#HOPE THAT NO ONE GOT AN AXE AND IS READY TO KILL

[salemripley]

Ohhhh boy me and my husband!! Hope nothing bad happens!!

[rainybubbles]

How do you meet COD Men ? - AU civilian

Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price, König, Rudy, Alex, Nikolai

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written, mid or if they're OOC)

SOAP as a firefighter : 

-"911, how can I assist you today?"

-"I think there's been a break-in at my place!"

-"Could you describe the intruder, ma'am?"

-"It's... a turkey."

-"A turkey?"

-"Yeah, one of those gobbling birds! My neighbors use a live one for their Thanksgiving, and it somehow busted loose. It barged into my place through the door, gave me a real fright. I dashed into my bathroom, but it went all 'Rambo' on my door, and now it's busted. My handle is broken, I'm stuck in here!"

-"Don't worry, help is on the way."

-And that's when you met Soap. There he was, showing up at your doorstep in full firefighter gear.

-"Hey there ?" he greeted, axe in hand, ready to face off against the rogue turkey.

-You weren’t kidding, he thought.

-He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the havoc that bird had wreaked in your place.

-Your poor sofa was toast, and your table was in pieces. Slowly, he made his way to the damaged door.

-"Hey there, Ah’m a firefighter. I’m here tae break down the door. Please step back."

-"Oh thanks ! I was starting to think I'd be spending the night bawling in my bathtub."

-He chuckled.

-"Wouldnae want a lovely person like yerself spendin’ Thanksgiving solo."

-"Thanks," you replied.

-"I'll get started," Soap said as he began dismantling the door.

-"Here, it looks like the turkey's gone," he reported.

-But when he turned to you, he noticed something amiss.

- Normally, people were relieved to see him, not scared out of their wits.

-His gaze shifted back, and that's when he saw it—the monstrous turkey, ready to pounce.

-Without a second thought, he scooped you up, effortlessly carrying you despite whatever size or weight you were, and bolted past the bird.

-"Why's that thing so fast?" he exclaimed.

-"They're practically dinosaurs, I swear!" you cried from the safety of his arms.

-You both made it to the street. Soap dialed up a wildlife specialist to handle the feathery menace.

-"Ah’l swearin’ off turkey forever," he vowed.

-"I think finding a new place to live might be a good idea," you whispered, still trying to calm your nerves.

-"Aye, yer neighbors are some real characters for pullin’ a stunt like this."

-"Thanks again for this. I mean, I'm sure you've got more pressing cases."

-"No’ really. Usually, it's just family squabbles. Last time, Ah had a grandma tryin’ tae kill her son wi’ mashed potatoes," he joked.

-"Grandma can get wild," you chuckled.

-"Ye have no idea. Name's John, by the way. Sorry for forgettin’ ma manners."

-"Hey, a wild turkey trying to take me out can do that to a person," you quipped. "I'm Y/n," you added.

-He grinned.

-“I owe you big time, Soap," you said, finally stepping out of the bathroom. "Guess this Thanksgiving, I'll be giving thanks for firefighters and sturdy bathtubs."

-Soap gave you a reassuring smile. "Hey, it's all in a day's work. Plus, -it's not every day I get to play hero to a person in distress... from a turkey."

-After the turkey trouble was sorted, Soap bid his farewell. Little did he know, two days later, your new neighbor would be attempting to cook aluminum in his microwave. Maybe this time he'd find a moment to ask for your number.

-------

GHOST as a chef : 

-The poor waitress had asked you twice if you wanted to order by the time your date arrived. But it was painfully obvious. 

-You had been stood up.

 -You tried to ignore the looks, the sensation of your clothes feeling too tight, too constricting. You felt like a clown.

-Staring at your phone, you sent messages, hoping for excuses like traffic or an important matter.

-Maybe he had a flat tire, or perhaps his boss demanded he stay late. Yet, two hours later, you were still there, feeling like a fool.

-That's when the message came: "Oh, I was just joking, you're not my type, you know."

-Tears welled in your eyes as you felt the humiliation wash over you.

-How could someone flirt for two months just as a joke? He messaged you every night; how were you supposed to know it was all a farce?

-Biting your lip, you stood up.

-At this hour, you hoped there were still buses running.

-You couldn't afford an Uber. Yet, as you gathered your things, the waitress approached.

-"Excuse me, but your food will arrive."

-"I... I'm sorry, but I can't... I can't afford anything here, and my date stood me up. He was supposed to pay, and..." you rambled, feeling ashamed, but she led you back to your seat.

-You felt even more ashamed. This place was so luxurious.

-"I really can't afford it, madam," you whispered.

-"It's on the house. The chef offered it," she said gently.

-"Oh."

-You didn't know if you felt grateful or not. It felt like pity, but food from a Michelin-starred restaurant was still a luxury, so you ate. It was unbelievably good. You felt so thankful to the chef.

-"I... could I thank him?" you asked after finishing your dinner.

-"He doesn't speak to clients. That's why he opened his own restaurant — so he could remain unseen by his patrons and not be obligated to accept their thanks, As he says “I Ghost clients”" the waitress explained.

-"I see. His dishes are so precise, it's impressive."

-"Yeah, he's good with a knife."

-"Well, thanks again for offering me this. It was a crappy night, but at least I ended up in heaven," you said.

-She smiled, and you left.

-But you felt indebted to him. Dishes like that cost a lot.

- Even if you didn't doubt he could afford it, you felt like you had to do something in return.

-So the next night, you baked cookies.

-You felt ridiculous with your small Tupperware and homemade cookies.

-They'd probably taste awful to him, you thought, but you wanted to repay him.

-"Hi, I... wanted to give this to Ghost? He offered me dishes last time, and I wanted to thank him. I understand if you say no. I mean, it could have poison in it, but..." you rambled to the waiter.

-"No need, we'll take it," the waiter with a mohawk said with a smile.

-You felt like he knew something you didn't. As you were about to leave, a tall, blond man walked over, holding a cookie.

-"Thanks," he said with a gruff voice behind his mask.

-Shit. Ghost was... this man?

-This mountain of muscles made those beautiful dishes? Those meticulous details came from his hands? You were impressed.

-"Do you like it?" you asked, unsure.

-"Best cookies I've tasted."

-"I know you're lying."

-"Second," he admitted. "My ma's were better."

-You chuckled.

-"I can give you the recipe. I mean, you really saved me last night. It was so... humiliating."

-"It's not. The only one who should feel ashamed is the bloke who stood you up, love."

-"You're right, but still."

-"Come back again, Friday. With the recipe."

-"I can send it by email."

-"I want you to taste a new dish."

-"Oh."

-"Having someone honest is nice. It's a change from all the compliments."

-"Okay," you agreed.

-Little did you know, Simon would always find new dishes to make you come back.

-Of course, he could ask his sous-chefs or waiters to taste, but seeing your smile or frown after a taste was so much better.

-(I need a long fic about Simon being a chef, like this AU has so much potential, plus in kitchen you have “brigade” which could be like 141)

GAZ as a primary school teacher : 

-You were on your usual delivery route, this time dropping off packages at the primary school.

-As you made your way through the corridors, you spotted Gaz, the primary teacher, who greeted you with a smile.

-"I was waiting for you," Gaz said cheerfully.

-"Oh, am I right on time?" you responded, glancing at your phone in confusion.

-"Yes, but the kids are eager," Gaz explained.

-You furrowed your eyebrows. Eager for what? Seeing a delivery person? Or perhaps the contents of your package were something special, like paintings or other intriguing items?

-"I see," you said, still puzzled.

-"Follow me," Gaz instructed, leading you into his classroom before you could protest.

-As you entered, you were met with the curious gaze of twenty pairs of eyes.

-It dawned on you as you glanced at a piece of paper – Gaz had mistaken you for the guest speaker, an athlete scheduled to address the students.

-"Sir, I think there's been a mistake," you whispered to Gaz, but before you could say more, a child wrapped their arms around you.

-"I'm so glad you're here!" the child exclaimed, melting your resolve. How could you shatter their excitement?

-You couldn’t bear to crush their excitement. Besides, it was clear that the athlete wasn’t going to show up; it was already 10 AM, and they were supposed to be there by 8AM according to the schedule on the board.

-And so, you found yourself spinning tales to answer their questions, pretending to be the athlete they expected. 

-“Um, hey there ! Being an athlete is pretty cool, you know” you improvised, trying to sound convincing.

-“How does it feel to do sports all day ?” one curious kid asked

-“Well it’s tough but you know riding horse is fun”

-“I thought you were running”

-“RUNNING ! Of course, horse is just a hobby” you blurted out

-Despite your fibs, the kids beamed with admiration, hanging onto your every word.

-After a couple of hours, Gaz approached you with a knowing smile.

-"You're not the athlete, are you?" he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

-"How did you figure it out?" you replied sheepishly.

-"When you mentioned unicorns helping your coach – that was a dead giveaway," Gaz chuckled. "But I appreciate you playing along."

-"I couldn’t bear to disappoint the kids. Kids' dreams are important," you admitted, feeling a twinge of guilt.

-"Yeah, they are," Gaz agreed. "Thanks for going along with it."

-"It was more fun than my usual deliveries, anyway," you admitted with a grin.

-“Wait, your boss won’t be mad ?! I mean two hours, sorry you must be so late, no ?”he said worried

-“Don’t worry you were my last”

-As you prepared to leave, Gaz introduced himself properly.

-"Thanks against or helping out. And by the way 'm Kyle, but the kids call me Gaz – it's easier for them," he explained.

-"It was nice meeting you, Gaz," you said sincerely, touched by his kindness towards the children.

-As you left the school, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth and contentment. And to your surprise, when you made your next delivery, there was Gaz, offering to lend a hand. 

-"Thought you might need some help this time," he said with a wink.

-Maybe it was repayment for your earlier assistance, or perhaps the kids had teased him about having a crush on you – either way, you were grateful for his company.

PRICE as an uni history teacher :

-It was about 10 PM, and there you were, sprinting in high heels, your wig dangling precariously.

-"Oh, for the love of all that’s good," you muttered under your breath.

-The situation was straightforward, yet utterly absurd.

- You, a university teacher, found yourself at a costume party with a Bridgerton theme.

- After hastily getting ready at your friend’s place, it dawned on you that you had forgotten your house key.

-Sure, crashing at your friend's was an option, but you had a furry friend waiting at home who needed your attention.

-So, off you went, driving back to the only place your keys could be: the teacher's offices at the university.

- Picture this: you, clad in an 18th-century outfit, a fake wig teetering on your head, and a petticoat swishing around, all the while cursing your luck and hoping no students would spot you.

-Finally, you reached the office, finding it deserted. You located your keys and—

-"Quite the accurate ensemble, I must say."

-You froze, turning to find a man with a rather impressive beard. "Um, I can explain?"

-"Are you a student?" he asked.

-"No need to butter me up; I know I don't exactly look like one," you confessed.

-He chuckled. "Sorry, I was just trying to give you an out. You know, student parties and whatnot."

-"Thanks, but yeah, I'm the… new teacher. Guess we haven't crossed paths yet. Been here about a month," you said, extending your hand.

-"Well, isn't this a fortunate coincidence?" he remarked.

-"How so?"

-"I’m John Price," he revealed.

-Your eyes widened. Oh, crap. You just met THE history teacher of the campus dressed as a Bridgerton character. What were the odds?

-He laughed. "Nice to meet my new colleague. Heard quite a bit about your work."

-"Likewise, and… sorry about the attire," you apologized.

-"No need. It suits you. Makes me feel like a proper gentleman seeing someone dressed like that," he said with a grin.

-You chuckled nervously. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Mr. Price."

-Little did you know, your next class for the first year was a shared one with him. Dodging him might not be as simple as you thought.

NIKOLAI as a F1 pilot :

-Your friend's desperate plea over the phone stirred something in you.

-"Alright, I'll come help with the shoot," you conceded, feeling a flutter of excitement mixed with apprehension.

-As you arrived at the location, taking in the serene surroundings, you couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place among the bustling crew.

-Your specialty lay in capturing the untamed beauty of animals—dogs, cats, and the like.

-This commercial setup felt like a far cry from your usual stomping grounds.

-Engaging in conversation with the staff about the artistic direction, you couldn't help but notice the artificiality of the setting, with fake plants and trees surrounding you.

-Nevertheless, you settled in, adjusting lights and preparing for the task at hand.

-"The model is here," an assistant announced, drawing your attention to the center of the room where a man stood, completely naked.

-"Why is he naked?" you whispered in disbelief, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks.

-"It's for the charity event, featuring naked pilots for calendars," the staff explained casually, oblivious to your discomfort.

-Stunned, you turned to your friend, silently questioning her decision to involve you in this unconventional endeavor.

-"I photograph nature and animals, not... naked humans!" you protested, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration.

-"Well, technically, you photograph a big snake," she quipped, a mischievous glint in her eye.

-You rolled your eyes, suppressing a sigh. "Ugh, don't even mention his...thing, please."

-"I don't mind being called an anaconda," the man interjected with a smirk, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made your heart race.

-Caught off guard by his boldness, you shifted uncomfortably, suddenly hyper-aware of his proximity.

- "Sir, I'm sorry, but I wasn't warned about these... circumstances," you stammered, struggling to maintain composure.

-"I understand. If we need to reschedule, no problem, Солнышко ," he reassured, his voice low and soothing, sending shivers down your spine.

-"What did you just say?" you asked, unable to hide the hint of fluster in your tone.

-"Sorry, I meant no problem to reschedule, sunshine," he clarified, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

-"But you're... a star?" you questioned, feeling a mixture of confusion and intrigue.

-"I'm a well-known F1 pilot, yes. But I'm closer to retirement than those young ones. I doubt people would buy the calendar for me," he admitted with a self-deprecating chuckle, his vulnerability tugging at your heartstrings.

-"I'd certainly buy it for you," your friend chimed in, breaking the tension with a playful grin.

-He laughed, his gaze lingering on you with a warmth that made your cheeks flush. "And you?"

-"I... maybe? Okay, we'll do it, but I can't guarantee anything. I'm more accustomed to animals, so..." you trailed off, feeling a rush of adrenaline at the prospect of working closely with him.

-"Let's get started," he suggested, his smile softening the edges of the room and easing your nerves.

-And so, the shoot commenced, with Nikolai proving to be a surprisingly adept model, effortlessly charming everyone with his wit and charisma.

- As you directed him through the poses, you couldn't help but notice the subtle tension between you, a magnetic pull that seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment.

-"Thanks for today. Need a ride?" he offered, his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

-"No, I came in my car," you replied, torn between the desire to stay and the need to escape the overwhelming atmosphere.

-"The red one?" a staff member inquired, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling between you.

-"Yeah, why?" you asked, feeling a knot form in your stomach at the thought of your car.

-"Sorry, mate, your car got impounded," they informed you, their words puncturing the bubble of tension that had enveloped you.

-You sighed, feeling a sense of defeat wash over you. "So, a ride?" Nikolai offered, his gaze softening with concern.

-"Yeah, I guess. What a crappy day," you muttered, cursing your luck.

-"Don't say that, it was great," he insisted, his voice gentle and reassuring.

-You nodded, feeling a rush of gratitude towards him for his unexpected kindness. In his car, as he drove you away from the chaos of the shoot, you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over you, a feeling that was only amplified by his soothing presence.

-"Not what you were expecting, huh?" he remarked, his tone playful yet sincere.

-"Well, I wasn't expecting a race car drive, but yeah," you chuckled, feeling the tension between you slowly dissipating.

-"I drive safely. Sometimes you need low adrenaline," he explained, his words resonating with you in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

-"Thanks again for the ride," you said, turning to him with a smile that felt more genuine than any you had worn all day.

-"No problem. I mean, you've seen me naked, so..." he trailed off, a mischievous glint in his eye.

-"Yeah, sure," you laughed, feeling a warmth spread through you at the playful banter.

-"If you want, you can still come to one of my races," he offered, his gaze lingering on you with a hopefulness that sent a flutter of excitement through your chest.

-"I'll think about it," you replied, unable to suppress the smile that tugged at your lips as you contemplated the possibilities that lay ahead.

ALEX as a lawyer :

-You couldn't believe your eyes.

-A client was after you for a cup of tea—yes, you heard that right, a freaking tea!

-The same tea you accidentally spilled during a chaotic rush, and she tripped you with her feet, claiming you scalded her with hot tea. The kicker?

-You knew it was iced tea.

- But it was your word against hers, and she had a squadron of lawyers ready to pounce, while you were broke. It was pretty clear how this would end.

-You sighed, resorting to searching for lawyers online, but all you found were scams.

-One promised to chase after dead people, another claimed you'd make thousands just by being pretty, and the rest boasted about defending infamous criminals with laughably bad Photoshopped images.

-Feeling desperate, you reluctantly agreed when your mom mentioned your cousin knew someone who knew someone. You certainly didn't expect a model-lawyer showing up at your doorstep with a bright smile and legal expertise.

-"Hi, I'm Alex," he offered his hand.

-"Hi, I guess you know about my... case?" you replied.

-"Yes, there's a high chance of her winning since similar cases have ruled in favor of people like her. Remember the McDonald's hot coffee incident?" he explained.

-"So I'm screwed?" you muttered.

-"Not necessarily. I can prove she's acting out of self-interest."

-"...before you say anything, you know, I can't... afford it?" you interjected.

-"Yes. I... I used to be a prominent lawyer. Perhaps you've heard of the Shepherd case?" he mentioned.

-"The CEO who got off the hook despite everyone knowing he committed tax fraud?" you recalled.

-"Yes, I was his lawyer," he admitted.

-"Oh," you murmured, taken aback.

-"I... I'm not proud of the people I've defended. I didn't realize the harm I was causing to victims. For me, everyone deserved representation, but when I saw what Shepherd did with his ill-gotten gains... I couldn't continue down that path. I signed up to advocate for people. Not evil," he confessed.

-"So you took on lost causes like me?" you mused.

-"You could say that," he smiled.

-"Well, it sounds like Daredevil. Maybe I'll catch you wearing a latex suit at night while fighting crime," you joked.

-"You might be onto something there," he replied, his expression serious.

-"Wait, you're joking?" you asked, but he didn't crack a smile.

-"Mr. Keller, you're joking, right?" you pressed, but he just smirked.

-"Let's focus on your case," he redirected.

-"You can't just dodge my question. I need to know—" 

-"Boxing. I box at night, nothing illegal. I train kids, and I've competed in the past," he confessed.

-"I see. Why do I find that hard to believe?" you teased.

-"I'm a damn good liar. I'm a lawyer," he retorted.

-"Fair point," you chuckled.”well at least I believe in the latex suit at night”

-“Kinky”he joked, you smiled.

-Alex got down to business, helping you devise a strategy.

-Maybe with this super lawyer on your side, you stood a chance. Yet, you couldn't shake the curiosity about his secrets. Who knows what uncovering them might bring?

KÖNIG as a baker :

-König had just opened his bakery.

- Eager to be neighborly, he sent some cookies to the local shops nearby.

- However, when his customers arrived one day, one of them expressed hesitation: "You know, I was hesitant to buy here because I heard you made the florist down the street sick."

-König couldn't believe his ears.

- Ashamed, he double-checked his ingredients, but everything seemed fine.

-So, he decided to switch things up and bake some croissants instead.

-Yet, the next day brought news that the florist had fallen ill due to food poisoning.

-Determined to make amends, König sent something different the following day.

-And the pattern repeated itself. After a week of this, he finally decided to confront the florist.

-Entering their cute shop, he whispered nervously, "Hallo."

-"Hi," you replied.

-"I'm König, the—"

-"The baker," you interrupted.

-He froze.

-Well, he certainly hadn't made a good impression.

-After seven incidents, he couldn't expect a warm reception, but he hoped you’d understand he hadn't done it intentionally. He wasn't a villain.

-"I'm sorry about the pastries," he began, "I swear I don't know what went wrong. Other shops ate them and had no issues. I—"

-"I know you're not trying to poison me," you interjected.

-"Oh, but... then why?" he asked.

-"I thought someone would have told you, maybe Horangi, the chef at the restaurant. But I'm lactose intolerant. I assumed you knew, so I ate your pastries thinking someone had informed you. Then, I realized that wasn't the case. But if I didn't eat your gift, you might have thought I was upset with you, so I still ate them, and—"

-"It was a misunderstanding," König finished their sentence.

-"Two anxious people overthinking things, but yeah," you admitted, laughing.

-"I promise to bake you something lactose-free," he vowed.

-"Thanks, it'll be appreciated. Your pastries were good, just not for my digestive system," you replied.

-He nodded and returned to his bakery, pondering the idea of introducing gluten and lactose-free versions of his pastries. Surely not because of the cute florist who seemed to visit more often now. Nah.

RUDY as a librarian :

-You were a young journalist, eager to dive into investigative reporting, but your editor relegated you to the local sports section since you were the new kid on the block.

- It wasn't exactly your passion, but you made the best of it. Your current assignment: write about Rodolfo Parra, a former boxer.

-Avoiding the internet due to its unreliable nature, especially for local stories, you opted for the library.

- As you searched for information on Parra, a man approached.

-"Need a hand?" he offered.

-You glanced at his badge, confirming his name as Rudy.

-"Yeah, I'm digging up info on the boxer Rodolfo Parra. I heard his early days were at the local club, so I figured the archives might have something," you explained.

-Rudy smiled. "Rodolfo Parra, huh?"

-"Yeah, you know him?"

-"You could say that, but I've heard he's not too keen on journalists."

-"Exactly why I couldn't land an interview," you sighed.

-"But why write about him? He retired two years ago," Rudy questioned.

-"My boss wants it, so here I am," you replied with a hint of resignation.

-"I've got some info, but can I trust you?" Rudy hesitated.

-"Absolutely, I'll respect his privacy. I just want to know his story, his struggles. I've heard rumors about a fixed fight where a coach, El Sinombre, forced him to lose," you shared.

-Rudy's expression darkened. "It was more than that. I'm surprised you know about it."

-"I've delved into El Sinombre's dealings before. I wanted to write for investigative reporting," you confessed. "I found it odd that a sports club had ties to a pharmacy."

-"They developed stimulants to win fights, and more... potent substances," Rudy revealed.

-"So Rodolfo lost to a doped-up opponent?" you concluded.

-"Yeah. Rumor has it, El Sinombre threatened his family if he didn't comply. Rodolfo vowed never to lose, so El Sinombre took matters into his own hands..." Rudy trailed off.

-"And Rodolfo ended up paralyzed," you finished solemnly.

-"Yeah, but with rehab, he's probably walking now. But he can't fight anymore," Rudy confirmed.

-"Having your dreams crushed like that must be devastating. A fighter silenced," you mused.

-"Maybe it was for the best," Rudy countered.

-"You think so?" you questioned.

-"Boxing isn't a lifelong career. Maybe retiring was a blessing," he reasoned.

-"I don't know, having your dreams shattered like that... it must take a toll. Imagine if someone burned down your library," you countered.

-"Well, this library was my backup dream, so I'd just have to find another," he quipped.

-You nodded, then realization dawned. "Your backup dream?"

-"Yeah," Rudy admitted. "Rudy for Rodolfo. Not the smartest move for a future investigative journalist, huh?"

-"Hey! You—yeah, I was naïve, but you could've given me a heads-up," you teased back.

-"Now, tell me about your boss. Things might be more complicated than we thought," Rudy suggested.

-"Do you think El Sinombre is after you?" you pondered.

-"We'll find out," he replied cryptically.

-Maybe your beat would evolve over time...

If you want more : my masterlist

I still need to write Alejandro, Lasswell and Farah, maybe in a next part with other characters :) !

[kisskiss-slashslash]

Can we have where the Slasher's S/O's friend was about to kill the slasher to save the S/O, but turns out that she didn't want him/her to kill him? When the friend asked "why the hell not" or "Why are you defending him" etc. She would say: "Because I love him!" Which was the first time the slashers ever heard her say something like that. (Not sure what would happen to the friend, so it doesn't matter what you decide)

Include: Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger, Bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt, and if possible the Sinclairs; if that's too much, don't worry about the Sinclairs, the others are just fine.

Thank you

There you go! Hope you like it.

The reader stopping their friend from killing the slashers

Jason Voorhees

Normally, being caught alone by Jason would be a death sentence. But from the first moment you two had laid eyes on each other, there had been a spark. Perhaps it was the way you showed no fear to him, you didn't insult or belittle him, the way so many others did. You saw him, recognized him and showed… empathy. Something Jason hasn't experienced since the death of his mother. And you, seeing his hard gaze soften at being showed basic kindness, find yourself making excuses to be alone, just hoping that Jason would seek you out again. Your friend is already starting to get concerned about you isolating yourself, and worse, leaving them alone and vulnerable while the rest of the group is getting picked off one by one. Then there's only the two of you left, and your friend managed to corner Jason, ready to strike with an axe… "STOP!" You quickly maneuver yourself between them and Jason. "Please… stop. No more." "Get out of the way", your friend says, voice strained with rage. You shake your head, tears burning your eyes. "No. Don't hurt him. I-…" You look over your shoulder, meeting Jason's gaze. "I… love him." Jason's eyes widen in the shadows of his mask. "Don't be an idiot!", your friend shouts. "Do you think he will spare you just because you've got a stupid crush on him?!" Your heart is hammering in your chest as you slowly lift your hands in a pacifying gesture. "Please. We can end this here. Put down the axe." Let's out a furious snarl, but tosses the axe aside nonetheless and stomps off. You lower your hands again and take a deep breath to calm yourself, when a huge, rough hand curls itself around one of your hands. You manage a shakey smile, letting your fingers intertwine with his.

Freddy Krueger

If this is what Freddy is usually like, you don't feel like you need to be all that scared of him. In fact, the dreams he sends you into are fun more than anything; but maybe that is just the adrenaline junkie in you speaking. Though at first your lack of fear was met with exasperation by Freddy, now he seems to find it quite endearing, and enjoys coming up with new things to try and scare you. Of course, if you ever break and actually do get scared, things won't look too good for you. But for now, your dreams consist of macabre banter in spooky locations that are oh so fun to explore. You come up with a scoring system of how well Freddy's ideas would work on someone who was less fearless than you. Over the many nights, the banter goes from dark jokes to light flirting to downright dirty talk, and you are enjoying the hell out of it. But then he involves a friend of yours; someone who is much more easily frightened. Freddy is testing you, you know that. Forcing you to make a choice. But when your friend turns out way more resilient than either of you expected, and actually finds a way to harm him… for the first time since Freddy entered your dreams, you feel fear. You are absolutely terrified. They stand over Freddy, who is snarling at them like a trapped animal. You don't know where you got the knife. It just suddenly appeared in your hand. So you approach your friend and hold the blade against their neck. "Step away from my boyfriend", you say in a low, hoarse voice. "Or else." "Boyfriend?", echo both Freddy and your friend. Your gaze flits back and forth between them. No way you would backpedal now. "You heard me." They turn to you, horror mixed with anger warping their face into an almost mask-like grimace. And just as they want to go off on you.. their head pops like an overfilled balloon, covering you in blood, grey matter, bone shards and cerebrospinal fluid. You wipe the mess off your face, thoroughly grossed out. "Whelp. I guess I just blew their mind." Freddy and you look at each other and burst out laughing.

Bubba Sawyer

You have a good understanding of other people's emotions, so you also quickly understand the family dynamics of the Sawyer family; Bubba's position in the family most of all. The one who does most of the dirty work and gets the least amount of credit for it. The youngest brother, the bottom of the Sawyer hierarchy. You feel bad for him; there seems to be a genuinely sweet guy underneath all of the… the murder and cannibalism. And just a few hours ago, he seemed to be genuinely sorry to have to kill you. It reminds you so much of your own family dynamic. So when your friend actually managed to disarm him and turn his own chainsaw against him, you feel the need to step in. "Hold on." "What do you mean, 'hold on'? These guys wanted to eat us!" "And I think he doesn't like that any more than we do." Bubba nervously licks his lips, not sure what to make of your words. But when you reach out your hand, he takes it with only slight hesitation. "He's not a bad person", you say, not once letting your eyes stray from Bubba's. Your friend's hands tighten around the chainsaw. "You talk about this… thing like you have feelings for him." You consider it for a moment before answering:"Well… maybe I do." These four words hang heavily in the air for a moment. "You're crazy", your friend says breathlessly. "Maybe", you reply, and wrench the chainsaw out of their hands, handing it back to Bubba, who still hasn't fully processed your confession. "But who isn't these days."

Thomas Hewitt

You have known Thomas since childhood, though at some point, your family moved away, as so many people did. But even back when you were a child, you always had a crush on him. So after many many years, you decide to take a few friends on a trip to the place you called home during your youth. You get separated from your friends, and run into the Hewitts on your own. At first, they do not recognize you. But then you call every single one of them by name, and they remember that kid that used to hang around Thomas all the time. And Thomas himself? He is thrilled to see you again, beyond thrilled, even. His welcoming hug lingers just a little longer than it would be socially appropriate, and while you catch up with Luda Mae, you hear Hoyt and Monty tease him about you. And then everything goes downhill when your sole surviving friend shows up, armed to the teeth, to "rescue" you. Even though the Hewitts have crossed all lines of morality during your long absence, you feel a deep protective instinct flare up in you. And when you look at Thomas, it becomes so all-consuming that you know you would rather die than let him get hurt. So you confront your friend on your own, though you can feel Thomas' gaze linger on you. "They are my friends", you explain calmly. "Please don't hurt them." "Please don't hurt them", your friend imitates you mockingly. "Funny how you didn't seem to mind them hurting the others." "I'm not going to ask you again", you say, hoping to still resolve this whole matter peacefully. "Why? Why protect them? They are killing people! That freak with the mask-" You get goosebumps at having to say it out loud. "His name is Thomas, and I love him. I will not let you speak of him this way." A huge shadow falls over you, and you don't even have to turn around to know it's him. Then there's another set of footsteps, and the sound of a shotgun being cocked. "Get your little friend inside, Tommy. I'll handle this." There is a way too excited glint in Hoyt's eyes as he says this. Thomas places his hand at the small of your back and guides you towards the entrance door. You hear the shotgun go off, and despite the painful knot your stomach is in, you look at Thomas and find yourself smiling.

[ladykailitha]

Spellbound Part 3

And we're back with this one! I am loving how much you guys are into this one, I hope you guys are ready for the start of the troubles.

In this we have Jason being a douche, Eddie gets mad at Wayne, and Eddie and Wayne find out about Bav!

Part 1 Part 2

~

The downside to the charm’s spell of no return is that that didn’t include their loved ones and family members. They never got through Steve’s defenses, but they sure could pound on his door and trigger a migraine.

Eddie poked his head out his front door, a little surprised that whoever was pounding on the witch’s door, had not in fact knocked his door first. But when he saw it was the major’s son, Jason, the blond Adonis, he promptly decided that it was the witch’s problem and not to interfere.

But as he turned to close the door there was a loud CRACK! He whirled around to see that idiot had brought an ax with him and was trying to break down the witch’s door.

Eddie sighed and pulled out Wayne’s shot gun that he kept by the front door and leveled it at the idiot. “Jason Carver I swear to God if you don’t step away from that door, I’ll shoot you. And while I might not be the best shot, at this distance it would be like hitting the broad side of a barn.”

Jason turned at him with a snarl, but that quickly fell from his face as he realized he was barely twenty feet from the barrel of double-barrel shotgun.

“You stay out of this, Munson,” he growled. “It doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

Eddie sighed and took two steps away from his door. “See, I was gonna mind my own business until you started deciding that because Steve wasn’t home, you were going to put an ax through his door.”

Jason paused for a moment with a frown before raising the ax again. “I know you’re lying to me. I saw movement behind the curtain.”

Eddie scoffed. “Sir, him and that girl who is his apprentice has a familiar each between them. You probably saw the cat or the bird ruffling the drapes. Now get out of here, before I start hollering for the watch.”

Jason looked back at the door and at Eddie. He pointed his ax at him. “You tell that no good witch, I’m coming for him. He’s going to pay for what he did.”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment. “Make him pay for what? He does herbal remedies and love charms. He’s mostly harmless.”

“It’s those love charms that are the problem,” Jason snarled taking a step Eddie’s direction, but stopped when Eddie moved his finger on to the trigger. “Filling people’s heads with this true love nonsense. All any woman needs is a good provider to take care of her and any babies she has.”

“Jason,” Eddie said pained, “leave before you say something else stupid that will cause me to shoot you. Women aren’t fucking bees, sir. They don’t all have the same thoughts, ideals, and desires. Some women may want what you have to offer, but not all of them, and I’m willing to bet Miss Cunningham is one of those that don’t.”

Jason stepped off the witch’s porch and walked the other direction than Eddie’s house, both of them staring each other down until Jason turn the corner and vanished from view.

Eddie slumped against the door frame and opened the chamber, cursing what he found there. It was empty. It didn’t even have two spent shells in it.

“Uncle Wayne!” he groused stomping through the house. “The gun doesn’t do shit if it ain’t loaded, old man. You could have gotten me killed just now! I hope you know that!”

Wayne came through the backdoor wiping his hands on an old rag. “What are you yapping about now?”

Eddie tossed the gun at him and he caught deftly one-handed. “You don’t keep an empty gun by the door, old man.”

Wayne checked the chamber and looked up at Eddie chagrin. “Ah.” He limped over to the cupboard and pulled out a box. He deftly loaded the shotgun, it draped over one arm. He slammed it shut and tossed it back.

“Sorry about that,” Wayne said with a cock of his head. “I forgot to reload it after chasing off those rabbits last week.”

Eddie said nothing as he put the gun back next to the door.

“Who did you chase off?” Wayne asked as he started making the tea Steve made for him.

“Jason Carver,” he groused as he sat down hard at the table, leaning his head back over the back of the chair. “Apparently his fianceé got a love charm from the witch and it didn’t match with him. So he was making an ax of himself.”

Wayne huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “So you scared him off with the shot gun? How close did you get to shooting the mayor’s son?”

Eddie raised his head. “Close enough that had it been loaded, the town would be having a fucking funeral. He actually took an ax to Steve’s door with the intent of breaking it down.”

“He was doing what now?” Wayne squawked, nearly knocking off the tea kettle from the stove. “Shit, is Steve okay?”

“No idea,” Eddie said with a shrug. “He never answered the door, so I assumed he wasn’t home. I’m hoping that because Jason was scared off, he didn’t get his mark.”

“Christ!” Wayne said, his hand beginning to shake. “With him being the mayor’s son, this is a pretty pickle. Mayor Carver could drive Steve out of town.”

They shared a long hard look and then Wayne downed his tea as fast as he could. Then they were both grabbing their coats and Eddie grabbed the gun, rushing out the front door to race to Steve’s.

They arrived at his cottage just as Robin and he returned.

The witch and his apprentice shared a glance and Steve asked what was wrong. He listened to Eddie tale solemnly.

“Well,” Steve huffed dryly. “I’d like to see them try. Many a mob has tried to oust my family for generations, I assure you they will not succeed.” He walked up the door and ran his finger over the splintered wood. “I’m sorry he hurt you.” The line grew yellow and then in a flash was gone.

Then Steve promptly fainted.

Robin and Wayne were at his side in an instant, helping him into the cottage. They laid him out on the sofa by the window. Then Eddie felt a slightly queasy feeling and he closed his eyes against the wave of sudden nausea.

Robin was pushing a cup of something into his hand before he even opened his eyes.

“Drink that,” she insisted. “It’s a little hard to get used to the feeling when Bav moves stuff around to accommodate Steve. Heaven knows it took me a whole month before I stopped turning green.”

Eddie downed it one go, gagging on the bitter taste. Next to him, Wayne did the same. Eddie looked around the room and saw that Steve’s work table that was usually by the front door was now by the back door. Even the window appeared larger to let in more air and light.

Robin started mixing up another potion and lifted Steve’s head. She helped him drink the potion and then admonished him. “You didn’t have to do that, you lunatic. Bav had it. She would have had door fixed by the end of the day.”

Steve snorted as he came round and struggled to sit up. Robin helped him straight up as he swung his feet to the floor.

“Yes, I know,” Steve huffed, gripping the edges of the sofa. “But it was the least I could do after she got hurt for me.”

Eddie wasn’t sure, but he would swear for years that walls of the cottage turned pink. Like Bav was blushing.

He had to give himself a mental shake because that wasn’t possible. There was no way that an inanimate object can blush. Then he realized that she could move. And was therefore, in face of it was in fact, animate.

Now suddenly he was uncomfortable with the knowledge that that walls might not only have ears, but eyes too.

Robin scoffed as though she could read his thoughts. “She can’t see anything or really hear. But she can feel Steve and knows what he needs.”

Eddie wasn’t sure he believed her, but there really wasn’t anything else he could do at the moment. Wayne and he watched as Robin busied herself making Steve food.

“Why do you do it if it takes so much out of you?” Eddie asked. He couldn’t remember his mama having fainting spells and eating them out of house and home.

Steve gathered up a blanket from the back of the sofa and drew it around him. “It’s not supposed to be like this,” he admitted shyly. “It’s like I can only access half of my magic. My mother couldn’t figure it out either. Last we spoke she was still looking into the matter.”

“The closest anyone has gotten to figuring it out,” Robin said, handing Steve a large plate of cheese, bread, and sweet meats, “is that his magic is tied to another witch somehow and until he finds them, he’s only a half of a witch.”

Wayne and Eddie shared a shocked glance.

“How could that even happen?” Wayne asked, in genuine concern.

Steve started to talk around his bit of cheese, but stopped when he couldn’t get the words out.

“What this adorable idiot is trying to say,” Robin huffed with a laughter, “is that once every hundred years or so there is born a pair of witches that are so powerful that they would burn themselves up in a decade. So a spell was placed on them so that when that pair was born their power would be halved to keep it from burning them out until they were old enough to control it.”

“Which is bullshit,” Steve said, gulping down the bite in his mouth. “No one believes that’s me, by the way. But it’s the closest anyone could find to why I’m such a bad witch. It’s just a fairy story witches tell their children so they grow up believing in their other half.”

Eddie’s head reared back. He thought he was cynical, but it seemed that even Steve topped him in that regard. “Wow, that’s a bleak outlook, I won’t lie.”

Steve huffed angrily and tried to stand up, but he barely got halfway before tumbling back to the sofa.

“I don’t think you’re going anywhere for awhile,” Robin said with a smirk. “You’ll need a lot of rest if you’re going to want to be on your feet anytime soon.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be fine, son?” Wayne asked. “Because after what you just told us I’m not sure you will be.”

“Bav will protect me,” Steve said stubbornly. “Even if I get caught outside of the cottage, she’ll come to my aid, you’ll just have to trust me on that.” He settled back into the sofa and Eddie could swear the house relaxed too.

Wayne opened his mouth to ask the question on both his and Eddie’s mind, but Robin held up her hand to forestall him.

“I don’t know,” she said tersely, glaring at Steve. “He won’t tell me how she’ll come to his aid, only that she would and could.”

Steve mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key and then finished the rest of his meal with a smug expression on his face.

~

Part 4

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

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9- @wheneverfeasible @micheledawn1975 @gloomysoup @dotdot-wierdlife @tartarusknight

10- @ollyxar @yesdangerpls @two-vampires-kissing @themoonagainstmers @estrellami-1

[cotl-flower-crown]

How and why did Lamb fall in love with Narinder to the point that they got married and had children?

Besides, if we consider that Narinder was evil and just wanted to use her to return to the world of the living.

TLDR: Slow burn, very slow burn

Feel free to ready the wall of text I prepared below

Angel (the Lamb) ever since they met The One Who Waits, was deeply devoted to him, so when it was revealed that he had plans to sacrifice them, they were devastated. It took them a long time to approach the Gateway, hesitant to fulfill their purpose, but when they thought they were at peace with their fate, Angel finally met him there.

Their plan was to negotiate. Perhaps if Angel pleaded with him enough, they would spare him, but they could tell from the moment he opened his mouth that he was not open for negotiation. But Angel tried anyway. They tried convincing him that perhaps there is another way to free him and if there is one they would be happy to do so. But what The One Who Waits saw was weakness, he saw fear in his vessel's eyes as they looked at him and questioned their faith in him. Were they not as devoted as they claimed to be? No, they doubt his judgement. Him! The One Who Waits Himself! Their God! Such blasthemy could not stand! He called The Lamb out for their cowardice and shamed them for their lack of faith. He demanded for the final time that they kneel to him, so the prophecy could be fulfilled.

But Angel could not do what their God has demanded. Even their deviotion had its limits. Through out the whole journey to free him, Angel was encouraged to learn to stand up for themselves, even by him. And now he's demanding that they ignore all their teachings and bow to him. It all felt so wrong. If they are gone, what will become of her followers, what will become of the scraps of Sheep folk's culture that they hold in their heart? It will all be gone, THEY will be gone.

They could not stand for that. With tears streaming on their cheeks, they drew an axe and pointed it in his direction. "I cannot leave yet" they whimpered through their tears. And so the battle begun.

As it ended, Lamb had no idea that The One Who Waits would survive this battle and yet, there he was, laying in front of them. A stature not taller then theirs, not even able to hold himself on his legs. But he was alive. Their prayers and hopes were heard. A wave of relief washed over Angel's body, and while they still felt betrayed by their ex-God, they didn't have it in them to finish him off. So despite his protests, they brought him to their cult. They would decide on his fate later.

When brought to Lamb's cult, Narinder felt many emotions. Anger, disappointment, fear even. Mostly anger though. He was angry that his vessel betrayed him, that he's stuck in the cult now and stuck in this weak, needy body that cannot even stand on its own. Lamb would help him get back on his feet and he hated that the most. How long would it take for the Lamb to change their mind and finish off what they started? In the best case scenario, he will be killed, free from this mortal body, but in the worst scenario, they will imprison him again. He could not read their mind anymore, he couldn't even read their face, shrouded with unreadable cold disapproval. It was both unsettling and annoying.

For many months Narinder was dependant on Lamb's help to recover his ability to walk. They would help him stretch, accompany on his walks in case he falls over from his croutches, they were his personal assistant in a way, which without a doubt Narinder liked to abuse. But eventually he would learn to stop it, as such behavior was not acceptable among Lamb's followers. They did not take kindly to him making their leader cry and Narinder will forever remember the day those people locked him in prison and threw rotten food and excrements at him. He also remembers well the night when Lamb came to him to clean off the waste off of his head and let him out of the stocks. He knows that they enjoyed watching him being served with justice a little, they told him as much, but he couldn't help, but help feel relieved by their mercy. It's not something that he would do, that's for sure. Supposedly, it was a good reminder that even if Lamb is not keen on punishing him, they have no issues letting the others do the dirty work.

Angel's grief passed soon enough, seeing Narinder's legs getting better. Witnessing him be able to stand and walk on his own, run even, was the most joyous they have felt for a long time. Still he wasn't exactly in the best shape, so the regular walks were still mandatory. Lamb didn't have to accompany him anymore, but they still did to Narinder's distaste. They would not usually speak much, but when Lamb warmed up to him a little, they begun to try and start a conversation. Though Narinder would usually turn those attempts down and challenge Lamb's attitude, one day he insulted how the cult looks, and when asked what's wrong with it, he couldn't point out specifics and stammered that there's not enough red candles. Lamb took it upon themselves to fix that issue, partially out of spite. Begrudgingly he allowed Lamb to take that win. (Narinder's first quest)

Finally the time came when Narinder was well enough to start working. Lamb assigned him to work at the farm. As he worked around with the camelia flowers he mentions Leshy, before he gets back to work. Time passes and Lamb comes back to bring him the flowers, straight from Darkwood. He expresses how he didn't ask for them, but Lamb could see past his exterior, see that they made him a little happier.

Suspicious of Lamb's intentions Narinder challenges Lamb to go to Anura and bring him mushrooms unscaved. Angel teases him a little before the travel and brings him what he wished for. Then as they talk more, Nari sends them off to Archordeep, wishing to see their crystal walls crumbled. And when that's done, he quietly asks Lamb to bring him silk from Silk Cradle. He waited by the entrance as the Lamb came back from the crusade and handed him the silk. And they brought him tea as he at last allowed himself to process the grief.

Narinder grew attached to the Lamb as there was nobody else he would think of as a worthy company. Although he did not consider them a friend, nor anything of that matter. It was hard for him to describe what his usurper meant for him at that point, but he couldn't help but follow them if he wasn't at work or asleep. They would discuss the common topics, like the weather, the jobs, hobbies and their own health. While he didn't seem to let go of his grievances with Lamb, they noticed that he wasn't exactly angry about them either.

One day Narinder witnesses a follower's death for the XYZth time and he grows curious. He hasn't been exactly a regular attendant of Lamb's sermons and he wasn't planning to be, but he realised that he doesn't know all the rites the Lamb and their flock performs as well as he wished he did. He approaches the Lamb, admiting his apprehensions towards them as worthy of the crown, demanding in his usual fashion that they show the legacy of the new God of Death. Lamb did not plan to bring anyone back from the dead that day, but they will not turn down his challenge, if that mean that they can make him eat his words.

They did not expect a genuine praise though. It felt somewhat offputting to see Narinder laugh and sound proud talking of them. They were put off guard by it and Nari didn't blame them. He was surprised himself too, to the point that had to take a step back, but it was undeniable, he was proud to see that his vessel is continuing what he started. Perhaps they have some wits in them after all. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to attend their sermons more often.

Time passed and while Narinder grew to get used to his new home, the more he stayed there, the more trapped he felt. The cult grounds seem a lot smaller once you learn all their nook and crannies. He was itching to see more of what was left of the Lambs of the Old Faith after the millenia of imprisonment. Angel excouraged him to do so, but at the same time, they were worried for his safety. The outside world is dangerous and Narinder was no longer a powerful god. While it wouldn't be impossible to bring him back to life, Angel did not want to see him dead. They eventually figured out that giving him a company to make sure that he's alive would make them a lot calmer about the expedition. They decide that they will send their most experienced missionary with him. Meanwhile Narinder and Shepherd (one of Lamb's most loyal followers, the leading farmer and the missionary veteran) shared another petty interraction, which this time ended in a fight that Lamb needed to break off.

Later, Narinder learned that him and Shepherd would be stuck together on a mission. He was vocally not happy about it but did not fight it. A human shield is always in value.

They get through their shenanigans and end up becoming friends.

When they come back, Narinder is injured and seems like it got infected, but he insists that he's fine. He stops objecting when Shep fistbumps his arm (very much intentionally) and makes Nari speechless. Angel takes Nari to the med bay, and there Nari thanks Lamb (the end of the final quest)

So, by the time the quests are finished, Nari and Lamb are kinda like friends. Acquaintances, maybe. After that, Nari spends his time either working, sunbathing or hanging out with Shep and/or Lamb. Him and Shep turn into bros, but he doesn't really know what to think about the Lamb. They're ok in his eyes.

As the time went by from then on Nari developed a vague fondness of Angel as a companion. He's not in love or anything tho. Meanwhile Angel develops a little crush on him. They think he's cute the way he is now and they enjoy spending time with him. They don't try anything with him because they don't want to ruin their friendship, but they get jealous when someone else shows interest with him and they may contribute to his dwindling love life.

More time passes and Nari begins to develop feelings for Angel. He's very dismissive about it and denies when asked, but Lamb knows and they are very fond of him at that point and really wants to say something, but doesn't want to jump this ship only to later learn that he's not happy. They made that mistake before and they don't want to pressure him into anything so they wait for him to make a move.

Meanwhile Nari tries really hard to convince himself and everyone around that he doesn't like the Lamb, even though he gets very possessive over Lamb's attention and jealous when they speak fondly with anyone else. He also wants to kill people who just happen to have a crush on the Lamb or those critical of them. He's not sure why, but he can't help it.

Even more time passes, and it finally gets through Narinder's skull that, yes, he is in love with Angel, and it's not a hex. He realises it after him and Lamb share a dance among the crowd and after talking with Shep about it. He finally decides to start courting the Lamb, but the way he wanted to do it was to give his life to them, aka stabbing himself in front of them and Shepherd was like "NOPE, how about you try the more casual ways of courting instead?". So he tries the gifts first. Gifts that consist of bones, snake skins and dead critters. Because cat instincts. Shepherd tells him to stop and try something else. After some trial and errors Narinder decides to just stick with his original plan.

He meets Lamb at night when everyone else is asleep and Narinder begins with confessing, then he pulls out a sacrificial knife and aims it at his chest. Lamb stops him, saying that they don't want to see him dead, but Nari argues with "how am I supposed to accurately show you how strong my feelings are if I cannot give you my life" and Lamb is like "do it by being by my side, not like this" and then Nari lets go of the knife and complains that now he doesn't have any plan B and Lamb proposes for him to "court them like a mortal" by sharing a dance together. Nari complains that there is no music to dance to, but that is easily fixed by waking up one of the followers to play music for the two. They share a lovely soft slow dance that ends with them kissing.

They end up getting married soon after that. And after some time spent getting adjusted to married life, they decided to try for children for one reason or the other.

And that's that. Slow burn narilamb beloved <3

[hatchetmanofficial]

Why does Alan seem less supernatural than his coworkers?

Of course he’s just as dangerous but a lot of his unhinged behaviour and readiness to break the rules can be explained by the way he grew up abused, was being forced to be aggressive to defend himself, his lack of socialisation, being rebellious against a society that didn’t help him, and even an underlying mental condition (maybe inherited from his dad). With the trauma, isolation and demands of his job then turning it all up to 11. I mean, despite being axe crazy and a bit sociopathic Alan still seems mostly human. If a little animalistic. He’s very strong and fast and completely ignores the norms of society but still looks and acts basically human.

Whereas you’ve got dudes like Carver whose whole appearance has warped, and Stitches who was literally created a month ago from components and kills in a body horror way. One look and you know something is very wrong.

Alan also seems to be the only one with the wish or ability to defy the boss. Is it because he rejected the work name and mentally kept his own identity? Are names power here? Literally or symbolically.

It feels like the Boss employs vulnerable drifters, the lost souls. Does the Boss find it easier to control you if you want to reject/forget your identity, are running from your past or a bad situation, or (like Stitches) never had one?

Obviously it is a predatory Leonine contract, basically a deal with the devil. Nobody ends up like this coming from a good situation or with any better choices available. And the horrific consequences if you leave or disobey are a huge factor. But I’m covering subtleties and the differences between the coworkers.

Or is it because in spite of how cruel life and people have been to Alan he still has a tiny scrap of humanity left? Before he only had the solace of animals. Doe Eyes has reminded him how starved he is for kindness and love, maybe recalling the time before his mom died when he had a family, and Doe Eyes is human.

It makes it hard to obey the solitary rule. To stay misanthropic and emotionally shut down enough to continue indiscriminately killing people for the Boss.

(I’m the shy anon who suggested the idea of untraumatized Ranger Alan a long while back 👋 Wherever he is, whenever he is, I hope he’s happy and well adjusted.)

(I love this question and I love your username!!!)

I like to think that Alan still has a part of him, that wants to weasel his way back into society, especially after meeting his Doe-eyes. But he can never have it. It's selfish of him to want.

Boss is unpredictable and very much so picks those who believe they are someone without a cause. I'd like to think that The Beast's song "Come Wayward Souls" applies to him. However, he can still influence his employers. If he sees someone get out of line, he would simply have to put them back in place. Alan, however, never gave Boss any hassle, not even when he first found him. You could say he has a clean track record when it comes to his job. Until doe-eyes that is.

When I say that Boss kinda has favorites.

He truly does.

[after-witch]

Sweet Valentine [wri0thesley OC Lucas x reader]

Title: Sweet Valentine [@wri0thesley OC Lucas x Reader]

Synopsis: It's Valentine's Day and Lucas has some sweet surprises planned, but things don't go as well as you'd hoped.

Word count: 3164

notes: Yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of cannibalism, abusive relationship, mentions of violence, non-graphic descriptions of noncon and dubcon sex, reader is implied to be afab

“You… want somethin’ special for Valentine’s Day, sweetheart?”

Lucas’ voice is low and tender, and when you look up at him, you see a faint blush dusting his cheeks. It’s a familiar sight. He always gets like this, when it comes to romance. Or what he thinks is romance, anyway.

You think it’s all that vulnerability that comes along with romance; the possibility of rejection, as if you were stupid enough to outright reject anything he wanted to give you. Not unless you wanted to meet the sharp end of a glare

(Or an axe.)

But it’s there anyway, that vulnerability. In the way he sometimes glances away or the way his cheeks gain a deeper tint or the lilt in his voice. He gets awkward and when you’re feeling dark and low, you sometimes wonder what he’d do if you didn’t thank him for his gifts, if you didn’t lean into his arms when he opened them, if you wiped away his kisses, if you were as ungrateful and awful as you were currently too afraid to be. 

The answer always comes swiftly: He’d kill you, moron. 

Maybe not right away. But you’d chip at his goodwill, such as it was, bit by bit until nothing was left but raw steel. And where would that raw steel go? Right into your skull, stupid.

You’re a lot of things. Scared. A liar. Helpless. But you’re not stupid. 

So you return his blush with a practiced meek gaze. The kind where you glance up at him and then look quickly down, and cross one arm (but never both, that’s too petulant) over your chest. 

Shy, that’s what you are; or rather, what you’ve become in order to survive here. 

If he thinks you’re shy and quiet and meek, it seems easier for him to brush aside the way you tremble; the way you flinch; the way you sometimes find yourself begging him to wait, just wait oh please, you’re not quite ready to go all the way yet. 

And if you have to debase yourself by taking his length into your trembling hands, by letting him touch you until you trembled and came on his fingers, it’s what you’ll do to put off the inevitable for another day. 

“Nothing special,” you say, voice crackling with the dryness of the morning air. He doesn’t respond. He’s disappointed, you think. Nothing special isn’t good enough for Valentine’s Day. So you add, quietly but quickly: “But maybe… If it’s not too much trouble… some chocolate?” 

You glance up at him and he’s got an almost goofy smile on his face now. It makes you relieved--it makes you sick.

“Or--or we could watch a romantic comedy?” You suggest. You bite your lip then, a holdover gesture from your old life. “Oh, but you don’t really have any, so I guess we could just--”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.” He pulls you close without giving you a choice and you lean your head against his shoulder, just like you ought to do. “I’ll find you somethin’ in town this weekend. Gotta go get some supplies anyway.” 

You smile and press your face towards his chest, so that he feels the curve of your lips against his shirt. “Thank you, Lucas. Really… really any movie you like is fine, but if you can find one, that would be okay.”

He sighs and presses one large hand against the back of your head, trailing it down past your neck--he could snap it so easily--until he’s rubbing your back.

“You’re the sweetest, you know that, angel?” 

You don’t answer, because you don’t need to, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

You were good. You behaved well.  You did what he wanted. Did it matter that you didn’t want chocolates or to watch a movie with him for Valentine’s Day or any day at all? Did it matter that at home, your real home, you were loud and brash and your mother would have pissed herself laughing if anyone called you shy? 

No. Of course not.

If only the truth wouldn’t get you killed. 

You don’t want chocolates or a VHS copy of some outdated romantic comedy.

The only thing you really want for Valentine’s Day is to go home. 

--

The chocolate isn’t great, but it’s not awful, either. There was even a cherry cordial--your favorite--and Lucas’ eyes had lit up when you told him so. 

It was a nice surprise. 

After all, the cynical part of you imagined Lucas showing up with a dusty box of chocolates that tasted like stale sweetness; the kind you find overpriced at drugstores, boxes that forgetful husbands pick up on the way home from work on the day-of. 

But when he came home from town, he’d sheepishly handed over a bouquet of colorfully dyed flowers. A mixture of carnations that were an impossibly vivid pink and daisies with bright blue petals. It was just the kind of bouquet you used to pick out for your mom when you were a kid, because you were drawn to the pops of unnaturally colorful simple flowers more than you were ordinary red roses. 

“Know you like, uh…” He’d held out the bouquet and waited for you to take it from him before continuing. “Know you like this kind of pink, so…” 

You held the bouquet to your chest and felt something that might have been pleasure. It was nice to have something familiar. Something you might pick up at a supermarket on the way home from work. Real flowers were beautiful, of course, and you’d grown to love the sight of them surrounding the cabin. 

But these couldn’t be found in the wilderness in which you were now settled. They were a sign that people still existed out there, people that weren’t you and Lucas and the ghosts of people who came before you.

And that made them more special.

--

“Honey?”

“Angel?.”

“Darlin’.”

It’s the darlin’ that yanks you out of your disassociation. How long had it been going on? You glance down at your fingers and realize you’re holding a half-eaten chocolate bon-bon. Your elbow feels stiff, you must have been holding it up for a while.

You shakily set it back down on the box and force yourself to look over at Lucas, who is cuddled up next to you, holding you in a firm but warm grip, with his arm slung around your shoulder keeping you close. 

He looks irritated. Like you said something wrong again. Only you weren’t saying anything, but that might be the problem; ignoring him was just as bad (sometimes worse) as doing the wrong thing.

“You don’t like the movie?” His voice is gruffer than it should be today, of all days. 

The movie? 

Oh shit.

You blink and blink and slowly details around you come back into focus. The dim lighting in the cabin, to set the mood. The flickering light of the TV and the soft whir of the VCR that could only be heard faintly under the movie itself.

And the movie…

The movie was almost over. The VHS he’d found was of a vaguely familiar movie you remember seeing on TV a few times. It wasn’t a classic but it wasn’t a stink-bomb, either. 

“Angel…” 

He turns toward you and after a moment, takes your chin into his hands.  You quickly glance down--meek, shy, feeble thing that you are--so he doesn’t see the fear that must be blinking through the back of your eyeballs by now. 

“You don’t like the movie, do you? Did I pick the wrong one?” There’s none of the usual sweet compromise in his voice, though, that makes you think saying “yes” might be an option. Instead, you get the sense that he’s laying traps for you to step on. Traps meant for someone ungrateful who completely zones out during what was supposed to be a romantic evening snuggling on the couch. 

Dumbass, you think. I’m such a dumbass.

“Do you…” You speak suddenly and swallow hard. Talking is awkward with his fingers holding your chin, but he doesn’t let go. “Do you want a chocolate?” You offer up the box that’s half-empty by now. The cherry cordials were gone, and maybe you should have offered him one since they were your favorite. But there’s nothing to be done about it, so you hold up the last caramel-filled piece towards him. 

Maybe he’ll appreciate the gesture. 

He finally lets go of your chin and huffs out a snort through his nose. That’s good, usually. A sign he’s calming down. But he doesn’t smile at you, and you can feel the heaviness in the air, a sort of sick pressure that you need to relieve before it gets worse. 

“I’m not much for sweets.” He says this like you ought to know. And you do, actually, it’s just… you don’t know what else to do. 

Your lips quirk downward. You lift the piece until it’s close to his mouth. 

“I know, I just--wanted to share. Please? One bite?” It’s almost a reversal, really; the way he sometimes has to nudge you to eat, when your stomach is all twisted in knots from anxiety or when you can’t shove away the thought that what you’re eating is almost certainly not an animal. Sometimes he feeds you just because he’s in a particular mood, a mood where you need to be more fragile and helpless than you are, which isn’t saying much.

Lucas’ eyes widen then and he finally smiles softly at you. His voice is low and gruff but you think, not quite as irritated as before. 

“All right, angel. A bite.”

He opens his mouth and you slide the chocolate forward until it’s under his teeth. He takes a bite and you pull away, caramel dripping from the half-eaten chocolate that you set back in the box. 

Lucas chews with his mouth closed (he has impeccable manners when he’s not murdering people, thank God for that) but then there’s the thought of the chocolate and caramel being chewed by the same teeth that just ate a “steak” for dinner--what if there’s a stray piece of meat left in his molars and they mix? 

It’s enough to make the sticky sweet flavor of the cherry cordials rise in your throat, acidic and sour from the chocolate digesting in your stomach. 

“Sorry,” you murmur, nuzzling closer to him like an apologetic pet as he finishes chewing. “I didn’t mean to get distracted earlier.” 

Lucas hums and pulls you tighter against him, harder than normal. He presses a kiss against the side of your head. A hint of caramel wafts in the air.  

“Mind you don’t drift often again, honey.” 

-

Lucas is still upset with you. Although you can’t quite call this “still” upset, because this is different from earlier. He’s not still annoyed that you were distracted during the movie or, at least, that’s not the real source of his irritation.

But what--what did you do? You thanked him for the flowers and chocolates. You kissed him (on the lips!) after he gave them to you.  You snuggled on the couch and yes you fucked up during the movie, but you made up for it, you thought. 

You set the table for dinner without being asked, you ate without hesitation and complimented his cooking… you were quiet, you helped him clean up the eggs, you made a joke about Dolly the chicken needing a Valentine’s Day card from him and he chuckled at it. 

You didn’t argue when he insisted he scrub you up during the bath, even when his hand dipped between your legs and lingered on your chest. You quietly let him brush your hair and pick out your pajamas (a pink nightie, tonight) and did everything you thought he wanted.

So what in the hell did you do wrong today that has him practically glowering at you as you both sit on the bed? You’ve re-read the same page in your book a hundred times while you tried to figure it out. You can’t go to bed like this, wondering if he’s angry, wondering if you’ll wake up in the morning to find him hovering over you with a glare and a weapon. Or maybe you won’t even wake up at all. 

“Angel?” There’s a gruff edge to the word tonight that tightens your chest.

“Yes?” Your voice is squeakier than you intended. You tuck a bookmark into your pages and set the book down on your nightstand, and look up at Lucas with practiced meekness that is made all the more real through the gnawing fear in your belly.

Lucas hesitates before he speaks. Emotions shift on his face. Irritation, disappointment, even something you think is sadness. They only make the feeling in your chest worse. What did you do? Why is he acting this way?

“I… wasn’t expectin’ nothing fancy, you know. But I thought you’d at least make somethin’ for me today.”

Make something for him? 

Oh.

Oh.

Fuck.

In all your worries about behaving perfectly, you didn’t even think about getting Lucas something for Valentine’s Day. Making him a card or throwing together a quick embroidery hoop or--something. That’s what a good spouse would do, right? It’s what he would expect from you, on today of all days. Sure, he wasn’t big on presents, and he’d told you a few months ago not to worry about Christmas (you’d embroidered a scene outside the window of his bedroom, the trees and snow and a little silver rabbit) but this was different. 

It was a couple’s day, and you were part of that couple. 

And you’d fucked up.

He’s not done, either.

“I went outta my way to get you everything you wanted. Drove all the way into town… An’ you didn’t even pay attention during the movie.” If you weren’t increasingly terrified,  you might be able to snort at how petulant he sounded, complaining that you didn’t watch the movie well enough. But there’s nothing funny about the way his voice is starting to raise or the way you can practically feel his muscles getting tenser by the moment.

“Did you even appreciate any of it?” It’s more to himself than to you, and that scares you more than anything else has in recent memory. 

Your mouth comes up with a plan the exact moment that your brain does.  You’re not sure if your brain would have let you go through with it, if it had more than a split second to think. 

“I did get you something!” 

Lucas shifts on the bed and looks at you questioningly. He doesn’t look convinced. Not yet. There’s a swift moment in which you have to convince him and you jump into it, feet first.

“I… I just didn’t know how to wrap it, that’s all.” Your throat bobs when you swallow and you look up at him with a soft expression that’s part nerves, part hope. 

“I don’t know what y’mean, darlin’.”

 His eyebrows furrow and you take a deep breath before you reach over and take his hand. You give it a squeeze and shift on the bed yourself, this time leaning backwards on the pillows.

“My gift is…” Oh,  you don’t want to; but you have nothing else you can give him now. You swallow again and fiddle with the end of your nightgown. It’s a flimsy thing, isn’t it? 

“I’m ready to… that is--I’m ready to…” 

You can’t finish the words but you don’t need to, because both of Lucas’ eyebrows raise before his lips curl into a delighted smile as he realizes what you mean.

He looks giddy. He looks drunk, despite not having a drink tonight. He looks like he’s going to devour you, and you can only be mildly grateful that it’s not in the way you normally fear. 

“Oh, angel.” 

In moments, he’s shifted above you, his body looming over your own, filling up all of your space with his size and warmth. 

“This is the best gift you could give me.” He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, then again; a kiss to your cheeks, to your eyes that close so he can kiss the lids. “I’m sorry I doubted you. Oh, honey, you must have been thinkin’ about this all day. No wonder you were so distracted.” 

There’s nowhere to go, if you wanted to go. Nowhere to run, if you were capable of running. He’s here and you’re here and this is going to happen now.

No more putting it off, no more gentle pleas, no more convincing him that you can do that and not this, not yet.

All because you forgot to make a damn Valentine’s Card. 

His hands hold the edge of your nightie and begin to lift it up, exposing the soft cotton underwear underneath. 

“I love you so much. You know that, sweetheart?”

He doesn’t take the nightgown off; instead he bunches it up against your neck, exposing your chest. 

“I love you too,” you murmur, because you’ve had enough of your own stupidity today not to answer his declarations. 

Your eyes flick up to the ceiling as he begins pulling down your underwear. 

It’s going to happen now. He’ll fuck you. And once that happens, well. It’ll keep happening. Every night? Every other night? You don’t know, but he’ll expect it. Things are changing and you can’t stop them. All you can do is try to scramble for what little pleasantries this isolated, captive life can give you. 

Like not-bad chocolates and bunnies outside the window.

Lucas’ hands grip the meat of your thighs and pull them apart with little resistance on your end. You don’t want to make it worse, do you? And it was your idea, you can’t even pretend to be anything but meekly nervous, can you?

He murmurs something in appreciation at the sight of your naked sex and your fingers clutch the sheets underneath you in anticipation. 

You don’t want to look down. It’s like being at the doctor’s--looking away when they give you the shot. You hear the sound of his trousers being pushed down. But he doesn’t push into you just yet.

Instead, he leans down, pressing a hot, wet kiss to your mouth that opens without argument. 

There’s  a faint taste of peppermint toothpaste and a hint of lingering caramel--he didn’t brush his molars well enough, maybe--in his mouth. 

“Love you,” he whispers against your lips. Maybe he sees the nervousness in your gaze and for once, is fine with it. It’s normal to be anxious about your first time, after all. “It's gonna feel good, I promise… I know what I’m doin’.”

Damn, you think vacantly, stomach lurching against your thoughts when you feel the unmistakable press of something hot and hard and wet against your naked thigh. I wish I saved the second cherry cordial for tomorrow.

[fictionalslvr]

SYNOPSIS: You always had a fear for slasher movies, but your boyfriend with a mask kink will help you with that.

PAIRING: Ghostface masked¡Leon x GN¡Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.430k

WARNINGS: SMUT/NSFW, roleplay, mask kink, Leon dresses as Ghostface, consent, fucking in the kitchen, on the counter, scream movies references! Dom¡Leon.

NOTES: Just wanted to do something for Halloween and not let it just pass through without nothing. Even if it's small, i hope you guys enjoy :)

You were gripping into the sheets of the couch. Your eyes were glued to the tv as you kept your body fumbling around to ease the fright away. The way the murderer on the screen was killing his victims with no pity was making your gut knot and a bad sensation creeping from your spine all the way up to your nape, and you swear you could hear voices screaming, pleading for your help and calling for your name as if you were the only one who could save them. Those poor souls, you couldn’t help them even if you wanted to. You closed your eyes when that grotesque man lifted his ax, ready to spare an innocent soul and just collected even more reasons to burn in the pit of hell for the rest of his post-life. The joints of your fingers were turning white as you grip tightly into the sheets, you couldn’t stand that movie not even a second anymore. And honestly, you didn’t know how your boyfriend was so normal about something that almost made you puke out your organs in disgust.

With an agonizing yelp, it was enough for you. You shut your eyes closed, feeling like you’re in the victim's skin and like you’re about to be killed. You were transported to that abandoned house of the movie, facing that assassin right in front of your eyes, you could see the lack of humanity in his eyes. Your chest was rising up and down non-stop, you looked around and saw how you didn’t have a way to escape, and the crows around were already hungry, his deep empty black eyes staring at you. The crows on the tree branch next roared. Without noticing, your boyfriend took the remote and paused the movie, finally taking note of your shaking state of fear.

—”Hey, baby…what happened?” Leon orotundly said, one of his hands making way to your shoulder. You jolted, still visibly startled, you opened your eyes to see around and see that you’re still in your house, safe. —”You don’t seem fine.”

His lips pursed as his face turned into a preoccupied frown. You took a sharp intake of air, slowly regaining your bearings.

—”I…I was…there.” You pointed to the tv, he followed your finger and tilted his head to the side. Slowly, the corners of his lips turned into a cheeky smile.

—”Oh. So is my precious angel scared?” He leaned closer, letting a sardonic chuckle escape as his biceps brought you closer to his body. —”There’s no need to be, okay? I’m right here to protect you.”

With a huff, you slapped his hand softly over your shoulder, in an attempt to push him away. That insolent smile made it clear that he was not taking you seriously at all.

—”I’m being serious, Leon.” You got up from the couch, with a sigh and looked down at your boyfriend, who’s carefreely manspreading there still. —”I don’t find it funny.”

He tried his best to vanish his smile, but he couldn’t. Instead, he got up with his hands on his thighs to help him raise his body up. His figure walks closer, his hands crawling all the way to your waist and bringing you close. Leon and his graceful pair of deep blue eyes darted to you, you always swore you could drown on them since the first time you looked at them.

—”I’m sorry, it was not my intention to make fun of you, darling.” Leon's face approached your neck, leaving a soft gentle kiss there that made you feel like levitating.

—”But you were making fun of me, I know that damn smile.”

—”Uhm, yeah. Maybe I was, just a little.” He melted into a laughter, you felt the hot air leaving his mouth and going against your skin, making your skin bristle. —”But don’t be mad at me, please. I couldn’t contain seeing you so scared because of a movie.”

—”You know that I don't like these slasher movies, they’re gross.”

—”You’re right. But they have hot villains too.”

—”Do you find those monsters hot, Leon?”

—”And who doesn't?” Your boyfriend lifted his face, he had a perplexed expression, speechless that you don’t seem to agree with him on that.

—”I don’t know how you find these…things hot.” Gesturing your hands to the tv, he gasped audibly, straightening up his stance to fight you with arguments.

—”And how DON’T you find them hot?” He shook his head in disbelief, pressing his own lips together. —”I don’t know how to explain, but the ones with masks are even better.”

—”You’re crazy.” It’s your time to giggle, finding it strange how he was defending his favorite characters.

—”Oh come on, you’re telling me that you never felt a single thing for Ghostface?”

—”I mean…was I supposed to?”

—“Of course, darling! He’s ironic and makes great jokes and plus, he has a hot voice.”

—”That modified voice?”

—”Yes, that one.” He smiled, biting his lower lip. You lifted one eyebrow at him, astonished. —”Look, I can prove to you that Ghostface is hot. You’ll see that you’re wrong.”

—”I doubt that, I'm mostly terrified by him.” You sighed, letting your body fall down into the couch again. Leon followed you, and quickly, you felt his weight above you, his hands around your body keeping you trapped into a big hug.

—”And why are you terrified by him?”

—”Look, I…I don't know exactly. But he creeps me out.” Honestly, you didn’t have exact reasons, maybe it is your (ir)rational fear of killers that made you feel like that.

—”Is it because of what is happening in the town?” Leon took one curl of your hair, playing with it whilist your body was being smashed by his weight.

—”You’re talking about all those deaths suddenly in the region? Maybe it is. The feeling that a serial killer close to us really scares me even more.”

—”But I'm here to protect you, silly.” He pouted, kissing your lips briefly as your hair curls are where his eyes were focused.

—”I know this, but what if you’re not around to protect me?”

—”It won’t happen. Now forget this thing for a moment.” Leon looked you in the eyes, kissing your lips again but this way lingering for more. You smiled at him.

—”I better trick myself into believing this.”

—”But hey…I may have a way to ease your fears right now.”

—”What are you planning to do, mister?” You giggled, not knowing what to expect next of your boyfriend plans. His smile turned wicked for a moment, he brought himself closer to your ear and whispered.

—”I bought a fantasy, and maybe this could help you out.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖

That’s where you find yourself now, somehow you agreed to this and decided to give it a try at your boyfriend’s fantasy. Against the cold countertop, your elbow was slightly cold due to the contact with the wood piece in your kitchen, the sound of your phone ringing startled you, making you dart your face to the phone in your hands, the unknown number calling out made you gulp down.

—”H-Hello…?” Holding the phone out next to your ear, you heard a heavy breathing on the other side, making your hands tremble.

—”What’s your favorite scary movie?” That firm and inexpressive voice asked you, just as Leon told it was going to be before. Even if you agreed to that, the fear is unbearable.

—”I…I don't like scary movies.”

—”Oh. And why don’t?”

—”Because they’re scary. I don’t like to feel scared.” You sighed. Walking around the kitchen with the phone close, you wonder where Leon is hiding during this roleplay.

—”Too scared, aren’t you just a precious angel?” He chuckled with that strange voice, making you twist your nose. —”You never told me your name.”

—”Why do you wanna know my name?”

—”I wanna know who I'm looking at.” That was not in the script. Your heart almost jumped out of your chest in the most cartoonist way possible, your eyes roaming everywhere to find where he is.

—”Leon…this was not in the script. Stop scaring me!” You blurted out to the air, not even the breathing was heard on the phone anymore. That’s when your eyes catch a glimpse you didn’t recognize.

A masked man in your window door outside, tilted his head to the side and waved at you. You felt your eyes slowly grow bigger by the sight. The phone fell from your hands right on the ground, Leon didn’t tell you about that. The lights frickle, making everything black in a flash, you yelped, holding onto your own shoulders and shutting your eyes in hope this was just a nightmare.

But the hands that creeped in your waist showed you this was no nightmare, it was totally real. In the darkness your breath hitched as that masked man made his way behind you, pulling you close to his body by the waist. When the light comes back again, you look over your shoulder.

—”Leon! What the hell was that?!”

—”Leon? Oh no. Sorry ‘bout your boyfriend. All those…muscles didn’t help much.” You tried to step back, the danger is right in front of you, and it’s not your boyfriend. That modified voice was making you want to pass out, your mind was dizzy when your hands tried to push him by the chest with no success.

—”I’m not joking! S-Stop this.”

—”You’re so pretty…and now you’re all mine.” His masked face leans closer, sniffing the crook of your neck and holding you in place with his arms.

—”Let me go! This is not fun at all.” You heard a chuckle coming from his lips, the man slowly made his way to the hem of his mask, taking it off to show that familiar blonde hair and blue eyes. Your lungs finally rest, taking a deep relieved breath. The voice you hear next is not unknown anymore.

—”You fucker! Why didn’t you tell me you were going to do that?”

—”It would ruin the fright.” Leon leaned closer, kissing your cheeks gently after almost making your soul fly away from your body. —”I’m sorry, if I was cruel, I would keep going. But I don't want to make anything further without your permission.”

—”And…what do you want to do?” He pushes your body against the counter, lifting you and putting your weight down on that cold counter.

—”I love and hate to see you scared, my angel. Makes me want to protect and fuck you at the same time.”

—”You’re a kinky freak, Leon.” You two chuckle together, Leon put his hands on your thighs to caress your skin softly.

—”Maybe i am. Would it be a problem to you to be fucked by me with the mask?” Your eyes go wide with his suggestion, you make a perplexed face to him, pressing your lips together to think. —”Please, angel…I always wanted to do that.”

That alluring voice, you couldn’t deny anything to it. With a light chuckle, you shake your head.

—”Okay…okay. But only this time.” Leon celebrated it with a boyish giggle, kissing your lips deeply before putting on that mask again. —”Use your own voice too, please.”

He nodded, his face no longer visible before his hands lifted all the way underneath to your skirt. He quickly played with the hem of your panties, you could already visualize your boyfriend’s smirk behind that mask.

—”Can I, my angel?” It’s your time to nod, biting your lower lip to suppress the pathetic moan to escape from your lips. It was strange, but somehow…it was turning you on.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖

You never thought about having this. The love of your boyfriend with slasher movies and masked villains was normal, at least you thought so. But after seeing Leon in that mask, something inside you changed, you were no longer scared about that stranger in the mask, because he’s not a stranger anymore. In fact, that mask made something inside you tremble, the way he had the great ability to know everything that turn you on, to know exactly that rubbing your sensitive spot while pushing his fingers inside your hot walls made you whimper, hiding your face on his chest as your hands shake on his muscled arms holding you by the waist.

As by now, you were screaming his name, craving for more and finding that mask facing you whilst his hips jerked further to push his dick even more deep inside your drooling hole, he stimulated you too much already, it felt too good. He was sure more excited this time, after all, making sex with one of his biggest kinks was only telling him to keep going even more. He was breathing heavily too, feeling in bliss to finally be able to do something he’s been dreaming about. He was scared you were not going to accept due to your fear with slasher movies, but something about the way you scream his name tells him he’s doing the right thing. As crazy as it seems, having sex with that Ghostface fantasy made something change into his lover, the fear was slowly popping out of your silly head, making way to a new…kink. All due to your hot boyfriend using that mask, but could you blame yourself for that? Not really.

—”Having fun, baby?” He mumbled in between grunts, pushing faster and faster inside you as if he’s fucking the fear out of you. You felt brainwashed, now you want to see more of Leon masked, just to watch as his dick goes inside and out of you as the mask faces you.

—”Fu-Fuuck! Yes!” Leon chuckled, finding it all very amusing. You were already so hot, but you underneath him were crying in whimpering for more with the mask on? He could never forget that.

It felt intimate, you trusted him with your fear. And somehow, was helping out.

—”Not so scared anymore, huh? Freaky.” Leon made fun of the situation, that sarcastic giggle making you want to hit him in the head, but that was not possible due to your blissful state now.

For someone who was so scared of slasher movies, this was quite hot. It sure is an extraordinary way to spend Halloween, discovering a new kink all because your boyfriend is way hotter than you expected with a mask. As though you loved to see his, not seeing was a hot mystery you’re starting to like even more. "Just this time" was all a lie now.

[kat651]

Haldir x reader

You stood on Gimli’s left as you waited for the battle to begin. You had joined Aragorn and the others when they set off in search of Merry and Pippin. You had told them that you'd seen a pack of orcs but were unable to fight off that large number on your own. 

The elves had come to aid Rohan in this battle. You had been helping get the men ready for battle and hadn't been present for their arrival.  

“I cant see anything!” Gimli complained to Legolas, jumping in hopes of seeing over the wall. 

“Shall i describe it to you, or shall i find you a box?” legolas asked.

You expected Gimli to be angry at legolas for teasing him about his height. Instead he laughed. You smiled. “There isn't much to see, its too dark.” you said to Gimli, reassuring him he wasn't missing anything of importance. 

When the ladders appeared, you knew the fun was about to begin. “Legolas, two already!” Gimli shouted excitedly. 

“Im on seventeen!”

You chuckled. “Twenty!” you shouted, skewering another orc.

“Oy, ant no pointy ears outsourcing me!” Gimli shouted, swinging his ax and taking down an orc. 

You got separated from the others and ended up fighting with a few of the elves, glad to be in the midsts of your own kin even if it was during a battle. As you fought, you recognized one of the elves Haldir. You hadnt seen him in over two hundred years but you recognized his fighting style anywhere. You wanted to go and greet him, but you knew now was not the right time. 

You shot an orc and smiled. “Thirty-one,” you counted. 

“You arent participating in that foolishness are you?” a voice asked. You turned and saw Haldir. He was frowning. 

“Whats wrong with having a bit of fun?” you knew he wouldnt recognise you due to your armor. Your weapon was of Dwarvish make, you’d lost your sword and Gimli had lent you his second ax, which you gladly accepted. 

“The battlefield is nat for games.” he huffed, killing an orc.

“Oh, why are you always so serious?” you asked, killing another two orcs. “If this happens to be my last battle, i intend to go down with a smile… thirty-five,” you counded,swinging the ax.

“Haldir!” Aragorn's voice echoed over the sound of steal on steal. “Retreat!” 

Haldir called for the others to retreat and he made way back into the fortress. You were close behind. 

“Thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine…forty…”

You heard a sound of pain and turned, Haldir was outnumbered. You ran to his aid, killing the orc that intended to take his head. 

Haldir nodded in thanks. 

You went to reply when you felt a presence behind you. You spun and killed the orc that had tried to stab you. “Forty-two…” you said. 

Haldir motioned for you to fallow. “Stay close, I’ll get you out of here,”he said, helping you down the stairs. You killed one last orc before something hit the back of your skull, rendering you unconscious.

“Forty-three…” Haldir counted before catching you.

.-.-.

When you woke, you were on a bed in the medical room. You slowly sat up. A hand gently rested on your back. You looked over to see Haldir, he was smiling softly. “I wasn't expecting to see you here… let alone be saved by you…” he whispered, gently grabbing your hand and giving it a soft squeeze.

You felt it as pink ran to your cheeks. 

Haldir cupped your chin with his other hand, gently having you meet his eyes. “I owe you my life.” he whispered.

You shook you head. “You dont owe me anyth-” you gasped softly as he placed a finger over your lips.

“y/n…” he slowly leaned closer, lips about to touch yours when the doors opened. He pulled back and frowned.

Gimli ran over to where you were and legolas was close behind. “You gave us quite a fright lass!” Gimli said as he drew closer.

You chuckled. “ i am quite alright Gimli… i’ll be back to myself shortly.” you said.

Gimli smiled and legolas sat on the edge of the bed.

“What happened after the retreat?” you asked.

“Gandalf showed up with reinforcements.” legolas said. “We won.”

You nodded. “And now what do we plan on doing? When do we return to rohan?”

“We are in rohan, you were asleep the whole time.” Haldir said.

“Oh…”

“Theres going to be quite the celebration tonight, i expect you to stay here and-”

“I am fine, Gimli… i wouldnt miss a chance to beat the two of you in a competition.” you said smiling and slowly rising. “Besides i am fine…merely a wack in the head i will survive.”

“Youmust have the skull of a dwarf to be able to walk off a hit like that!” Gimli said, clearly shocked that you were walking.

“Or very thick armor.” you said. 

Gimli nodded. “Yes now come, Aragorn will be delighted to see you awake and the hobbits are here with us.” 

You gave Haldir one last glance before Legolas and Gimli dragged you out of the room.

You watched as the hobbits danced on the table. You shook your head and made your way out of the hall, the noise causing your head to pound.

You stood outside, looking up at the stars.

“y/n…” 

You turned to see haldir.

“We both know you are not healed… come, sit.” he said, gently grabbing your arm and steading you. You hadnt even noticed that your legs were trembling until he had took your arm.

He led you over to the steps and you sat, gazing up at the sky. “Where are all the others?”

“What?”

“The rest of the elves… where are they?”

“They returned to lorien, I stayed behind to be sure of your safety.”

You looked at him with surprise. “You stayed for me?”

Haldir gently placed a hand on your cheek, caressing it. “I did…” he whispered, leaning closer.

Your eyes fell shut as his lips landed on yours.

Haldir caressed your cheek anain after he pulled away. “I love you…”

You chuckled and placed your lips on his again, arms sliping around his middle. “I love you too…”

[psychdelia]

i’m sure there was a better way to format this but whatever LOL mini part 2?!

being stuck in the upside down, billy dealt with his fair share of hallucinations. thought he was chasing his mother, max, heather, but they were all monsters or figments of his imagination. so when he was met face to face with his old classmates, some of which he literally died in front of, he’s sure it’s a weird trick. some sick joke. up until now, he’s only dreamt of steve. kept him hidden and locked away in his mind, thinking about him when he forgets where he really is for five minutes and pretends he’s in steve’s real bed. except the monsters must’ve unlocked some part of his mind because he’s never hallucinated steve, let alone this whole group before him. he’s not surprised, having watched his loved ones turn into monsters he had to slash when he got too close, hoping they were real.

so, naturally, he lifts his axe and gets ready to swing. he’s a little sad he has to kill what his eyes believe to be steve, but his mind knows better. except when he lifts his arm and moves to step forward, they all scream and cower. usually, they’re not scared. they manipulate and laugh at him, lure him in before showing their true beings. so, he drops his arm back down. he doesn’t realize he’s shaking, looking more like a scared dog than a threat. he backs away every time one of them tries to step towards him and diffuse the situation, his grip on the axe handle only tightening. he doesn’t realize he’s backed himself into a corner until his back hits the wall, and steve is the last one attempting to approach him. his hands are trembling, and he doesn’t want to hurt anyone else. steve’s hands are slow to reach for his own, and billy’s got nowhere to go. he’s mindlessly, quietly begging steve to stop, flinching when warm hands wrap around his, cold and wobbly. he knows it must be fake, but feeling steve’s warm and soft skin, smelling his cologne under the scent of chemicals and death. billy decides he’s okay dying like this as long as he thinks it’s steve.

billy closes his eyes, squeezing them tight and preparing for the worst as steve carefully takes the axe away from him. he’s cold again, too scared to open his eyes and find that steve and the others were replaced with a painful death. instead, he’s letting out a choked sob when big, warm hands find him again, cupping his cheek and wiping his tears. steve’s holding his hip so gentle yet firm, grounding and reassuring as his words get lost in billy’s ears. he’s able to make out soft whispers— it’s okay, billy, you’re okay. it’s me, i’m not gonna hurt you. come here, let me help you. then billy’s falling into his arms and getting dragged the fuck out of the upside down.

[misguidedasgardian]

Wild cats (Part X)

X. At the brink

MASTERLIST

Summary: You got a breather

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, living dead, zombies, guts, blood, guns, injures, a bit of domesticity, dirty thoughts, bad thoughts about one-self (don’t know how to explain this, we get into Daryl’s head and he put himself down), descriptive words that are some sort of stereotype: “preppy girl”, “redneck”, “hick”, and some more. 

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: Alright I know you liked to see what was in Daryl’s mind even for a bit… let’s shine a bit more light in it.

You had been at it for days.

Glenn was right, there wasn’t anything left on this world that wasn’t hidden, and that included canned food and supplies

You did not find a working car anywhere, even though you tried to fix some along the way, but still, most of the road, you did on foot, for long seven days you had been walking, north-east or so, going towards Richmond

You were not going to lie, you were hopeful, but some days, especially when the sugar levels were low in which you were impossible to deal with, you were angry, and mean, so those days you preferred to walk back, taking care of the group’s rear. You knew yourself, you knew how to control the demons, but right now… some were escaping you.

You started to question things, to think about how idiots they were being, thinking about that island and how good it must have been for you, so many resources and powdered margaritas you could find to have a drink…

The heat was overwhelming you too, dressed in your thick boots, and the lack of nutrients was taking a toll on you.

You felt terrible

But the mood in general was good, nobody had fought, yet, and they all seemed hopeful, so that was also helping.

You should have gone to that fucking island

You could have been sipping powdered margaritas with lake water on a boat by now…

But you shook your head, you gained nothing by thinking like this.

What was in Richmond anyways?

Nothing, not for you at least

Was it too late? to turn back? alone at least?

You had a bad feeling about this, something in your stomach. But perhaps it was just the hunger talking.

You had always been a person that got very “hangry”, angry when hungry, and today was showing clearly

Judging by the signs, you were about to cross to North Carolina, meaning you were closer to your destination

What if everybody died there?

What if you come across another group like Terminus? What if this time they succeed? 

And for what? 

You felt guilty instantly, Noah was a somewhat sweet kid

You just needed a break

“HEY!”, you all stopped to watch Daryl as he appeared through the woods, waving his arms

“Found somethin”, he said, and you all went with him. “A set of houses”, he told you. 

You all sprinted through the woods.

It wasn’t a big deal, they were similar to the ones you found Carl in, or rather, he found you.

They were miraculously untouched, or looked like it, just like those you found back then.

You divided naturally, you entered the second house there, ax in hand, ready for some walkers… you hit the door with it, and there came the stickers, one dropped from the second floor scandalously, and you killed it right where he dropped

You were going to go for the second one, but in a second a bolt bashed his skull

Daryl had entered the house right behind you

You shared looks, and nodded.

The first place you hit was the kitchen. And to your amazement, it had things, good things. You didn’t even ask, you opened a can of peaches in juice, and you moaned when you just grabbed the first one with a fork and stuffed it almost completely in your mouth 

Daryl watched you, almost entertained

“Fuck this is good, I swear, I’m a monster if I don’t get some sugar”, you said, offering the can to him once you had two

He grabbed it from you, smiled, and ate contently. You kept checking the kitchen, you found some good stuff… you even found some coffee. How long has it been since you drank coffee?

“I might get use to this”, you said, looking at the pantry with an assortment of things

“Ya should”, said Daryl, he stood right by your side, his arm bumping into yours

“Let’s keep checking”, you said with a soft smile

You went room by room, and found batteries, which was always helpful. You had grabbed a small radio from the safehouse in Atlanta, and you sometimes checked it, to see if there was something being said in it. So far, no luck, but still.

You found candles, which were always helpful, and a flashlight. In the bathroom came the real treat, you found toiletries, which were always coveted, and a deodorant.

You turned the water on, and to your amazement, water started pouring from the tap.

“OH!”, you said, almost crying in relief

“That’s somethin”

“We should check where this water is coming from first”, you said softly, “before we even think about drinking it, or washing ourselves with it”

“Fair”, he said

“It might be a contaminated well, a sealed tank, filled by a generator on a nearby river, or a underground water supply, that’s our best bet”

“You got it ma’am”, but he didn’t move, and you didn’t want him to, he had done so much, always taking care of the group, hunting, scavenging, you were convinced that he walked twice as the entire group, always making rounds around you.

“But you should rest first”, you said with a soft smile

“I actually might”, he said, checking the room behind him, he seemed contented

“Do so, and I will cook…”, you were interrupted when a door flung open, and then you heard footsteps going up the stairs, and Carol appeared.

She frowned, -as she used to do-, when she saw you both, just standing in the hallway, you felt as you were two little children and were caught doing something naughty

“Find anything?”, she asked

“Yeah”, muttered Daryl

“You should report it”, she should have left after saying that, but she just stood there, so you cleared your throat

“You should rest”, you said to Daryl, “I will check that thing we discussed”, he nodded, and you walked away from him, passing by Carol who just stood there.

This was awkward and weird

You found Rick, who was just coming out of the first house with Judith in his arms

“We found a bunch of rotten food in the fridge, the smell is vile, but we found some useful things too”, he said

“We found canned goodies and toiletries”, you informed him, “we also have running water, but I wanted to check out the source”

“Good job”, he said

“I’ll help you”, said Magie coming out of the house, “I know I thing or two about wells”

“Great!”, you said happily

It didn’t took you long enough to find it

“It’s filled with an aquifer”, she said with a wide smile, “WE GOT WATER!”, she said excitedly, “the only thing we need to do is to pump this thing a few times”, you were learning, you were actually learning, as Maggie walked you through the entire system that fed the houses with water, and it was incredible. So cool.

“So… what’s goin’ between you and Dixon?”, she asked teasingly 

“What?”, you asked, taken completely by surprise, “Nothin”

“I saw you both sneaking to the house”, she said

“We didn’t do it on purpose, I thought more people were following me”, you explained simply

“Ohh, come on!”, she teased, as she gave the first pumps with that rusty thing, “not a little something something?”, she teased

“I don’t see it”, you said simply, “I mean he is wildly handsome but… I don’t know he barely tolerates me, he thinks I’m some sort of burden”

“No he doesn’t”, you said

“How do you know? he as much as said it to me”, you explained

“If he truly thought you were some sort of baggage, he wouldn’t be so concerned for you all the time”, she said, “I think he really cares for you”

“It's mutual”, you conceded, “but I really think he only hangs around me to prevent myself from getting killed or something…”

“Well, last time i checked… that was caring”, she said, you loved her accent

“How about you and Glenn?”, you asked her, she looked back at you softly, “did you know each other before?”

“No, actually”, she said, “I lived on a farm with my family, and they showed up one day…”

“They?”, you asked

“Rick, Carol, Daryl, Glenn, and Carl”, she said

“Oh”, you said

“The farm get overrun a few months later”, she said sadly, “my dad, Beth and I made it out, we spend an entire winter scavenging, until we found the prison”

So you were right, Daryl went back far with Rick and Carol. All of them had forged a very strong bond, a bond of survival.

“Don’t be that grim”, Maggie teased, “He likes you”

“Yeah, he likes me… far away from him”, you mocked

“I don’t think that’s true”, she teased, you were actually a bit jealous. She and Glenn seemed so happy together, they were such a great, strong couple.

You felt lonely, alright? you were a human being

You started filling the well with underground water, and took turns to pump, at the end became some sort of competition that drew laughs from the both of you, and eventually, some of the group came out of the houses to see what’s going on, as you were on what would be the common yard in the back

The well was about to be overflowed because of your efforts, and Maggie and you ended up sweating, dropping to the grass 

“WE CALL THE FIRST SHOWER!”, you said to Rick, Carol, Glenn, Daryl, Carl, and those who showed up. You stood up so quickly it made you dizzy 

You started running towards the house to prove a point, and Maggie jokingly started trying to catch you and pushed “out of her way”

“Do ya understand what’s going on?”, Daryl asked Glenn, he shook his head, entertained.

The water felt heavenly, dropping on your dirty skin, you couldn’t remember the last time you showered. It was cold, but it was something. 

You felt guilty for that poor towel you used, it ended up very dirty.

But you didn’t care at the end, you were freaking clean, cold as fuck, but clean nonetheless. The apocalypse life was filled with little pleasures, this was one.

You took a second look at your filthy clothes, and almost hit yourself when you thought about the fact that you didn’t even check the house for more…

You came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, you entered the master bedroom, you had seen pictures of the people that lived here, a middle age couple, with teenager kids, so you dove into the closet of the mother, the towel was a bit short, but you didn’t think there was nobody here so…

You heard something behind you, on the bed.

“What’ya doin?, you turned quickly to realize Daryl was looking at you. He had taken your advice, he had tried to sleep and you just sneaked in, almost naked, and he just woken up

“SHIT”, you cursed, trying to hug yourself, “I’M SORRY! didn’t see you there, I was trying to get some clothes”, he only grumbled something and turned around in the bed, to give you privacy, looking towards the wall, you grabbed a henley you found, and some jeans you’d think they fit and you went back to lock yourself in the bathroom on the hallway, completely petrified

. . .

He took deep breaths but nothing was helping him…

Were you trying to kill him?

First you are alone in that house, searching through the kitchen, sharing food, and now you waltz into the room he chose, the master bedroom, almost naked, wrapped in a towel, looking through the closet like it's yours… like it's your room, like you and him….

He groaned, when he felt his pant tighter, was he a fucking teenager?

This wasn’t a fucking fairytale, this isn’t an episode of desperate housewives apocalypse

You would never be interested in playing house, especially not with him. You were way younger than him, from what he knew, you had been here studying here in the states, a freaking master degree, he had barely finished high school. How could you be interested in him? You had a freaking cute accent, you knew more than one language, you…. you… you were not his type, no, he was not your type.

That is what he believed, that is what he knew.

Pretty girls like you don’t go for rednecks like him

If you were still in the old world, and you saw him walking towards you on the street, you would have changed sidewalks, you would have crossed to the other side of the street.

He had to understand that.

He still didn’t understand why he felt… things.. when he saw you. He had never felt anything like this, when he saw you coming his heart jumped on his chest, he felt nervous, and his hands got sweaty, he felt the need to care for you, to protect you, it didn’t help that you were so freakin’ clumsy, almost askin’ to be bitten by walkers… 

And that got him frustrated and being a freaking asshole to you, because he was… frustrated… he didn’t understand why you, of all the women he had ever met, got him feeling like this. 

But at the same time, the way you eliminated the dead was something of beauty, something Daryl had never seen before, you got good moves, and that only made him more of an idiot for you.

He groaned, turning into the pillow when he heard you walking about in the bathroom.

He knew you had come back to the house you both checked, he never imagined you would get out of the bathroom wearing only a little towel, he wasn’t a pervert, he had heard your advice, and he knew since you were in the house he could sleep for a while, relax. 

Now he wasn’t relaxed until he took care of that situation YOU provoked

Well…. rather that you provoked in him

He felt like a teenager, he couldn’t believe he was having this sort of problem in the damn apocalypse.

“I’ll let everybody know what we found so we can cook something”, you said softly, peeking through the open door

He only nodded, looking at you

“You want me to get you after?”, you asked softly

“Yeah, thanks”

Yeah, some privacy is exactly what he needs

Perhaps this… all of this, what exactly he needs

A similar though passed your mind

These little houses in the middle of nowhere, with a working water system… they seemed so heavenly you almost wanted to stay here forever.

@crazyunsexycool

[thisisourlovestory]

Safe and Sound

Finnick Odair x reader soulmate AU

Summary: you are a victor from district 4. The Quarter Quell has just been announced. How will you cope with the turn of events coming your way.

Word count- 2.1k

Please bear in mind that this is my first fanfic. It will be multiple chapters but release dates are uncertain as I am fairly busy and also procrastination is my best friend. I am open to constructive criticism if you have any. Thanks and enjoy!

Prologue:

The moment President Snow said those words I froze. I couldn’t breathe. Because I could be going back in. Back into the arena. My breath came in short gasps and I leaned against the wall. When I finally gathered the courage to go out the others were already there, Annie, Finnick and Mags. Huddled together in the centre of victor's village, Annie’s face red with tears, Mags opening and closing her mouth in what could only be anger. And Finnick holding himself together, just barely but managing it, holding Annie tightly in his arms as if she was the only thing stopping him from breaking. 

I stood on the porch, leaning against the wooden frame of my house, arms crossing my body. None of them noticed me, I was invisible to them. I was the victor they didn't need, I was just a pretty thing for the capitol to put on display every night. Most of the time I stayed away from victor's village and none of them ever made any attempt to get to know me, I guess I just faded into the background for them. It's not really their fault, they didn't expect me to survive my games, no one did, I was just another tiny thirteen year old in the 68th Hunger Games, no allies, no weapons, no food and no hope. Just a pair of worn ballet shoes and a small bag I had nicked to keep them in. I would have died in the bloodbath had a tribute from 10 not stepped in front of an axe meant for me. I remember the blood splattering across my face as he fell onto me, I had pushed him off, grabbed his bag and ran into the forest. 

I barely managed to survive, the frozen wasteland was unforgiving, animals were scarce but there had at least been enough water. At the end of the first day there had been eight cannons, the second three, the third five, the fourth two, the fifth another two. There were four of us left, the others all career tributes who had plentiful supplies and an alliance. I was able to hide from them for five more days before they had found me. Their leader, Arion from district 2, had shot me in the arm as I tried to get away, I fell and my blood painted the crystal white snow red. They weren't smart now that I think about it, they wanted to play with me; that was their mistake. I killed the girl first, hit her over the head with my ballet shoes, the hard box disorienting her long enough for me to slit her throat with her own knife, the cannon sounded and I killed her district partner as well, piercing his heart with the same knife. That had only left Arion.

I avoided him for a few days but he found me again, probably following the trail of blood I left behind. Except this time I was ready for him. I struck first, flinging my shoes through the air, hitting him on the temple, a trickle of blood falling from the cut formed. He reacted quicker than I expected, swinging his sword wildly, but I was small and fast- like a little bird my mother always said- I threw the knife in a practised motion, letting go of the handle, spinning it slightly, my hand following the line as it hit him dead centre in the chest. He had stared at me. In shock and disbelief that I'd been able to best him. The final cannon went off and I had won. I was the victor of the 68th annual Hunger Games.

For a while it was okay, chauffeured around, fussed over and doted on by my stylists, I was living the dream of every child. But it got old, I became used to people cooing over me, patting my hair, asking me questions. And then I discovered that even if you get out of the arena, you never truly win, you always have to give back something of yourself, a repayment of sorts. You get to live and we get you was how it sounded when President Snow made me the offer. Except it wasn't an offer, it was an order; that's how I found myself as a Capitol slave at the age of fourteen, performing night and day for the rich, barely getting a second's rest. Dancing until my toes bled through my shoes, smearing red across the delicate satin. Singing until my throat was raw and I coughed up the same red my shoes now were. 

The only person who ever offered me some comfort was Finnick. About a month after my games had ended I started having nightmares, I would wake up screaming in the middle of the night and he would hear me and come over to make sure I was okay. We formed a kind of friendship, me thirteen and traumatised, him seventeen and still carrying on. He would fall asleep watching over me, reassuring me that I was okay, I got out. We fell into a routine and by the time I was fifteen the nightmares were a rare occurrence. Then Annie won and it all changed. She became the priority for him, the priority for everyone, she had been broken in the arena and her mind never seemed to fully return to her. I thought he would come back to me, but as I woke up screaming one night and there was nobody there to hold me while I cried, as another scream pierced the air; a door slammed open and I saw Finnick running across to Annie's house, I knew I had lost him. I had lost the one person who I had loved and who truly seemed to care about me. 

I watched them grow closer to each other. He built her up again brick by brick, unknowingly tearing me apart again piece by piece until I was nothing but an empty shell. He stopped her nightmares, whispering soothing words to her as I tossed and turned, eventually I would wake up, sweating and screaming, eyes wide and frantic as I clutched the knife I kept by my bedside. But no one ever came. I couldn’t blame Annie, she was the kindest person I knew and it wasn't her fault Finnick loved her, it wasn't her fault he didn't love me. 

So I dealt with it. I swallowed the pain that welled up in me and buried every thought I had ever had about him deep in my memory, never to see the light of day again. And it worked, I got on with life, going about my daily routine, dancing, singing, eating, sleeping, then doing it all again. I attended parties in the Capitol, laughing and smiling at people, agreeing with their every word. I wasn't happy, but I didn't need to be, I just needed to be alive.

So that was how I found myself after the announcement of the Quarter Quell, watching Mags, Annie and Finnick from the sidelines. My face blank as they comforted each other, not sparing me a second glance. They had all but forgotten I existed. I waited for them to go inside before I ran out of the large gates separating us from the rest of District 4. I ran along the cliffs, wind whipping my hair into a tangled mess. I reached the edge and stood still, staring out at the roiling ocean, grey waves crashing against the shoreline, foam spraying the cliff face. My heart was pounding in my ears, drowning out the sound of the sea. The air grew cold around me as my chest constricted and I gasped for breath. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. 

Tears poured down my face as I sank to my knees and cried. Guttural sobs tearing from my throat, my chest heaving with each one as I clutched the grass beneath me. Fingers digging into the wet soil, clenching and unclenching in time with the beating of my heart as I tried to ground myself. Gradually, my heart slowed and I pulled my hands out of the ground. I breathed shakily, dirt trapped under my nails as I scratched at the skin on my wrist. I lifted it up so I could see the mark laying there. Stark black against pale skin. Forever inked on my body. A trident and a flower, interwoven with each other.  

It was a soulmark. It appeared when I turned 17, as they did for every other person. The person with the same mark is my soulmate, they could be anyone. But I already know who it is even if he doesn't. I saw it one night and then when I got mine I knew immediately but by that point it was already too late. He was already in love with Annie. I stared at it, it wasn't very noticeable, easy to hide from people; pretty as well I suppose, then again they say it's the most beautiful things that are the most dangerous. And this mark, this tiny little mark held the power to destroy me if the wrong person so much as caught a glance of it. I let out a soft laugh, how pointless it all seemed now that everything I had could be taken from me again. I had worked so hard to build up this facade, pretending everything was fine and with a few words it had all come crashing down. 

I shook my head and stood up, giving a last look to the sea as I turned and walked back the way I had come. People talking about the announcement anywhere I pass, I paid them no mind, holding my head high as my feet hit the cobblestones with sharp thwacks. 

“Who do you think will be reaped?”

“It's such a shame really.”

“We only have three victors anyway.”

I ignored them all, they pretended I didn't exist and I'd do the same for them, it's not as if they cared. I finally reached the small gathering of houses the victors lived in and stood outside the gate. The metal tarnished from years of standing in the elements, wooden stakes seeming to wilt under my heavy gaze. I reached out a shaky hand and pushed the metal forwards, opening it only slightly so I could slip in without making the usual clanging sound. I slowly walked towards the fountain in the centre of the square and sat down on the edge, trailing my fingers in the water as my gaze focused on the centrepiece. A mermaid, carved from marble, her hair flowing in the current, tail curving up to the sky, each scale distinguishable. A steely expression was painted on her face, that of a commander, a leader. An odd message from the Capitol, to show the mermaid as being powerful, to show us as powerful, and yet hidden in the water below the statue, in the basin of the fountain, laid a golden net. A message that we had won, but we would always be theirs and we could never escape. 

My hand ran through my hair as I hummed quietly to myself, my other hand drifting along the water as I sat cross legged on the edge of the fountain. My eyes wandered across to Mags’ house where they had all decided to go. They were talking amongst themselves, Mags placing a reassuring hand on Finnick's shoulder and him muttering calming words to Annie. I felt sick, all the feelings I had locked away bubbled back to the surface because why could it not be me? Why was it her? What had I done wrong? My eyes watered slightly as I tried to hold back tears at the sight of them being so sickeningly perfect for one another. Not that it should've been me in his arms but it would be nice to know someone cared enough to check up on me, help me through the hard moments in life. Once upon a time I had thought he was that person and look where that got me, in deeper pain than I had been before. 

I sighed deeply, taking in lungfuls of fresh air, and started up the steps to my house, the front porch, a few small plants in ornate pots, wisteria growing up the trellis, light purple blooms adding a little something to the otherwise grey picture. I took a last look at them across the square, smiles on their faces as if they had forgotten the news we received earlier. I guess that's what happens when you have people you can talk to, who understand and try to help. I twisted the doorknob, stepping inside, closing the door behind me, leaning against it for support. I didn't notice the eyes that watched me. Or maybe I just didn't want to. 

[itsgrimeytime]

The Nurse (Part Two) || Rick Grimes (TWD)

Part 1, Part 2

Taglist: @strnqer, @1985bitch, @curlycarley, @imaginemyfavoritefics,

Summary: Before all this, you were a nurse. A nurse who had patients, one of which was a man in a coma. A sheriff, you think, it was all kinda fuzzy now. When it all went sideways, you set up what you could for the man - but had to leave. You'd always wondered where he'd ended up; until in your search of shelter, you run into a familiar face.

TWS: Blood, gore, hospital mention, mentions of death, gun violence (just violence in general), swearing, all things typical of TWD.

[[A/N: Let me know if you want to be tagged! And this time is loosely based on S3, E5, where Daryl and Maggie go to get baby supplies for Judith. I will not be following the story to a T though, and will kinda carve out my own path, it's been ages since I've seen it so, any weird story omits or things I don't mention are just not happening here lol. And I know this is kinda fast, I'm just writing as I feel like it, so don't expect super quick updates all the time, but here's a treat. Thanks for reading!]]

You stopped, hand resting on a tree, just for a moment. Taking some deep breaths, you scanned the area, looking for anything familiar or anything that you could, at least, stay the night in. You were practically running on less than an hour of sleep, the pure adrenaline of surviving being the only thing forcing your eyes open.

Currently, your plan was to use some old lipstick you'd found in a purse - somewhere along the road - to mark trees. Leaving a trail, so you knew where you'd been and where you were going. It was simple, and would probably wash away in the rain, but it was enough for now.

With an exhale, you kept moving deeper into the forest - a hope for a cabin, deep in your heart. An unoccupied cabin.

It's not that you didn't want to help people. You truly did. And if you found anyone who needed it, you would - other straggling groups with limps and cuts and bruises. You'd give them advice on how to clean wounds properly, some regular items they could use. If an injury was more serious, you'd stay with them just for a while to watch the person, keep an eye on whatever you had to.

It never stuck, though. You found it easier to be alone, to be on the move. You could help more people that way.

Plus, there were... others. Driven to madness by the tragedy, brutally ready to kill at first sight for whatever fucked up reason they came up with. Some of them had used you for a while, providing you food and shelter, just to ship off wounded soldiers to you - ones they wounded themselves. It was eerily familiar to your previous job, and you almost fell into a rhythm - even thinking about it now, it snuck a knot of guilt in your stomach. One too many threats, and you found yourself back to traveling.

The scrubs you still wore stuck to your skin, hair matted and blood soaked - you imagined this wasn't one of your best days. But it honestly probably wasn't your worst either.

And then, you heard it. The snap of a twig.

"Fuck," you whispered barely even a breath, pulling your duffel over your side and readying your fire axe. (You'd grabbed it back at the hospital, all that time ago.)

There was something to be said about a single snap of a twig because the dead were noisy.

They were unaware - would continue down the path, crunching leaves and snapping more twigs, dragging their feet through the dirt. In different circumstances, they could sneak up on you. With the soft grass under their feet and the hum of the animals in the forest mixing in with their own tones, sometimes you had to rely on the quietest of noises.

But this forest? No.

Without thinking a second more, you spun behind the nearest tree, the red of the lipstick - grazing along your fingers.

"What, so-" a voice spoke, "-we just give up?"

"No," a gruff tone responded, hair a little overgrown, and what seemed to be a crossbow on his back, "-Just means we got some extra work to do."

The woman, who had short brunette hair and a pistol in her hands, said, "Yeah, and we're gonna do it. We... have to. She deserves a chance."

"Of course," the man responded, a little bit upset she even insinuated he wouldn't care.

You watched carefully, eyes following the pair as they roamed through the woods - before stopping in front of one of your trees, your marked trees.

"Fuck," you muttered, so soft, the wind could’ve whisked it away, exhaling carefully and turning around to face the other way.

"What's that?" the woman asked, a tone of mixed concern and curiousity.

There was a scrape, and you could only assume the man touched the lipstick mark, as he hummed, "Not blood."

"I think..." the woman muttered, the slight slur of her accent becoming stronger, "-I think it's lipstick."

The man huffed, his accent strong, "What for?"

There was more leave crunching, and the woman replied, "Maybe a path? I don't..."

"Hello?" the man spoke, and you heard the click of metal, like he'd moved his gun up, "Is anyone there?"

The woman seemed to keep moving, leaves crunching getting closer and closer to your ears, you knew they'd notice an end of the path.

You needed to do something quick.

"I'll give ya 'til a count of 3," the man spoke, the metal clicking once more, "-one."

Your breaths shook, as you debated your options, based on what you'd seen the gun the man had was long range. So, running was out of the question.

"Two," his accent lilted.

Your feet were almost rooted in fear, what if it happened again? What if all you were surrounded by was death? What if they used you and then killed you next? God, you couldn't die, not now. Not after everything you'd done.

"Three," he added, tone more aggressive, and the click of the metal once more sending fear down your spine.

You couldn't wait any longer, squeezing your eyes shut, you spun around, "Wait!"

Expecting the blossoming pain, you flinched. Yet, after a moment, nothing happened.

You cracked open your eyes, and saw two guns trained at you, the woman and man now in clear sight. Noticing now, the bags full placed at their feet, you wondered if they thought you were here for their supplies.

Without hesitation, the man straightened his gun and asked, "Are ya bit?"

"No," you answered quickly, flourishing your arms forward as if to show the lack of teeth marks, "-no, I'm clean, you can check."

"What's your name?" the woman spoke, tone solid and unmoving.

"Y-Y/N." you stuttered out, looking down the barrel of two guns wasn't exactly calming.

The man, a bit distant, replied, "What are you doing out here?"

"I..." you exhaled, trying to calm your shaking hands which were still caked in blood (as the rest of you were), "-I'm just looking for shelter for the night. Look, I don't mean you two any harm, just leave me be and I'll-"

The woman faltered, her green eyes flickering with emotion -just for a second, "You need shelter?"

"Uh, yes," you spoke, a bit bewildered that they were listening but too tired to question it, "-I haven't slept in 3 days, I just need some rest and I'll be-"

"Maggie," the man spoke stern and low, and you weren't sure you were supposed to hear it.

The sun was setting now, and if they had some shelter, this was your last chance for the night and you were just so tired. What else could you do?

Maybe you could bring something to the table.

Interrupting their hushed conversations, you began, "I... I heard you say a 'she' earlier, is there something wrong with her?"

The two stopped talking, the man's icy glare set on you, "Why you askin'?"

"I-If she's sick, I can help," you beckoned, "-I come from a hospital, I have all kinds of medical supplies. I-I can show you if you want. And-"

The man interrupted again, as the woman, Maggie you now knew, carefully watched you, "You a doctor of some kind?"

You paused, waiting for a moment before responding, "Y-yes. I'm a nurse, er well, I used to be. I... I worked at Harrison Memorial Hospital when it all went down."

The woman started this time, "And you're willing to help us?"

"Yes," you asserted, "-as long as I have a place to stay for the night. That's... that's all I ask."

"But you'll stay as long as we need ya?"

You furiously nodded, "Of course. I won't... I won't leave someone I know I can help behind."

The two turned to each other, before slowly pointing their guns to the ground. You exhaled a big breath of relief as your heartbeat slowed, muttering out, "Thank god."

The woman, held out her hand, "Maggie."

You hesitated for a moment, at the current state of your hands, before accepting it with a quick shake.

"Daryl," the man added, hand extended as well. You shook his, and began to follow in their footsteps -leading about west of where you were headed just earlier.

"Are you with a group?" Maggie asked, strolling along the woodlands.

"No," you replied, "-I... I come and go. Sometime people need a doctor so I help, but-"

The two looked at you, still watching you to say something wrong. They were still heavily armed afterall. The thought made your hands shake.

"I ended up in some shady places," you continued, "-because I stayed. So, I don't really stay anymore."

Daryl hummed in response, and Maggie simply looked at you with eyes of hesitant trust. Like she wanted desperately to trust you, but it seemed hard. You didn't blame her. Not really.

The last time you trusted someone, it hadn't gone well then either. This world is not one of trust, you knew that.

"We have a group," Maggie continued, walking in step with you as Daryl scouted ahead, "-it's small but we don't trust too well."

"Right," you murmured, expecting as much.

Daryl hummed, "We have a leader too. You'll have to meet him. You gonna be alright with that?"

Before you could even respond, Maggie interjected -an unsettled look in her eyes, "Daryl, is he even... in the space to do this?"

"Don't have to be," he responded, a little coldly, but you figured that was just kind of his tone at this point, "-he's gotta. I'll talk to 'em."

You furrowed your eyebrows, a question on your tongue, but found the following silence was not one to be interrupted. Without thought, you simply adjusted your bag and continued along. Their path was set as if this happened often, and the knowledge that you were going to a very settled camp irked you just a little.

A dynamic that felt substantial in this post-apocalyptical world usually wasn't the kindest. Oftentimes, it was 'kill or be killed'.

You knew that well, staring down at your hands (which had definitely dried by now) -you wished you had a way to wash them off. But the water was too precious to risk anyone's supplies, frankly. It reminded you of before, when veins would rupture, when hearts wouldn't beat, and everything felt like it was on the line.

An exhale, and you scrubbed your hands on your pants.

It felt immoral, as you held a fire axe in your hands. Weren't you supposed to save people? Wasn't that in the oath?

Shaking your head, you glanced ahead at the pair wondering how exactly this group operated -where they had a protocol for finding people. That wasn't... You hadn't seen much of it.

"This group," you questioned, "-how long have you guys been together?"

"Long enough," Daryl answered, curtly, "-prove yourself and you might just have a spot with us." Maggie hummed in agreement, pulling her pistol close to her chest, as a large barbed wire fence came into your view. And... were those... watchtowers?

"Is this...?" You trailed off, eyes taking in the surrounding concrete and the few stragglers either slowly trudging to the group you found yourself in, or mindlessly clawing at the tall fences as if it would do anything.

"Our base," Maggie finished, pulling her pistol to attention and shooting one of the dead just ahead of you -right in front of what you assumed was the opening gate.

"And it's a..."

"Prison, yeah," Daryl finished, pulling out his bow and killing the other one without a flinch.

"Right," you responded, a bit astonished, "-have you guys cleared the place?"

"Almost," Maggie answered, as the three of you stood directly in front of the gate. There was a watchtower to your left, and you could see the familiar glint of a scope shining down from the top.

"Glenn!" Daryl shouted, you watched as the dead stirred toward the noise, "-Let us in!"

There was a moment of hesitation, a breath of air catching in your lungs as the corpses made their way to you -slowly but surely. You knew a few weren't a threat, not with a group the size you currently were in, but you still felt this buzz of fear under your skin. Normally, you would be gone by now, vanished into the dust -not wanting to waste durability on a fight that would only bring more opponents.

Without warning, the door swung open and you assumed they had silenced the mechanism because no sound other than the screech of metal moving across the concrete filled your ears.

Which was not pleasant. At all.

The crowd there wasn't particularly large, but still seemed odd. Maybe you had been alone for too long.

A man quickly approached the group with a warm smile, rushing up to Maggie and scooping her into a hug. This figure hardly even noticed you or Daryl, now that you thought about it, but you doubted you would have either.

Daryl spoke, with a taste of disgust (you couldn't tell if it was playful or not) "That's Glenn, Maggie's boyfriend, you'll get used to it."

You nodded, pointing to a few stragglers around what looked like crops, "Okay, and... who are they?"

Without answering you, Daryl called out, "Rick out here?"

The older man who was tending to the crops looked up, eyeing you for a second, before answering, "I think he's inside, clearing out block F."

Maggie responded, "Daddy, can you see if you can get him out here?"

You blinked, absorbing the new information, Maggie's dad, right. The old man sighed, standing and brushing off his hands on his knees.

"I'll try."

Daryl nodded, not leaving your side, and it would've been comforting had you not known it was because you weren't fully trusted yet. Maggie guided you to a table, assumedly brought out from the cafeteria, and sat you down with a calm gesture to a chair. Glenn followed close behind, and Daryl merely observed.

You doubted he'd even blink while you waited for the mysterious Rick. He seemed the type to take his duty seriously.

"I'm Glenn," he held out his hand across the table, sitting just beside Maggie with curious but cautious eyes. It seemed he trusted Maggie's hesitant judgment of you.

"Y/N," you replied, accepting his hand, "-this is a lot, huh?"

"Oh yeah," Glenn continued, looking around the courtyard, "-finding the prison has been life-changing for us."

"I imagine," you laughed, a little in disbelief at the mere size, and looking over the two's shoulders to see the dead staring in through the fence. There weren't that many at all, but it still trickled in some of your solo senses.

Which were mostly bashing their head in before they get too close.

Maggie caught your eye, inquisitive almost like you were in an interview, "How familiar are you with the walkers?"

"You mean the dead?" you clarified, fingers trailing along the blood in the creases of your palms, "More familiar than I ever wanted to be, that's for sure."

Glenn opened his mouth to say something, but something bumped into your ankle and you were immediately on your feet. Prepared for the worst.

Instead of what you expected, there was a ball... An old deflated basketball probably from the court somewhere around here, you stared at it a bit incredulously. Like you'd almost forgotten it was a thing. You picked it up, brushing your finger along the bumpy texture.

"Sorry," a voice spoke. Squeaky and... familiar.

Your eyes snapped up and were met with those eyes 'You have to save him, please.' Breath caught in your lungs, your mouth moved but nothing came out. He was a little older now, with hair a touch longer and a sheriff's hat on the top of his head. But that was-

Daryl grunted, "Play somewhere else-"

"Carl?" you interrupted, tilting your head and dropping the ball to the floor; what were the chances?

Maggie stuttered out, a tone of protectiveness in her voice you'd have yet to experience, "You know him? Carl, do you know them?"

He paused, tilting his head in the same way you had just seconds before like he was trying to get a good look at you, "I..."

He looked into your eyes, eyeing your scrubs for a second -probably the same he'd seen you in so long ago. And the blue eyes that were so achingly familiar seemed to light up in recognition, he questioned, "Nurse Y/N?"

It was like a pin could drop, as the boy's gaze settled on you curiously, and every adult in the vicinity watched you like you were the most dangerous criminal in the world. A tension settling within the air that gave you uncomfortable goosebumps, and desperately made you want out of the spotlight.

Slowly, a grin slid across his features, his tiny finger pointing at you, elated, "You saved my Dad!" And before you could even react, the little boy had scurried up to you and wrapped his arms tightly around your middle - almost knocking off his hat at the force.

You blinked, a little stunned at the current predicament, but shook yourself awake. Completing the hug, you exhaled a sort of relief you hadn't known you needed. Seeing this little boy surviving such a terrible world gave you a spark of something. Like you'd been waiting to hear this.

"I promised I would, didn't I?" you hummed with a very soft smile.

Just as he let go, you crouched down and fixed his hat on his head, suddenly much more comfortable in a known presence, "Cool hat, kiddo."

He grinned even wider, but before he could even say another word, another voice echoed through the courtyard. Tone hardened and deep, this one could not be missed.

"Carl?" a breathy southern drawl -that you knew- interrupted, and your stomach flipped.

The tone was accusatory, dangerous even, so you stood quickly. A distance now established, you looked up into the figure. That couldn't be-

The blue eyes had burned into your head, so clear, so decisive.

"Rick Grimes?"

[heyitsghost57]

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing 2

Pairing: Lamb x Narinder/The One Who Waits

Chapter: Chapter 2 | My darling’s defeat

Chapter Summary: After many attempts resulting in death, Lamb is finally able to defeat their God. Lamb is delighted and welcomes him into their cult. Narinder is overwhelmed by this situation.

Content Warnings: detailed violence, detailed gore, and death

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: credit to @maibel-mai for inspiring me to make this fic & giving me permission to post this! this fic is also cross-posted on AO3.

This wasn’t what Lamb had hoped for. This was the last thing they wanted to happen. They felt their heart aching and they wanted to cry. Centuries were spent dedicating their life to this cause, only for it to be ripped away from them. The love of their life, their soulmate, was betraying them and forcing them to make the hardest decision of their life. It felt like Narinder was ripping their heart open. They were in love and meant to be together. How could he do this to them? Choking back tears, Lamb grabbed the merciless axe, the weight of it heavy in their hands, as well as letting the hounds of fate curse form within their crown. Their followers were held up high, trapped within cages, and their whining and cries for help was started to annoy them. They refused to cry in front of their followers and especially not in front of their God. They wiped their tears away with their palm, gripping the weapon tightly as Baal approached them. To be honest, Lamb never cared for Baal nor Aym. They envied how they got to spend time with their God constantly, while Lamb was forever craving being in his presence twenty-four seven; it wasn’t fair to them. Lamb would enjoy killing these two kits.

Baal charged towards Lamb, holding his staff low to the ground as he ran to them. Lamb tried to counter his attack with their axe, though the weight of their weapon was slowing them down. It was too slow to block Baal’s staff, resulting in Lamb getting cut in their thigh. Closing the distance between the two of them, Baal brought his staff towards Lamb again, then once more. It was hard for Lamb to defend themselves; Baal was just so fast. Baal, floating slightly, summoned three heretics around him, before planting his back paws back down to the ground. Using this moment of vulnerability to their advantage, Lamb successfully damaged Baal with their axe. They held their axe high to get in a second hit, though Lamb had to stop quickly to negate taking more damage. A gasp left Lamb’s mouth, running between two heretics to get away. They, too, came towards Lamb with their swords. Lamb had to kill them before Baal came closer. They didn’t have much time and although Lamb was a skilled fighter, this was the most important fight of their life. Lamb was panicking slightly and they had to remind themselves to calm down.

Lugging the axe forward, their blade felt little resistance against a heretic’s body, slicing one open cleanly in the stomach as their guts spilled onto the floor. Baal was on the other side of the battlefield, summoning chains to attack Lamb. As a heretic cut into Lamb’s forearm, they barely dogged the chain ready to pierce their hoof. They let out a startled and strained laugh. That was close. Too close. Lamb’s blood was warm against their wool, trickling down as they killed another heretic. Baal noticed Lamb trying to close the distance again, so in defense, he summoned more chains. Although Lamb’s thigh and arm protested, they dodge-rolled the spikes, their cuts opening slightly more. Their injuries, wet with their blood, made the light sand of this domain stick to them. They could feel little pebbles and rocks sticking to their skin and forcing themselves into their wounds. Letting out a grunt, Lamb focused their curse towards Baal, the projectiles circling in on him. Lamb paid little attention to him taking damage from the curse as the final heretic was slayed. Some of their fervor was replenished from the fallen corpse, allowing Lamb to target Baal with their curse again. Calling the curse to take shape within their mind was a bit hard; Lamb was pumped up on adrenaline and fear. They knew the worst had yet to come; Baal was only the first of three cats Lamb would have to face against today. The thought wasn’t any more comforting, considering it’d get harder as they faced each foe. To counter, Baal summoned chains to follow Lamb; though, he was still hit. It was hard for Lamb to retreat, given their injuries, though they persevered, and were met with Baal again. Lamb readied their axe in defense and before Baal could hit them with his spear, Lamb swung their axe, Baal stumbling back from the impact. Lamb killed him with a finishing blow to the stomach with their axe once more. They smiled slightly at the sight, their heart beat racing as Baal’s blood soaked into their red cloak. Their celebration was short-lived, however, for Aym was next. Lamb wondered if Aym felt sorrow, seeing his brother fall. Did Narinder feel anything, seeing this scene unfold before him? Did he even feel anything when he injured his siblings? They hoped that, deep down, it did affect him. It would be easier for them to stomach killing someone who wasn’t completely emotionless; that’d scare them too much if it was otherwise.

“I’ll get the crown back from this beast, Master!” Aym called out. Hearing both the brothers call Lamb’s god their master made Lamb roll their eyes. They weren’t worthy of such a personal title; Lamb should be the only one to give him honorifics, not even his followers or guardians. They felt their body tense up at Aym calling them a beast. Lamb wasn’t a monster. They were doing this for love, even if they were the only one who understood that currently. Similar to his brother, Aym also summoned several chains that cut into the battlefield. Lamb was mistaken to think this battle would be similar to Baal’s. Although the brothers both summoned chains, Lamb wasn’t ready for his next move. Moving his hands to form a prayer, Aym summoned fireballs. The spike of a chain took hold in their thigh and Lamb yelled in pain. The spike cut through their bone, shattering on impact, and they found their balance wobbly, the tip of the weapon sticking through their skin. Every part of Lamb wanted to rip it out and run away, but they knew they couldn’t fight in that condition. Aym summoned more fireballs and flames lapped up their cloak, burning their wool. Lamb cried out, feeling the fire eat away at their flesh. This was the first time Lamb fell to their Lord’s power, though it was not the last.

On take two, Lamb felt slightly more familiar with Baal’s attacks. Although he was fast, the trick was for Lamb to not get cornered by heretics or chains. With their second try against Aym, Lamb groaned at the sight of more chains. They wanted to explode them with their mind. If only the crown willed them to do so. Huffing, Lamb side-stepped away from a chain and began to close the distance between him and Aym. They missed their mark and had to retreat in face of more spikes. Aym summoned more fireballs and Lamb expected it this time. Better prepared, they were able to clear the first round of fire. Thankfully, Aym wasn’t as fast as his brother. Although Lamb stood in the face of more danger against fire rather than heretics, they had the advantage of speed. Lamb took note that Aym stood in place often, sometimes teleporting to create distance. They thought about how this left him vulnerable; they could use this.

Aym’s staff spun around as he summoned fireballs, his back paws floating above the sand a bit. When his feet planted to the ground again, he knelt down and clutched his chest, groaning. Apparently, summoning fireballs took a lot out of Aym. Others may have been intimidated coming near Aym, with his scarred eye and sharp teeth, though not Lamb. Yet again, all they felt was indifference. It was that empty pit in their stomach that clawed at them incessantly, making them feel numb and dead inside unless they were around Narinder. Dying to chains and fire over and over again wasn’t great for Lamb’s mental state, but they’d do anything to be with their devoted lover. It wasn’t honorable to kick someone when they’re down, but Lamb discarded this, bringing their hammer to Aym and lowering it over his leg. It struck clean into his thigh, though not deep enough to cut through the bone. They heard a crunch of the bone splintering, crushed from the weight of the hammer. Lamb readjusted their hammer, bringing it up slightly, before bringing it down farther within the cat’s leg. The feline hissed and teleported away, creating distance between the two. His blood trailed down his leg to the white sand below, staining it red. Chains broke from below the ground and Lamb dodged quickly. The rows of chains closed the distance between him and the kit, allowing them to hit them with their hammer again. They were even lucky enough to get in a second swing. The next attack made the chains follow Lamb’s movement. As they ran, waiting for the magic to run out, they called for the ichor thrown curse. They watched as the black liquid seeped into Aym’s position and damaged him. Lamb was slowly whittling away his health with the poison and his crushed leg. More fireballs flew their way towards Lamb. They evaded this and put the finishing blows on Aym. Finally. This kill felt satisfying and again, they found themselves smiling a little. Good riddance.

Despite a few wins under their belt, Lamb failed many, many times. Sometimes to Aym or Baal, a heretic, or often a spike splitting them open, jutting through the ground when they were distracted. Each time, they’d get closer to killing their beloved. Lamb always prided themselves at being a good fighter and this hurt their ego more and more as it went on. They felt embarrassed and Lamb’s face began to heat up. Even when faced with betrayal, all Lamb wanted was to impress their God. This time, Lamb had taken very little damage from their God’s disciples. Lamb had sweat going down their face as their lungs took in heavy gulps of air. They didn’t feel emotionally prepared to hurt Narinder no matter how many times they did it. Lamb died, this time distracted by their anger and shame, conflicting feelings bubbling up inside them.

Again.

They fell to Baal’s fireballs once more. Lamb was never good when faced with these, despite their centuries of combat experience.

Again.

Lamb’s reflexes were too slow to shield them from a heretic’s weapon. They felt the blade piercing through their skin, slipping between their ribs, and lodging into their heart.

Again.

They breathed in, their breath shaky. Lamb sensed that, maybe, this would be the fight where they beat Narinder. They hoped to be wrong though. They weren’t sure they had the heart to do this, despite their heartbreak. With little damage taken from the brothers, they faced their Lord. They felt their heart flutter from both nervousness and admiration. They wondered why their sacrifice was needed if he was able to break out of his chains regardless. It would make him stronger, yes, but was it necessary? He was the last God standing, after all.

They grew tired of doing this over and over again. It was a constant cycle of pain and emotional turmoil. Lamb wondered if he felt the same. Although Lamb wasn’t exactly surprised he requested their sacrifice, it still hurt. Over their centuries working under Narinder, they felt emotionally attached to him. Sometimes, they felt that these emotions were reciprocated. Although hesitant at first, he allowed them to call him Narinder. It was a name unspoken for many years, revived by his closest sibling, and now, Lamb. He showed slight annoyance when Lamb wanted to stay and chat in his realm. Aym, Baal, and Narinder himself recognized he was rather lenient with them. With past vessels, the casual way Lamb talked with them, bugging him, and whining to him wouldn’t have been tolerated. Lamb enjoyed it most when Nari was extremely affectionate with them, holding them in his giant hand, Lamb comfortably resting in his palm. Due to his height, Narinder often crouched or turned on his side, resting his face to the ground to speak with his vessel. Narinder’s circumstances weren’t ideal, though Lamb often wondered how his purring and meows and trills would sound. For his current size, they imagined he’d make the realm shake a bit with his purring. Lamb liked to imagine he had cute trills and a rather sweet and effeminate meow despite his status as a God. They daydreamed of their life together after he’d been freed. When he demanded they die for him, Lamb had hesitated and choked out their pleas.

“My Lord, I feel I’d be much more useful as a disciple. Please, let me continue to work under you,” they had said, stuttering. They bowed slightly, one hand to their heart as they looked at the ground. Lamb tried to smile, though it faltered. Tears pricked in their eyes and they felt a knot of anxiety rising in their chest. Narinder was all they had. He understood them, he loved them, he needed them just as much they needed him. Lamb was the only one worthy of his presence and he was the only one who mattered to them. As a God, he was their most important being. Not Ratau, not Nana, not Forneus, not anyone. Just him. Lamb had admired his ruthlessness, his coldness. They found it to be a double-edged sword now, backstabbing them. He was willing to hurt his siblings, permanently making their lives harder. Why would he care about a measly vessel? Lamb had felt their delusions shatter. Narinder had laughed at them. It used to be a sound they treasured, trying their best to humor him and bring his what little sliver of joy he could get in his position. It used to be music to Lamb, though now it was like nails on a chalkboard. He was mocking them. Lamb’s face heated up in embarrassment and they let out a slight whine, a spare tear going down their face. “My Lord, please . . .” they begged. Their hands gripped their cloak, bunching up the fabric. Lamb felt humiliated. They never wanted to sound so desperate and needy in front of him.

“I fear you’re mistaken, Lamb. I no longer have need for you. With no purpose left to serve, your mortal presence annoys me,” Narinder said, cocking his head. He smiled, showing off his sharp teeth, though the words weren’t entirely true. However, he couldn’t show vulnerability. Getting too attached to mortals was foolish and he refused to be betrayed by those close to him. Not again. His eyes narrowed, looking down at the Lamb like they were an insect beneath him. He hummed slightly. Although he would never admit it, he planned on making their death painless. Mayhaps they could’ve been revived as his disciple. Or maybe, they would’ve gotten their own spot beside him in his realm, much like Aym and Baal. Those plans were discarded with their betrayal, though. Narinder only felt rage, insulted by the fact a mere mortal would think they could usurp him, the mighty God of death.

Lamb remembered his sweetness, as well as his coldness now. The shame angered them. They would kill him this time. They had to. They had to, not only to save their flock, but to stop the pain in their chest. This song and dance was all too familiar to them now; they could do this. Their resolve softened slightly when his scratchy, harsh voice uttered how they belonged to him. They smiled a bit as he broke from his chains once again. He approached the battlefield. Lamb was ready to run towards him, though his hands pressed together in a prayer, and he teleported to the opposite side of the field. Lamb tried again, running towards him, and had to evade more chains. It was one rows of chains after another. Narinder was faster than his guardians, far more brutal. Lamb got an opening and was able to get him with their sword a few times before having to evade again. Fight, retreat, fight, retreat; attack, defend, attack, defend . . . The fights were all starting to blur together in their head. Moving to a different corner of the field, Narinder summoned more chains. If Lamb had a different curse, they would’ve been hurt from this. Luck was on their side, as they were able to counter these spikes with the death’s squall curse. Due to death’s squall negating Nari’s attack, Lamb was able to get behind him. Their heart broke more and more with each stab to his back. Now they were the backstabber. Lamb stepped back slightly, as to not get caught when Narinder got stuck in the ground. He growled as Lamb continued to hurt him, over and over. He could feel his health depleting. Narinder used his arms to get unstuck. He was frustrated and teleported to the middle of the field. Using death’s squall again, Lamb was able to get Narinder stuck in the ground again quickly.

The ground below them crumbled, forcing Narinder and his vessel to the depths below. Lamb wondered if this was Hell. It was dark at first, before flames, taking the shape of upside down crosses and fireballs, spread all throughout the area. Narinder let out a scream that hurt Lamb’s ears. It echoed throughout the land and caused Lamb to look at Narinder. The land was rather dim, the light sources being only the large fires. Although Lamb had seen his eldritch form before, it still unnerved them each time. His fur and skin split open, a clean ‘X’ shape cutting across his face. The muscles and lower layers of skin were exposed. His cat ears now looked more like thick branches. His peeled away skin had multiple eyes and his claws looked sharper than ever. He had multiple rows of teeth that looked razor sharp. Ichor dripped down his face, from his eyes, nose, and mouth, black staining his once white robes. Lamb knew their followers were just as grossed out as they were, seeing his eyes unlatch from their sockets. Although Lamb felt sick and wanted to throw up seeing this freakish sight, a twisted part of them admired him. Even now, they marveled in his beauty. It reminded them of stars or a cut open pomegranate, exposed with the seeds ripe for picking, or maybe a meadow of flowers. They loved it.

His eyes burrowed within the ground, squirming towards Lamb. One popped out before the others and Lamb was quick to attack it. The other eyes spit out fireballs, which Lamb countered with their curse. They still had a decent amount of fervor, so they used it again. That seemed to finish off one of the eyes. The other two eyes burrowed underground again. Narinder slammed his fists down over and over, croaking out screams. Horizontal and vertical rows of fire closed in on Lamb. After dodge rolling over all of them, Lamb felt their back and neck aching a bit. One eye appeared before the other. Lamb threw out a barrage of attacks, alternating between their curse and sword. The eye spit out poison and Lamb stepped back slightly. They continued to thrash at it and they were close to killing it; they could feel it. Before they could finish it off, they hid again. Narinder summoned more fire, this time in three sets of undulating patterns. Lamb had died to him so many times they knew of the safe spots within this pattern, quickly running to one. Narinder growled at this, and again when the second eye died. Only one eye remained. It popped out and Lamb was quick to slash it over and over with their sword. It spit out fireballs and although it burned, Lamb stayed put, continuing to attack the eyeball.

The final eye fell.

Lamb’s heart was caught in their throat. Adrenaline was pumping in their veins and their heart was racing, their mind going miles a minute. This was it. Running, in pain and covered in blood, Lamb cut Narinder over and over. Narinder had finally fallen to the Lamb’s blade and Lamb let out crazed laughter. They were in pain, burned and poisoned and cut. It hurt to breathe, and it hurt to laugh even more, though giggles tumbled out of their mouth. Lamb bent down slightly, tears of pain and relief in their eyes as they clutched their abdomen in pain. Narinder screamed, thrashing around before feeling himself sink. How could one kill the God of death?

He thought he’d sink into the ground like his guardians, their essence being sucked into the ground, though that wasn’t the case this time. He found himself shrinking as his body began shaking. He was cursed to be stuck in this mortal flesh. His Godly body, towering over 40 feet tall, began to contort. The bones and flesh morphed and changed. The muscle and fur began to transform in front of Lamb’s eyes. It was a freakish sight, a bit gory, though they couldn’t tear their eyes from it. Lamb was quickly met with a much smaller and weaker Narinder. He was still taller than Lamb; they’d probably have to crane their neck to meet his eyes. Narinder seemed to struggle with this predicament, forced onto the uncomfortable floor. His knees were brought to his chest, his claws at his knees to hold himself. He cried out, yowling and hissing, as he tried to soothe himself. It was ironic how the former God of death was now yearning for it, his ego bruised as he was cowering under his usurper. Narinder was embarrassed by his weakened state. Surely, he was a disgrace to Godhood. He relaxed his legs slightly, his claws gripping at the sand. He tried to not show his fear, though his raised fur and puffed up tail gave it away. His eyes, full of rage, narrowed at Lamb, waiting for their next move.

“I am at your mercy now, damned Lamb. What do you plan to do with me? Take responsibility and finish what you started,” Narinder spat out, his voice like venom. He glared at Lamb. Surely Lamb would look at who he betrayed in his eyes before killing him. Narinder’s breath caught in his throat at the sudden burning sensation of Lamb’s hands on his shoulders.

“Aw, Nari. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you! Now, are you excited to meet my cult?” Lamb asked. Their voice was meant to be soothing, though it only struck disgust, fear, and anger within Narinder. Embarrassment seeped deep within his chest at the thought of facing the cult. His cult, his followers. Lamb’s crazed look, with blown out pupils and a sickening sweet, love-struck smile haunted Narinder’s mind as he felt himself being teleported to their cult. It struck fear deep within him. He felt deeply uneasy.

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[deathmetalunicorn1]

Oh ma god im back again

Hello it is cupcake berserker anon for one piece! I would like to request another with reader in the land of wano if you can please!! ( and maybe reader finding out from kaido that her axes once belonged to someone else) the mystery will unfold!! Thank you eat your carrots

I hope you like this! And I did eat my carrots, mixed with flour, sugar, and cream cheese icing lol!

-When you first arrived in Wano, after Whole Cake Island, you had never in a million years thought that you were going to be proposed to by Kaido of all people.

-You had been lying low with Sanji and Usopp, advertising for Sanji’s soba stand, as you were able to bring in the customers with your good looks, however with those looks came unwanted attention that you didn’t really want.

-Men all over Wano were asking you to marry them, viewing you as perfect, and many didn’t take your rejection well.

-That’s what got you more attention, when you pulled out your axes, ready to throw down to defend yourself, and you had been brought in to see Kaido himself, after he had seen you and wanted to meet with you.

-Your fellow crew mates were concerned for you, as they had seen how easily he had defeated Luffy, but you knew that your captain would bounce back, literally, and he would come back swinging, like normal.

-Kaido was definitely… a character- drinking barrel upon barrel of booze, trying to drown out his sorrows, and he kept going from being angry, to crying, to laughing loudly, to flirting with you, changing in a blink of an eye.

-You were confused about why he wanted to see you, as you didn’t kill anyone, yet, and you had been arrested before there was any major property damage.

-His gaze went to your axes, which you had been allowed to keep, surprisingly and you followed his gaze as he drank deeply before setting the barrel down.

-He was unnaturally calm and serious, almost like he was completely sober, “When I saw those axes again- I needed to see who had them now.”

-His words surprised you, “Again? You knew who these belonged to before me?” he nodded solemnly, not giving you any more information, he looked almost sad, looking at the axes, like he had a history with them.

-He reached his hand down to you, wanting to speak to you eye to eye and he made no mention that he was surprised when you crawled onto his hand with no fear, as you knew you could handle yourself if needed.

-You weren’t bothered from being up so high, but Kaido’s breath did reek of booze, nothing you couldn’t handle, as he spoke, “You’re that berserker on that Straw Hat brat’s crew, aren’t you?”

-You nodded with a grin, “I am- my name is Y/N!” he was silent before laughing loudly, surprising you, before he surprised you, “Marry me!”

-You just smiled gently up at him, “Forgive me, but I’m not looking to marry anyone right now. I want to keep exploring!”

-Unlike the men that brought you to him, Kaido took your rejection with more grace, booming with laughter, only slightly jostling you, “A pity- well when you are done exploring- come back and I’ll marry you!”

-You chose not to answer him, as you didn’t want to get his hopes up if you never came back and he sat you back down, “We may be enemies soon Y/N, but don’t hold back if you and I come to face each other.”

-You gave him a bright grin, “Only if you promise the same!” he boomed with laughter again and you were released, returning to Sanji and Usopp who rushed to you, worried but you just grinned brightly, “I’m fine- nothing I couldn’t handle! And I got a possibility for a good fight later!”

-Usopp couldn’t help but laugh, as he knew that you did like your fights as you went with them to meet up with the others, planning the next move against Kaido.

[sharffffff]

Joel punched the side of his helter skelter out of exasperation. He had just failed his task, task he was so happy about, a chance to get back at Scott - and the only reason he failed it was his own blumming stupidity. How is it he’s the only one that forgets to put two minecarts above the door instead of one? How come blumming Scott knew it was him from just that one small mistake?

He even hired all the reds - well, not himself, Jimmy hired Martyn for him - to help him with this Scott problem, and even though he has failed, he wasn’t going to tell any of them that that had happened. He still wanted Scott to be hurt, he still wanted to be the cause of that, as a revenge for countless deaths in the past. Joel even gave Jim a Power 3 bow, just to make it so much better.

As he tried to calm himself down with nice thoughts of turning red and murdering Scott on the spot, he tripped, spilling his entire water bucket all over his crops, ruining his day even further. Everything that was able to go wrong, was going wrong.

“Can this day get ANY BLUMMING WORSE?!” Joel shouts at nothing, at the sky, but most of all, at himself. And is if to receive the answer, he heard the loud explosion in the distance. He was almost ready to ignore it as some failed trap, but something catches him. The sense of familiarity. He has heard explosions like this before. Yes, not too many times, he was pretty early to be out far too often, but this sound has still ingrained itself in his memory.

“No, nononono, don’t be Jim, I can’t lose Jim yet,” Joel pulls out his player list, and breathes out the sigh of relief, still seeing Jimmy’s name on the list. Maybe now that he has survived a bit longer Jim will stop believing in that nonsense about canary curse. But who has died then? As he reads through the list, a realization sinks in, and he lets out a deep, guttural scream. This day kept getting worse.

He rushed to spawn, hoping that someone would know something about what happened to Lizzie. How could she die? HOW COULD SHE DIE? He arrived to see Scott explaining that Lizzie brought him to the End to try and push him off the edge, but accidentally looked at the enderman and was the one to be pushed off instead.

Joel stops for a moment, trying to catch his breath as it eludes him, trying to calm his heart. Lizzie died… trying to kill Scott? Trying to do what he, Joel, asked her to do? Did he just send her to her death in hopes that she would help him finish his task? Did him not telling her he failed it kill her? Joel couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t he breathe?

Then he glanced at Scott, looking so smug, telling everyone about how he took a few hits from Lizzie’s axe but got away from the corner. How Lizzie looked at an enderman while trying to look at him. How that enderman killed her. How looking at Scott killed her. How Scott killed her.

Joel could breathe again, but not because he was calm, oh no. His vision went red, how it usually only does when you, well, turn red, and his breaths were still short and heavy, and he was fueled with rage. It wasn’t Joel who sent Lizzie to her death. It was Scott who killed her, it was Scott who sicced the enderman on her, it was his fault, it was entirely his fault.

And even though he could not do anything about it right now, the second he turns red, Scott will be gone, rules be damned. But even the rules of following the tasks instead of just attacking wouldn’t be able to stop Joel from ending Scott’s series. Scott was going to die from Joel’s hand, it was only a matter of time.

Now, though, the only thing Joel could hope for was that this day wouldn’t get any worse.