.🌿. TW. cursing. violence. murder. death. blood and injury. gore. severe ptsd. heavy trauma. mental health issues. animal death. use of guns and knives. hint of suicide (hardly there tbh.) slight mentions of an afterlife? reader being a bit of a bitch but she’s just stressed tf out. arguing. just another heavy one.

—.🌿. GENRE. tlou!au. angst. slight fluff.

—.🌿. NOTES. this is the first one i’m rewriting from the works i made previously. i apologize for it not being the best, especially since the ending felt way too rushed but it is what it is. there's also a lot of going for the neck in this. idk why its just an easy part to strike ig. anyway, like i mentioned in my last fic, chan and minho are still roughly 10 years older than the rest for plot purposes. other than that, i hope you enjoy!! :))

—THE SOUND OF waves echoed off concrete. the water violent as its tune bounced around the empty parking garage, leaving a faint twang of salt in the air. it masked the scent of rain. the familiar musk of wet dirt and stone was nowhere to be found.

y/n’s hands shook slightly, gun weighing a thousand times more than normal. her grasp was tight and left little imprinted diamonds on her skin. it matched the grip of her weapon, fingers growing antsy and nervous for the trigger.

she stared off into the distance. she noted how the rough tides and the murky grey of the overhead storm blended together, the occasional flash of lightning brightening the bleak clouds. she swallowed thickly.

“our best bet is to be sneaky.” she heard han state from behind her, her back facing the group as they planned for their next course of action. “we don’t know who could be in there. we don’t know how many there are and we don’t know where they could be hiding. we can’t go in there looking for a fight we aren’t ready for.”

y/n felt several pairs of eyes burn her back. it was obvious who han was talking about, making her grit her teeth.

“as of right now, chan’s our main priority. we know he knows abby is held up here," he pointed towards the red 'x' crossing over the birdseye image of the seattle seafront aquarium. "so it’s safe to assume he’s headed that way if he’s not there already.” he motioned to the markers of interstate numbers, flattening the paper out slightly over the hood of an abandoned car. “going along highway 80, if we stick to that route, it’s a straight shot there. we could make it in a few hours max. at least by sundown.”

“what about boat?”

the voice of y/n caused the group to peer up, surprised by her voice after being silent for so long. she turned around and crossed her arms over her damp raincoat.

changbin’s brows furrowed. “what do you mean?”

“the water.” she gestured out. “it's the quickest between the two. if we find one by the coastline, we could make it there and back by dusk.” she shrugged. “besides if we’re trying to be sneaky, it’s a lot better this way. we can come from behind. they won’t expect that. and with the highway, we’re out in the open and completely vulnerable. it’ll blow our cover."

han frowned and looked out past her, eyeing the angry sea. he glanced back and solemnly shook his head. “i’m sorry, y/n. it’s too risky, especially with this storm coming in. we could be thrown overboard and we’d be fucked then. besides, i.n. and felix can’t swim. it’s too dangerous.”

“then i can go.” she stepped forward. “it’s better than gambling all our lives.”

“absolutely not.” felix cut in.

“i’ll be fine. come on, hyunjin,” she peered over at her boyfriend. he looked at her and gnawed on the skin of his lip. his face was twisted in a mix of disapproval and unease. “you agree with me, right?”

he sucked in a breath and swallowed. “i’m sorry, but han’s right. it’d be reckless.”

a humorless laugh sent shivers down the group’s spine. “you fucking serious?” the bitter smile she had flipped into a scowl, hues aflame with a sense of betrayal. “abby could be over there as we fucking speak!”

“and i understand that, but chan—“ han was instantly shut down.

a look sharper than any blade was pointed at him, to all of them. “don’t you fucking dare.” she growled, tone dripping with venom. “don't you dare say you understand because you don’t. none of you do.” their backs stiffened when they met her gaze. “you weren't there! you didn’t see what she did to him! what they all did! you didn’t see the way they beat him until he couldn’t get up, or move, or to EVEN FUCKING SPEAK! his knee was literally blown out and they just kept beating him over and over and over until the only thing left of his head was goddamn brain matter!” her chest heaved with staggered breaths. cheeks flushed red and eyes wild, she continued ripping into these boys. “and you didn’t see him die. you weren’t pinned down. you weren’t kicking, or screaming, or crying, or fighting as they beat his head in with a fucking golf club! you didn’t see the way it broke through his fucking skull and you didn’t see the way he just laid there and accepted what was going to happen! so don't say you understand because you fucking don’t!”

a beat passed by, no one willing to make a sound.

y/n exhaled after a moment. “i’m not trying to play the ‘my trauma’s worse than yours’ game. i know you all lost someone important to you as well, but this is the best chance we got.”

silence.

“so, i’m going after abby.” she said, meeting each of their eyes. “whether or not you do, that’s your choice. but don’t you forbid me of mine.”

"y/n-" she heard felix start, but turned, not giving him time to voice his concerns. she hurried for the exit, ignoring the quick flash of lightning illuminating the wet streets and the roll of thunder that followed.

she refused to acknowledge the distant shouts of her name when she met the chill of icy rain against her skin.

yet, just as she was starting toward the coast, a soft hand caught her shoulder. she was turned and met the eyes of hyunjin. they flooded with a sense of panic and heartbreak, making the anger she still held onto extinguish instantly.

"y/n," he shook his head. "love, please don't do this." he begged.

y/n sighed, licking her chapped lips. "i can't." her voice was soft, carrying a faint twist of desperation that nearly got lost in a passing wind. "i can't, hyunjin. you know this. i need to find her."

"and we will. we will and we'll make sure abby pays for what she and the rest of her friends did." he reassured. "but you can't go this alone. it'd be careless."

"i don't care." she was quick with her words and the tone she spoke it with made his chest tighten.

his brows furrowed. "but, i do." he watched her jaw clench. "please. we- we can find a boat or another way or just something-"

"and have the possibility of letting her get away?" y/n exasperated. "fat fucking chance."

he let out a shaky exhale. "then i'm coming with you." he spoke.

he watched her eyes harden, pretty e/c hues he's grown to love so much fall a few shades darker.

"no you're not." she frowned, feeling the stray droplets of rain trail down her damp skin. "you're not. you're staying here where it's safe."

"i'm not letting you go alone. i can't and i won't-"

"i'm not gonna risk you getting killed, especially since we don't know what we're walking into." y/n jumped in, watching the pain in hyunjin's face morph into desperation. "don't fight me on this."

"and you expect me to just let you walk straight into your grave?" he exasperated, brows pulled up in bewilderment. "you said it yourself, we don't know what's waiting for us and that includes you." he points towards her. "and you think you basically sacrificing yourself is gonna do anything except just cause more bloodshed? you bursting in there ready to kill anything on impulse will not only get you killed but could get the rest of us, too. it's selfish and careless and would lead to minho's death to be for nothing. so stop acting like you're the only one dealing with problems and think about how your selfishness will affect us, especially since you can't seem to get your goddamn emotions under control."

with each word slipping past hyunjin's lips, the more y/n's face would fall. a frown was painted on her features, cheeks flushed from the cold rain and the embarrassment of being called out by the person she loves most in the world. what he said stung and bled and made the ache that was always present in her chest grow until it nearly hurt to breathe.

her eyes fluttered at him, lashes forcing her tears in place. no, she will not cry. not now. not until her job is done.

her jaw clenched and dug her nails into the palm of her hand. "then go back to jackson." she growled, using a tone that made hyunjin's face drop. "if you're so worried about you or the rest of the guys dying, then go back home. i've said it before and i'll say it again: i'm going after abby whether you like it or not, whether you join me or not. i don't care what happens or if i die because i'm not letting that bitch get by with what she's done. i'll do whatever it takes. so since i'm selfish, go back home."

he shook his head, feeling a surge of regret pool in his stomach. "no, y/n, i-i di-"

"i said to go back home, hyunjin. take the guys and go home. i'm not fucking asking." she snapped.

"b-but-"

"go hyunjin!" she barked, watching him wince from the anger he saw boiling in her voice. "fucking leave!"

she saw him take a half step back, ignoring the pain that flashed in his eyes from the strike of nearby lightning. she bit the inside of her cheek, the familiar twinge of metal seeping to her tongue that gave her a sick sense of comfort, but held her ground.

she smothered the guilt boiling in her gut from the sight of hyunjin's eyes glistening with tears with the rage pumping in her veins. so, she turned, not giving the man who held her heart in his hands a spare glance as she headed deeper into the abandoned city.

hyunjin swallowed thickly and blinked, feeling a stray tear fall to blend with the rain soaking his skin. he stayed still with his feet made of lead and unable to move. he was left there, standing in the pouring rain in a wasteland of skyscrapers and ghosts as he watched the very woman he'd die for leave, not knowing if this was her last day.

he prayed to god it wasn't.

the ground shook under her boots. a roll of thunder roared overhead that was soon followed by a flash of light. it illuminated the maze of seattle. tall buildings were left bare and forgotten. ivy and moss clung to their walls, the planet slowly taking back what was once hers until it would crumble.

the rain continued on. it was heavy and cold, soaking y/n's clothes and chilling her to the core. she let out a breath. a small cloud slipped past her lips.

the way to the coastline wasn't eventful and y/n hoped it would stay that way. she avoided the open, sticking to the outskirts and backroads to the shore until she could feel the burn of salt in her nose.

angry waves lapped upon the sand, foaming at the teeth before pulling out only to do it once again. it was as if nature itself was begging for slaughter.

however, y/n wasn't focused on the anger the earth portrayed but was instead fixated on the pier standing strong against the brutal swings the water had to offer. the sight of a lonely motorboat was left tied to a pillar, rocking in solitude.

a surge of excitement made y/n's chest leap. it should be fairly simple from here on out: get the boat running, head to the aquarium, kill anything that gets between her and abby, and then abby herself. it was easy and an opening so perfect was placed right in front of her.

however, just as her boot sunk into the grit of sand, a mix of several voices approached. her breath hitched and cursed quietly to herself before darting behind a nearby bush.

their words were quiet at first, yet gained more clarity the closer they came. by their tones, y/n could deduce they were all men. the realization made another swear fall softly from her lips. she peeked around, making sure to keep her figure masked by leaves.

"i'm so fucking done with this job, man. next time issac wants someone to do his dirty work, imma tell him to shove it up his ass." she heard one say. he was blonde, y/n noted, rather average height and lean under the jacket he was wearing, one that matched the other two. they must be from the same community.

"can you stop fucking bitching for five goddamn minutes, rick? i'm tired of hearing you whine, makes me wanna shoot myself." the tallest of the group, brown hair and a scruffy beard, pressed. he used a hand to pinch his nose.

"piss off. like you weren't doing the same thing on the way here." the shortest detested, following the other two up the dock.

y/n could feel her jaw clench. they couldn't have that boat, not under her watch. she swallowed thickly before sneaking forward, remaining low to the ground and gun cocked.

the trio was too busy preparing for the trip back and bickering over how they weren't getting paid enough for such shitty jobs. this gave y/n an outlet to strike. before any of the men knew it, the tallest was forced down, taking a blow to the back of his right knee.

y/n's arm wrapped tight around his neck with the barrel of her glock pressed harshly to his temple. the man in her grasp shouted obscenities, causing the others to pull their own weapons.

"the boat," she said, nodding towards it. "i want the boat."

"drop it, kid." the blonde ordered. he had his own revolver pointed toward her. "don't be stupid."

"i want the boat." she ignored him. "i'm not fucking asking. give it to me and you'll live."

the other snickered, a smile reeking of smugness painted across his face. he dropped his gun. "bullshit." he sneered. the look in his eyes made y/n's jaw clench. "a fucking kid like you doesn't have the balls to-"

BANG!

his body fell back, a hole the size of a golf ball replacing the space of a left blue eye. y/n didn't blink when she pulled the trigger nor when the back spray of his death hit her skin.

"josh!" the man in her grasp screamed, watching his friend's body slide limply into the violent waters. a pool of red crept up and swallowed the fresh corpse.

the sight of their friend being gunned down sent the other two into overdrive. the man who struggled in y/n's hold was able to throw an elbow backward, having it meet her nose with a sickening crack. the force caused her to fall and land on her back, her bag barely doing much to cushion her.

she wheezed, feeling the wind knock out of her lungs and nose surely broken. "fuck," she forced out. blood seeped from her nostrils. crimson painted the skin of her lips and dyed the whites of her teeth, tastebuds filled with iron.

a cough racked her body just as her foot was caught. y/n's hues blew wide in panic, the guy who bashed her face pulled her towards him.

"you fucking bitch!" he cursed, yanking her up in a position much like the one he was in.

y/n kicked and swung and tried to wiggle her way out of his limbs. yet, it was bound to fail. compared to him, she was nothing more than the size of a child. the curve of his elbow came around and locked tight around her throat before squeezing.

y/n gasped. her airway was being cut off.

"imma fucking gut you! watch you bleed out!" the man growled in her ear.

black spots were beginning to cloud her vision. they faded in and out and picked up the faster she panted in fear. however, just as the darkness was going to take her completely, the sight of the man's other hand came into view.

she didn't think and instead bit down. she caught his thumb between her teeth and pulled, snapping through bone and pulling the meat until his finger separated from his body.

a cry of agony filled the air as she spat out the removed digit. she could feel the heat of his blood dribble down her chin. she hit the floor, palm coming around to soothe the pain in her neck with violent coughs racking her body.

"holy shit!" the blonde exclaimed, dumbfounded from watching his friend's hand get ripped into. she took his shock and used it against him, climbing to her feet and charging his way. she slammed into him and dug her shoulder into his gut, causing them both to fall and the revolver to fly from his hands.

she was quick when she pulled a switchblade from her pocket. she drove it down, slamming the knife deep into the flesh of his throat. she watched him gasp. his hands came up to wrap around hers, staring at her in a sense of fright.

he coughed, vermillion splattering across y/n's already stained face. "rot in hell." y/n spat and yanked out her weapon, only to drive it back down into his chest.

the blonde tried to cry out but had his voice lost in a gurgle. it was only seconds until y/n watched his eyes roll back before falling limp.

she stood and hurriedly grasped his forgotten gun. she walked towards the only other person left alive, watching him shake as he tried to stop the bleeding of his missing thumb.

she had it pointed at him, ready to pull the trigger until something caught her eye. she paused, feeling her heart skip at the sight of an all too familiar jacket.

the windbreaker he wore was dark. it wasn't anything fancy, yet sported a patch on the upper part of the right sleeve. an upside-down triangle was stitched into the material, a biting wolf staring back at her with the letters w.l.f sitting above it.

"wlf," y/n muttered. "you're a fucking wlf!"

the guy didn't respond.

"abby anderson." she stated. "where is she?"

“i-i don’t know,” he muttered

y/n snarled and drilled her switchblade into the meat of his thigh, causing him to scream out.

“where is she?” she repeated.

the man shook his head. his chest rose up and down at a rapid pace. "i-i don't know! we work in separate units! the-the last i heard about her was that she ran off! only a few people know where she went!”

y/n grit her teeth. “who?”

he shook his head, tears swelling in his eyes from the deep ache in his leg.

a twist of the knife ripped a cry of anguish from his throat. y/n’s grip tightened on the blade, turning it some more until he caved in.

“owen!” he shouted. “o-owen moore! that’s who she ran off after! m-maybe manny alvarez knows where she is, too!”

y/n’s darkened hues narrowed at the male whimpering by her hand. she made a mental note of the two names and stood, ripping her weapon from his skin.

another yelp as he reached for his wound, hand barely grazing the puncture before a shot rang out.

he fell back with wide eyes and unmoving limbs. a bullet hole was blown into his skull, splattering grey and red brain matter all over the sandy beach. y/n dropped her hand, revolver heavy in her grasp as she tucked it into her thigh holster.

“fucking cunts.” she hissed with a wince, a strike of pain shooting up her broken nose.

she left the fresh corpses to rot and lay forgotten. she grabbed the rope that had the boat tied in place and pulled out the knot and jumped into it.

it took a few tries for the motor to start, spurting before roaring to life. a small smile crept its way up to y/n’s lips, happy to note she was one step closer to her end goal. now situated and ready, she kept the same phrase echoing over and over in her mind.

i'm coming for you, abby.

as much as she hated to say it, han was right about one thing: the waters were deadly. the tides were vicious and craved death, nearly sending y/n over more times than she could count. the fact she was able to make it to her destination was due to pure determination, and if not determination, then by dumb luck.

she couldn't care either way honestly as she was finally here. she stood out in the open lobby. the walls were painted a brilliant blue, matching the colors of a nice spring day. abandoned stands were left forgotten. a snack bar, souvenirs, and an information desk remained a distant memory to those who lived before the outbreak decades ago.

little cartoon pictures of sea animals smiled at y/n the deeper she walked in. she recognized several of them from learning in school though much of her education was used to prepare the new generation for survival. the small fraction of science class she had helped her with identifying such creatures. she noted a mother otter, her baby much smaller laying on her belly. there was a dolphin, eyes unnaturally bright for an animal painted on dry wall. there were clams, jellyfish, and octopi hanging around. there was even a bronze statue of a sea lion balancing a ball on the tip of its nose.

what caught her eye the most was the giant blue whale sculpture that hung overhead. it was massive and hung by wires drilled into the tall ceiling. the sight made her frown.

everything left behind was covered in thick layers of dust. plants made it home, crawling up the walls and swung from the lonely creature strung high. the windows were foggy from dirt and the air held a staleness that could make a throat go dry in seconds.

once a vibrant place, loved by many and cherished deeply, turned into a graveyard of past memories. y/n grew up years after the outbreak began. this new wave of teens and kids much like her would never have the luxury of experiencing such excitement, not with the lurking shadow of death standing behind them.

she felt pity. pity for those like her and pity for those who weren't. the ones who never got too experience and the ones who had that were then forced to let it go. it was unfair to everyone.

y/n shook her head and wielded such a sad thought away. there's no point in grieving what wasn't hers to grieve. instead she headed for the stairs that lead to the upper floor. there was a tunnel when she reached the top. it was dim in the darkened building, yet had enough light provided by the empty tanks running along the sides.

she trekked through, eyes and ears open for threats that could be hidden. she noted how similar it was to a maze, hallways opening to offer another route of entertainment and ones that closed off, pushing an audience of excited children and cheerful parents to the next attraction.

she peered around in curiosity. she wondered what happened to the animals that were left when the staff disappeared. were they dead? probably. it was a disheartening answer, but one that rang true. it was much better than living during a time when the earth slowly began to kill off what was poisoning it and remained neglected and alone. that way whatever afterlife they go to, they'd be cared for the way they should've been.

the sudden sound of clicking pulled y/n out of mind. it was tapping against linoleum, like claws against the floor.

a blink of an eye and y/n felt herself be knocked back, a set of baring teeth snapping towards her. a large german shepard stood over her. it was large in size, sporting a black vest with the same patch as the men from the dock.

the dog must've picked up on her scent, deeming her an intruder. the ears were pinned back flat against its head and hues blown wide with anger from its territory being threatened. its nails dug into the material of y/n coat, piercing small holes into the sleeve of the arm she used to hold the canine off.

"fuck!" she cried, dodging the fangs that hungered for her blood. she panted for breath, anxiety filling her core as she tried to kick the dog back. no use, it'd jump back once again.

it barked and growled and echoed off the walls. she prayed no one around could her the commotion. it'd just blow her cover.

she was able to pull her blade from her pocket, sticking it there when she left for the aquarium back on the shore. she flipped it open before jamming the blade into the side of the snapping animal's neck. a yelp was heard before the force that was fighting back lightened. the dog slumped to the ground, a small pool of blood darkening it's caramel fur.

y/n gasped and sprung to her feet. she held her knife out fearful it would reanimate just to eat her alive once more.

her shaky palm lowered once she deemed it not a threat anymore. it laid lifeless, tongue flopping out the side of its jowl, and stared into the dark pool of nothing.

a pang of guilt twisted in her stomach only to squash it just as fast as it came. survival is all it boils down to, no matter the circumstance, and she hoped the dog's barking didn't challenge that.

thankfully, it seemed as if it didn't as the sound of muffled and distant voices became known. they sounded hushed and she couldn't make out what was said. so, she followed it. whether or not they knew she was there, it didn't stop her of what she came to do.

she followed the sound to two metal double doors. staff only, it said. y/n ignored it and slowly popped it open. she was sure to keep it quiet and softly shut it behind her. she could see two others in the room. they stood off in the middle and didn't seem to notice the girl who ducked down behind a nearby desk.

"people don't come back from that island." a woman spoke. she had short hair and tired eyes, staring at the dirty blonde man across from her with plea. her voice shook.

"how many times has abby risked her life for you?" he spit back.

a familiar name caught y/n's attention. she swallowed and reached to her thigh holster, pulling out her glock.

"she chose this. i'm not fucking going there."

"then don't!" the man barked. "go back."

a beat went by. y/n watched the female take a step back, a sense of betrayal written heavy on her tired features. then, she spoke. "fuck you, owen."

owen. owen moore. this must be the guy the wlf mentioned on the beach. the person abby went after.

the woman turned to leave, but stopped when she was met with a gun to the face. y/n stood, finger resting on the trigger.

"hands up." y/n ordered, tone strong. the two followed, showing her their palms. "where's abby?" she asked.

she noticed a small twitch in owen's hues. it screamed familiarity. "you're that girl from jackson." he remembered her. he remembered her screams and her cries. he burned her threats to memory as he watched, letting the anderson girl beat and kill one of the only people y/n considered family. the man who took her in and traveled across state lines to the fireflies. the man who was once cold but turned warm. the man who saved her life more time than she could count. the man she considered her brother, and owen let that happen.

y/n ignored his comment. "tell me where she went." she pressed.

"how do we know you won't kill us?" the woman questioned.

"give her what she wants and we're dead."

y/n shook her head at their claims. "you guys can survive this. i just need her."

"bullshit." owen snapped, face hardening.

y/n didn't answer but pulled out a folded paper from her back pocket, flipping it open. it was a map. "you." she pointed at the woman with her weapon. "come here."

she remained still.

"fucking get over here!" y/n snapped, feeling a sense of rage fill her bones from her instructions being ignored.

the stranger obeyed and took timid steps over. she kept her eye on the gun.

"point to where she is. and then you." she gestured towards the man. "it better fucking match up."

"okay," the lady breathed. her voice shook violently. her response made owen call out.

"what're you doing?!"

"she's probably dead anyway." she bit back.

owen shook his head and took steps over. "it isn't worth it-"

"stop." y/n stated. owen continued on.

"we can talk about--"

"back the fuck up!" y/n growled, nearly pulling the trigger. he froze in his tracks, having the barrel mere inches away from his face. she glanced back at the woman. "point to where she is." she ordered again.

no move. no sound. nothing. "i said fucking point!" y/n snapped, now aiming towards the woman.

as soon as she moved, owen dashed forward. he took her hand and tried to wiggle the weapon from her grasp. her grip was like iron from his prying fingers. y/n pulled back a fist and swung. she could feel her knuckles meet his nose with a force that cracked it. it was surely broken much like the state hers is in now.

as soon as he let go, y/n shot. a bang echoed off the bare walls and rang violently in her ears. she watched him fall to the floor with a bullet running though his stomach.

"owen!" the other cried. y/n turned just in time to catch a dagger coming her way. the two wrestled, y/n having her gun kicked away and now fighting against the blade inching towards her neck.

y/n could feel the woman twist her. her shoulder blades were slammed against a nearby desk, allowing the woman to use both hands for strength. y/n pressed back, keeping the sharp edge from slitting her throat.

y/n decided to swing her leg out and slam her knee into the stranger's side. the impact sent the woman falling, dropping her knife on the way down. now free, y/n was able to spring forward, stealing the blade from the lady's reach and slamming it deep into the side of her neck.

y/n jumped up and reached for her gun. her hands shook with the adrenaline pumping through her system, ready to shoot in case she moved once more.

a cough pulled her away. she peered over and noticed owen's injured frame on the floor. his grey shirt now stained a deep red. gore pooled down the sides of his mouth and dripped on the ground beneath them. he was gasping, yet each breath he took was harder than the next. it was as if he was choking on his own blood and y/n hoped he was.

she walked over to him and watched as he reached out, trying to speak through gurgles.

"tell me where abby is." she demanded, aiming down at him.

he choked, unable to form coherent words. "s-she..."

y/n's brows knit together in anger. she was getting nowhere. she kneeled down and jabbed the barrel of her pistol against his throat. "where the fuck is she?" she hissed through gritted teeth.

owen's voice struggled. through his attempt to talk, only one word managed to slip past his lips. a word that took the fire burning in her and turned it to ice.

her face fell instantly and stood, making her way over toward the dead woman's body. y/n flipped her over on her back before pulling at the buttons of the thick winter jacket she had on. her breath caught.

the hoodie she had on hid a baby bump.

the sight of it made her stop. her feet were weak under her and felt her legs slowly start to give in. a familiar sensation of tightness contracted in her chest. panic flooded over her, shaking hands aiding when he fell to her knees.

"fuck..." she whispered, staring at the corpse. "oh, fuck..."

the ache in her lungs only grew. it was as if she couldn't fill them up enough to breathe, much like a heavyweight sitting on top of her. she brought her palm up and pressed against her breastbone. the only sound she could hear was a shrill ring, masking the echo of her hyperventilation. oxygen felt limited as she tugged harshly at the neckline of her jacket, hoping it would help in some way. it didn't.

however, as soon as the burn of tears met her eyes, a call of her name pulled her back to the present.

she jumped up and aimed, ready for a fight. she paused slightly, meeting the faces of her friends. soaked and shaken, they were all there: changbin, felix, han, i.n., seungmin, hyunjin, and chan. changbin and han stepped forward, scouting the room for any hidden threats.

chan was the closest to her, hands held up to show no harm. his eyes were wide with shock. he looked the same way he did when he ran off, yet now sported a gnarly gash above his left brow. otherwise, he looked relatively fine.

"hey, hey..." chan eased, watching her drop her arm. she could see them sparing glances at the scene behind her, all caused by her hand.

the sight of hyunjin's face twisted when he noticed the pregnant lady. y/n saw him take a quick breath in. she noticed them all do that, han and changbin stopping in their tracks, and sharing glances with each other.

her hues fluttered and shook her head. " i..." she whispered, "i didn't know." she broke.

she felt his hand crawl up her arm and gave it a small squeeze. "it's alright." he reassured. "come on. we need to go."

he ushered her forward, noting how hyunjin jumped to her side. his hand fell to her lower back and helped guide her out. she struggled slightly against him. "i'm sorry."

"it's okay. you're okay." she could hear felix pipe in. she saw both him and i.n. take place behind her, shielding her view of the massacre she left behind.

she felt hyunjin's touch travel up to wrap around her shoulders and pulling her close. she kept muttering the same things over and over. i didn't know. i'm sorry.

hyunjin tilted his head down and spoke softly in her ear.

"it's okay, my love. we're here now."

her leg continued to bounce, the heel of her sneaker barely grazing the floor. she was bent over with her bloodied and bruised face in her equally damaged hands, careful of her broken nose. she kept her eyes screwed shut. she was hoping the darkness flooding her vision would mask the sight that never seemed to go away.

the bodies of owen and the pregnant woman were burnt into her mind. the realization she killed not only two, but three people earlier today.

she sucked a shaky breath in and held it for a moment before exhaling. it was the same exercises felix taught her and the ones hyunjin enforced when he noticed her begin to spiral. it wasn't working this time.

the picture of her boyfriend's face flickered through her thoughts. the shock falling over his pretty features, the heartbreak pooling in his irises, and the way he froze seeing the carnage y/n committed. they were all like that.

on the way back, no one spoke a word. it was silent between them and it felt too suffocating. no one had to say anything though. nothing said could've soothed the unease surrounding them. she could sense what they felt: uncertainty, pity, nervousness, and fear. perhaps because of what they now know what she's truly capable of. wreckage. slaughter. revenge. desperation.

whatever the cause, it still felt like fire on her skin. it crawled down her spine and burned. she prayed to whatever was out there that they weren't what she thought. that her friends, her family basically, weren't scared of her.

the sound of a door caused her to jump. she peered up from her spot on the chair and saw hyunjin enter the room; a bucket, cloth, and first aid kit in grasp.

he walked over to her and crouched down, placing his things on the floor. y/n swallowed. through the dim lights of the vanity next to her, she could see the wear and tear of hyunjin's form. his shoulders were slumped, palms scarred, and lip raw.

she waited for him to speak. he didn't. he only reached out and took her dirty hand in his, using the rag dipped in water to wipe away at the red staining her flesh.

he worked slowly. his touch was soft and gentle, hardly applying any pressure to her sore knuckles. he didn't make a move to look up at her and focused on his actions instead.

that was worse than being screamed at.

a pause went by.

"i know you're mad." she stated, tone frail. "just say what you want to say."

it took a moment for him to respond. "i'm not mad, y/n." he muttered.

her brows furrowed in confusion. "you should be."

he nodded. "i should be, but i'm not." he glanced up and met her gaze. his brown hues that were once bright now dulled and decorated with dark circles. he gave her a weak smile. "i'm just disappointed."

y/n frowned. that wasn't any better either.

"what you did was dangerous, you know that right?" he paused his movements. "it was careless and dumb, and i was terrified." his face twisted in an emotion y/n couldn't pinpoint. "i was so scared of what could've happened to you. when you left, i made the guys follow your tracks and came across bodies and i was so, so scared of one of them being you."

"i know." y/n whispered with guilt eating her soul.

"my heart bleeds for you constantly," he said. "every minute of every day and to see you be so..." he tried to find his words. "so stupid with your life breaks me. if you died, i don't know what i'd do or how i'd function. you mean way too much to me to let something like that happen." he breathed before a look of regret fell on his face.

y/n watched his tongue dart out to wet his chapped lips, blistered and scarred with teeth marks. "but i did."

y/n blinked at him. "what?" she asked in disbelief.

"i..." he struggled. "i drove you away." he swallowed. "when you wanted to go across the water... you were so fixated on doing it that way, so determined, and i was scared. i-i didn't want you to go. i didn't want you to get hurt... but you weren't listening to me, to any of us."

he sniffled slightly, feeling the tears burn in his waterline. he glanced down and willed them away with a shake of the head. "and i know how you are. as much as i love how stubborn you are, it can be so challenging to get you to see the other side sometimes. i knew there was no way around it and that you were gonna do what you wanted, so i wanted to follow. all it ended in was an argument with things i never should've said." he peered up at her. "minho meant everything to you. you were with him for so long traveling across the country. he saved you and you saved him on so many occasions. he was practically your brother. he was your entire world... until your fight. i-i don't know what was said or what really happened, but you weren't the same since then, since you started to ignore him. i saw the light in you basically disappear overnight and i haven't seen it again. and- and then abby... what she did, what you saw, i cannot fathom the things you feel. the pain, the guilt, the hatred, the rage..."

y/n sat still, jaw clenching with every word her boyfriend spoke.

"you say we lost someone important too which we have, but you..." he gave her hand a squeeze. "you lost everything that day." she squeezed back. "and for me to call you selfish and to say you don't have control over your emotions, it was a fucking dick move. all you wanted was to avenge minho and I used it against you and i am so, so sorry, y/n."

y/n didn't notice the dampness on her cheeks until she felt hyunjin's thumb wipe some away. she gulped. "i-i'm sorry, too. i was completely out of line and blinded with ignorance to see that you guys were just trying to help. that you were just trying to find a plan that was the safest and i threw a bitch fit about it. i can't apologize enough about how stupid i was being."

hyunjin let out a weak chuckle. "guess we're both just assholes then, yeah?"

y/n snickered softly, nose stuffy. "yeah. guess so."

she felt his hand come up to push her damp hair from her face, raking it back with calloused fingers. "i love you, you know that right?" he muttered gently.

"i love you, too." her voice was just as low.

he leaned in and placed a kiss on her lips. the taste of forgiveness was sweet on their tongues, pushing down the bitterness of anger. they both held onto it and drank it in. it soaked into their chest and wedged itself through their bones, making a perfect place home right next to their heart. through it, a silent promise was made.

where you go, i go. no matter where.

[alexagirlie]

Reduced to Teeth

AN: This was written for the feydpaul secret santa 2024 event hosted by @sleepstxtic and it was so much fun! This fic is dedicated to @space-blue !!

Divoder by @cafekitsune

Fandom: Dune

Ship: Paul x Feyd

Rating: T

TW: post-canon, canon compliant, injuryed feyd, eldritch horror paul, no actual feyd/paul but feyd would hit that.

Summary: Feyd was not expecting to wake up after his duel with Paul Atreides

Taglist: @softhecreator @almostg @gatoenlaciudad

Feyd wasn't expecting to wake up, not ever again. He remembered the sensation of Atreides’ blade sinking deep into his chest, parting skin and muscle and he had thought for sure into his heart. He had barely felt the pain of the wound at first, just a release of pressure before he felt the hot, wet sensation of his blood spilling over his skin and staining his armour. Only then did he feel the pain as the blade sank deep and true into his flesh, followed by relief that it was over and he could rest.

He remembered the weirdness which had emanated from the Atreides, the strange darkness in his opponents eyes, the flickering between the spice addicted blue and alien pitch black. The momentary glimpse of too many teeth between those pretty, cock sucking lips before the world went dark as he lost consciousness, he thought forever.

He certainly didn't expect to wake up on a soft bed in a lavish looking room that was as far from a cell as it could be. He would have expected a hard cot in a dark, desert hole in the basement of the fortress or, given the nature of his injury, a bed in the medical wing of the fortress. Not this, whatever this was.

The room had beige stone walls, sandstone, as all walls in the great fortress of Arrakeen were made from, with tall, narrow slits for windows which let in slivers of yellow light. The wall directly across from where he laid on a soft bed was carved with an intricate scene of a sandworm rising from the dunes, each curve of its teeth painstakingly carved. The rest of the walls were draped in what Feyd assumed were moisture wicking fabrics in shades or orange and reds, designed to preserve the moisture in the room for use later.

To his left below one of the windows was a simple seating area, a circular stone table with two stone chairs with plush looking cushions on the seat. A tall pitcher of water sat on the table, condensations beading along its rim, decadent and extravagant on this hellscape of a planet.

His inspection of the room was interrupted by the click of a lock and the door opening, revealing the last person Feyd expected to see attend him; The new Emperor himself, his eternal rival, Paul Atreides.

The dark haired would-be messiah was carrying a tray filled with what looked like medical supplies. Rolls of gauze and bandages, small clay jars which must be filled with ointments and healing tinctures.

He ignored Feyd completely as he made his way to a small table beside the bed where he unloaded his supplies before he turned to acknowledge the Harkonnen scion.

Once again Feyd was assaulted with a glimpse of something *other* in the Atreides witch, the shadow of multiple long, thin appendages sprouting from Atreides’ back and filled the space behind him before between once blink and the next they disappeared.

“What am I doing here?” He asked, the words barely above a whisper, his voice hoarse and raspy from disuse.

Paul frowned and didn't answer him, instead he moved to the larger table and poured a glass of water which he brought to Feyd’s side and Feyd forced himself to swallow his pride and allowed the other man to carefully tip the cold liquid into his mouth.

After several soothing mouthfuls Feyd tried again.

“What am I doing here?” This time the words came out clear, if still a bit weak.

“I am having you be treated for the injuries sustained during our duel,” Paul answered, no emotions or clues to be found in his voice.

“Why?” Feyd pressed, needing to know why Atreides would risk keeping him alive.

“Because I wish for you to stay alive.” Was the infuriatingly useless answer.

“As your prisoner,” Feyd replied flatly.

“As my ally, I hope,” Paul replied as he opened several of the small clay jars and the pungent scent of herbs filled the air, earthy and bitter in Feyd’s nose.

Feyd sneered though on the inside the idea wasn't a horrible one. With his uncle now dead he could truly elevate his house to his standards and playing nice to the new emperor would go a long way towards that. Even if in the future he would rip that power from Atreides cold, dead hands.

But appearances must be kept.

“Atreides and Harkonnen as allies? That will never happen.”

Paul shrugged nonchalantly, “that remains to be seen,” he answered cryptically and continued his treatment without another word.

Paul was methodical as he changed Feyd's blood stained bandages. His hands were gentle but firm as they cleaned the wound site, a small line of severed skin held with uniform sutures and applied a thick layer of the pungent smelling ointment before being covered in fresh gauze and wrapped in new bandages.

The young Emperor didn't waste anymore words as he silently gathered his supplies onto his tray and rose back to his feet as soon as he was done.

He hesitated in the doorway and Feyd waited to see what this strange boy would say.

“Someone will be there shortly to bring you the evening meal. Play nice or I will have you executed… Baron.”

He looked over his shoulder at Feyd and this time the otherness that had stayed hidden while Paul had tended to him had returned. Clear and obvious and horrifying.

His spice blue eyes were black, solid black like a black hole and when he grinned at Feyd his mouth stretched too wide and he had too many teeth. Sharp, pointed teeth meant for rending and tearing of flesh, of a predator. His shadow stretched across the flood of Feyd's not-cell and he watched as it grew and grew. Sprouting horns from the shadow of Paul's skull and too many limbs with long, wicked looking claws. The shadow withered and shifted and for the first time in years Feyd felt true fear.

And no small part of arousal, he wondered what such a beast would feel like between his legs or under him as he reduced the Atreides to a desperate, mindless, sobbing animal.

He hoped they both lived long enough to find out.

[qiangweirosa]

Thank you for taking my request! I loved it. The girls are just so amazing and I love them a lot 🩷🩷 p4 is also my favourite, the vibe there is just so nice😌🌸

Could I request some specific x reader thing? Like, I saw your latest post and ik you didn’t write headcanons before so just pick whatever form you find the easiest (and drop one character if you don’t want to do both)

This might be very specific but like, can I get something about a reader who used to be very sporty and graceful but has had a bad injury that kind of affects the way they walk and their balance. They don’t say it but they are secretly self conscious over it. They still do sports and stuff but they worry about never being enough again (and also ppl making comments about their limp). For characters that would be paired with the reader, I was thinking Mishima (love him sm🩷) and, unsurprisingly,, Ryuji (it’s a bit silly but this character helped me a bit to feel better about my situation)

Once again, thank you for doing my previous request and taking the time to read this one. I hope it’s not too heavy or self indulgent in my part, its a bit embarrassing to be fair haha

-★🐶

Mishima + Ryuji x Reader (separate)

relationships: mishima/reader, ryuji/reader tws: none wc: 462 extra: reader is gender neutral // I LOVE MISHIMA??? hes one of my favorite characters in p5 hes so silly... i actually had a lot of trouble writing this so i hope its good enough for you... dont ever apologize for being self indulgent with me i am literally the most self indulgent reader ever. ty for the request and i'm glad you liked the last one!

Mishima :

You stood in front of the diner in Shibuya, looking around with your bag on your shoulder and your phone in hand. Yuuki had texted you he’d be here in 5 minutes, exactly 5 minutes ago. You kept glancing at your screen, checking to see if he had texted you again. 

You usually tried to keep an eye on your surroundings, but you must’ve been too focused on your phone to see the crowd of people rushing into you. You tried keeping yourself up, but it was no use - you felt yourself falling over, almost resigning yourself to your fate before a pair of arms clumsily held you up. 

You looked to your side to see Yuuki, looking frantic and panicked as he slowly made sure you were back up on your feet. Just as you were about to thank him, he held you by the shoulders and yelled. 

“Are you alright?!”

After taking a second to recover, you chuckled and held onto his arms. 

“I am, no need to worry.”

He looked you over worriedly, and finally let out a sigh of relief as he saw that you were indeed alright. Yuuki brought you closer to him in a hug, which you returned. 

“Should we go inside? I don’t want you to get hurt if someone bumps into you again.”

He offered as he pulled back, taking one of your hands in his bashfully. 

“I’m not that fragile, you know… But sure, let’s go.”

He pulled you up the stairs behind him for your date. Yuuki could be a little too protective when it came to your injury, but he ultimately just didn’t want it to get worse for you. 

Ryuji :

Dating Ryuji naturally meant accompanying him on his runs, when he felt like practicing. 

Today was one of those days. You both sat down on a bench as you handed him a water bottle, which he thanked you for before drinking practically half of it. 

Your chest heaved with your breaths, trying to calm down the ache in your body as you took a break. Ryuji was sitting next to you, massaging his leg. 

“You okay?”

He glanced at you upon hearing your question. He flashed you a grin and a thumbs up, reassuring you with a nod. 

“Yeah, no worries! I can keep going. What about you?”

You nodded too. 

“Same here. Just need a short break.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, offering you the water bottle back. You drank a bit, and not long after, you two were back up and running for another lap. 

Really, you probably could’ve gone longer before your injury, and the same was true for him. Still, you two enjoyed doing this together, going at a rhythm that you were both comfortable with. 

[unidentified-ending]

"Out of the Shadows"

Part 4

Guys, this might be the last one, if not then part 5 definitely wil be so, stick around for the next one :D

Tw: violence, injuries and (harsh?) transphobia. Not for the easily upset

Aizawa and Class 1a x ftm!bullied!reader

Before we start, I just wanted to say thank you all for the likes and follows, it may not seem like much but I really appreciate it. Thank you for supporting my work

And with that being said, let's do this

"I think you'll want to see this" It was strange for Katsuki to be quiet so something serious must of happened Aizawa thought so he walked outside and closed the door behind him.

He widened his eyes in shock.

"What...What happened?" He said, looking at your limping form on Izuku's shoulder.

"We're not sure. According to the nerd (Deku) one of Minato's friends, Kyou, called for him and me to go to the locker rooms and we found Y/n lying on the floor, nearly unconscious" Bakugo explained.

"It wasn't even that bad, it was just a little miscommunication that led into a fight. Im literally fine.-" You said but Bakugo shouted

"Well what the hell was all your lunch, stationary and other stuff doing all over the ground huh!!"

"Alright Bakugo and Midoriya, thank you. I would like to talk to him alone. Midoriya could you please hand out the worksheets to everyone? Do what you want just dont cause much trouble. Y/n can you walk?" Aizawa concluded.

"Yes, but I think my foot is injured" You said while Bakugo and Midoriya walked back into class, all your classmates asking them questions before they walked filly into the class.

"Alright, let's go to recovery girls office, she'll heal you." He said as he walked by your slightly limping figure.

Once you guys got to recovery girls office you sat down at one of the beds.

"Alright, please tell me what's going on. I need no lies at this moment forward" He said seriously, looking at your nervous eyes, waiting for some answers.

You sighed shakily but finally gave him the truth

"Well, these kids have been bullying me, since the day I saw them. They've been picking on me and hurting me. I know I've been keeping this a secret. I'm sorry" You say, tears starting to well in your eyes.

"It's ok, let it out I'm here" he said as he stands up to hug you, you grip onto his hero costume like its the last thing on earth and sob in his shirt until you calm down, sniffling and red-eyed.

"It's alright, I've got you. Recovery Girl will heal your foot, get some rest kid. You need it" He said after you calmed down,

"Y/n, we will get these kids expelled. For you. For all the victims"

You nodded and climed into one of the beds, you couldn't resist the cozy comfort of the bed and quickly fell asleep, in a matter of minutes.

You woke up and it was evening, you could see it through the big class windows which were shining through a yellowish orange glow inside.

"Good evening dear, your teacher left a note for you. Its just by your side" recovery Girl said as she noticed your were awake.

Your foot had been healed though you felt very tired, she handed you the note that read

"Hey kid, come to the dorms as soon as you can. Your classmates have something for you"

You sighed and got ready to leave, your bag and your belongings beside the bed you were in. You said your goodbyes to recovery girl and left the room, wondering hat your friends and classmates had done for you.

You were so drifted out of your thoughts that you never noticed Kyou who accidentally pushed passed you. "Sorry dud......" when you saw who it was you froze.

"I'm not gonna do anything to you, I need to go" he said rushing away in a hurry, you had so many questions for him that were unexplained but he just ran off so you saved it for the next time you saw him.

You were so lost in your thoughts, again that you didn't realise you ran into someone else, two people. When you tried to apologise, the only word your mind could conjure up was

"shit"

Minato and Haruki.

As soon as they saw it was you, Minato slammed you right into the wall. You really couldn't catch a break..

"What the fuck did I tell you, you fucking freak" Minato said as he opened the door to an empty classroom and threw you in there.

"You stand guard and get Riku to come with weapons. Im finishing this now" He said, eyes glinting with rage and malice, his true intent was to get rid of you.

Forever.

"Please man, I haven't done anything to you."

"Your existence alone is enough reason to make your life miserable." Minato said and Haruki added on from the side

"Pathetic. Trying to fit in won't change what you really are. A girl, A female. A woman"

Your heart shattered into a million broken pieces as the reality of what they said sank in. It was true, that's all you were. After years and years of trying to fit on and be a real man, just shattered over a few words.

He threw you at a table and desk and you slammed right into it, your body aching with pain. He lifted you up and slammed you back down on the ground, the nerves in your back shooting all the way to your brain.

He then towered over you.

You felt the cracking of bones and the gush of blood as the punches rained down upon you, your face becoming a grotesque battlefield of pain and blood.

The ringing in your ears just wouldn't stop.

Just then Riku, Asahi and Kyou walked in.

Riku's eyes glinted with mischief as he reached into his duffel bag and pulled out a collection of bats, one for each person. With a sly grin at you, he started handing them out, creating an unwatchable atmosphere in the room.

"I want him gone"

Ahhhh, cliff hanger. This is the 4th part.

I kind of got lazy with this one considering it's 3:18 in the morning so forgive me if any silly mistakes were made.

The final part is coming tomorrow, or today so stick around for that

And remember:

Always drink water and eat something, You deserve it :DD

[pin-k-ink]

caught in between // grimmjow jeagerjaquez & ulquiorra schiffer (pt. 1)

tw ⇢ mentions of violence and injuries, mild objectification, manhandling, dirty talk, punishment sex, possessive!ulquiorra, anal fingering, squirting, clit play, teasing, vaginal fingering, power play

wc ⇢ 4.2k

part one | part two | part three

The door to your quarters burst open with staggering force, the towering figure of Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez filling the entrance. You startled, eyes widening at his battered state - teal hair disheveled, clothes rent in several places, a vicious sneer twisting his bloodied lips.

"You," he snarled, prowling forward like a panther cornering its prey. The sheer force of his reiatsu battered against you as killing intent rolled off him in waves. "Get over here. Now."

There was no room for argument or defiance, not when his azure gaze pierced you with such ferocious intensity. As Ulquiorra's fracción, you knew the precarious position tending to other Espada could put you in, but Grimmjow left no opportunity to refuse.

With rigid professionalism, you slowly approached him, making sure to keep a safe distance. He merely grunted, allowing you to carefully peel away the tattered remnants of his jacket to inspect the damage.

You worked in tense silence, acutely aware of Grimmjow's eyes boring into you as you cleaned and dressed the oozing lacerations crisscrossing his chiseled torso and arms. It wasn't until the last bandage was taped down that he finally spoke again in that deep, gravel-laced rumble.

"He really keeps you on a tight leash, doesn't he?" There was a taunting edge to Grimmjow's words. "That prissy Ulquiorra, always striding around like he owns you."

You froze, anxiety spiking as his large palm caged you against the wall, body thrumming with subdued power and promised violence. Grimmjow leaned in until his smirk filled your vision, near enough for you to smell the copper tang of blood on his heated breath.

"Tell me, pet..." His free hand drifted up to cup your jaw with deceptive tenderness, thumb brushing your lower lip. "You ever get tired of being someone's obedient little fracción? Always following orders like a good bitch in heat?"

Grimmjow's words had an undeniable effect as he crowded you against the wall, his larger frame radiating dangerous dominance. His thumb traced the seam of your lips with torturous leisure.

"I'll bet you're just aching for someone to put you in your place, remind you what you really are," he rumbled, azure gaze darkening with blatant promise. "A pretty little pet, made to obey."

His palm slid down, calloused fingers curling possessively around the column of your throat as he leaned in closer. You held perfectly still, equal parts intimidated and fascinated as his lips brushed the hypersensitive skin just below your ear.

"I could show you what it's like," Grimmjow murmured, the rumbling timbre sending involuntary shivers down your spine. "Bein' owned by someone who isn't afraid to put a leash on you. Keep you nice and obedient like the bitch you want to be."

His teeth nipped at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, a sharp sting followed by the velvet swipe of his tongue. You couldn't stifle the soft gasp at the bold claim of dominance. In the next breath, Grimmjow sealed his lips over yours in a demanding kiss, all teeth and sin and smoldering want.

The temperature in the room dropped in an instant, a glacial wave of reiatsu crashing over you. Grimmjow's hands fisted in the fabric of your clothes as he whipped around with a feral snarl.

Framed in the open doorway stood Ulquiorra, emerald gaze piercing with frigid contemplation taking in the compromising scene. A hairline fracture marred the area beside the entrance where his bare hand was splayed against the wall.

"Grimmjow," he stated in that dispassionately even tone. "Remove your hands from my fracción this instant."

Grimmjow's expression sharpened into a taunting smirk, not an ounce of intimidation in the face of Ulquiorra's cold fury. His hands remained fisted in the fabric of your clothes, body angled in a clear statement of defiance and challenge.

"Your fracción, huh?" He drawled, giving you a deliberate onceover. "You sure 'bout that, Ulquiorra? Seems to me like your little pet has been dying for someone else to take her for a walk."

The temperature dropped several more degrees as Ulquiorra's reiatsu pulsed with the barest flickers of reined rage. You shrank back against the wall as the two Espada locked in a battle of sheer dominance.

"I won't repeat myself, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra intoned with chilling evenness. "Release her. Now."

The taller Arrancar barked out a harsh laugh. "Or what? You gonna make me?" His tongue traced the corner of his bloodied mouth as he deliberately crowded closer to you, body a mocking provocation. "Maybe I'm gettin' a little tired of you hoarding all the pretty pets for yourself, Ulquiorra."

His large palm cupped the back of your neck as he leaned in, lips brushing the delicate shell of your ear. "Maybe it's time I picked up a new bitch to train..."

The resounding boom of Ulquiorra's Sonido reverberated through the chamber. You flinched violently, held immobile by Grimmjow's iron grip as Ulquiorra now loomed mere inches away. The temperature had plummeted to arctic levels, his emerald stare lasering into you with an intensity you had never witnessed before turning that baleful promise of violence on Grimmjow.

"You will not lay another hand on what is mine, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra stated with soft, undeniable finality. "Unless you wish to have it removed permanently."

The two Espada stared each other down, locked in a battle of sheer dominance and unspoken challenge. Grimmjow's smirk stretched wider, downright feral as he made one last play.

"We'll see about that," he purred, blatantly pulling you flush against his chest as his hot tongue traced the racing pulse of your throat. "I always did love breaking in a new bitch..."

Ulquiorra remained utterly motionless, reiatsu thickening the air with an oppressive, arctic chill as he stared Grimmjow down. There was no outward shift in his stoic expression, but his emerald gaze glinted with a contemplative darkness that promised unimaginable consequences.

Grimmjow met that stare for a tense few heartbeats before throwing his head back with a scoff of dismissive amusement. With one last lingering look at you, he slowly freed his grip, calloused fingers trailing along your jawline.

"You just keep telling yourself that, Ulquiorra," he rumbled, pitched just loud enough to ensure his next words carried clearly. "But I'm going to make that pretty little fracción of yours scream for me soon enough. Gonna have her soaking my sheets, beggin' me to let her be my new obedient pet."

The faintest of smirks pulled at Grimmjow's split lips as he took a deliberate step back, allowing his heated leer to rake over your tense form once more. "I'll be sure to let you hear every desperate, needy sound she makes when I'm pounding into that-"

Whatever filthy promise he was about to make died on his tongue as Ulquiorra's frigid reiatsu spiked in a sweeping arc of murderous intent. Grimmjow's eyes cut towards the fourth Espada, a taunting grin splitting his face at provoking such a rare show of unrestrained fury.

With one final, mocking sweep of his gaze over you, the Sixth retreated towards the shattered entrance, movements rolling with barely leashed violence.

As the doorway fell ominously silent in Grimmjow's wake, you swallowed hard, pinned in place by the circling vortex of Ulquiorra's presence. His stare remained fixated on where the other Arrancar had disappeared, emerald irises glittering with quiet menace.

Ulquiorra's gaze bored into you with an intensity that rooted you in place long after Grimmjow's mocking footsteps faded. His reiatsu swirled in a maelstrom of icy displeasure and barely restrained violence. When he finally spoke, his tone was clipped and brooked no argument.

"Come."

He didn't wait for a response, pivoting on his heel and trusting you to fall into step behind him. You hastened to obey, trailing in his wake as he led you through the maze of corridors in tense silence. From your periphery, you stole glimpses of his ramrod straight back and the subtle flex of powerful shoulders beneath the white jacket.

At last, he ushered you through an unmarked door into his private quarters. The atmosphere was spartan and austere, not a single item out of place. Ulquiorra turned to face you, emerald stare piercing straight through you as he loosed the barest exhalation.

"Explain yourself." It was not a request.

You swallowed hard, trembling slightly under the full weight of his banked displeasure. "I-I was just following orders, treating Grimmjow's injuries as protocol..."

The faint twitch of his brow indicated he was unimpressed with your excuse. In three strides, he erased the space between you, artic eyes blazing as he caged you against the unforgiving wall. His palms slammed on either side of your head with enough force to make you flinch.

"You allowed him to touch what is mine," Ulquiorra stated, each word laced with a dangerous undercurrent. "To make lurid claims and disrespect the order I have established."

His body was a solid, unyielding line mere inches from yours, radiating an intensity that stole the breath from your lungs. You felt utterly pinned, ensnared by the scorching promise blazing in his gaze.

"You have been reminded of your place," he murmured in that low, even timbre that brooked no argument. "Now you shall receive...punishment."

You trembled under the full intensity of Ulquiorra's emerald glare, his reiatsu a suffocating vortex of arctic dominance.

"Strip," he commanded in a tone that brooked no argument.

Your breath hitched, caught between instinctive obedience and a tendril of hesitation. As his sole fracción, you knew all too well how possessive and territorial the cuatro Espada could be. But an intimate act like undressing before him felt...uncertain. You had always sensed an inexplicable connection, but your relationship existed in a careful imbalance, devoid of human constructs like romance.

Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed a fraction at your hesitation, jaw tightening imperceptibly. In two strides he closed the distance, hands shooting out to fist in the collar of your jacket. With one harsh yank, the sturdy fabric parted in a spray of buttons as he laid you bare from the waist up in a single, ruthless motion.

You gasped, instinctively trying to cover yourself, but he was uncompromising. His larger frame boxed you in, hands gripping your wrists to pin them against the wall above your head. His body was an unyielding line pressed against you as he wielded his considerable weight and strength to immobilize you completely.

"Do not test me, woman," Ulquiorra stated in a low rasp that contained no inflection...and every unspoken threat. "You forget your place far too easily."

His free hand scored down your front, blunt nails raking down the exposed skin of your breasts before continuing in one fluid motion. The remaining garments covering your frame parted like tissue paper in his wake, fluttering to pool at your feet in ruined tatters.

You stood utterly bared before him, pulse fluttering wildly in your throat as his hungry stare drank in every unveiled inch. Ulquiorra leaned in, lips a hairsbreadth from your ear, tone softened to a molten rasp.

"You. Are. Mine. This is merely a reminder..."

His muscled thighs forced your legs apart as one iron-cord arm wrapped around your waist, hauling your exposed body flush against his.

A breathless gasp tore from your throat at the feeling of his arousal, heavy and insistent against your core.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, nails scraping against the smooth bone as he held you in a vice grip, preventing you from pulling away. Ulquiorra's palm slid across the swell of your hip, fingers digging in with bruising strength as he angled your hips up, grinding the bulge of his cock against your slit.

You let out a breathless, stuttered moan, arching instinctively as pleasure lanced through you, white-hot and searing. You felt him throb against your core, the sensation only heightening your own growing desire.

"It's my duty to remind you," Ulquiorra continued in a husky rasp as his free hand slid up, calloused fingers curling possessively around the curve of your breast. "To remind you exactly who you belong to..."

His thumb dragged across the taut bud of your nipple, drawing another involuntary moan from your lips. You were already slick and aching, the rough friction of his clothes against your sensitive flesh sending jolts of electric heat straight to your core.

"But you don’t deserve my cock," Ulquiorra continued with deceptive softness. His voice was a velvet-laced threat, every syllable laden with promise. "Not yet."

With a sharp motion, his large hand wrapped around the column of your throat, forcing your chin up and leaving you exposed. He squeezed, a subtle reminder of his unwavering dominance. Your pulse raced under the firm press of his palm, a dizzying cocktail of adrenaline and desire thrumming through your veins.

Ulquiorra's thumb pressed into the corner of your mouth, forcing your lips open as his eyes flashed with dark intent. His head tilted down, hovering close enough for his heated breath to fan over your lips as he murmured a single command.

"On the bed."

You didn't hesitate. The moment his hand left your throat, you scurried to obey, crawling across the stark white sheets. Your knees sank into the plush material, the smooth fabric a cool contrast against your flushed skin. Before you couldeven turn back to look at him, Ulquiorra's hand pressed down against the small of your back, forcing you forward onto the mattress.

"Present yourself."

That commanding rasp had you shivering, a visceral reaction to the unspoken demand. The air thickened with the crackling energy of his reiatsu, a silent reminder that you were entirely at his mercy. You knew better than to test him.

With your palms planted against the sheets, you arched your back, raising your ass high in a display of unspoken submission. You couldn't help the hot flush creeping down your neck and spreading across your cheeks at the lewdness of your position, but there was no denying the answering flood of heat between your thighs.

The bed shifted, a subtle creak as Ulquiorra joined you. Your entire body was strung tight, every nerve alight with a delicious tension at being so thoroughly under his control. You felt his presence, a magnetic pull, even before his warm palms slid along the backs of your thighs, mapping the soft skin.

"Do not move," Ulquiorra stated, each word laden with unmistakable promise. "Unless I instruct you otherwise."

His thumbs pressed into the seam of your legs, parting the sensitive folds of your pussy. The rush of cool air against your dampened slit drew a soft gasp, followed by an unbidden moan as his thumb traced up and down your dripping slit.

"How predictable," he murmured, tone dipping into that darkly amused purr that made your stomach twist with anticipation. "Already wet and wanting. You would present yourself so easily, offer your body up to the first one who asks?"

Ulquiorra's fingertips danced up and down your slit, painting the slick, velvety flesh with feather-light strokes. He dipped in ever so slightly, tracing the puffy outer lips of your entrance. "As if it doesn’t already belong to me…"

Your breath came out in shallow pants as he traced the edges of your dripping slit, not quite penetrating, but drawing forth the slick proof of your arousal. His thumb dipped in, gathering the moisture before circling the swollen bud of your clit.

Your fingers tightened into the sheets, fighting the urge to arch into the tantalizing pressure as he circled and stroked with torturous leisure. It was an effort not to squirm and buck against his hand, chasing the mounting pleasure.

"Be still," Ulquiorra warned.

There was a note of warning in his tone, a subtle reminder that your pleasure was entirely at his mercy. His fingers continued their slow, teasing exploration, spreading your folds with excruciating care.

"You should be grateful," he continued in a dark murmur. "Grateful that I am the one who chose you. That I have allowed you the honor of belonging to me."

His palm slid across the curve of your ass, leaving a trail of slick against your skin. "If I were anyone else, I would have already taken you by now. Pinned you down and forced myself inside you."

A ragged moan slipped past your lips at the thought of being used so roughly. It was a perverse fantasy, one you had never dared imagine with him. You wanted to bury your face in the sheets, hide the shameful heat flooding your cheeks, but you dared not move.

Ulquiorra's thumb pressed into the puckered rosebud of your asshole, making you jerk at the unexpected sensation. He paused, letting the weight of his gaze settle on you, a subtle reminder of his unrelenting dominance.

"But I am not," he continued, the subtle note of amusement lacing his words. "I am not that beast, Grimmjow, who would simply take whatever he wants. I am not that lowly hollow, content to rut mindlessly and waste my seed on the next available female."

You shuddered, torn between the thrill of his words and the fear that he would leave you like this, a desperate, needy mess. Ulquiorra's free hand splayed across the small of your back, a heavy reminder of his presence.

"And neither are you." His tone softened, the faintest hint of approval coloring the deep rasp. "You will know my cock when I decide to give it to you."

His thumb continued its unhurried circle of your asshole, each pass dipping a little further, teasing the tight ring of muscle. You whimpered, torn between the dual sensations, both of which made your cunt clench with white-hot need. "Now, open yourself for me."

Ulquiorra's order had a sharp, authoritative edge that made you ache with arousal. The heat of his palm disappeared, the sudden loss of contact making you feel strangely exposed. Your fingers flexed in the sheets, hesitating for a moment.

"Wider. Expose yourself."

His words were a command, brooking no disobedience. You obeyed, shimmying your knees a little further apart, the movement causing your ass to spread wider. You had never been so lewdly displayed before, never felt so vulnerable.

The faintest exhalation reached your ears, a soft huff of breath that was the closest thing to a verbal acknowledgment from Ulquiorra. His palm trailed down the curve of your ass, tracing a path of fire in its wake. A tantalizing pause before you felt his finger brush against your folds.

"Good girl."

The praise sent a jolt straight through your core, the subtle warmth in his tone spurring you on. His finger slid along your slick folds, gathering the evidence of your desire before circling the puckered rosebud again. The slick pressure had you sucking in a sharp breath, hips twitching instinctively.

"Keep your hands on the bed," Ulquiorra warned. "Or I will tie them down and leave you aching and unsatisfied. Do not think I will tolerate such disobedience."

He emphasized his point with a deliberate swipe of his thumb along the sensitive seam, making your toes curl. You could do nothing but nod and sink further into the mattress, surrendering to his touch.

Ulquiorra resumed his unhurried exploration, dipping his index finger into the tight furl of your ass before circling it with tantalizing leisure. Your breath hitched as he repeated the motion, pressing his slickened finger just past the tight ring of muscle.

You were helpless to the moan that slipped out, a visceral reaction to the unfamiliar intrusion. A momentary pause, as if he was contemplating, then Ulquiorra slowly pressed forward, working his finger inside you.

A breathless moan tumbled past your lips, the slow stretch and burn sending a wave of pleasure-pain coursing through you. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt, the unfamiliar fullness drawing a choked gasp from your throat.

Ulquiorra didn't stop, his free hand splaying across your lower back as he worked his finger deeper. You shivered, feeling the weight of his gaze boring into you. There was an element of possession in his movements, his dominance a palpable force as he worked you open, claiming your body in a way you had never known.

"You would allow a beast like him to touch what is mine," Ulquiorra continued. His low tone was laced with subtle displeasure, each word a quiet statement of ownership. "Would you let him defile this beautiful body of yours?"

His finger pumped slowly, sliding deeper, working you open as he pressed his thumb against the puffy, pink lips of your cunt. The dual stimulation had you writhing, a whimper slipping from your lips as he stretched your ass.

"You're lucky I was the one to find you first," he murmured, tone edging towards dangerous. "Had any other male discovered you, they would have mounted you without question. You would have been nothing more than a hole for them to use."

You whimpered, equal parts humiliation and arousal at the image his words painted. His finger thrust forward with more force, making you gasp. You wanted to protest, deny the possibility that anyone else could possess you the way he did, but you knew better than to speak.

Ulquiorra withdrew, only to return with two fingers this time. The sudden increase had you crying out, hips twitching instinctively. You didn't dare move, knowing all too well the consequences. But it was a challenge to remain still when every inch of you ached for release.

"But not me. I am not a beast, woman." His tone had dipped, taking on a dangerous edge. "I will not debase myself by taking you so roughly, like some mindless animal. I am above that."

His fingers scissored and spread, working your ass with relentless precision. He didn't pause or hesitate, not even when you clenched down around him, a natural reaction to the overwhelming pleasure-pain.

Your eyes squeezed shut, unable to stop the whimper of want and desperation as he slid deeper, his knuckles bumping against the puckered ring of your ass. Every instinct told you to writhe and buck, to seek more friction, but you forced yourself to stay still.

Ulquiorra's palm slid down the curve of your ass, fingers tracing the seam of your leg, painting your skin with the evidence of your arousal. You couldn't hold back the moan as he traced your dripping slit, circling your clit with the barest of pressure.

"You are going to come for me," he stated. It was not a request, nor an offer. It was a command, spoken with absolute certainty. "And you are going to scream my name when you do."

There was no room for refusal. Ulquiorra's finger stroked your clit, rubbing slow, measured circles, all while continuing to pump his fingers into your ass. The dual sensations were too much. Your hips twitched and jerked, fighting the urge to buck wildly as heat coiled low in your stomach.

Your thighs trembled, every nerve singing, drawn impossibly tight. All it took was the slightest increase in pressure on your clit. Pleasure exploded, white-hot and blinding, coursing through you like a lightning strike. A powerful rush of hot liquid gushed from your pussy, soaking Ulquiorra's hand and the sheets beneath. The breath was knocked from your lungs as your entire body shook and convulsed.

A guttural cry was wrenched from your throat as you came, vision going white. All the while, Ulquiorra never paused or faltered, driving his fingers in a relentless rhythm. You were continuously wracked with waves of pleasure, the aftershocks rippling through you, spraying a stream of hot liquid with every pump of his fingers until it slowed down to a trickle.

By the time the last shuddering pulse subsided, you were gasping for air, head spinning with the force of your release. You could only collapse onto the mattress, a shivering, spent mess.

For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but your labored breaths. You lay sprawled across the soaked sheets, trembling as your body came down from the intense high.

A firm tug on your arm startled you, jerking you upright. Before you could fully register, Ulquiorra's warm palm gripped the back of your neck, fingers tangling in the sweat-dampened strands. He jerked you forward, pulling your mouth to his.

His lips crashed against yours in a demanding kiss. There was nothing tender or exploratory about it. It was a conquering, a claiming. The hard press of his lips bruised and battered as he devoured you.

It was all you could do to hold on. Your fingers clung to his shoulders, nails scraping against the fabric as his tongue pushed past the seam of your lips. A strangled moan was ripped from your throat, muffled by the ferocity of his kiss.

Ulquiorra was unforgiving. He swallowed every sound, claiming and dominating until the taste of copper bloomed on your tongue. When he finally pulled away, the look he leveled at you was pure, unadulterated ownership.

"It seems I was the one to make you soak my sheets," he murmured, his deep timbre roughened by a hint of emotion. His grip tightened, emerald irises boring into you. "Remember this."

With that, he released his grip, leaving you dazed and breathless. He didn't turn back, merely straightened his clothes and strode to the door, a silent dismissal. As the entrance swung shut behind him, the only thing left for you to do was sink into the damp sheets.

[cultofdixon]

So…Dixon

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • By the power vested in me—-Why the fuck would you get married in a situation like this?! • ANGST/SFW • TW: Injuries

“Y/N marry me now”

“Wait. Really? Now?!”

“Good time now”

Y/N gave Daryl a puzzled look as the two were held up in a room with Gabriel and Aaron with walkers pounding on the door for starters while they were struggling to plan a way out. Leaving to the feeling of this could be it hence why Daryl is taking the jump.

“Yeah, when the hell else when we might not make it out?”

“Seriously, Daryl?” Aaron couldn’t help the nervous laugh to escape him. “There have been plenty of other opportunities to pop the question”

“I’ve popped the question many times” Daryl states watching Y/N’s face soften as the two continue to lean against the door to keep the herd from coming in. “She’s said yes to every time, but the time was never right. Now it is”

“Daryl…”

“Well. Thankfully I’m here” Gabriel rises to his feet with the help of Aaron by his side still applying pressure to the gash he received running into the office like room at the last minute. “Are you two prepared?”

“Hell yeah I am”

“I’ve always been” Y/N gave Daryl a smile that turned into panic at the most recent shove of the door. He quickly took a hold of her hand into his squeezing it tightly distracting her from the other side.

“Now if you don’t mind my informal way of officiating” Gabriel clears his throat. “We’re gathered here today with God as our witness to watch the union of Y/F/N Y/L/N and Daryl Dixon…”

“Skip the long bits!” They both yelled in unison as the shoving became more aggressive in the other end.

Please. God give me more time Y/N frowns anxiously pressing herself as firmly as she could against the door while her other half did the same still having a tight grip on her hand.

We are not dying here Daryl kept repeating in his head as Gabriel went fast through the boring bits of union before getting to the good part.

“Vows?”

“Seriously?! We are in a predicament! I don’t think there is time for that” Aaron frowns as he checked around the room they were in for any way out. “This isn’t how I wanted to be your best man” he whispers angrily to himself.

The archer couldn’t help the scoff toward his friend as Y/N started to grow even more anxious over their situation.

“D. I—-“

“I’ve got vows. I had them ready for years” Daryl interrupts Y/N giving it a second before taking a breath. “I’ve loved yea…since the first day we met and yeah that was the day Merle finally got his shit rocked but still.”

________

“We got a looker, baby bro” Merle smirks bringing himself dangerously close to the unknown woman.

That when she straightened up to feel the unfamiliar body against her, she quickly swung back and threw her fist right into the man’s jaw. Merle instantly went down and the shock expression on her face went toward fear for a moment but when she looked up to the man’s brother. He was pretty neutral about it, making her relax but still blush out of embarrassment for doing that.

“Sorry”

“He deserved it” He laughs to himself as Merle groans holding his jaw. “I’m Daryl”

“Y/N”

________

Y/N couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips making Daryl smile at the sight.

“I knew then that…you were the best thing to ever happen to me and I made a promise then that I would do everything in my power to protect you. I enforce that further now.” Daryl states, readjusting when another push caught him off balance. “Over the years…you’ve loved me through everything. Every fight. Every death. Every new place. Every war…You never left. Didn’t give up on me when I was a pain in the ass…you stayed…you were there when I always needed you”

________

The gates to Hilltop open letting Daryl that had just escaped the Sanctuary within its walls to keep him safe. His mind was still back at the line up as he didn’t want to lock eyes with Maggie when he arrived but he didn’t hesitate when she hugged him upon his return to a sense of safety.

“She’s going to flip…and cancel her plans to rescue you” Maggie whispers to Daryl feeling him tighten his arms around her.

Knowing that she was referring to Y/N who stood in the middle of the trailer packing up enough to help get Daryl out. But right before she even stepped toward the door, it opened without her noticing and she found herself locking eyes with the man she loves.

“Sunshine…”

“…Love..” Y/N dropped everything and completely fell apart right before his eyes as she quickly shortened the distance feeling him grab her tugging her into him faster. “Oh thank god”

“You’re okay”

“You are too” Y/N sobbed into his chest holding onto him feeling him only tighten his grasp on her. As if she’d perish if he lets go. “You’re never leaving me…never again…that son of a bitch will pay”

“He will…and I ain’t going anywhere”

________

“You’re patient…kind…forgiving…hell anybody would be lucky to have you and I’m the lucky one. I’ve got the fucking prize that is you and all I want to do is spend the rest of my life with you. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you” Daryl said sternly confirming to everyone in that room that he would do everything in his power to get them all out of there safely.

He needs to spend the rest of his days on that planet with her.

“Uh. Y/N your vows?” Gabriel directs it now toward her as Aaron took his attention for a second to help him with a window.

“If you don’t got anythin’ I—-“

“Daryl I’ve been wanting to marry you since we arrived at Alexandria and they gave us a place. Just us…I know what I’m going to say to you” Y/N gave him a smile feeling his hand squeeze hers once more. “So you better shut up and listen”

“Yes ma’am” Daryl smirks loving that fire in her that can never be burned out.

“You have always been my safe haven. A home to come to at the end of a hard day. I never needed a physical place to be as long as I had you” and the tears formed when they were rattled once again by the walkers insisting on breaking through. “You’re my best friend. So overwhelmingly caring for others…you always put yourself last and I both hate and admire you for that. You kept me safe for all these years and all I want to do is continue to be safe in your embrace while you’re safe in mine.”

________

“Long day?” Y/N questions her tired partner as he brought himself toward her taking the book from her hands. “I’ll take that as a yes” as he soon laid on the couch laying onto her already sprawled self.

“Missed you”

“I missed you too, my love”

“Nah…Not as much as I did” Daryl hums softly, feeling her fingers gently run themselves through his hair…being ever so careful with the knots that may be in the strands.

“Another one of…those days?”

Daryl nods snuggling himself into her embrace even more as she brought her free hand to rub circles on his back helping him relax. Those days refer to the hard ones. The ones where you get triggered unexpectedly. Making you more anxious and stressed just from standing wherever you may be.

The archer was relieved to return home. Knowing she will always help him in those moments…even if there was no more words exchanged or what may have floated in the mind. Simply laying in her embrace knowing she’s there and alive.

________

“You say you’re the lucky one. But I’m so goddamn lucky” Y/N sobbed as the pounding grew harder making them both squeeze the shit out of their hands. Daryl pressed his forehead against Y/N’s reminding her that he’s there. “I can’t picture a life without you Daryl Dixon. You’re the love of my life and I have never been happier than I am with every waking moment spent with you. I’m not giving up on the rest of our lives. We deserve more time”

And that felt like a switch had been flicked. As the pounding continued and it started to become unbearable. The sound of broken glass pierced through their thoughts as both watch Aaron use the mace on his metal arm to clear the glass out before hoisting Gabriel up first and through.

“Y/N your next” Aaron states as Y/N was about to protest until Daryl shoved her toward him. Now being the sole person keeping the walkers from coming through.

Even with a bit of thrashing, Y/N got pulled through leaving the two alone in the small room.

“Go Aaron”

“I have a plan and you’re following or we’re both fucked” Aaron threats slightly as Daryl nods letting his friend take the lead on this.

The door he was holding shut had those handles big enough to push something through to hold it close. They had thought about the discarded plywood but it was too damp and flimsy to give them time to think and escape from the beginning. But then Aaron knew what to do.

Aaron brought himself to the handles, shoving his metal arm through. Something strong enough that’ll last at least two to escape. Once he detached himself, he shoved Daryl toward the window quickly as the two flinched when the pounding grew even louder than ever. Both Gabriel and Y/N pulled Daryl through as he was respectably shoved away by the pastor letting the two help Aaron out keeping in mind it may be a bit difficult with only one hand to grab.

Thankfully…they were all safe. With a few cuts and bruises from the run that lead to this mess. Y/N watches the basement flood with the walkers through the broken basement window as she sighs with relief turning toward Daryl who hasn’t stopped staring at her.

“What?”

“We gotta finish”

“I’m not the officiant” Y/N laughs in Gabriel’s direction as he straightens himself up before approaching the two.

“Now I can have this be my way with peace. Join hands” Gabriel smiles watching Y/N take Daryl’s hands into hers as he playfully scoffed. “I assume you don’t have a ring so—-“

“Nah. I’ve got it” Daryl lets go of one of her hands to go into a small pocket Carol made for him in his vest to take the ring out. A ring made for her by Eugene. As it also came with the accompanied groom’s ring.

“Alrighty then. Wear these rings as a reminder of the vows you have just taken”

Daryl carefully slips on Y/N’s ring first before she did his as she couldn’t help but notice the smallest agate gemstone in her band.

“Daryl, do you take Y/N to be your wedded wife, to live together in marriage?  Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, and forsaking all others, be faithful only to her, for as long as you both shall live?”

“Fuck yeah I do” Daryl smirks enjoying her giggle in response as Gabriel rolls his eyes smiling even more.

“And do you Y/N, take Daryl to be your wedded husband to live together in marriage?  Do you promise to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health and forsaking all others, be faithful only to him so long as you both shall live?”

Y/N couldn’t contain her excited smile and the butterflies fluttering in her stomach looking up at her man.

“I do”

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you…husband and wife” Gabriel smiles watching the two look at him impatiently for the last obvious part as he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “Do I really need to state the fucking obvious for you two? You know you have to kiss the bride!”

And with that Daryl instantly pressed his lips against hers as she brought her arms around his neck feeling his wrap around her middle. The archer picked her up, not separating from her lips enjoying this moment even more. The two witnessing whistled and congratulated the two.

Next thing they knew, they were all finally heading home. Daryl and Y/N hand in hand.

“So…Dixon?” He smirks enjoying already that she now bears his last name.

“You know it, love”

[strangerstilinski]

𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐈 ✶ Teen Wolf Rewrite

Stiles Stilinski / Original Female Character

TW | S2

chapter four

summary; as if the last month and a half hadn't been stressful enough — now there were a few more werewolves, a kanima, and a seriously disturbed old man added into the mix. but amber, stiles, and scott could totally handle this. it would be fine. everything was great.

word count; 12,392

chapter notes; the jeep is in need of fixin'. a lacrosse game under the lights leads to a night with mildly creepy photographers, two paralyzed werewolves, and a few too many near-drowning experiences.

masterlist

c h a p t e r f o u r

abomination

There was a sharp pain in the side of Amber's head when she woke. With a groan, she attempted to reach a hand up toward the injury but found herself unable to do so, her arm trapped against her side by a warm weight. She cracked her eyes open immediately but her surroundings remained unnervingly pitch black.

A terrified tightness slithered its way into her chest at the familiarity of it all — the uncomfortable combination of waking with a throbbing in her head and the inability to move freely feeling painfully reminiscent of her time with Kate Argent.

When she took a shaky breath, the smell that met her nose was rank, like that of filth and rotting food. She shoved at the weight pinning her arm down and there was a quiet groan in response. Just as she managed to pull herself free, her sluggish mind seemed to catch up with the situation all at once and her heart began to thump rapidly in her chest with worry instead of fear.

"Stiles?" She asked frantically, reaching out in the black void toward the boy beside her. She located his hands and arms relatively quickly and followed their path upward until she held his head softly in her hands, "Oh, god. Stiles, are you okay?"

She traced over his face with a gentle but shaky brush of her fingers, trying to locate the place where she remembered Erica had bashed him in the head with the car part she'd torn from the Jeep. Amber's fingertips found a small bump at the edge of his hairline over his forehead and she prodded the wound softly.

"Ow." Stiles groaned in complaint.

It was like music to her ears and her heart nearly stuttered in relief at the conscious sound from the his lips.

"Sti?" She asked again. She reached toward his shoulder and cupped her other hand at the back of his neck supportively as she tried to pull him into an upright position, "Are you okay?"

He groaned again and lifted his own hand up to his throbbing head as he sat up, "Ugh. That bitch."

He grabbed Amber gently by her elbow and dragged them to their feet, throwing open the lid of the dumpster they'd evidently been tossed inside of. The sudden brightness from the streetlight in the alleyway had Amber squinting with a wince as her head throbbed. She brought a hand up automatically to where she'd been hit, fingers brushing the tender spot a few inches above her ear. Stiles caught sight of the movement in the corner of his eye and turned to her with a frown.

"Wh- Did she hit you too?" He asked quickly, gently moving her hand out of the way so he that could feel the bump on the side of her head.

"Well, yeah. I like you an awful lot, Sti, but I wasn't just hanging out in the dumpster while you slept," She grumbled, taking another slow breath and nearly retching at the smell of the trash under their feet, "Oh, god. It smells so bad in here."

Stiles sighed, dropping his hand from the bump on her head and beginning to look for the best way for them to climb their way out of the tall dumpster. He eventually settled for boosting her over the edge with her foot in his hands, climbing over after her.

"I cannot believe Erica just- Just tore out a piece of the Jeep." Amber shook her head, anger filling her body as she recalled the way Stiles had gone limp after being bashed over the head.

"Oh, man," He grumbled at the reminder, "I'm gonna have to call a tow truck."

They'd only been at the auto-body shop for an hour, but Stiles seemed to be having a really hard time sitting patiently in the waiting room, his anxiety-fueled restlessness carrying him back and forth as he paced the small room and peered out at the mechanic through the window behind Amber's head.

"Oh, come on! What is he doing-" Stiles groaned, voice carrying slightly louder than his previous grumbled complaints.

Without another word, he pushed out of the waiting room and headed over to where the Jeep was suspended on a lift as a young mechanic worked underneath the back end of the vehicle. Amber followed only a step behind as Stiles shouted to get the other man's attention. When they stepped beneath the Jeep, both teens peered up to look at what the young man was working on.

"What do you think you're doing?" Stiles demanded, squinting up at the underside of his vehicle as if he had any idea what it was that they were looking at, "All I needed was a starter."

"-And that's definitely installed under the hood." Amber supplied, frowning as the mechanic revved the loud drill in his hands once more before turning toward them.

"Yeah, but.. It looks like the whole exhaust system has gotta be replaced here." The mechanic said easily, using the drill again and drowning out any attempt at a response with the loud whirring of the machine.

The incredulous look on Stiles' face had a sigh falling from Amber's lips as she reached up to pat his shoulder consolingly.

"Why do I get the feeling you're slightly overestimating the damage?" Stiles asked in barely concealed annoyance when the sound of the drill faded out again.

The handsome mechanic didn't even turn to look at them as he spoke, "It's probably gonna run you like.. Twelve-hundred, parts and labor."

"What?!" Amber exclaimed with wide eyes.

"Are you kidding?" Stiles shouted, "This thing doesn't even have a catalytic converter! And, yes! I know what a catalytic converter is-"

"Do you know what a limited slip differential is?" The mechanic asked, finally turning to face the teens with a slightly smug expression.

Amber let her eyes drift over to Stiles and found his mouth gaping, jaw slack as he tried to think of something to say.

"No.."

"-Yeah, could be more like fifteen-hundred." The mechanic amended.

"There is nothing wrong with Roscoe's limited slip differential," Amber cut in, scowling at the young mechanic underneath the car in annoyance, "It's been taking turns perfectly fine."

Both boys blinked at her in shock and she shrugged under their attention.

"I did a lot of research when I got my car, but that is not the point-" She turned her attention to Stiles and her angry tone immediately softened, "Why don't you go sit in the waiting room while I talk to.." She paused, turning to the mechanic with a charming smile, "Sorry, what was your name?"

"Tucker." The guy supplied, still blinking slowly at her as if she were some sort of mystery.

"Right." She smiled, turning back to Stiles, "While I talk to Tucker about exactly what the Jeep needs done. Cool?"

Stiles frowned, looking between the girl and the mechanic behind her, "Yeah," He agreed after a moment, "Yeah, okay. I'll just be back here.. Feeling slightly emasculated and seething with impotent rage."

He left the two of them alone and Amber turned to face Tucker with an unimpressed eyebrow raise, putting an effort into channeling her annoyance into something else, deigning to take a slightly more flirtatious and manipulative approach.

"Do we actually need a new exhaust system?" She questioned softly, taking a page from Erica's book by leaning against the greasy backside of a tire and crossing her arms in a way that she knew would push her breasts up from underneath the low neckline of her shirt.

"I, uh.."

"Y'know.. That doesn't sound like a solid 'yes'" She noted slowly, licking her lips and grinning when the older boy's eyes seemed to rise from her chest only to track the movement of her tongue. "Look, we both know that this car is an enigma. It's kind of a shitshow. It's nothing but old parts and duct-tape, but regardless, it runs just fine.. And all we came in for was the starter."

"I, um.. Yeah," Tucker agreed quietly, "But, I already started installing the new exhaust system-"

"-And I'd love to say I'll bring my own car here if it ever needs anything done but.. It hardly seems fair for us to have to pay for something when it wasn't actually a necessary repair, does it?" She asked quietly, holding back a grin when the boy in front of her shook his head minutely, "So, what's this gonna cost us?"

Tucker sighed, "The starter would've been four-fifty, parts and labor.. I could maybe get away with just charging the parts for the exhaust-"

"And that'll bring the cost to-?"

The man shrugged, eyes dropping quickly to her chest once again before he responded, "Overall, like, nine hundred-"

"Six." She countered quickly, knowing her barter was absurdly low, but giving it a shot anyway.

The mechanic's jaw clenched and he reached up to wipe sweat from his face with his forearm, leaving a fresh trail of grease along his temple, "Six seventy-five."

She grinned, bouncing on her toes, "Great! Six seventy-five. I'll let you get that worked out on paper and we'll just wait for you to finish up then!"

She ducked out from underneath the car and spotted Stiles standing just outside the door that led to the waiting room. When he saw the satisfied grin on her face, he perked up.

"What?" He questioned quickly, "What'd he say?"

"It's still gonna cost more than it should've but-"

He grimaced, "How much?"

"Six hundred seventy-five." She bit down on her lip, watching for his reaction nervously.

"You got him to go down by eight-hundred dollars?" He asked in disbelief.

She nodded and Stiles pulled her in with a hand on the back of her head, mashing their lips together clumsily, teeth clashing lightly with the impact. She laughed as they separated and Stiles' lips parted in astonishment before he spoke again.

"You are the sexiest girl alive. D'you know that? You said that stuff about the slip differ-thing and then you saved me eight-hundred bucks and I honestly don't even care how you did it because you are insanely hot and I'm the one who gets to make out with-"

"Well why don't you take me into the waiting room and makeout with me while we wait, then?" She questioned teasingly.

He jolted into action quickly but fumbled when his hand slipped as he grabbed the door handle. He brought his hand up as the door swung open and frowned at the shiny lubricant coating his palm and fingers.

"Oh, nice. That's real sanitary." He grumbled with a wince, "Quality establishment you're running here!" He called out over his shoulder into the garage.

Amber snorted, grabbing ahold of his sticky wrist and using the hem of her shirt to wipe the slimy substance away from the both of their hands. While she worked at clearing away the mess between his fingers, Stiles' eyes caught on a framed picture hanging on the wall beside them.

"Figures." He muttered bitterly.

She laughed at his tone, turning her head to peek at the photograph of a slightly younger Tucker donning a maroon Beacon Hills jersey, lacrosse stick draped over his shoulder as he posed for the camera.

"What, now you're mad that he played lacrosse in high school?" She questioned amusedly.

"Yes," Stiles said easily, "Because he was probably stupidly good. Like assholes always are.. Like Jackson, for example."

She snorted, dropping the hem of her shirt back down over her stomach, "You're stupidly good at lots of things." She told him softly.

"Oh, yeah?" He questioned doubtfully, "Like what?"

"Hm," She hummed quietly, leaning up onto her toes to ghost her lips over his, "Well, for one, you're really good at kissing-"

Stiles was quick to pull his phone from his pocket with his newly cleaned hand, "Hold that thought. Just- Lemme just shoot Scott a quick text-"

She laughed and leaned back to give him space, watching as he opened a new message. He huffed a strained breath, his fingers twitching clumsily over the touch screen but not actually typing anything.

"What the-" He muttered under his breath.

"Sti?" She questioned, reaching out toward his shaking hands, "What's wrong?"

He let the phone clatter to the floor and looked down at his trembling fingers, "I can't move my hands.." He muttered quietly, "Wh- Or my arms."

She went to squeeze his arm comfortingly but her own hand didn't follow the command to tighten around his wrist, her fingers still loosely draped over his sweatshirt.

"I- I can't feel my fingers." She announced worriedly, head snapping up to where Stiles was gaping over her shoulder with wide eyes, "What? What's-"

"No." He murmured, eyes flicking back and forth behind her, "Hey!"

She spun around just in time to see a tail swipe down beneath the Jeep to scratch across the back of the mechanic's neck, a dark scaly creature crawling down the side of the vehicle lift as Tucker collapsed to the ground.

Stiles' legs seemed to give out all at once and he stumbled into her, sending them both to the ground in a heap. Amber's head knocked back against the floor with a soft thump and she groaned beneath the weight of his body sprawled on top of her.

His cheek rested on her chest and he reached out a shaking hand toward his phone on the floor beside them as a loud mechanical whirring sounded from the open door that led to the garage.

"What's that?" She questioned anxiously, her head frozen in its current position of looking up at the ceiling, unable to move her neck no matter how hard she tried. The boy on top of her was facing the open door but didn't respond to her question, "Stiles, what's that noise?" She tried again.

"You're not looking at the car, are you?" He checked quickly.

"What? No, obviously not. What's going-"

"Help me-" Tucker's voice called out weakly over the noise.

"He's gonna die." Stiles spoke quietly, his own voice filled with fear as Tucker continued to call out for help from the garage, "Ah, god. The mechanic is gonna die like this is a Final Destination movie and I'm gonna have to watch-"

"Close your eyes." She urged quickly, her own eyes dropping down to the top of his head, wishing more than anything that she could move her arms to hold him.

"I- I'm trying to call 9-1-1." Stiles said frantically.

"Stiles," She said again, "Stiles. Close your eyes, okay?"

Tucker was still yelling, voice thick with fear. There was a high-pitched mechanical whine before the loud echoing clink of metal on metal and then, complete silence filled the shop.

Amber took a shaky breath and she heard more than felt Stiles do the same where he was laying on top of her, still reaching for his cell phone to call for help.

Suddenly, the alien-looking scaly creature that had been climbing down the side of Jeep was crouched over the two of them, tilting its head curiously. Amber whimpered as she looked into the yellow eyes of the creature and it hissed in response, its mouth dropping open to reveal a set of small, razor-sharp, pointed teeth before it disappeared — the creature gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

Whatever small dose of neurotoxin had absorbed through their skin to paralyze them wore off within twenty minutes. Stiles and Amber both moved to stand outside the building, wrapped up in each other’s arms as they waited for emergency personnel to respond to their call.

Amber's trembling fingers traced soothing patterns in the short hairs on the back of Stiles' neck. She could feel his own hands fisting and unfisting the fabric of her shirt between his fingers, his cheek pressed against her forehead.

"Are you okay?" She asked quietly after a few minutes of silence.

He puffed out a breath into the cold night air, taking a moment before responding, "Yeah. Yeah, I think so."

"It's okay if you're not." She told him, tilting her head to press the cold tip of her nose into his cheek, "Did.. Did you close your eyes?" She questioned cautiously.

"I did- Kind of at the last second.. But," He sighed, tightening his hands against her back, "I looked.. After."

"Stiles." She scolded softly, rubbing her thumb along the smooth skin at the nape of his neck.

"I know." He sighed, "I know. I c- I couldn't help it. But now I can't unsee it-"

"Hey," She whispered, hands sliding up to cup his jaw. She pressed her lips softly to the smattering of freckles on his right cheek, "It'll be okay."

He nodded minutely and she pressed a second kiss to his cheek, a little higher up this time, just below his eye. Her lips moved up to his eyebrow next. She tightened her grip on his face, tilting his head where she wanted it and proceeding to press obnoxiously loud, smacking kisses to his forehead, temple, cheekbone, and nose before settling a final peck into the corner of his mouth.

Stiles laughed and shook his head in her grip, "Stop that."

"Mm, I don't think I will." She grinned, smacking another loud peck of her lips against the opposite side of his mouth.

The colorful lights of a Sheriff's cruiser flashed as it pulled into the parking lot and an ambulance was turning in behind it before the police vehicle had even come to a stop. Amber took a small step back from Stiles as his dad climbed out of the car and stormed toward them.

"What the hell happened?" He asked them quietly, a stern look on his lightly wrinkled face.

"We walked into the garage and the mechanic was- He was crushed. Underneath the Jeep." Amber said, voice shaky.

"You guys didn't see anything else?" The Sheriff questioned, looking between them skeptically, "You didn't see anybody else leaving, or-"

"No." Stiles answered, avoiding his father's gaze.

The Sheriff looked back and forth between the two teens for a moment before he sighed and gestured with his arm toward the back of the parked ambulance, "C'mon. You kids come sit while we check things out."

They did as they were told and Amber settled onto the cold metal tailgate of the emergency vehicle beside Stiles. He took her hand in his quickly and rested their clasped hands over his lap as they watched his father and another officer enter the auto shop.

The two teens locked their fingers together loosely, hands still weak and visibly trembling with lingering traces of whatever temporary paralysis had taken over their bodies.

Eventually, the Sheriff sat down on the other side of his son with a deep sigh, rubbing his palms over his beige uniform pants.

"Do you guys have anything else you want to tell me about what happened here tonight?" He asked gently.

"We told you. We just- We walked in and saw the Jeep on top of the guy." Stiles repeated quickly, attempting to tighten his fingers around Amber's but not quite able to do so, "That's all."

"What's wrong with your hands?" The Sheriff questioned with a frown, gaze locked on where their trembling fingers were resting over his son's thigh.

"Nothing," Stiles said quickly, dropping Amber's hand and tucking his own hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt to hide the way his muscles were spasming, "Can we just get out of here now?"

"Look," Sheriff Stilinski said softly, "If there's something you kids don't think you can tell me-"

"You think we're lying?" Amber's heart thumped in her chest anxiously.

"No, of course not," Stiles' dad told her quickly, "I'm just worried about you both."

He looked between the teens slowly and Amber shrunk back slightly under his gaze, watching out of the corner of her eye as Stiles avoided looking at his father entirely.

Sheriff Stilinski took a breath, "Now, if you guys saw someone do this.. If you're afraid that maybe they're gonna come back and make sure you don't say anything about it-"

"We didn't." Amber said quickly.

"We didn't see anything," Stiles reiterated, "At all. Can we go now? Please?"

His father didn't immediately respond, frowning at them with a disappointed look, "Sure. But not in your Jeep. We're gonna have to impound it-"

Stiles stuttered a jumble of soft, incredulous noises and his father plowed on.

"Sorry, kid. It's evidence." The Sheriff told him.

"Alright, well.. At least make sure they wash it." Stiles mumbled angrily after a second.

His father shook his head and stood from the back of the ambulance, looking between them, "I assume I'll see at least one of you at home?"

Stiles peeked over at Amber in question and she shrugged, "I could stay over and then we could take my car to school in the morning." She suggested softly.

"I'll see you both later, then." The Sheriff nodded, beginning to step away but turning back to narrow his eyes at the two of them seriously, "You kids better behave. Don't think I didn't see the two of you when I pulled in-"

"Dad-" Stiles groaned quietly in embarrassment, "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously," The Sheriff told him, "I am not ready to be a grandparent."

"Ah!" Stiles squeaked in distress, reaching around to awkwardly cover Amber's ears with his shaky hands, "I get it! I hear you! For the love of god-"

This father lifted his arms in surrender before turning away to get back to his job.

Stiles dropped his hands from the sides of Amber's head and she finally gave in to the wince she'd been holding back in response the pressure he'd put on the sensitive bump on the side of her skull. Stiles watched her flinch and his eyes widened in realization.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry." He apologized quickly, "Shit, is that where-"

"It's fine," She told him quickly, grabbing his hand when he reached up toward her head again and redirecting his movement. She pressed a soft kiss of forgiveness into his palm, "I'm fine, really."

He frowned at her, his thumb brushing softly over the edge of her lips, "We should ask Scott to pick up your car and come get us."

Amber nodded, dropping his hand to pull out her cell phone to shoot Scott a message with shaking fingers. She received a response almost immediately and sighed in relief, sending him one final text before pocketing her phone.

"He'll be here soon." She notified Stiles.

The boy nodded and stood up to slip into the space between her legs, hips bracketed by her knees where she sat on the tailgate. She dropped her head to his chest and took a deep breath as his hands settled over her hips, cold fingers slipping beneath the fabric of her shirt and ghosting over her warmer skin.

"Sti?" She questioned softly into the fabric of his shirt. He hummed in response and she continued, "Do I still kinda reek of dumpster?" She asked.

He laughed, burying his nose in her hair and taking a comically deep breath, "Honestly? Yeah, a little.." He said softly before stiffening against her, "Why do you ask? Do- Do I smell like garbage right now?"

She snorted quietly, nodding her head against his chest, "A little."

Nearly twenty minutes later, her bright yellow car finally turned in and Scott pulled into a parking spot at the edge of the lot.

She hopped down from the back of the ambulance and the two rushed over to the car through the cold drizzle that had begun to fall. As they approached, Scott slid over into the passenger seat and Stiles and Amber crawled in through the driver's side before settling inside the dry car.

"What took you so long?" Stiles questioned immediately.

"Amber sent me a list of like, a million things she needed from her house-" Scott defended, pointing to the duffle bag in the backseat.

"Sorry," She apologized, "I just figured it would be easier than driving all the way back over and I.." Her voice trailed off as she looked out the rain splattered windshield, eyes stuck on the reflecting flashes of blue and red emergency lights.

"You guys okay?" Scott asked softly after a moment, looking at his best friends with worry.

Stiles nodded from the center seat, dropping his left hand over the damp denim covering Amber's thigh as he mumbled assurances under his breath that they were fine.

"You were right," Amber told Scott softly, "It's not like you. I mean, it- Its eyes were almost, like.. Reptilian."

Stiles murmured in agreement, "But there was something about them-"

Scott's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "What d'you mean?"

Stiles frowned in thought as he tried to come up with a way to explain what they'd seen, "You know when you see a friend in a halloween mask, but all you can see is their eyes, and you feel like you know 'em but you just can't figure out who it is?"

Amber eyes widened at the accuracy of the analogy, her head thumping back against the headrest for a moment as she recalled the way the creature's head had tilted curiously at them.

Scott looked between them in surprise, "Are you guys saying you know who it is?"

"No," Amber disagreed quickly, leaning forward in her seat again to look at him, "But I- I think that maybe it knew us."

Scott sat on the bench attached to one of the tables in the courtyard, rushing as he attempted to finish an assignment that was due later that day. Amber was sprawled out on her back over the tabletop beside his open notebook, happy to let the warmth of the sun soak into the exposed skin of her arms and bare legs on the blessedly nice March morning.

Stiles approached his best friends, backpack slung over one shoulder, and Scott nudged Amber's thigh to get her attention as he noticed Stiles' presence. Stiles sat down in the empty space at the end of the bench and Amber propped herself up on her elbows attentively just as he began to speak.

"I'm so sorry about the other day," Stiles started slowly, speaking with his hands as his eyes flicked between them, "I'm trying. We'll get through this.." He reached up to rest a hand on Amber's bare knee as he continued, "Uh, I know because I love you."

Scott's face broke into a giddy smile and Amber rolled her eyes fondly at the sight of her lovesick best friend.

Stiles took a breath before he started again, "I love you.. more than- Oh my god!" He exclaimed, cutting himself off in refusal to recite any more, "I can't! You and Allison just have to find a better way to communicate-"

"Come on!" Scott frowned in disappointment, looking between his best friends, "You two are the only ones we can trust. Is she coming to the game tonight?"

"Yes," Stiles answered quickly, hand tightening on Amber's knee, "Okay? Message complete."

Amber flopped down onto her back again to watch the clouds as they floated by, "Alright, Scott. Stiles is here now. So spill what you were waiting to tell us about your boss."

He looked around the courtyard cautiously before whispering, "He thinks that Allison's family keeps some kind of.. Uh, records. Of all the things that they've hunted. Like a book."

Stiles leaned back and lifted his hand from Amber's knee only to clap his palm back down over it enthusiastically, "He probably means a bestiary."

Amber hummed with a nod of agreement and Scott looked between them with wide eyes.

"What?" He hissed in surprise.

"A bestiary.." Amber repeated, tilting her head to look at him curiously.

Scott began to laugh hysterically, taking a gasping breath as he looked between his two best friends, "I think you mean 'beastiality.'"

"Nope," Stiles disagreed quickly, "Pretty sure we don't."

"A bestiary is kinda like an encyclopedia, but it's full of information about mythical creatures." Amber explained in amusement.

Scott's laughter faded quickly and he sighed in irritation, "How am I the only one that doesn't seem to know anything about this stuff?" He asked with a groan.

"Okay. You're our best friend..? You're a creature of the night..? It's kind of been a priority of ours." Stiles explained incredulously.

"You know we've been reading up on this stuff. I mean, what do you think Stiles and I are spending all night doing when I tell you we're having a 'research night'?" Amber questioned rhetorically, pushing back up onto her elbows.

Scott raised his eyebrows emphatically and looked between them.

"Wh- Seriously?" She exclaimed in surprise at the insinuation, "You thought that every time we said we had 'research night', we were just, like, hooking up?"

Scott shrugged, "Well.. Kinda."

"Dude." Stiles scolded, "Is that why you literally always blow us off? Because you thought me and Amber were-?"

"I thought you were warning me to steer clear without actually, y'know, saying it," Scott explained, "Like a code."

"And the research nights before Stiles and I got together?" Amber questioned in disbelief.

"Figured that was you guys's way of telling me you were planning on finally making a move.. I thought you both just kept chickening out."

They both blinked at him in disbelief for a long moment.

"Okay.. I-" Scott spoke up again after the silence had stretched for a bit too long, deigning to change the subject, "If we can find this beasty-thing, and it can tell us what this thing is-"

"And who." Stiles interrupted.

There was another moment of silence between them before all three spoke at once.

"We need that book."

Stiles continued to run interference between Allison and Scott all day, somehow managing to catch Amber off guard nearly every time he approached with a new message.

"Yes!" He yelled in the hallway after third period as he ran up behind Amber and Scott. He flung an arm around each of their shoulders to support his weight as he heaved in deep breaths, "Allison's seen her grandfather with a book like that. Old. Leather. She's seen it."

An hour later, before lunch, he threw himself against the locker behind Amber with a loud crash. He draped his overly-warm, sweaty body across her back and panted heavily into her ear as he looked at Scott over her shoulder.

"She says," Stiles choked out with a wheeze as he fought for breath, "It has to be.. Office."

He gasped for air and Amber tipped her head to look back at him, reaching around awkwardly to cup the back of his head and pressing her lips to his sweaty cheek in consolation.

The next time he surprised her with a sudden appearance, both he and Allison miraculously managed to reach her table in the courtyard at the same time. It was the end of the school day and Amber had been finishing up an assignment with the intention of not having to worry about it later that evening.

She was sitting with her legs sprawled out in front of her on the bench when both of them stumbled up to the table in the same moment. Allison threw her shoulder bag down onto the seats on the opposite side of the table as Stiles sprinted toward them from the other direction, doubling over as he pulled in choppy, labored breaths.

He dropped a hand down to support himself, fingers gripping tightly at the top of Amber's thigh, seemingly blind to the way his pinky dug into her flesh beneath the hemline of her skirt and sent thrilling a spark down her spine. Pulling one of Scott's old inhalers from his pocket with his other hand, Stiles took a deep puff from the device, holding the chemicals in his lungs for a moment before gasping and finally focusing on Allison.

"Y'know, drug dealers have been using disposable cell phones pretty successfully for years-"

Allison shook her head, "My parents check every call, email, and text message I send. Trust me, they'd find it."

"Talk about a helicopter parent." Amber mumbled in a weak attempt to make a joke, desperately trying to focus on something — anything — that wasn't Stiles' sweaty hand. Or the way his fingertips were slipping beneath his weight and beginning to dig intoxicatingly into the meat of her inner thigh.

"Alright," He told Allison, ignoring quiet Amber's comment, "Can you get the book?"

"Not without my grandfather's keys." Allison sighed.

"Okay.. Okay, so we get his keys." Amber shrugged, licking her lips in thought as Stiles lifted her legs to slide onto the bench beside her, dropping them back down over the tops of his thighs as soon as he was seated, "Take him with you to the game tonight." She suggested after a moment.

"What?" Allison asked, eyes wide, "You want me to bring him to watch Scott's game?" She clarified in disbelief.

"Yes." Amber supplied easily, fingertips drumming on the tabletop, "I mean, he'll bring his keys with him, right? And the temperature is supposed to drop super quick over the next couple hours.. He'll obviously gonna be bundled up in his winter jacket, keys probably stuffed in the pocket.. Then you just play up how cold you are until he goes all 'elderly gentleman' and offers up his coat! We swipe the keys from his pocket, sneak into his office, find the book, and get the keys back before the game is even over. Easy."

"Right," Allison swallowed nervously, "Easy."

Stiles blinked at Amber in amazement for a moment before leaning in to press his lips to hers in a sloppy, slightly sweaty kiss.

"I can't believe you just came up with that plan off the top of your head," He mumbled against her mouth, giving her one more quick kiss before sitting back again, "So hot."

She snorted in amusement, fighting against the pink flush that began to rise embarrassingly on her cheeks from his praise.

Amber rushed home to change into jeans during the hour that the lacrosse team did warmups before the start of their evening game. It wasn't long before she made it back to the school, plopping down in the empty space beside Ms. McCall the moment she spotted her best friend's mom sitting in the stands.

Instead of focusing on the start of the game on the field — which, by the sound of the combined shouts coming from both the crowd and Coach Finstock, was not going well for Beacon Hills — Amber's attention was focused on where Allison and her grandfather were sitting on the other set of bleachers.

It was ten minutes into the second half of the game when she saw Principal Argent finally slip out of his thick peacoat, draping it delicately over his granddaughter's shoulders. Amber sighed in relief as she stood from her seat, excusing herself with an mumbled explanation about needing to go inside to use the restroom.

She kept her eyes glued to the other girl, watching as Allison reached into the pocket of the jacket before nodding her head in a silent signal for Amber to approach. As Amber stumbled from the bleachers with her eyes still focussed on Allison, she collided with another body, a pair of arms reaching up to steady her as she fell heavily against the padded material of someone's lacrosse uniform.

"Oh, shit. Sorry." She apologized quickly as she tried to regain her footing in the grass, looking up at the person who'd caught her.

Matt Daehler only grinned at her, "Don't worry about it." He said easily, readjusting his large camera around his neck.

Her eyes dropped to the device in his hands and her heart sank anxiously, "Shit. I didn't break your fancy camera or anything with my clumsiness, did I?" She questioned immediately.

He fiddled with the camera in his fingers without really looking away from her, "Nope, all good."

Her gaze was drawn to the movement of his hands and her eyes narrowed curiously when she focused on the photograph on the tiny screen.

"Hey, is that me?" She asked, leaning closer and pulling his hands into her own as she tried to get a better look.

"Oh, uh.." Matt stammered, "Yeah, um-"

Her eyes raked over the picture in a slow trail as she studied it. The floodlights shining down over the lacrosse field were harsh and blinding, but somehow, the composition of the photograph on the screen made it look softer. The light shined around her loose hair in a way that looked almost ethereal. Angelic. There was a soft smile on her face that told her the picture had been taken a few minutes before, when she'd caught sight of Stiles waving at her. Her cheeks appeared flushed, both from the cold and from the attention of the boy who'd been grinning at her from his usual spot on the bench.

"This is incredible," She told him softly, glancing up at him before gaping at the picture one more time, "Seriously. You're really talented."

"Oh," He sighed in relief, "Thanks. I'm really glad you like it. When you first saw it I was kinda worried you'd think I was being a creep or-"

"No, no. I totally get it," She said quickly, "You just. You find art in what you see in the world around you. No biggie."

He nodded and smiled, "Yeah. Yeah, that's exactly it. Just- Capturing the beauty around me."

She nodded, the obvious compliment going straight over her head, completely unaware as she looked out at the game on the field.

"Well, make sure you get some pictures of this beautiful game," She laughed, taking a step back, "Hey, if you get any good ones of Scott, will you let me know?"

"Yeah! Yeah, sure." Matt agreed easily.

"Sweet." She grinned, moving another step toward the opposite set of bleachers, "I gotta go, but I'll talk to you later. 'Go Cyclones' and all that!"

He bid her goodbye with a wave and she moved around the stands to sneak up behind where Allison was sitting, the other girl's hand dropping down casually to dangle beneath the metal seat. Amber gathered the large bundle of keys into her fist silently before stepping back and rounding the bleachers to approach the player's bench at the edge of the field.

In an attempt to stay warm, Stiles hadn't even bothered to change into his lacrosse pads or jersey. Instead, he wore a maroon tracksuit with the zipper tugged up to his neck, arms wrapped around himself as he shivered on the metal bench.

Amber leaned over his back and wrapped her own arms around his shoulders to give the appearance of a casual hug as she whispered in his ear.

"Keys acquired." She murmured quietly.

He reached up to wrap a cold hand around her wrist where it was draped across his chest as he nodded, "I'll come with you."

She frowned, loosening her arms to peer over his shoulder and shoot him a curious look, "You don't need to do that. You should stay here. You're kind of on the team, you know."

Stiles stood and her arms fell as he rounded the bench to grab her hand, already beginning to drag her away before Coach Finstock could catch them sneaking off.

"Oh, come on. Like Coach is ever gonna put me in." Stiles scoffed, tugging on her hand as they rushed back toward the school building.

When they jogged through the dark parking lot behind the building, he pulled on her arm and skidded to a stop.

"Hey, isn't that Lydia's car?" He questioned, pointing to a vehicle that was parked with its interior lights on.

"Yeah," Amber confirmed, moving around the backside of the car with a frown. She spotted Lydia dabbing at her eyes with a tissue and her heart twisted sadly, "I, um. I'm gonna check on her real quick."

"But the book-"

"You go start looking and I'll be right behind you," She promised, pulling the jumble of keys from her back pocket and pressing them into his hand.

His face pinched but after a moment he nodded reluctantly, tipping her head toward him at an awkward angle to press a quick kiss to her hairline before he ran off toward the building.

Amber stepped up to the driver's side window and rapped her knuckles against the glass lightly, causing Lydia to flinch and turn to look outside the car with wide eyes, dark smudges of mascara dripping down her cheeks.

"Lyds?" Amber asked softly, "What's going on? You okay?"

"Go away." She sniffled, turning her head to wipe at the moisture beneath her eyes again.

"Not happening," Amber shook her head, leaning closer and tapping her finger against the window in an irritatingly fast-paced rhythm, "Not until you tell me what's wrong."

Lydia sighed and rolled down the window, taking a breath as Amber leaned in and rested her weight on her arms in the open space.

"You're gonna think I'm crazy." Lydia whimpered, tightening her fist around her tissue.

"I could never think you're crazy, Lydia, alright? I told you that already," Amber reminded her, "Everything has been so unbelievably insane over the last two months. There is not a single thing you could say that would make me think you're crazy."

"I've been sleepwalking," Lydia admitted after a moment, "Sort of. Not really walking but.. I broke a mirror the other night and I don't remember it. I woke up in the backyard a few nights before that-"

"We talked about this," Amber said softly, "And you are not crazy. It's normal to have nightmares and anxiety and.. And I don't think the thing with Peter Hale is all that weird either. You've been through.. A lot."

Lydia nodded and sniffled again, "I just want it to stop. I want things to go back.."

"I know," Amber frowned sadly, holding out a hand in offering and letting her lips pull into a small smile when Lydia took it into her own. "I- I'm sorry." She said quietly.

"No," Lydia snapped, sniffing once and shooting Amber with stern glare, "Not this again. It is not your fault and I don't want your pity."

Amber's smile faded, "I-"

"I'll be fine," Lydia huffed, releasing Amber's hand to flip down her sun visor and wipe more thoroughly at her smudged makeup, "I'm just going to go home, take a bath, watch Legally Blonde, and give myself a pedicure."

"I could- Do you want me to-"

"Go inside and have your hot locker room hook up with your boyfriend. I saw you guys in the mirror before you came over here. I know he's waiting," Lydia rolled her eyes, a mask of indifferent perfection already slipping onto her face, "I'll see you tomorrow. Make sure he wraps it before you let him tap it."

Before she could respond, Lydia was rolling up the window and Amber was forced to pull her arms back to avoid them getting caught as it slid closed.

"Rude!" She told her friend loudly through the tinted glass.

"Love you." Lydia shot back amusedly, shifting her car into reverse, taillights switching on as she prepared to back out of her parking spot, "I'll text you later, okay?" She promised in a gentler tone.

Amber nodded in agreement and took a small step away from the car as Lydia backed up and turned to pull out of the parking lot. The brunette watched her friend go, brain clicking all at once to remind her that Stiles was already in the principal's office looking for the bestiary.

"Shit!" She exclaimed, feet carrying her toward the school in a rush.

She threw open the metal door at the side of the building and took a quick steps down the hallway, running toward the main office at the far end of the wing.

"Stiles?" She called out as she stepped into the office.

The door to Allison's grandfather's office was open, the keys still dangling from the lock, but there was no sign of Stiles. Amber's gut twisted nervously at his absence and she immediately moved back out into the hallway.

"Stiles!" She called out louder, peeking into the empty locker room as she passed.

Huffing loudly, she noticed that the door to the pools was ajar at the end of the hall and she took off again. She skidded to a stop at the doorway and slipped inside, hearing familiar voices as she rushed around the corner toward the pools.

"Holy God.." Stiles exclaimed quietly.

Amber ran up beside him, stumbling to a stop and taking his left hand in hers as she looked over at Erica and Derek in confusion.

"What's going on?" She asked the two werewolves, directing a dark look at Erica before turning to Stiles, "Did you find it?" She asked more quietly.

"Tell us what you saw at the garage yesterday." Derek demanded, eyes flicking between Stiles and Amber.

"I don't know.. It was creepy." She told him vaguely, "Scaly? Like a giant lizard or something."

Derek raised his eyebrows, settling her with an unimpressed look until Stiles continued for her.

"Alright, the thing was.. Pretty slick looking. Um.. Skin was dark," He explained, "It's like she said, I-I think it had scales. Is that not enough?"

Derek and Erica continued to glare at them and Amber bounced on her toes as she tried to remember more specifics.

"I don't.. Eyes!" She exclaimed suddenly, turning toward Stiles as she spoke, "Right? The eyes.. They were yellow-"

"-And slitted," He continued, "Like a snake or something."

"A lot of teeth," She recalled, "Small and sharp and seriously terrifying."

"Oh, and it's got a tail too." Stiles finished, raising his eyebrows at the werewolves with an annoyed blink of his eyes, "Now, are we good?"

When he didn't get a response, Amber turned her attention back toward Erica and Derek. The irritated expressions that they'd both worn a few moments before were gone, replaced now with a wholly unfamiliar look of nervousness.

"What?" Amber asked, watching them flick their eyes behind where she and Stiles were standing for just a second. When she still didn't get a response, she focused solely on Derek and watched as he slowly uncrossed his arms from over his chest, "Derek. What's up?"

"Wait. Have you seen it?" Stiles asked them, "You both have this look on your faces like you know exactly what we're talking about-"

There was a quiet hissing from behind them that had Amber and Stiles both turning around cautiously, movements achingly slow with fear. The creature they'd only just been describing was perched atop the railing of the balcony above them, crawling it's way downward in a slow trail as it watched the group intently.

A sudden, ear-piercing shriek came from the creature in warning and Amber flinched at the shrill sound while Stiles grabbed ahold of her shoulder to pull her to stand beside Derek.

The creature dropped to the floor with another threatening hiss and before it had even touched the down, Derek was crouched protectively in front of the two humans. Only a few seconds of anticipatory hesitance passed before the creature made the first move by tossing Erica across the room with an easy flick of its freakishly strong tail.

The blonde werewolf hit the wall with a sickening thud and crumpled to the ground, unconscious and sporting a small cut down the side of her neck where the tip of the creature's tail had nicked her. Derek growled angrily in response to his Beta being attacked and turned to shout a warning at Amber and Stiles.

"Run!" He ordered sharply.

He'd barely spoken the words before the creature scraped the sharp end of its tail across the back of Derek's neck and disappeared. Amber made a small noise of panic when Derek stood upright again and looked around himself in confusion, his knees wobbling unsteadily.

"Derek, your neck!" She warned him as a hand that she didn't even realize Stiles had wrapped around her shoulder tightened its grip to hold her in place while his gaze searched desperately to find where the creature had gone.

Derek blinked a few times and stumbled on shaky legs, reaching up to brush his fingers over the cut on back of his neck in confusion as he began to slowly lose control over his limbs.

"Ah, shit-" Stiles muttered in realization, moving around Amber to grab ahold of Derek's waist and steady the werewolf before he could fall.

Amber was at Derek's other side in a flash and she slipped beneath his arm to support his weight in a familiar position.

"C'mon-" She pleaded with the two boys uselessly.

Stiles quickly moved to mimic her stance and the two of them began to drag Derek away, stumbling as they ran, rounding the large pool. Amber tasked herself with watching their footing while Stiles looked around them, trying to locate the creature that had seemingly vanished.

"Where is it?" He asked, still looking around frantically, "Do either of you see it?"

"No." Amber told him anxiously.

"I can smell it, so hurry." Derek demanded. "And call Scott."

"Right, yes! Let's call Scott!" Amber repeated, reaching her free hand around to her back pocket. She patted down her backside aggressively when she immediately didn't feel the familiar lump beneath denim, "Oh my god. Where's my phone?"

"It's fine. I'll call him-" Stiles said quickly.

She took a shaky breath and nodded as they came to a stop at the edge of the pool, turning to watch Stiles pull out his phone and allowing most of Derek's deadweight to shift to her as the other boy clumsily unlocked the device in his hands.

Stiles suddenly fumbled to keep a hold of his cell phone, throwing himself forward in an attempt to catch it as it slipped through his fingers and down toward the tiled ground. When he leaned forward to save his phone, he bumped Derek's limp body, and the soft nudge was all that it took to send the werewolf's weight crashing into Amber where she was already struggling to support him on her own.

"Stiles!" She screamed as she stumbled backwards and tripped over the lip of tile at the edge of the pool.

She and Derek seemed to fall back through the air in slow motion. She crashed into the pool only a fraction of a second before Derek's body followed, his heavy weight knocking the air from her lungs as he landed on top of her, both of them plunging into the water and beginning to sink down.

Her waterlogged clothes were heavy as she tried to swim and Amber cracked her eyes open underwater, stripping out of her jacket quickly before her gaze caught on Derek. He was still sinking toward the bottom of the pool, unable to move his limbs, and she pumped her arms and legs aggressively as she swam toward him.

She fisted the front of his shirt in her hands as she kicked off the bottom of the pool, pulling him up through the water. Derek's weight was lessened significantly in the water, but by the time they broke through to the surface, she still gasped at the exertion. She managed only a small breath of air before his muscular frame in her arms forced her head back underwater.

There was a loud crash of something plunging into the pool after them and Amber could just make out the dark maroon of Stiles' tracksuit as he swam toward them. She was trying to keep Derek's head above the water, her lungs beginning to burn already and the muscles in her arms trembled as she kicked her legs furiously.

Derek's weight lessened suddenly and she broke through the surface of the water with a sputtering breath, coughing from the unexpected lack of oxygen.

"Where did it go?" She gasped as she caught her breath, looking around the pool through chlorine bleary eyes.

"I dunno," Stiles said quickly, spitting pool water from his mouth, "D'you see it?"

"No."

"No."

"Okay," Stiles said as they splashed around at the center of the pool, "Maybe it took off."

His words were followed by another loud screech, the sound echoing off of the stone walls in a way that made it nearly impossible to determine which direction the shriek had originated from.

"Maybe not." Amber muttered, spitting a bit of water from between her own lips when her mouth sunk down into the pool.

Following the shrill scream from the creature, the school was thrust into silence, aside from the quiet splashing of water, and the heavy breaths that fell from Stiles and Amber's mouths as they swam in place. Fifteen painfully long minutes passed before Amber eventually broke the silence again.

"D-Did you call Scott?" She asked, shaking her head to flick wet hair out of her face as she moved one arm around Derek's back to brush her fingers against the wet fabric of Stiles' shirt.

"Well, y'see, I was about to when I looked over and noticed you were practically drowning-" Stiles snapped, pulling Derek's arm tighter around his shoulders.

Amber bristled at his tone, "Oh, I'm sorry I was having a little trouble swimming while carrying over two hundred pounds of pure muscle. You're the one who knocked us into the stupid pool in the first place-"

"It was an accident!" Stiles defended.

"Will you two save the lover's spat for later and focus on getting me out of here before I drown?" Derek asked blankly.

"Oh, now the werewolf is worried about drowning?" Stiles questioned in disbelief, "Did you notice the thing out there with multiple rows of razor sharp teeth?"

"Did you notice I'm paralyzed from the neck down in eight feet of water?" Derek bit back immediately.

"God, can we all just stop fighting?" Amber pleaded, mouth dipping beneath the surface of the water for a moment when the motions of her legs slowed involuntarily.

"Okay," Stiles agreed, breathing heavy as he looked around them again, "I don't see it, so let's-"

"Okay, yeah." She agreed easily.

They began to swim slowly toward the side of the pool, only a few feet from the edge when Derek began to shout in panic.

"Wait, wait, wait! Stop!" He yelled, taking a deep breath when they slowed and began to swim in place again, "Stop."

"What?" Amber questioned, rubbing her face against the werewolf's shoulder in an attempt to push back the wet hair that clung to her face and blocked her eyes.

When her vision was unimpeded, the creature had re-appeared at the edge of the pool, crawling along the tiles on all fours and hissing at them lowly, craning and tilting its head side to side as it seemingly studied them.

"What's it waiting for?" Stiles asked worriedly.

"I- I don't know." Amber responded weakly, eying the creature as it paced around them.

Yellow eyes followed them as the creature crawled around the perimeter of the pool, circling for a couple of unbearably slow laps and watching them curiously as they swam. Stiles and Amber spun in time with its movements to keep the creature from their unguarded backs while it slowly circled the body of water.

After the creature had completed its third lap around the pool, it stepped closer with another low hiss. It leaned over the water's edge and dipped a scaly, clawed hand into the water before immediately pulling back with a louder, panicked hiss. It backed away from the pool's edge in a rush to watch begin watching them from afar once again.

"Wait, did you guys see that?" Amber asked, turning her head and trying to look over at the boys beside her.

"Saw it," Stiles confirmed, "I- I don't think it can swim."

"So great, that- That means we're safe as long as we're in here?" Amber questioned in annoyance, "We've been at it for like an hour already, I-"

"I don't think I can do this much longer." Stiles agreed through heavy breaths.

"So- So what do we do?" She asked.

Seemingly every muscle in her body was exhausted — overworked. Her stomach was cramping painfully, her legs burned from the constant kicking to keep them afloat, her arms ached and trembled as she alternated between aiding her swimming and holding Derek up higher in the water.

Stiles didn't respond to her question but his eyes did seem to catch on something near where they'd tumbled into the pool in the first place, his gaze locked on the opposite side of the pool from where the creature had dipped a clawed hand into the water.

"Stiles, what-"

"No." Derek interrupted her, aiming his words at the other boy, "No, don't even think about it."

"Wh-" Stiles spluttered in disbelief, "Would you trust me just this once?"

"Trust you on what?" Amber asked in confusion.

"No." Derek said, ignoring her.

"Look, I'm helping keep you alive, right now," Stiles snarked, "Did you notice that?"

"Yeah, I did," Derek snapped, "And Amber can't hold me up alone."

"I- I can try." She interjected weakly.

"When the paralysis wears off, who's gonna be able to fight that thing? You guys, or me?" Derek asked without expecting an answer and Amber hated to admit that he had a point.

"What, that's the only reason we've been holding you up for the last hour and a half?" Stiles questioned incredulously.

Amber squinted toward where they'd been looking when the argument had begun and spotted Stiles' cell phone, abandoned and laying oh-so temptingly right at the pool's edge.

"Stiles. You don't trust me. I don't trust you. But you need me to survive, so you are not letting me go." Derek snapped.

Stiles ignored him in favor of peering back at Amber over his shoulder with a nervous, unsure frown.

While their paralysis at the auto shop had worn off quickly, it hadn't been injected straight into their bloodstream the way it had when the creature had swiped at Derek and Erica. There was no way for them to know just how long the neurotoxin would last this time around. It could be hours.

Her heart pounded anxiously, but knowing that calling Scott was currently their only real option, she gave Stiles a small nod of approval. He dropped Derek's arm from around his shoulder without a word and it hardly took a second for the werewolf to catch on to what was happening.

"Stiles!" He yelled angrily as the boy swam away.

Derek had, unfortunately, been right.

The loss of another person sharing his weight sent the two of them back underwater nearly instantly. She repositioned herself behind him as he sank and slipped her sore arms beneath his armpits to lock around his chest, kicking her legs painfully hard in order to bring them back above the surface of the water.

They broke through and both managed to pull in a single deep breath before Amber plunged back under again, leaning back and keeping Derek's body above her own as she pumped her legs aggressively. Her head bobbed above and below the surface, only able to manage quick intakes of air, listening to the sounds of Stiles splashing through the water as he swam to his phone.

"He hung up on me!" He shouted angrily after a long minute.

"Try-" She choked out, spitting water from her mouth with a hacking cough, "Again-"

She could only assume that he was following her order, because once she'd gotten the words out, she was no longer able to kick her legs with the force needed to keep her head above the water. She was trying desperately to keep Derek at the surface, but after only a few moments, she realized that the both of them were just a few feet from the pool floor. At some point, they'd sunk deeper and deeper without her tired body even realizing it.

Her lungs burned as she fought to continue holding her breath and when her feet touched down at the bottom of the pool, she locked her arms lower around Derek's waist and kicked off once again, her mind focused solely on making sure Derek didn't drown, because he was right. He was the only one who even stood a chance at fighting the creature once his paralysis eventually wore off.

She heard the soft sound of Derek's head breaching the surface and the gasping breath that followed, the noise muffled through the water.

Her brain was growing fuzzy from lack of oxygen, head feeling as if it might explode, lungs burning with the desperate need to take a breath. She had a fleeting thought of letting Derek go — just for a moment — so that she could get some air, but before she could make the choice, the movements of her limbs began to slow without her permission, her head filled with cotton as her vision spotted.

There was another muffled yell as Derek's head sank underneath the water once again, Amber's grip falling slack and her arms slipping from his waist unconsciously as her lips fell open, the soft sounds of splashing water filling her ears as her eyes finally slipped closed to welcome the vast darkness that speckled the corners of her vision.

It felt like no time at all had passed before she was coughing painfully, chest aching with the action, water spilling past her lips through choking gasps as she finally pulled air into her lungs.

"Jesus, I'm sorry." Stiles murmured against her ear, arms firmly wrapped around her as he held her back to his chest.

"Derek." She coughed, tipping her head back onto Stiles' shoulder, not catching the anxious look he shot her when he caught sight of her lips — a startling shade of blue tinting their color.

"I'm.." He sighed and shook his head, "Take a deep breath, okay? I'll go get Derek. Just- Take a deep breath and I'll be right back." He promised.

Her breathing was shaky, but she sucked in as much air as she could before the arms around her ribcage were gone and she slipped back underneath the water. It took a few slow seconds before she realized that she needed to swim, and weakly began to kick her legs again. She broke back through the surface of the water, pumping her tired arms and legs as she spun in place in search of Derek and Stiles.

There was a loud splash behind her as they broke through the water again and relief flooded her when she watched Derek pull a deep breath of air into his lungs. She swam toward them immediately and retook her previous spot under Derek's arm.

"Never. Again." Derek spoke sharply. He didn't specify which one of them he was talking to, but it seemed to be pretty accurately directed at them both, so neither questioned it.

A hand reached up to clumsily pat over Amber's wet hair and she peeked over to find Stiles frowning at her.

"Are you okay?" He asked worriedly.

"'m fine." She mumbled, voice hoarse in her throat, the passage aching from the coughing combined with the lingering sting from the chlorine of the pool. They kicked to stay afloat for another painful stretch of time before she had a sudden thought, "I.. I should've swam over to get your phone to call Scott," She stated in frustration, "You're stronger than I am-"

"Unbelievable," Stiles interrupted, looking between her and Derek, "I- Not one of us thought of that?"

"Stupid." Derek mumbled vaguely.

"So stupid." She panted, exhaustion settling into her limbs again, "I- I don't know if I can keep- We need to figure something else out."

Stiles' head whipped around until he seemed to get an idea, "C'mon," He prompted, tipping his head back in a gesture to swim in that direction.

Amber followed his direction and leaned back, beginning to kick her legs as they moved toward the diving boards.

"If we can hold on for a few minutes to give our legs a break-" Stiles explained as they swam.

"Yeah," She agreed weakly, actively fighting to keep her head above the water.

She watched Stiles take in labored breaths, her eyes drawn to the tenseness of his shaking muscles beneath his shirt. Since he'd dragged Derek back to the surface, he'd been holding up a majority of the werewolf's weight by himself, trying to lessen the amount of effort Amber was forced to put in as she visibly fought to simply keep herself afloat.

She'd noticed this, however, and she heaved in a shaky breath as they finally got to the edge of the pool, "Not sure if I can even reach, but your arms are longer. You should grab on first." She told Stiles, adjusting herself beneath Derek's arm to give the boy enough room to reach up toward the diving platform.

Stiles looked like he wanted to fight her on it for only a second before he was reaching a shaking arm up, his fingers catching on the metal rung while Derek's weight pushed her head underwater yet again.

Somehow, she hadn't quite been expecting it when her mouth plunged beneath the surface of the pool, taking in yet another infuriating gulp of chlorinated water. Her chest burned at the sudden invasion in her body and she coughed on reflex, gasping and inhaling underwater, choking harder as Derek's weight suddenly vanished from her arms.

She reached her arms above her head as she swam back up, a pair of hands wrapping around her wrists in a tight grip and yanking her from the pool entirely, tossing her to the tiled floor at the edge of the water. She immediately rolled onto her side to cough again, a truly disturbing amount of water coming back up her throat and spilling past her lips onto the ground as she gagged and heaved.

She could just make out the sound of Scott growling loudly over the noises spilling from her own mouth as she began to push up onto her hands and knees.

A dark blur rushed past her to tackle Scott from his perch on the diving board and she watched the two roll away at the side of the pool. The scaly creature and Scott crouched in front of one another, each sizing the other up, and they both let out loud angry snarls as they geared up for a fight.

Amber crawled the few feet of distance between herself and where Stiles and Derek had been tossed from the pool. She reached them and took hold of Stiles' sleeve just as the sound of shattering glass rang out. Her wide eyes went up to find Scott laying in a pile of shards from the large mirror that he must have collided with.

Stiles was already sitting up beside her and he pulled her underneath his arm protectively as he shuffled them back a few feet. Her eyes went to at Derek as they backed away, relieved to find his arms twitching minutely as they began to regain feeling.

Scott scrambled up into a crouch, clutching a large shard of the broken glass in his hand as a makeshift weapon while the creature began to move toward him again. Amber's heart thumped wildly in her chest as she watched her best friend ready himself to fight the creature, and she couldn't help but grip Stiles' arm in a tight fist.

The creature hesitated just as it closed the final distance separating it from Scott, examining the shard of glass in his hand curiously. It tipped its head to the side as it peered at the reflection the mirror was casting, staring at itself for a few slow seconds.

Scott's wolfy eyes met with those of his friends over the creature's shoulder and he looked at them in confusion, silently asking if they were seeing the same thing that he was.

The creature let out another sudden screech before it took off, scaling the wall in a quick horror-movie style crawl until it reached the ceiling and finally jumped straight through the skylight, shattering the window as it disappeared into the night.

Scott let the shard of glass in his fist fall to the tiled floor with a clink that seemed jarringly loud in the sudden silence, dropping his head as he breathed out in relief.

"Holy shit." Amber whispered.

Her fingers tightened around Stiles' arm and it was then that she noticed her whole body was trembling. She rose to her knees in a rush and turned beneath his arm, bringing a hand up to his jaw and using the other to wipe away a few drops of water that were beading down his forehead from his hairline.

"You okay?" He asked her quietly, free hand dropping to squeeze over the wet denim covering her thigh as his eyes were drawn to the blue hue lingering beneath her trembling lips.

"Yeah. Yeah I'm okay," She promised, heart finally slowing slightly in her chest, "Are you okay?"

He opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Derek's voice behind them.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Thanks for your concern." He snapped quietly, pushing himself up with a quiet groan as he got back control of his limbs.

"I found the book." Scott announced, his face once again looking like his sweet, normal, human self as he approached to help his friends to their feet.

"Yeah, you sure as hell better have," Stiles snapped quietly, brushing away nonexistent dirt and debris from Amber's dripping body as they stood, "We almost drowned because of your inability to answer the phone."

"Where is it?" Amber asked Scott, attempting to comfort Stiles silently by taking his hand in hers. Scott held up a familiar keychain and she frowned in confusion, "It was in Argent's office?" She asked in confusion.

Scott shook his head, readjusting the keys to hold up the small USB drive hooked onto the loop.

"No shit," Stiles muttered in realization, staring at the device in annoyed disbelief, "The old man has a twenty-first century bestiary?"

"Did not see that coming." Amber agreed, rolling up onto the balls of her feet after a moment, "We gonna go plug that baby in and see what's on it?" She questioned excitedly.

"Definitely." Scott told her, moving around them to head back out of the school.

Amber hesitated, the action pulling on Stiles' arm as he moved to follow Scott. She turned to look at Derek one more time, "Seriously, though. You gonna be okay?" She asked softly.

He nodded, stretching his arms and shaking out his hands, "Gonna help Erica."

Amber and Stiles both looked over to where the blonde was still laying on the ground at the other end of the pool, her fingers only just beginning to twitch with regained feeling.

With a nod, Amber allowed Stiles to lead her outside after Scott, the three crowding around the hood of her car, laptop open as Scott flicked through the folder they'd pulled from the USB drive.

It appeared to be scans of what had originally been a hard copy of a book, each page filled with old calligraphy and drawings. Every scan they clicked through was completely unreadable, pages upon pages of information written using an alphabet that didn't remotely resemble the Roman one — Paragraphs of an ancient language that they couldn't even begin to determine the origin of.

"Is that even a language?" Stiles finally asked in frustration as Scott continued to click through the pages.

"I- I dunno," Amber muttered, squinting at the bright screen, "I mean, it's gotta be, right?"

Scott sighed, clicking at the trackpad more aggressively now, "How are we supposed to figure out what this thing is?"

"It's called a Kanima." Derek supplied suddenly, walking down the path to the parking lot with Erica at his side.

"You knew the whole time." Stiles accused, huffing quietly as Amber slipped a hand up to grip the back of his neck softly.

"No," Derek glared as he stopped in front of them, "Only when it was confused by its own reflection."

"It.. Doesn't know what it is?" Amber questioned.

Derek nodded, "Or who."

"Well what else do you know?" Stiles asked with a barely suppressed eye roll.

"Just stories.. Rumors." Derek told them vaguely.

"But it's like us?" Scott questioned, looking between himself, Erica, and Derek.

"A shapeshifter, yes. But-" Derek sighed, shaking his head as he searched for the right words, "It's- It's not right. It's like, uh-"

"An abomination?" Stiles supplied.

Derek nodded silently before simply turning and beginning to lead Erica away with a hand on her back.

"Derek!" Scott called, waiting until the two werewolves turned back around before continuing, "We need to work together on this.. Maybe even tell the Argents-"

"You trust them?" Derek asked in disbelief, his eyes flicking over to level Amber with a knowing look.

"Are.. Are you kidding?" She asked incredulously, voice rising, "Derek, nobody trusts anyone. That's kind of the whole problem!" She finally snapped, looking between her best friends and the older werewolf with wild eyes as her irritation peaked, "You don't trust them. They don't trust you.. And then, while we're all dicking around, wasting time arguing about who's on what side, there's something scarier, stronger, and faster than any of you and- And it's actually killing people!" She yelled, "And after all this, we still don't even know anything about it because we can't read the fucking book!"

Stiles and Scott had each dropped a hand onto her shoulders at some point during her rant and they pulled her back from where she'd absentmindedly taken a few small steps forward.

"I know one thing," Derek told her darkly as he began to lead Erica away again, "When I find it, I'm gonna kill it."

[mrs-sharp]

The Eyes of Graphorns

Read part 1-8 here.

Pairing: Aesop Sharp x Adult MC

Tw: mention of blood, injuries

Summary: Sharp and Elaine return to Scarborough to learn more about their past. When they finally arrive there, they do indeed find clues and a part of Elaine's memory returns, until they suddenly have to flee.

Chapter 9 - The Prohecy

"Ready?"

"Ready."

The cry of an eagle echoed as Elaine released two Hippogriffs from her suitcase. Sharp watched as they soared into the sky and eventually circled over the dark terrain. One of them was snow-white.

Actually, Aesop Sharp was anything but ready for what lay ahead. They had apparated to a forest north of York and planned to continue flying from there. It was too dangerous to apparate directly to Scarborough. The risk of landing right into the hands of the Renegades was too high. Besides, the Floo Network was probably still being monitored, and they wanted to avoid unnecessary interrogations by the Ministry. Initially, they had considered covering the last stretch on brooms, but Elaine insisted on bringing the Hippogriffs. A whistle pierced the cool night air.

“Highwing, Silverbeak!" Elaine called out as the creatures landed, ran towards her, and she patted the head of one of the majestic beings. The other Hippogriff gently nudged her face with its beak.

"I brought company," she explained to the creatures, who immediately turned to Sharp as if they understood Elaine. The Potions Master stood frozen in amazement and a bit of unease, unable to utter a word.

"Bow," she now directed him, "maintain eye contact and don't blink."

Sharp remembered that Hippogriffs were extremely proud creatures, and although it was difficult for him to expose himself so vulnerably to these enormous, albeit graceful beings, he followed Elaine's instructions. For a moment, nothing happened, and Sharp looked up at them with tension. He saw Elaine standing beside the Hippogriffs, ready to intervene and protect him. With a practised eye, she observed every movement of the creatures. Finally, both Hippogriffs bowed almost simultaneously, and Elaine's expression relaxed.

"Wonderful, as I expected," she smiled.

Sharp glanced at Elaine from the side. He watched as she whispered something into Silverbeak's ear. Elaine's presence filled him with a confidence that was otherwise foreign to him, especially considering where they were going. For a moment, he forgot everything around and tried to understand what was happening to him. Before he could find an answer, he felt a beak gently nibbling at his sleeve. Silverbeak had come over to him. Sharp cautiously stroked the creature's neck, whereupon it knelt down and lay on the ground.

"Are you really sure you want to accompany me? You could still turn back and..."

They hadn't talked much since they set out, and Elaine had the impression that Sharp was trying to hide something deep inside himself that he didn't want her to see. Sharp shook his head.

"I'm sure. As I said..."

He walked towards her until she had to look up to meet his gaze. At their first meeting, his height and his dark eyes had frightened her. Today, she only felt safety. She hadn't wanted to admit it to herself and had convinced herself that it was only because Sharp had been there for her after the Battle of Hogwarts. But by now, she longed for his presence. She didn't just want to find a cure for him because she owed him. By now, she realized that she could bear his pain much worse than her own. She yearned for every minute of his company, every look he gave her, every word he spoke to her with his warm, rough voice.

"... you are the only one I would return with."

His words made her tremble. Of course, it was impossible for him to feel similarly for her, so Elaine pushed such thoughts as far back in her mind as possible. She knew it was ridiculous. Even though they were colleagues now, she was still his former student. There was no way that someone as intelligent, sincere, and sharp-witted as Aesop Sharp would get involved with an inexperienced, failed Auror. And so it should remain.

For a moment, Elaine thought back to her last trip to Scarborough. Maybe it had been a mistake to bring Sharp along. She knew he disapproved of her putting herself in danger because of him. That was probably also the reason why he was now accompanying her. However, she couldn't bear it if he...

"We have to go, the sun will rise in a few hours," she replied and turned away from Sharp. She couldn't allow herself to get too used to his presence. Sharp was left puzzled. Something inside him seemed to break painfully, and he didn't understand why Elaine was suddenly so dismissive towards him. Maybe it was just the tense situation, he tried to reassure himself.

Sharp had some difficulty bestriding the Hippogriff, even though the creature had knelt down. Elaine considered offering her help, but she knew he was too proud to accept it, and she didn't want to embarrass him. So she turned away and busied herself with stroking Highwing. Sharp was very much like a Hippogriff, Elaine thought. Proud, intimidating, and dangerous, but gentle and caring if one had earned his respect and trust. She chuckled at the thought that he had recently compared her to a Graphorn. The Graphorn and the Hippogriff. What an unequal pair. Once Elaine was sure that Sharp and Silverbeak were ready, she bestrode Highwing and gave the signal to depart.

The flight on the Hippogriff made Sharp forget for a few moments where they were heading. Not only was the view breathtaking. He hadn't ridden a broom in a long time, but the feeling of being carried by such a graceful creature was unparalleled. It was as if he was carried not by a creature, but solely by freedom and magic. Below them stretched moors and forests, while the starry sky above draped them like a cloak in the cold December air.

Just before they reached Scarborough, they cast a Disillusionment Charm on themselves and the Hippogriffs. They slowly descended and landed on the coast near Scarborough Castle, far enough from prying eyes, and then walked the last stretch south to reach the harbour. Over the sea, on the horizon, a bright strip could already be seen. The sea breeze blew cold and refreshing against their faces. Sharp shuddered as he finally realized where they were. He buried his hands deep in his coat pockets as they set off.

As if sensing what was going on inside him, Elaine linked her arm with his without looking at him or stopping. Sharp did not object. It gave him a sense of security to know she was close, and her touch dispelled the cold of the winter wind. To his surprise, they managed to find a common walking rhythm without any effort.

"You don't have to return alone. Take me with you."

At first, he was surprised by her choice of words, but she was right. He had been preoccupied with his own thoughts and past. He had thought so much about what he had lost here that he had forgotten what he was bringing this time and that he had to protect it at all costs. Sharp smiled. Elaine saw it out of the corner of her eye.

"Thank you," Sharp whispered so quietly that Elaine could barely hear it.

It was still so early in the morning that they encountered hardly any people. As they walked down a side street towards the harbour, they noticed a lone woman sitting by the roadside. She had dishevelled, shoulder-length red hair and dirty clothes. For some reason, Elaine felt a connection to her that she couldn't explain. She looked down and pushed the feeling that had gripped her aside, attributing it to the countless afternoons she had spent on the street herself, searching for something to eat. She moved a little closer to Sharp, who noticed her discomfort. As they passed the woman, Elaine's feeling intensified. As if the woman had read her thoughts, she jumped up and grabbed Elaine's arm so suddenly that she couldn't even reach for her wand. Sharp wanted to attack, but when he saw the woman's face, he paused. She looked almost exactly like Elaine, only older. Her eyes seemed to stare into emptiness. With a distorted voice, she began to speak:

"Two fates, connected like twins, will be led back to the place of their damnation by a dark power. Their souls are one, but their paths diverge. Only one can preserve the future of the other, but will not be able to save it. And the dark power will be the answer to what is missing."

The woman let go of Elaine's arm and looked at her as if she had just awakened from a trance. For a moment, there was silence. It was as if Elaine were looking into a mirror. Both women stared at each other in horror until the stranger whispered one word: "Jane?"

Elaine felt something change inside her. The smell of saltwater filled the air. Somewhere, someone had lit a fire, and the scent of freshly ignited firewood wafted through the streets. The morning sun slowly crept over the rooftops of the city, bathing the street in orange-yellow light. The wind came from the east, and everything suddenly felt so familiar to Elaine that it frightened her. Sharp immediately noticed that something was wrong.

"Professor Hopkins? Elaine?" he tried to speak to her, but she seemed not to hear him. Her gaze stared into nowhere, and her face had lost all colour. She was breathing rapidly. The smell, the light, she had seen all this before, and suddenly she started running, running until she reached the harbour. The memory came suddenly:

Fire. Everywhere, fire. Where is her father? He ran into the fire. He said he had to help and she should wait here and not leave, but he hasn't come back, even though he promised. Elaine hears screams and then sees red and green flashes flying across the harbour. Something dark rushes past her, more red flashes, a body hits the ground in front of her, the face full of blood.

"What is the child doing here?" a woman's voice suddenly calls through the darkness. Elaine knows the voice, but she has forgotten her name. Then a second voice, that does not belong to her father:

"What child?"

Feet tramp over wet cobblestones, reflecting the light of the flames. Someone grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her. The two voices buzz through the cold harbour air. The sun has already set.

"What did you see? What did you see?"

"Come on, get her out of here. I'll take care of the Auror,” the women’s voice says.

"But..."

"Just do it. You have to obliviate her and take her far away."

Elaine feels someone grab her under the arms and lift her up.

She wriggles and screams and tries to break free from the grip.

"No, don't, my father said I should wait for him!"

She feels hot tears as if the fire reflected in her eyes is now running down her cheeks.

Aesop Sharp's hand on her shoulder brought Elaine back to the present. She had stopped exactly at the spot where he had been injured back then.

“What's...?" he stammered.

"Here it happened... the fire... my father... he said I should wait," she stuttered, confused. Sharp didn't understand, but he could see she was in no condition to stay here. They needed to leave immediately. Elaine was trembling. Sharp took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders. He was about to put his arm around her to comfort her when she pushed him aside.

"Watch out!"

Sharp stumbled and just barely saw something dark rushing toward them. Elaine already had her wand in hand and cast a protective spell, but the thing was too fast. It looked like a cloud of dark smoke, erratically moving in all directions and constantly changing course. Red flashes erupted within it. Sharp remembered he had seen something like this before: the day his partner was killed. Suddenly, a terrible fear gripped him that this day might repeat itself today. He grabbed his wand and fired curse after curse, determined to make things different this time, but nothing seemed to work. Elaine desperately tried to find a way out, but all she could think of was to press her fingers to her lips and let out a loud whistle.

Everything happened very quickly then. The cloud of dark magic lunged at Sharp, and he felt something knock him off his feet. At first, he thought the dark power had caught him, but when he got back up, he realized he was uninjured. Instead, he saw Elaine on the ground, one hand clutching her wand, the other pressed to her stomach. Before he could figure out where the dark magic was, he heard an eagle's cry and felt himself being lifted by his shoulders. A glance down revealed that Elaine had been rescued by Highwing and that the dark entity wasn't following them.

The Hippogriffs flew back to the woods from where they had set off the previous night and dropped them onto the soft ground. Sharp's shoulders ached. Suddenly, he heard a whimpering sound. At first, he thought one of the Hippogriffs was injured, but then he realized the sound was coming from Elaine, who was lying beside him in the moss. Her wand lay next to her on the ground, and she now had both hands pressed against the left side of her abdomen. She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed rapidly. Sharp crawled over to her and propped himself up on one arm to get a better look. He placed a hand over hers, feeling the sticky, wet blood that quickly cooled in the winter air. He looked into her eyes.

"Let me see," he spoke calmly to avoid alarming her further, gently moving her hands and the fabric of her clothing aside. Underneath was a deep wound, all too familiar to Sharp. It had the shape of a lightning bolt, a mark only dark magic could cause.

"How... bad... is it?" Elaine asked with great effort.

At the sound of her voice, Sharp's world shattered. Everything had happened so fast. Once again, he had failed. Once again, he had been unable to protect what he... He couldn't bear to finish the thought. But now was not the time for self-pity. Instead, he pulled the vial of Elaine's potion from his coat pocket and dripped it onto the wound. At least it stopped the bleeding for a moment.

"It looks much better already," Sharp lied. Elaine was touched by his awkward attempt to lighten the situation, so she pretended to believe him and smiled. Sharp conjured a bandage that wrapped around her hips and immediately turned red.

"That... was... an... Obscurus," Elaine pressed out through clenched teeth. Her voice grew weaker with each word.

"Shh, you should conserve your strength," Sharp advised. He wiped the blood from his hand on his jacket and placed the back of his hand on Elaine's forehead, hoping to soothe her. Her skin felt hot despite the frost still covering the ground. He looked into her eyes, gently stroking her face with his fingers. It was dangerous to disapparate with her in this condition, but he had no other choice. They couldn't stay here.

"I was there... where it... happened." Elaine swallowed and looked Sharp in the eyes.

"I... I’m glad that... you..." were her last words before she lost consciousness.

This way to Chapter 10 - An Uncertain Night

[octopiys]

A little bit of a one-shot I wrote on my ao3, and wanted to share here :)

Ghost and König fight over Soap. One-shot based on acidgrynn's tiktok

(Tw for violence, blood, gunshot wounds, cursing)

(Part 1?)

It was cold and rainy, two of the things Soap hated the most when he went on missions, practically alone. It was the dead of night, and the wind howled outside his hideout where he had hauled up, and waited for the enemy to pass.

To be fair, he was so numb from the elements that he practically hadn't felt the bullet pierce through the meaty part of his upper arm. It was only when he saw the blood mingling with the rainwater at his feet that he started to feel a little lightheaded. His flesh hadn't been as gnarled or mangled as he had thought it would be, as compared to other previous bullet holes, so he typically wasn't one to complain. The only thing that worried him was that he couldn't recall when his injury occured.

To make matters even worse, he had already completed his objective, and was heading out. The exfil truck was half a mile out of town, and one of the hostiles he thought he had killed had a little more fight left in him.

It wasn't a life threatening wound, believe him, he'd had those before, like when he fought that one bastard over in Afghanistan with the wicked looking knife that could've mirrored Ghost's.... He still had the scar on his stomach to prove it.

"Oh shite-" He thought aloud, realizing the extent of his troubles. The one thing that the Lieutenant had said to him as he left base was that he needed to be more careful. It was an order. And Riley hated it when he disobeyed.

It seemed like Price was rubbing off on him more than anyone wanted it to. After all, how were they supposed to keep up his scary guard dog attitude if he actually started caring about the rest of the team?

That was a joke.

A bad one. But still.

They'd come a far way from their first meet, when Ghost had practically cussed him out on the spot, ignored him for days, pretending like he hadn't existed, and would've left him for dead without a second thought. Now, well, sometimes he was still ignored, but Ghost could carry a decent conversation every once in a while! But he acted like he felt sometimes. And he was a beast on the field. Not that- not that Johnny liked to watch, or anything.

He wondered what the Lieutenant would do in this situation.

He damn well wouldn't be hiding in a slowly-flooding alley, waiting for the threat to pass.

The Sergeant sighed heavily, checking the ammo he had left, and going over both options he had laid out for himself.

"Creepin' fuckin' Christ." He grumbled, before ducking beneath a half wall and peeking out into the main part of the road, suddenly wishing he had brought a jacket as the wind whipped around his face. Or at least a hat.

He flexed his arm experimentally, not failing to wince when it did actually hurt like he thought it would. This only caused blood to flow out faster, and he didn't have any bandages on him. Well, fuck.

One way in, one way out.

There was a group of hostiles at the end of the street, guns raised and looking for a fight. They were gonna sniff him out eventually, so he might as well welcome it with an open heart and a blazing barrel.

He dove out into the slick streets, firing round after round at their group.

The one-four-one's favorite rule? If you get attacked, you return it.

Tenfold.

None of them stood a chance by the time Johnny was finished, his weapon steaming in the rain. He was down a grenade, and he had no bullets left in the mag, so he dropped it uselessly out of his gun and reloaded his last one. This would be an emergency use only weapon, he thought to himself as he stuck it back on its clip and pulled out a knife.

He fought tooth and nail against KorTac soldiers and the elements to get to his shitty infil and exfil truck. In one point, he had actually accidentally judo-flipped a soldier before severing the main artery in his neck with the sharp blade of his knife.

The next he ran into was just around the corner, leaving one of his buddies to investigate a sound he thought he had heard. Briefly, Soap wondered if he had ever seen a horror movie. Because even he knew that you don't go anywhere alone, at any point in time. There was a shout as he was spotted, and the Sergeant quickly shot the man in the side as he approached, and shoved. KorTac 1's weapon clattered to the ground with him, and Soap put a bullet through his helmet, before he decided to run the other way.

Exfil was a little over half a mile away, off road in the trees on the outskirts of the town, hidden beneath a camo tarp he had placed over it.

In his truck was where he had left all his medical supplies, with enough stimshots and bandages to last him three days depending on how long the mission took. It wouldn't do much, nothing like a decent doctor would, but he had to manage with what he had brought.

It always starts out as an information run, until you actually get to the information, and it gets a hell of a lot harder to get out, and keep a hold on the flashdrive.

This hadn't been one where he was given an option. He was the best to fit the job as their pet demolitions expert, able to get in and out... in as fun(in his own definition) a way as possible. And Gaz was out with Price, dealing with something in Urzikstan. It had been difficult, that location, since Alex Keller's death, but Farah had needed help, and of course, they would oblige.

By the time he tore off the tarp, and poured himself into the truck, he tied himself a tourniquet using a strap from the seat belt aside him and a screwdriver that had lay forgotten in his utility belt, and drove himself the hours back to base.

On the way home, he had found himself thinking back to the beginning, when both KorTac and SpecGru arose from the ashes that Hassan Zyani's death left behind in his trail of destruction. Each side had a few that jumped ship, including a 6'10 hood-wearing platoon specialist that soon joined them.

Soap always wondered what belonged under the sniper fabric, the same that he did for the Lieutenant whenever his blue-hazel eyes got too close for platonic comfort.

He had already accepted defeat in his half lust for tall, mysterious, masked men that had higher ups on him. It would be an issue at some point, he was sure of it.

Never had he dared to mention this to anyone, though. Why would he? It would only cause problems....

After a few long, long hours of driving, low-on-gas warnings, and self deprecating humor trying to relieve himself of the stress he had created, Soap approached the lights of the front gate.

He only glared at whatever poor kid had been stationed there on the nightshift, waiting for the the gate to open any fucking faster, and he sped through.

It was a miracle he hadn't been followed, or even tracked, he thought to himself as he skidded on the gravel of the parking lot to a stop. He drew enough himself out of the car, leaving all his gear on the bloody passenger seat, approaching the main building. Briefly, he wondered if he would have to clean it, or if the truck was shitty enough that they could scrap it for material. Most of the lights were dimmed in the early morning, and he doubted anyone had expected him back this quickly. Or even in this state.

Johnny stumbled up the steps, noticing how his fingers were numb, a chill settling into his very bones, and he tried to push away the uncomfortable feeling of half-dried half-wet hair that stuck limply to the side of his face.

The first door he cleared without interruption. It was freezing in here, and he really didn't want to add hypothermia into the mix, much less even risk it. The lights were always on in the corridors, so it was just the other rooms that were dark, their occupants inside still sleeping.

Down the hallway, with his good hand planted firmly on the tourniquet, he elbowed open the next door to the common area.

He had been trying to make his way to the hospital wing, taking a shortcut through the larger half of the building when a welcome warmness hit him and spread and suddenly he wanted to wait in the cozy room, just sleep right there, up against the wall.

The fire was going in the stones of the fireplace, and two people had lounged on opposite ends of a chess table, seeming extremely engaged in whatever they were doing. Two large windows on either side of the fireplace showed the hilly landscape that their base had crested upon, and how the sun just began to peek over the horizon. He noticed then that the sky had cleared at some point, sending the freezing rain somewhere else for the time being. The fire had cast shadows across the room, drifting across the hardwood flooring, up the couch, moving as they did.

"Johnny?" Ghost asked with furrowed brows, the rest of his face hidden behind the familiar striped black and grey balaclava that the man dared to call comfort.

"'M back lads." He murmured his greeting as the world spun and he leaned against the thick wooden doorframe for support. He should've just kept going to the medical wing, but God it felt so warm in here and he was so, so cold from the pouring rain that he felt had frozen into shards of ice around him.

He would rather be stuck in here, than waiting outside Price's office to write a report. He fucking hated those. Suggested body cams instead, but then remembered the amount of war crimes the team had probably committed, and they all quickly kicked the idea to the curb soon after that.

König turned from his spot in the chair and gave him a friendly wave, missing how Ghost switched around one or two of the wooden pieces. He still wore his face covering, the faded red paint blending into the black background of the cloth. It had settled loosely, and he could barely see the long strands of strawberry blonde hair beneath it.

"Well done." Ghost complimented, looking back to König's move, further sending warmth into his very core, or maybe it was the blood loss. He didn't seem too entirely focused on Soap at the moment, that was left mostly up to König.

The tallest man's eyes looked him up and down scrutinizingly. "Are you alright, Sergeant?"

The Lieutenant finally looked up at his question, doing half a double take as Soap felt himself slide down his place at the wall. They both were up from their spots in a millisecond, and at his side quicker than that.

"Just got nicked on the way back is all..." Mactavish grumbled, not wanting to be babied right then, but also..... he didn't entirely loathe the feeling. He watched Ghost's hooded eyes rake up and down his appearance, and tried to put aside his enjoyment. He was bleeding out, you know.

But..... there was no way he'd get to medical by himself. Too far away now. If he hadn't stopped, he might've been able to make it on his own.

Yet they fretted over him.

"Need to be more careful." Ghost's low voice rumbled across from him, raising goosebumps up his skin out of reflex and the Lietenant crossed his arms, glaring without any real malice.

"Thanks, Si, I'll try to remember that next time." He said sarcastically, inching his way back up the cool gloss over the wooden support, watching as Ghost rolled his eyes.

Gentle fingers prodded the tourniquet on his arm, and Soap tried to hide the heat that pooled in his stomach at the soft touch, or the wince that jolted his system. For such a large man, König was.... surprisingly tender with his hands. He wondered what else they were good for. "Did you return the favor?"

Johnny half smirked, bathing himself in the feeling of home, yet trying to regain some perception of his own being. "Of course... tenfold."

"I'm proud, Sergeant." König murmured, close to his ear, but loud enough so that the other could hear it too.

Soap's eyes widened slightly as the sudden adrenaline pushed him back onto his feet and taking a step forward before he stumbled, like some dame waiting to be saved. But he was no dame, and he didn't need saving, actually, he was John fuckin' Mactavish and-

"I'll take him to medical." Strong arms pulled him back up and he recognized the familiar rough texture of Riley's skeleton gloves on his bare flesh.

"Oh, don't worry, I can do it." König said, looping his hands around his waist, dipping low.

The Austrian was a fucking tease, that's for sure.

"I said, 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘒ö𝘯𝘪𝘨." Ghost growled, locking eyes with the other hooded man.

He only narrowed his eyes into a stare, sharper and harsher than any dagger he'd ever seen, in response, and if Johnny could guess, he had his teeth bared behind the rumpled fabric. "Do you, 𝘓𝘪𝘦𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘵?"

The words hung in the air like a challenge, for that's precisely what they were.

Soap could've cut the tension with a knife, the exact one that he had left in the passenger seat from his mission. As he glanced between them with a mixture of nervousness and... something a little more than just plain need, realization smacked him in the face.

These two apex soldiers were poised at each other's throats because of 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

Something a little more than need was... definitely an understatement.

And maybe he was mistaken, as the two held him tightly close, dragging him to medical, but Soap could've sworn he saw the sunken desire plunged in the deep pits of their eyes too. The only matter was who would fold first.

Who 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 fold first.

To hell with it, lay him down, he'd willingly bend to whatever either of them commanded.

Johnny may have been half delirious from blood loss, oh that much was true, but he was no idiot. His vision still worked, no matter how it tipped or blurred, or how he was sure he was half conscious by the time the sun fully came up.

Ghost and König had abandoned their verbal quarrel, retreating to a silent battle of scowling across his medical bed as the doctors fixed him up, visibly uncomfortable in the tension that had flooded the room, rolled off the two in waves. But no man was brave enough to interject, dare even ask them to leave the room so they would work it out.

They'd all resolve their.... issues later, and Soap wished he was there for it. Deep down, he knew he would be. He didn't think they would give him a choice.

And fuck me, he thought to himself, wouldn't that be a glorious thing?

[thedocs-in]

Military School Pt.1

Sorry this took so long to get out, a self-indulgent Cecilxreader fic that I started to write took over my life for a couple on months. And then school started.

But I wrote this about two years ago, and I only meant for it to be shared with people on this Cecil server I was in. But, considering its gone now, I figured why not. And Cecil is supposed to be like, 14 or 15 in this.

This is part one of a three part story. The second part should be up possibly by the end of the week. Gotta make some edits to it first.

Plot: Cecil gets into a fight that nearly gets him expelled from high school, and almost gets sent to military school.

Link to Pt.2

TW: blood, injuries, and mentions of violence and sexual harassment (very briefly on that second one)

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Sitting there in an uncomfortable chair, Cecil leaned forward. His elbows resting on his knees and a bloody rag pressed against his nose. Though, given the fact that his shirt was already covered in his own blood, the rag was pretty much useless. Craning his neck, he looked at the senior who sat across from him. The senior he’s labeled ‘Jackass’ looked like shit, his shirt stained with blood. The skin around his nose and one of his eyes starting to turn purple.

The senior pressed a bloodied rag into his face, as his lip had been busted and his nose broken. Two of the seniors’ fingers were in a makeshift splint; and while he had heard something pop, he wasn’t sure if they were broken or just dislocated.

But it didn’t matter; he was still screwed regardless. Up until this point he had gotten away with getting into fights with assholes or bullies. Middle school kids were too embarrassed that they got their ass kicked. Sure, there were times when someone would snitch, and he’d get in trouble. But most of the time he’d get a warning or detention, considering the other kids never got hurt enough to warrant suspension, or worse, expulsion. But high schoolers were different, you fight back, hurt their ego, and they’ll find a way to make your life miserable; especially if they had been on top of the food chain.

But here he was, sitting outside the principal’s office contemplating everything that went wrong, how he let his temper get the better of him.

Craning his head up, he got a better look at the ‘jackass’ sitting across from him. And he was met with a glare that could melt steel. Lowering the rag, he checked his nose; thankful that the bleeding finally stopped.

He returned the dirty look to the senior, scrunching his nose in the process. Which only sent a wave of pain through his face, and he was convinced that it was broken. It wasn't the first time it's been broken, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. But knowing his dad, a trip to the emergency room wasn’t likely, as his dad would rather just set it at home.

Looking at the floor, he stared at the ugly linoleum. He could see a few stray droplets of blood on the ugly brown linoleum, that was probably outdated when it was put down. And he wondered who had the bright idea to choose brown of all colors.

But his thoughts were interrupted when he heard a shouting match break out behind him. The door to his right muffled the voices, but he quickly straightened up when he heard his dad shouting.

The ‘Jackass’ spoke up, “Sounds like you’re in trouble you little shit.”

He looked at the senior and could see that he had a shit eating grin on his face. But he watched as the smug look turned to regret as blood started to run down his chin, and he moved the rag from his nose to his lip.

“I wouldn’t have kicked your sorry ass if you had just left my friend alone.” He spat back.

He leaned back in the chair and looked up to the stained ceiling, attempting to make sense of what was being said. All he could tell was that it didn’t sound good for him. Occasionally he could make out his dad insulting whoever else was in there.

The shouting quickly died down, and he heard a third voice talking, then footsteps.

On his right, a door quickly opened, and he turned his head to look. Standing in the doorway was short and portly man who looked both terrified and exhausted.

He sighs, “Both of you in my office, now!”

Forcing himself up from the chair, he reluctantly walked through the doorway. Quickly spotting his dad standing across from the ‘jackasses’ father.

His dad quickly looked at him, and ice filled his veins. He could see that his dad was not happy. Catching his eye for a moment, he quickly looked elsewhere as he walked into the office. While he was never scared of his father, for once he was nervous. The fact that this fight had gotten so out of hand made things look worse for him.

As soon as he was within grabbing distance, his dad pulled him close. Quietly seething at him through his teeth, “You are in so much trouble!”

What little color there was in his face left as he rarely saw his dad this angry.

The portly man walks around the room and sits down behind his desk. On top sat a little placard, ‘Principal Owens’.

With a sigh, the principal sat down. “Mr. Stedman, I’m afraid we have a serious situation on our hands here. I don’t take kindly to violence occurring on school grounds, especially when it leads to serious injury. And to be completely honest Mr. Stedman, this isn’t looking good for your son.”

He felt his chest tighten. And while he wanted to defend himself, he bit his tongue right as the ‘jackasses’ father started to yell.

“I want that little bastard expelled and arrested! Look at what he did to my son!” The man spat, gesturing to his son’s injuries.

Principal Owens cuts in with exasperation, “Mr. Lawson please, before any decision is made, I want Mr. Stedmans’ to explain himself.”

Now with everyone’s attention turned towards him, his mouth suddenly went dry, and he had no idea how to explain himself. Where to even begin, and if they would even believe him. Considering it was his word against ‘jackasses’ and his cronies. He had a few friends that could certainly vouch for him, but he didn’t want them involved in this mess.

He could feel his dad’s grip on his shoulder tighten, and in that moment, he was almost too terrified to even look towards his father. Taking a deep breath, knowing that even if he told the truth, he could still be screwed. “He’s been harassing my friend for days. And when I went to talk to him, to tell him to leave her alone, he took a swing at me. I didn’t start the fi-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Mr. Lawson lost his grip on his son for a moment as the senior attempted to lunge at him, calling him a liar. Thankfully, his dad quickly put himself in between the two teenagers, and Mr. Lawson pulled his son back.

Principal Owens stood up quickly and slammed his hands onto his desk, “That’s enough! I will not have any more fighting! Especially in my office.” Looking over to Mr. Lawson he said, “Control your son!”

He watched as the ‘jackass’ huffed in anger.

As soon as things started to calm down for a moment the principal looked at him, “Cecil, what do you mean he’s been harassing your friend?”

Breathing a sigh of relief, he began to explain things. “All of this started two weeks ago, when he started to harass my friend. He kept making all sorts of sexual comments towards her, or him and his friends kept harassing her after school. I went to go talk to him, to tell him to knock it off. But all he did was attack me. I didn’t go looking for a fight, but no one else was telling him to stop.”

As the words left his mouth, he could feel the tension growing in the room. But he noticed his dad’s grip loosen a bit.

The principal narrowed his eyes at him, as he leaned back into his chair. “And why didn’t you think to report this to the office? And why hasn’t she come forward?”

What anxiety he felt, was quickly replaced with anger, “I tried, and no one did anything! She tried, but no one would take her seriously. If you really don’t believe me, ask her. Ask the teacher that caught the ‘jackass’ messing with her yesterday.”

He still couldn’t remember his name, though at this point it wasn’t worth trying.

“Young man, I will not tolerate that language in my office or my school.” Owens said. “Which teacher are you talking about?”

He wracked his brain trying to remember who had caught the older student, but his memory was failing him. “I don’t know, I think it might’ve been the P.E. teacher. I wasn’t there, she just told me about all of this, this morning. She said it’s been happening after school for the past two weeks. She said that the teacher saw and stopped it but didn’t do anything else.”

Principal Owens sighed and rubbed his face. And for what felt like minutes, everyone was silent.

His dad cleared his throat, “Principal Owens, I’d like to know what you plan on doing? I agree that what my son did was wrong, but if what he’s saying is true, I hope ‘jacka-’, Mr. Lawson’s son is punished as well.”

Biting his tongue, he had to stop himself from laughing at his dad’s slip-up. Over the past couple of years, many of his teachers had complained about his colorful language. Resulting in a lot of parent teacher conferences, where they quickly learned where he got it from.

But before Principal Owens could respond Mr. Lawson interjected, “Are you kidding me? My son is the victim here, I want the little menace arrested.”

He felt his heart stop for a moment and his dad’s grip tighten again.

“Now hold on.” Principal Owens says. “Before the police get involved, I want to make sure that everyone is telling the truth.”

Mr. Lawson’s face was turning red, “I know for a fact that this isn’t the first time that little bastard has done something like this. Everyone knows he’s done this before.”

“Sir please calm down; I know all too well about Cecil’s previous incidents. I’ve seen his records, but his past incidents have never been like this. And I don’t think the police need to be involved yet.”

He internally breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that the cops wouldn’t be involved just yet.

Lawson opens his mouth to start again, but Owens stops him, “I think the best course of action, for now, would be suspension for both. I want to see if what Cecil say’s is true. If it ends up being a lie then your son can return to school immediately, if not, then he’ll have to serve out his suspension. And he will be put on academic probation when he returns.”

‘Jackass’ begins to whine, “What?! You can’t do that? I’m needed on the team. I need this to get into college.”

The older Stedman cuts in, “Kid, if you have to rely on to being a football player to get yourself into college, you probably shouldn’t be going. Besides if my son is lying then you have nothing to worry about.”

Both Lawson’s looked at his father, moving their anger from Principal Owens to the older Stedman.

Before either Lawson could say anything, Owens speaks. “Now Mr. Stedman, I cannot let Cecil off with just a warning, he did injure another student. If he’s telling the truth, he’ll have to serve out his suspension, and a few weeks of detention when he comes back. But if your son is lying, I will be forced to expel him.”

His father, now much more levelheaded, spoke. “I understand.”

“Now please, go home. I have an incident report to fill out.”

As he and his dad walked out of the principal’s office, his father spoke to him quietly, “We’ll talk about this when we get home.”

He nodded his head, “Yes sir.”