#I need the north pieces she dropped recently

[clemclamdoodles]

I’ve been absolutely obsessed with @autiacorart ‘s amazing art lately, it’s done wonders to keep me motivated with my own art, so I dedicate this silly piece to them lol

[clarepreed]

Neighborly

Story Content and Summary - 8,171 words. Larissa and Mitchell try to save a choking neighbor. Choking, on-site resuscitation, explicit sex.

Previous installment: Micro-Story: Larissa's Decision

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Mitchell

Mitchell ruffled his hands through his hair and dropped them to his sides, his eyes on the boardwalk path ahead. They’d been home a few days, and the sunny weather tempted them out for a walk.

Larissa reached for his hand and he let her take it, curling his fingers around hers. The gesture felt right, despite everything that had gone on between them lately. Larissa, he thought, looked lovely dressed in blue, with her hair loose and her face freshly washed and free of makeup.

“I’m glad we’re home,” she murmured. “It was nice to see Momma and Daddy and Poppy, but I enjoy being home with you. Especially here.”

“I feel the same way, baby.”

They walked for a while until they approached the gate that closed off their boardwalk trail from the gated community behind their property.

“Keep walking?” he asked, smiling over at her. “I’d like to continue if you’re up for it.”

Larissa nodded, unlocking the gate and holding it open for them both. She had to release his hand for them to walk through, but she recaptured it once the gate closed behind them. “How’s your head?” she asked, referring to his recent accident at her grandfather’s home.

“My headache from this morning is gone,” he told her. He reached up and brushed the sore scar near the top of his head. “And it feels like there’s hair growing back.”

“It’s white,” she said matter-of-factly. “The new hair is silver. I peeked.”

“Oh.”

Larissa squeezed his hand. “I didn’t mean it in a negative way, honey. Just an observation.”

“I’m lucky it didn’t kill the hair follicles.”

“They make very fancy hairpieces now.” Larissa grinned and squeezed his hand again. “Which would be entirely about your vanity, as I would not be put off by a measly bald spot.”

“You have enough hair to spare some for a custom piece, I’m sure,” Mitchell said, rolling his eyes.

“I have enough hair in the shower in a single week to make you a hairpiece.”

Mitchell laughed. “Really?”

“I do clean up after myself, Mitchell.” She leaned toward him and kissed his shoulder, softening her retort.

They fell into companionable silence. The air was just north of cool, bathing his skin and keeping the humidity at bay. Mitchell reached out and let his fingers graze a leafy plant growing against the boardwalk handrail.

“We need hobbies.” Larissa spoke without preamble, her bluntness born from what sounded like nervous energy. He heard it in the slight pitchiness when she spoke. “Or part-time jobs.”

“Oh?” Mitchell bent his arm, pulling her hand up with his. He studied their interlocked fingers, then used his other hand to trace the hills and valleys of her knuckles.

“Don’t you miss having a task you can get lost in? Really set your mind to?” 

She sounded so tentative that he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “What do you want, Larissa? Is there something you’d like to do?”

“Drawing classes,” she blurted. Mitchell watched as the cheek closest to him flushed pink.

“I’m certain we can find art classes for you on the island, baby. Or a private tutor. Whatever you’d like.” His brows dipped. “Surely you know that you are free to do whatever you’d want, Larissa.”

“So are you, Mitchell.”

Mitchell slowed to a stop and reached for her other hand. He pulled them both up and kissed the back of each hand, his brow furrowing as Larissa’s expression mirrored the tentative tone of her voice. “Of course, I would prefer if you sometimes showed me your drawings, if you wanted. And whatever we do, I’m always going to be happy to be with you at the end of the day.”

Her eyes took on a glassy appearance, as though she might cry. Instead, Larissa leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. When she rocked back on her heals, she asked him: “And what would you like to do, honey?”

Mitchell raised his eyebrows. He had an answer to her question, and the answer was that he did not know. Oh, he’d thought about it, surely, but—

“HELP!” 

Mitchell whipped his head around. The shout was unmistakable, and not too far off.

“What is it?” Larissa asked. “Mitchell?”

“OH MY GOD! HELP!”

“Someone is shouting for help…” Mitchell released one of her hands and took a step toward the sound. He stopped, looking indecisively at Larissa.

“We should try to find them, then.” She tugged on his hand. “Mitchell?”

“We don’t know why they are calling out. If it’s safe.” His mind served up an image of Larissa sprawled by a fountain, dying from blood loss.

“PLEASE! STELLA! HELLLLP!”

Mitchell gritted his teeth. Larissa tugged on his hand. “Are they still yelling? We’re at home. Someone might be hurt! It’s safe enough, Mitchell.” When she tugged his hand again, he joined her, and they jogged down the boardwalk.

It didn’t take them long to find the source of the voice. A man half dragging, half-carrying a semi-conscious woman. He heard Mitchell and Larissa’s footsteps on the boards and turned, struggling to hold up the woman as her knees went out. Mitchell took in her half-open eyes and her darkened face.

“Oh, God! Stella, don’t—” The man caught the woman around the chest with one arm, her head sagging forward as he pounded her between the shoulder blades.

“Is she choking?!” Larissa exclaimed, her voice rising as Mitchell released her hand and they both ran to the couple.

“May I help?” Mitchell asked in a rush, a cold sensation dousing him from head to toe as he reached for the man’s weakly struggling burden. 

The unnamed man all but shoved her at Mitchell, who caught her sideways and spun her in his arms. Larissa came around the front, her hands gripping the woman’s arms and helping to hold her upright. “My husband is going to help you! You’ll be all right!”

Mitchell drew his arms around the woman’s waist and searched out her navel with his right hand. He curled the left into a fist and pressed his knuckle just above his right hand, then moved that hand up to cover his left. He jerked in and up. 

“Again, Mitchell!” Larissa almost shouted. “What’s her name?”

“Stella—”

Mitchell thrust his hands into the stranger’s abdomen again, grunting as he nearly lifted her off the boardwalk. Stella didn’t make any noises; he heard Larissa encouraging him to continue, and the male stranger babbling away in a panic. But he didn’t hear any air moving. No gasping or coughing. Not even gagging or choking. Another abdominal thrust, and the weak scratching at his arms stopped. 

“Have you called 9-1-1?” Larissa asked, her fear evident in her rasping speech. He met her eyes inadvertently, saw his own remembered trauma reflected at him. He heaved hard up toward Stella’s diaphragm, his stomach hollowing out as he felt her knees give. Larissa reached out and grasped the woman’s face. “Stay with us, Stella. Keep your eyes open!”

Larissa

“Have you called 9-1-1?” Larissa managed, her eyes darting to the distraught man standing next to her. She looked back at the woman as Mitchell tried again to dislodge whatever was killing her. Stella’s face turned a dark reddish purple as she watched, her eyes and nose streaming and saliva dripping from her open mouth. As Larissa watched, the woman’s eyes rolled, and she saw Mitchell trying to keep her on her feet. Her heart pounding and her own eyes watering, Larissa reached out and cupped Stella’s face in her hands. Dark curls draped over the woman’s face, incongruously soft considering the circumstances. “Stay with us, Stella. Keep your eyes open!”

As she brought her face close to Stella’s, a hot and sweet scent tickled her nostrils and hit her with a wave of nausea that nearly made her lurch away from the other woman. Cinnamon candy.

“No, I… I’ll do it now! I’ll do it now. Stella, you have to cough it up!” To his credit, the trembling, panicked man immediately dragged a cell phone out of his pocket and pressed it to his ear.

Larissa shook her head and swallowed hard.

Mitchell performed a fifth abdominal thrust, the woman’s head pulling free of Larissa’s gentle grasp and tipping back against his chest. He shifted her, his leg slipping between Stella’s as he cradled her in one arm and pounded her between the shoulder blades with the other. Her arms swung limp and her head lolled, mouth gaping. Larissa caught her head in her hands again, gasping: “Mitchell, she’s losing consciousness!” 

The man, standing on her deaf side, was barely audible as he spoke to the 9-1-1 dispatcher. Mitchell wrapped his arms around the woman again, his eyes huge as he desperately jerked his fist into her abdomen. Her lightweight sweater rode up, bunching beneath her breasts and leaving her abdomen exposed. Larissa looked down, watching as he pulled his fist hard into the reddened skin of her stomach.

Suddenly, the woman went completely limp, her head falling toward Larissa as Mitchell yelped and held her unconscious form against his chest. “Help me lay her down!” Together, they eased her flaccid body to the boardwalk, Larissa guiding the woman’s head as Mitchell laid her flat on her back. She was vaguely aware of the man kneeling beside her as she used a hand on the woman’s forehead and another at her chin to tip Stella’s head back.

“STELLA!” Larissa shouted at the woman before thumbing open her mouth. She used her finger to sweep between her teeth, hoping the position change had dislodged the unknown item. Stella’s brown eyes were half open, bloodshot, and staring up at the tree canopy. Larissa felt nothing but the woman’s tongue and teeth. Removing her finger, she leaned her good ear by Stella’s mouth. Mitchell reached out and pressed his fingers to the pulse point in the woman’s neck.

Rather than announcing that the woman wasn’t breathing, Larissa hastily swiped her hand over the woman’s wet mouth and then pinched her nose. She covered Stella’s bluing lips with her own and attempted to give her a breath. Stella’s cheeks rounded, followed by Larissa’s own. Then the seal broke, making her lips tingle as they buzzed against the other woman’s skin. She adjusted the tilt of Stella’s head and tried again, blowing harder. The air escaped between them and out of her own nose with a Pthhhbbt! sound. The other woman’s mouth was sticky from the candy that choked her.

Mitchell bent over the woman as Larissa leaned back, his hands tracing the woman’s ribcage and then stacking over the bottom of her sternum. He rolled his shoulders forward and then forced her sternum downward. The woman’s head wobbled in Larissa’s hands, and she saw her abdomen distend as Mitchell thrust his hands into her chest. “One, two, three, four, five…”

“Oh GOD! YES… yes, they are d-doing CPR. Oh, Stella…” Larissa looked at the man out of the corner of her eye. He had the phone in one hand, and a death grip on Stella’s hand with the other. She spotted a wedding ring on his finger.

“…fourteen, fifteen, sixteen…”

Larissa reached up and scrubbed the back of her hand across her mouth. Her face and hands felt tacky. A combination of panic, disgust, and shame rolled through her as she returned her hand to the woman’s chin. Leaning closer, she used her thumb to open the woman’s mouth further. The woman’s tongue was in her line of sight, keeping her from seeing into the back of her throat despite the bright sunlight. 

“… nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…”

Before she could talk herself out of it, she used her thumb to pin the woman’s tongue against the floor of her mouth. The moist muscles tried to slide free as she peered down toward her uvula. 

“… twenty-six, twenty-seven…”

As Mitchell hit thirty compressions, Larissa slipped her thumb out of the woman’s mouth and took a deep breath. Closing her nostrils, she tried to give her two breaths. Neither were successful.

“One…” Mitchell thrust the heel of his bottom hand hard into the woman’s chest, repeatedly, at nearly two times per second. The woman’s neck looked tense, the vessels and tendons standing out. Her shoulders moved with each compression, lifting slightly from the boardwalk. Further down, her sweater still exposing her stomach, Larissa saw the force of the compressions seesawing the woman’s abdomen. “… nine, ten, eleven…”

“Oh my God! Stella?! Graham, what happened?!” A woman’s voice, loud enough for Larissa to hear, made her lift her head and look up the boardwalk. A pair of women a little younger than Larissa and dressed for running came to a stop at Stella’s swaying feet.

“She choked!” The man, evidently named Graham sobbed “She’s… oh, God!”

“… twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four…”

“How can we help?” The second woman asked.

Larissa was already peering into the woman’s mouth again, ready to give her another two attempts at breath. As she bent to do so, she heard Mitchell respond. “Is there an AED in the clubhouse here? We may need it.”

“Yes!” the second woman exclaimed. “Amy, you’re faster—”

“Come with me. You can wait at the trailhead and direct EMS!” her partner exclaimed, taking her arm.

Mitchell resumed chest compressions as the two women quickly turned and sprinted down the boardwalk.

Graham

“W-We have someone going for an… an AED.” His voice was hoarse, barely making it past the clenched muscles in his throat. “And someone else who will wait at the end of the path.”

The dispatcher said something that sounded like a confirmation of that being the right course of action, though it was hard to concentrate as he watched a couple of strangers try to save his wife’s life. The man, maybe a decade older than himself, with silver-blonde hair and a determined expression, pounded his wife’s chest with a speed and depth that looked like he knew what he was doing. The procedure was ugly, harsh enough that he heard what sounded like cartilage or ribs popping in Stella’s chest. With each compression, her sternum sank and her stomach popped. Her green flats, her favorite shoes, swayed side to side almost comically as she lay there dead or dying.

Everything had happened so fast.

Moments before, they walked hand in hand, Graham yammering away as Stella unwrapped a hard candy and slipped it between her lips. She’d been about to respond to him when her inhalation stopped with a gurgle, an abortive cough, and then nothing.

She’d jerked her hand from his and come to a stop, fanning the air with one hand as she hit her fist against her chest. He’d figured out what was wrong but didn’t know how to help her, reaching around hesitantly to pound her on the back. At first, he expected her to spit out the candy and start coughing, but she didn’t. He pounded harder, and then she turned away from him and threw herself against the boardwalk handrail, slamming her abdomen against it and nearly tipping herself over the side. He’d come up behind her and helped her apply force, thrusting his body against hers, panicked enough now that he pushed past his fear of hurting her. But the candy hadn’t come up. 

As the seconds flew by, Graham screamed for help. He pulled her into his arms and tried the Heimlich maneuver, though he couldn’t recall exactly where to place his hands or how hard to pull. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed sharply three, four times.

Then, against her silent, struggling protests, Graham lifted his wife and laid her down on the wooden boards, quickly throwing his leg over her body. Her wide, panicked eyes stared up at him as she clawed at her throat. Straddling her, Graham pushed his hands into her abdomen, right above her belly button, and shoved hard. Stella’s body bowed and jerked, but still she didn’t breathe. Her heels drummed on the wood and one hand darted out to grab his forearm. The other scrabbled uselessly at the planks of the walkway.

Graham continued his improvised abdominal thrusts, pumping her stomach hard and shouting at her to throw it up. Stella’s face went splotchy, then red. Her lips began to turn purple.

That’s when he truly panicked, heaving her upright again and dragging her back toward the trailhead, hoping someone who knew what they were doing would come along.

Now someone had, but he was afraid they were too late. The couple worked as a team, more competent than Graham himself had proven to be, though he could see from their strained eyes and frantic movements that even this couple felt scared. The minutes ticked by, coloring Stella’s face with frightening shades of blue and purple.

Graham watched as the strange woman pushed her long hair over her shoulder and pressed a life-saving kiss to his wife’s mouth, both women’s cheeks bulging with the effort. She performed the kiss again, and then exclaimed: “I still can’t get any air in her!”

“One, two, three…” The other man resumed chest compressions, sinking his hands deep into Stella’s chest. Stella, for her part, did nothing, her open eyes staring as the color faded from her cheeks.

“We will have an ambulance on-location in fifteen minutes,” the dispatcher said.

Mitchell

“Fifteen minutes!” the man, Graham, gasped. “Is there no one closer?! It’s already been…”

Mitchell closed his eyes briefly, though he didn’t stop the chest compressions. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Larissa staring back at him, stricken. Mitchell kept pushing into the woman’s chest, trying not to think of the fact that they weren’t getting any air into her. In another twenty or more minutes, the woman would be long dead, assuming she wasn’t already.

“… nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…”

“Please, Stella… God, please…”

“… twenty-four, twenty-five…”

“Mitchell! I see it! Don’t stop!” Larissa jammed her fingers into the woman’s mouth again, two of them sweeping deep. She grunted and changed position, her body leaning far over the woman’s face as she twisted her wrist. “Don’t stop!”

“One, two, three…” Mitchell kept up his rhythm, forcing his hands deep into Stella’s chest and making sure he released the pressure completely each time. Graham suddenly dropped her hand and reached out to steady her head as Larissa tried to grasp the obstruction. The woman’s body jerked under his hands, though Graham’s grip on her chin kept the force from moving her head around. To Mitchell’s surprise and dismay, her legs drew up slightly, then stretched out again. The action repeated a few times before her arms joined in, her hands curling under. “… sixteen, seventeen, eighteen…”

“She’s moving!” Graham exclaimed. “Stella?”

“…twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three…”

“Roll her on her side, Mitchell!” Larissa cried out. “I’ve almost got it!”

Mitchell stopped compressions and seized Stella by her arm and her hip, rolling her onto her side, facing away from him. Larissa swept her fingers between Stella’s teeth again and dragged out a red, sugary disc. His heart lurched as she flung it to the side, but there wasn’t time, so he rolled the unconscious woman onto her back again. Her face was unchanged; pale in spots, lavender in others. Saliva glistening on her bottom lip. Dark eyes stared at Mitchell’s knees until Larissa righted her head.

He watched his wife quickly open Stella’s airway, pinch her nose, and seal her mouth with her own. This time, the dying woman’s chest rose. Her breasts fell when Larissa let the air escape, then rose again when she gave her another deep breath.

“Stella? Stella!” Graham cried out, as Mitchell pressed his fingertips hard into her neck, sliding them over until he found the spot where her pulse should beat. He waited. Counted out the seconds. 

Shaking his head, Mitchell quickly restarted chest compressions, pumping Stella’s chest hard and fast. Now, he heard air huffing rhythmically from the woman’s mouth, held open by Larissa as she bent in wait for the next opportunity to give her needed oxygen. “…ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen…”

His own breath came fast as he worked on her, his attention zeroing back in on the way her chest gave underneath his hands. Periodically, the woman moved, limbs spasming or her face grimacing. She let out a long snore.

“Stella?!” her husband gasped, subsiding each time when he realized Mitchell and Larissa weren’t stopping their efforts. 

Mitchell hit thirty again, and he watched Larissa perform mouth-to-mouth. A soft sound escaped the women each time that her lips parted from Stella’s. Then came the soft puffing of air as he mercilessly beat her heart by pinning the organ between her spine and her sternum. The woman’s eyes rolled back, the discolored whites showing. “Huh… huh… hungh… hrrggggh…”

“…ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen…” Mitchell wondered how far away the clubhouse was from the trail. Granted, he didn’t even know if an AED would do any good. He just knew they needed to try. This stranger spasming beneath his hands deserved no less. “… eighteen, nineteen, twenty…”

“Mitchell, I’ll switch with you after the breaths,” Larissa broke into his thoughts. She was correct; he needed to switch out with her. But he eyed her weak left arm, knowing she still struggled with pain and numbness.

“I’ll do it,” the woman’s husband blurted, setting his phone down on the boardwalk. “I put the phone on speaker and I will do it! I don’t know how, though.”

“Thirty! Come around beside me!” Mitchell barked, as Larissa gave the unconscious woman a full breath. She kept the woman’s nostrils pinched as she let her exhale through her mouth, then gave her another respiration. Mitchell resumed chest compressions as the woman’s pale, teary husband laid her hand down on the boardwalk and scuttled around to come in beside him. “…five, six… Hold your hands like this. Yes. Bring them right beside me. You’re pushing down at least two inches, twice a second. You have to come all the way up each time. This is what circulates her blood. Do you understand?” Mitchell’s voice shook from adrenaline and his exhaustive efforts. He paused again so Larissa could breathe for the woman, watching as Stella’s breasts rose. He lifted his hands and scooted to the side. “Get in place now!”

Graham slid in, his eyes wide as he pressed the heel of his clasped hands into the spot Mitchell had just abandoned. Mitchell guided his shoulders over his hands as Stella’s chest fell a second time.

“Go! Count out loud!”

“One, t-two…” 

Mitchell watched carefully, nodding as the man pushed deep enough. “A little faster. Like this.” He clapped his hands to the disco song playing in the back of his mind.

“Come on, hon. Please… please!”

“You have to count, Graham. Just count and think about everything you need to do. What you’re doing is helping her.” Mitchell leaned back on his heels and tried to recover his breath, though the terrible excitement of it all kept his heart racing.

“… t-twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three…”

Footsteps pounded down the boardwalk, the steps growing louder as the seconds passed. Then Mitchell heard a woman breathing hard and fast. The runner from before, Amy, came into view, arms and legs pumping furiously as she sprinted. 

As Larissa curled over Stella and blew into her open mouth, Amy slipped the AED bag off her shoulder, dropped it onto the boards next to Mitchell, and then staggered past. Her momentum carried her into the handrail, where she caught herself. 

Mitchell snatched up the case. “Keep going!” he barked sharply at Graham, jolting the man back into action. His hands made a dull thumping sound as he resumed pumping her chest. Unzipping the AED, Mitchell laid the device on the wood and turned it on.

“… seven, eight, nine, ten…”

“Apply the pads and plug in the connector!” the device barked. 

“… fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…”

Mitchell tore open a packet of adult pads and dumped them out into his hand. He shook out the leads and connector, then laid them beside Stella.

“… twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five…”

“Apply the pads and plug in the connector!”

“… twenty-nine, thirty!”

He found the trauma shears and cut through the bottom hem of Stella’s lightweight sweater. Amy dropped beside him and held the fabric taught as he cut up the center of the garment. The woman’s chest rose and fell with Larissa’s breaths as he clipped the center of Stella’s purple, lacy bra. Mitchell dropped the shears to the side and quickly parted the fabric of her sweater, moving the cups of her bra out of the way and fully exposing her chest. A bruise was forming over her sternum, with reddened spots spreading down beneath her left breast. More splotches marred her abdomen.

Graham resumed chest compressions without having to be asked. “One, two, three…”

“Apply the pads and plug in the connector!”

As the woman’s pink-tipped breasts wobbled violently and her soft stomach oscillated, Mitchell and Amy stripped the backing off the AED pads. Mitchell applied one pad beneath and slightly to the side of the woman’s left breast, while Amy applied one above the right. Mitchell rubbed them both several times for good measure as Amy found the connector and plugged it in.

“Analyzing rhythm!” the device interrupted. “Do not touch the patient!”

“Everyone, back off of her!” Mitchell called out, scooting back and raising his hands. “Don’t touch her!”

Graham lurched back and Larissa released Stella’s head.

“Shock advised.” Mitchell’s eyes closed briefly as the tiniest bit of relief washed over him. “Charging. Do not touch the patient. Charging. Do not touch the patient. Device charged. Do not touch the patient. Press the shock button.”

Mitchell’s hand hovered over the flashing orange button. “Don’t touch her!” He depressed the button with his index finger and heard a quiet whine. Stella’s torso tensed and released within the span of a split second, and her head tipped to the side. Larissa quickly righted it and reopened her airway.

“Shock delivered. Perform two minutes of CPR.”

Graham hesitated. “Did it not wo—”

“Chest compressions!” Mitchell urged, cutting the man off.

Graham made a sobbing noise, but he complied, his hands finding the bruise and his shoulders rolling forward. As he thrust his hands into the bottom third of Stella’s sternum, he resumed counting. “One, two, three, four…” Despite his upset, Graham performed compressions properly, shoving her sternum deep. Stella’s breasts jerked toward his hands with each compression, jiggling and wobbling with the force. Her abdomen, too, moved with the deep thrusts, bulging and then deflating, popping and heaving at a rapid rate. Her shoulders jerked and shrugged, pulling up toward her neck. Larissa kept the motion from moving her head, gripping the woman’s jaw firmly and keeping her mouth open with a thumb on her chin. Stella’s face was no longer a dark reddish purple, but he was concerned by her white cheeks and blue lips. 

The motion of the chest compressions made her legs rock, feet swaying side to side. He could even see her thighs shaking through her leggings. 

Gurgling, growling, and huffing noises occasionally escaped the woman’s open mouth. When Larissa gave Stella breaths, Mitchell heard Larissa’s exhalation, followed by the slight smacking sound of their lips parting. Then chest compressions resumed, Graham’s shaky counting accompanied by quiet thumps, huffs of air, and the occasional pop or crackle. “... f-four, five, s-six…”

Stella’s legs drew up further, splaying her thighs wide and making her hips jerk. Mitchell, uncertain what exactly to do, leaned over and held her legs down, trying to keep her left knee from bumping into Graham. He felt her muscles spasms beneath his hands. The pressure he applied kept her upper legs in place, though her lower legs shifted and her hips continued to jerk grotesquely. 

“… twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!”

He watched his wife bend over the spasming body, left hand sealing the woman’s nose and her own mouth opening wide before she covered the other woman’s lips. Her exhale made the woman’s chest heave. Larissa drew back slightly, and he saw a string of glistening saliva stretch between them. Another breath, and this time, when Larissa broke the seal, she swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. Then she quickly resumed holding Stella’s head in place as Graham pumped his wife’s lifeless chest. 

Stella’s arms drew up toward her armpits, hands curling at the wrists and her fingers twisting. When he looked at her face, her eyes were closed.

“… twelve, thirteen, fourteen…”

“They are?” Mitchell heard Amy ask. “Okay. Um… The ambulance is in the neighborhood. They should be at the trailhead soon.”

“… twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven…” Graham’s voice cracked. “Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty! Will they be able to help her?”

“The ambulance crew can do a lot of things we can’t,” Mitchell said, meeting the man’s tortured gaze. “And they can take her to the hospital, where even more can be done.”

“But…” Graham’s voice trailed off as the sound of Larissa’s second breath tapered off. He squared his shoulders and resumed his work over his wife’s body. “One, two, three…”

Mitchell looked at Larissa and found her staring at him. Her eyes were wet.

Larissa

Stella gurgled and growled and huffed as her husband forced blood to move through her heart. Larissa held her mouth and airway open, crouched low so she could quickly provide breaths after each set of thirty compressions. Her neck ached from the position, but it wasn’t the pain that made her look at Mitchell with tears in her eyes. As they gazed at each other, his lips thinned and he swallowed hard.

“…nine, ten, eleven, twelve…”

Larissa looked away first. Her eyes dropped to the woman’s gray face. Occasionally, her facial muscles spasmed, threatening to pull her chin from her grasp. She also felt the force of Graham’s chest compressions rocking up through her neck. His hands collapsed her chest harshly, his breath ragged. The other woman’s breasts swayed, her nipples erect. Below his hands, her belly popped up and down, bulging as his thrusts displaced organs and air. Further down, Mitchell gripped the woman’s legs in a gesture that was probably more about how upsetting it was to watch her gently seize than it was for any medical purpose.

“I can take over after the next shock,” Amy the runner said. “And then soon after that, the paramedics will be here.”

“I did not realize it would take EMS this amount of time to come out here,” Mitchell said, his voice so flat she wondered if he knew he spoke aloud. As it was, his voice was quiet enough that she barely heard him, her bad ear pointed in his direction.

“… twenty-nine, thirty!”

Larissa inhaled and pressed her mouth yet again to Stella’s, exhaling to make her chest rise and then lifting her mouth to feel the air rush back up into her face. She covered the cool, slack lips again, her eyes darting to the side to watch the woman’s breasts swell.

The bruise on her sternum disappeared under Graham’s hands. “One, two…”

“Do you know how to do chest compressions?” Mitchell asked Amy. 

“I’ve taken CPR a few times,” she said, handing the phone over to Mitchell. “But you’ll have to let me know if I’m doing something wrong.”

Mitchell nodded.

“… seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty—”

“Analyzing rhythm,” the AED broke in. “Do not touch the patient!”

All four of them released Stella and shifted backward. She lay mostly still, her skin ashen, though her eyelids lifted enough to show the whites of rolled-back eyes.

“No shock advised. Continue CPR for two minutes.”

Damn, she thought, her hands automatically reaching out to reopen Stella’s airway. Simultaneously, Amy got into position and started chest compressions. Graham sagged back on his heels, breathing hard. 

“One, two, three…” Amy’s compressions looked deep and fast, and Mitchell nodded in encouragement when she glanced at him. Short but powerfully built, Larissa could see the muscles cording in Amy’s forearms as she efficiently drove her hands into Stella’s sternum. “… four, five, six, seven…”

Distant sirens sounded in the distance.

“That’s more than one vehicle,” Mitchell speculated.

“… fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…”

The group fell silent aside from Amy’s terse counting and the soft huff of air escaping Stella with each compression. 

“… twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three…”

Graham muttered something that Larissa didn’t catch. 

“You got her help,” Mitchell responded.

“… twenty-nine, thirty.”

Another breath, pressing her mouth against the cool, damp skin that still smelled like sugar and artificial cinnamon. Larissa followed up quickly with a second breath, feeling just slightly lightheaded as the scented air wafted back into her face.

“One, two, three…” Amy rocked her body hard into Stella’s chest, her fingers pressing into the unconscious woman’s left breast and inadvertently brushing her taut nipple. Larissa kept finding that her eyes were drawn to the exposed flesh in front of her. Like driving past the scene of an accident, she needed to know what was happening, what the effects looked like. Her mind, stressed from what had happened now and in the past, superimposed her own naked body over Stella’s. 

She saw her own long torso rippling as Amy pumped, her large, freckled breasts bobbing, nipples drawing circles in the air. Her chest sinking and her stomach seesawing up and down. The face below her was her face, her eyes staring and her mouth agape, a cinnamon candy lodged deep in her throat.

“… thirty!”

Larissa dragged in a deep breath, coughed as some of her own saliva went down the wrong pipe, and sucked in another. Then, cursing the seconds she lost, she forced another pair of breaths into Stella. Then compressions resumed.

“One, two, three…”

“Larissa?” Mitchell asked.

“I’m fine,” she protested, coughing again.

“… six, seven, eight…”

Mitchell shifted, obviously intending to spell her, when they both heard heavy footfalls on the boardwalk. 

“… twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…”

A pair of medics came into view, wearing gloves and carrying bags, led by Amy’s partner. Shortly behind them walked another pair, wheeling a gurney laden with more equipment.

“… twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!”

As Amy sat back on her heels, Larissa gave Stella another two breaths, trying not to inhale directly as the cinnamon-scented exhalations wafted up toward her face.

“Keep going until they tell you to stop,” she heard Mitchell say, and Amy resumed her position.

“One, two, three, four, five, six…”

The medics moved with purpose, but without running or rushing about. They did not immediately take over, instead setting down their bags as one of them stepped closer. “Can you tell me what happened?” he asked. 

“She choked on a piece of candy,” Mitchell responded, hanging up Graham’s phone. “We tried back blows and abdominal thrusts until she lost consciousness. Then we started CPR. We eventually got the candy out. She’s had one shock from the AED, but the last time it did not advise a shock.”

“…thirty!” Amy called out. Despite the presence of the medics, Larissa leaned over once more. Their cheeks rounded as she exhaled once, then again. 

“Thank you, ma’am,” a woman behind her said. “I can take over now.”

“Who is her next of kin?” The lead medic asked. 

Graham

Everything sped up. The medics spoke with his neighbor, who, he learned, was named Mitchell. The women were relieved by paramedics, who checked Stella’s pulse and then continued CPR. Graham was asked to move back, and he complied, feeling numb as he walked over to stand next to Mitchell and his wife, who directed him to sit on a nearby bench. 

From this angle, he couldn’t see her face, but he could still see her abdomen popping up in rhythmic waves as the gloved hands plunged into her chest over and over again. One of her shoes had fallen off. She’d neglected to wear socks, and he could see the flat brown mole in the center of her left arch.

The youngest-looking medic of the four peeled away the AED pads and turned the device off, setting it to the side. Graham opened his mouth to ask if they’d given up, when Mitchell leaned over and murmured: “They have their own pads that connect to their defibrillator.”

Sure enough, the young medic applied a set of larger pads, smoothing them quickly to her skin. The medic performing chest compressions resumed her efforts, thrusting the down into Stella’s breastbone. Shortly after, the monitor alarmed and he saw a series of lines crawl across the screen.

“Pause compressions for analysis. Asystole.” The lead intoned. He said several other things, most of which Graham couldn’t make out or interpret. He just knew they hadn’t stopped yet. They were still trying.

“They won’t be shocking her right now, so they will continue CPR and give her IV medication. They are going to suction her airway and put a tube in to make sure she’s getting plenty of oxygen.” Mitchell spoke quietly and slowly, his eyes on Stella. 

“Is she going to live?” Graham asked.

Mitchell hesitated long enough that Graham knew he had his answer. But the other man spoke anyway, his eyes on his own wife as she spoke with Amy and her partner. “I don’t know. They don’t know, either. But I’ve seen… people beat the odds before. And I hope to see that happen again.”

Graham returned his gaze to the scene surrounding Stella. A couple of firefighters had joined the four medics, creating a busy ring around his wife. Still, he could see enough of what was going on. One medic crouched by her arm, holding it in his lap as they cleaned the inside of her elbow. The medic who acted in charge lay stretched out on his stomach, with some sort of metal device opened up in Stella’s mouth. As he watched, a firefighter opened a long package and used gloved fingers to extract a tube, which he handed over to the lead. Another medic unbuttoned Stella’s jeans and slipped two fingers just inside.

“There’s a pulse there,” Mitchell told him, leaning forward with his knees on his elbows. “They check pulse points during CPR to make sure the blood is circulating.”

“You know a lot about this. Are you some kind of doctor?” His hands were shaking again, and he thought he might have to get up and pace soon. Wishing he had something to do, he instead talked with this unfamiliar but very helpful neighbor. 

“No,” Mitchell murmured. “Sometimes I wish I was.”

“Pause for analysis.” Compressions paused, and he watched as one firefighter traded places with the medic who’d been performing them. “Asystole. I want sodium bicarb now and another epi right after. Oxygen is up to ninety-three. Jim, come swap with me. I’m going to suction her.”

The firefighter started chest compressions as soon as the word “asystole” was out of the lead’s mouth. Graham realized that since they’d intubated Stella, the compressions didn’t stop at thirty. The firefighter pushed hard and fast at the same rate as before, Stella’s belly moving in sync with his hands. Instead of a mask pressed to her face, they’d attached a bag to the end of her breathing tube and squeezed it regularly, at a much slower rate than the chest compressions. 

Graham ran over the moment she choked. Was it his fault? Had he made her laugh, knowing she’d just put a piece of candy in her mouth? Was it his expectation that she keep up her end of the conversation that made her draw breath at the wrong moment? He saw her face staring up at him after he laid her on her back and started pumping her abdomen. Terrified, eyes bulging, tears and snot and saliva running down her face. Her body jerking each time he plunged his hands into her stomach, nails clawing at her throat and his arms and the boards beneath her.

She’d held on so long. Long enough for help to arrive. People who seemed to know what to do. And yet it hadn’t been enough, and Graham watched her slip away, her body slowly changing as it reacted to the lack of breath and heartbeat. He’d felt a momentary flash of relief when Mitchell’s wife swept the disc of candy from Stella’s mouth, only to have the relief die a quick and bitter death. Everything had gone downhill from there.

Graham stood abruptly and walked a few paces down the boardwalk so he could see her face. The medic named Jim had her head in one hand, holding her head back at an angle. His other hand squeezed the giant bulb attached to the end of the tube. The tube itself jutted up from between her teeth. They’d secured it in place with medical tape wrapped around the tube and stuck to her face. Stella’s eyes were closed now, her lashes resting on her discolored skin. Her dark hair fanned out beneath her head, the curls tangled. At this angle, he could see the firefighter’s gloved hands pumping hard and fast, sinking her chest in the requisite inches before allowing it to recoil. Each time he thrust downward, her stomach bulged and her feet rocked. They had a blood pressure cuff wrapped around her left arm, and defibrillator pads stuck to her chest. The leads wound over to a display that Graham couldn’t interpret. Beeps and whooshes and thumping sounds filled the air. The medics surprised him by how little they spoke to each other.

“Pause for analysis,” the lead said, eyeing the monitor. The firefighter lifted his hands from Stella’s bruised chest. “V-fib. Charging to three-sixty, continue compressions until we are ready to shock.”

The firefighter snapped out a series of deep thrusts into Stella’s chest. 

“Alright, everybody off. Disconnect oxygen.” The firefighter lifted his hands, Jim disconnected the bag, and everyone backed away. The lead made a quick check around the group. “Clear. Administering shock.”

He pressed a button, and Stella’s torso flinched. Her head lolled to the side, toward Graham’s feet. Jim quickly righted her head and reconnected the bag as the lead leaned in and started chest compressions. Graham’s eyes rested on the man’s gloved, interlocked hands. They sank down and snapped back up over and over. Pump and pump and pump and pump, with her breasts exposed for everyone to see, wobbling endlessly. He couldn’t stop staring. Her chest crushed down, re-inflating again and again. The man’s shoulders bobbing as he pushed his weight down through his arms. Her abdomen rippling down into the open waistband of her pants. 

“Marked increase in tidal volume… pausing compressions,” the lead said abruptly, his eyes on the monitor. “Pulse check! Sinus rhythm on the monitor.”

To Graham’s surprise, multiple gloved hands plunged into Stella’s neck, wrists, and the crease of her thigh. Mitchell got up and joined him, gripping him by the shoulder. “‘Sinus’ means they got her pulse back, Graham.”

“Sinus confirmed,” the lead said. “Any attempts at breathing on her own?”

“She’s alive?” Graham asked, his voice gravelly. He looked from the monitor with its bouncing heart rhythm that he did actually recognize down to his wife’s face. She didn’t look any better, not yet. The only difference was that they weren’t having to beat her heart for her. 

“Get her prepped to go while I update her next-of-kin,” he heard the lead say. Graham let out a shuddering breath.

“Do you need us to drive you to the hospital?” Mitchell asked.

“Millie and I will take you, Graham.” That made sense. They were his next-door neighbors.

“I’ve given Amy my number,” he heard Mitchell’s wife say. 

Graham watched the lead medic approach. “You got her back,” he said, his face contorting with tears he was trying not to shed.

“Yes, sir.”

Graham doubled over, his hands grabbing his knees. He felt Mitchell grip his shoulder hard. His legs shook. “Hang on, Stella. I’m here…”

Mitchell

Fifteen minutes later, Mitchell and Larissa walked in silence back the way they’d come, her hand gripping his as tightly as he gripped hers. He let them in to their gated path, their steps growing faster and faster as though to carry them away from the previous scene.

When they finally spilled onto the grassy path that wove between flower beds, Larissa stopped and turned toward him, nearly crashing into his shoulder. Mitchell released her hand and wrapped his arms tight around her. He felt her chest heaving against him, her hands clutching at his shirt.

“Larissa…” he murmured, though he didn’t know what to say.

She tipped her head back, eyes wild and lips parted. Mitchell met her in a kiss that immediately deepened, her mouth opening for his tongue. Mitchell gathered the back of her dress in his hands, pulling up the skirt until he cupped her ass in his hands and pulled her tight against him. Her hands scrabbled for the hem of his shirt, slipping beneath and running up and down his back. One of her hands came around to the front to unfasten his belt and unbutton the fly. Larissa made quick work of the task, her dexterity making him grin. She ran her hands around his hips and then down the back of his pants and into his underwear, her nails digging lightly into his bare skin. 

Mitchell found the tie of her wrap dress and pulled it loose, letting the dress part in the front. He dipped his head and nibbled his way down her neck and along the tops of her breasts. Slipping his hands inside the dress, he reached around to unfasten her bra. Then he lifted her breasts free from the loosened cups and gathered the soft globes together so he could move quickly back and forth between her nipples, licking and sucking and biting. Larissa moaned and reached into his boxer briefs, pushing the fabric down and pulling his hardening cock free. She worked him with her hand, moving up and down and running her thumb over the head until he was rock hard and throbbing. 

He pushed her dress off her shoulders and let it puddle in the grass, followed quickly by her bra. She reached for his shirt, pulling it over his head. Their mouths met again in a needy kiss. Mitchell slipped his hand down into her underwear and found her wet, dragging some of that moisture up to her clit and massaging. 

“Mitchell!” she cried out, and then she pulled him down to the grass with her, her hair fanning out around her head. He stripped off her underwear, and she laid back, coaxing him to lie between her thighs. His belt jingled as he thrust against her, running the head of his cock up and down her slit. Her hips jerked up against him, seeking. Then he thrust home, sinking all the way to the hilt and groaning as she cried out. 

Mitchell began a forceful, punishing rhythm. Their bodies smacked together, Larissa’s breasts jerking and bobbing as his body met hers. She clawed at his back, letting out guttural moans and squeezing her eyes shut. He kissed her, their tongues thrusting against each other as she writhed beneath him. He grasped her hips for leverage, fingers curling into the soft flare of her body. 

Larissa gripped his shoulders, mewling, rising to meet him. Mitchell scooped one hand beneath her ass, shifting the angle and squeezing his own eyes shut when she threw back her head and cried out his name. She was close, she had to be close, she’d better be close—

He tore his eyes open, watching her as she came, her mouth falling open and a wail of pleasure tearing out of her. Larissa shook and spasmed beneath him and around him, and he followed, burying his face in her neck as he whited out with the force of his release. 

As their mutual spasms subsided, Mitchell held himself up on his elbows, surprised to feel himself trembling. Larissa, breathless from exertion, reached up and stroked her fingers through his hair. He knew he should get up, help her to her feet, and go inside. They could clean up and cuddle on their soft bed. Instead, he found himself unable to move, resting in the cradle of her pelvis. He dipped his head and kissed her beauty mark.

Larissa cupped his cheek and pressed her lips softly to his. Then she laid her head back in the grass and closed her eyes, the tension of the last forty-five minutes draining out of her. Mitchell gathered his fleeting energy and slipped his softening erection free. Then he bent and kissed the scars above her heart and down her arm.

Rolling to his side, he collapsed onto the grass. Mitchell gathered her close, slipping his arm over her stomach and nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck.

Larissa took a deep, slow breath and whispered: “I love you, too, Mitchell.”

[captain-mj]

hey idk if I missed what it stands for somewhere or smth but. rlly curious what ESU stands for in the GhostSoap Handler fic.

also,, 100000/10 fuckign,,, LOVING that fic so MUCH I am bouncing off the walls like the roommate's crackhead cat at 2am that keeps one from getting decent sleep

So this is the last chapter! ESU stands for Experimental Soldiers Unit (not the most creative but are most military names?)

Previous Parts

Soap gently helped Ghost into his tac vest while Ghost checked Soap’s gun. He went over every inch, making sure it was working perfectly.

Ghost felt a kiss be placed to the base of his wings.

There was a funny sense of finality that Ghost knew everyone around him must feel. Surely they had to.

Yet no one acted any differently.

It was a simple milk run. The only difference was Valeria was the target. It was fine. Normal.

Fucking… normal.

Ghost felt like he was on a tightrope. Soap was perfect. Soap was always perfect. But Jesus Christ he was tired. It ached. This longing to curl back up in his chair in Glasgow.

Graves’s words were going to him. But now, so were Alex’s.

“Simon, do you ever wish you could retire?”

“No.”

“I do. I think of one day never shifting back. Putting the wings away. Maybe just cutting them off so i can never be asked again.” Alex had seemed far away. Something had changed with him recently. Or maybe it was Ghost seeing it for the first time. “Can’t do it yet. Not while they’re still things to do. People to protect.”

Ghost hadn’t responded.

Alejandro seemed happy. Graves seemed happy. Was it something they were doing? Some secret?

Alejandro and Rodolfo got married. He saw the way they looked at each other. It was the way he looked at Soap when he caught himself in mirrors.

Why was that not enough? Why was loving Soap not enough to fix it? Fix him? Make him less tired?

But he did his job just like always. He sat quietly in his seat on the truck, listening to a Gaz and Price and Soap. They were talking about the mission, planning.

Ghost would go in alone and they’d ambush her. She knew they were coming so they expected a lot of fighting. It’s why it was important they stay and watch his back.

His nails dug into his skin. They were concerned about him. Price asked if he could handle it alone.

“Yes, sir. I can.”

Ghost went into the building, taking special care to be silent. Everyone else could get the enemies' attention. He just needed to find Valeria.

And he did. He found her with a hurt monster. A Damaged thing.

Nunez's wings were beautiful, but he had the same staining on his skin that Ghost did. Same curse.

Valeria looked at him.

He understood.

"I watched the military destroy Alejandro. Take men and return pieces of them. I just... couldn't let that happen to him. I stopped it in Los Almas when no one else did!" Valeria hissed at him, standing in front of Nunez. "It was selfish and horrible what they did. You defend them you..." She stared, slowly relaxing. "You..."

Ghost stared. He swallowed thickly.

"No, you get it."

Ghost hated her.

"If we're found, they'll take him away from me. They'll start experimenting on him again. Can you live with that?"

Ghost thought of an airplane.

"Go." He rasps. "Just go."

Valeria smiled and Nunez dragged her away, going faster than anyone Ghost had ever seen. And Ghost went out a different door.

He heard them realize Valeria was going South and Ghost started going North.

Simon knew he had to go home.

Hopefully Soap wouldn't be so mad at him.

His radio went off. "Simon. Simon, how copy."

Ghost took his radio off and dropped it on the ground.

"Simon. How copy."

Ghost listened to them try to call him back. He took off his vest and left it on the ground. His dog tags were left a few feet away from them.

He hoped Alex would leave soon. He deserved it. Gaz deserved it. To know his sweetheart would be coming home.

Ghost remembered his journey to Texas after Mexico. It felt similar. His feet bled. His chest convulsed. The little thing called his heart beating and fluttering randomly. It begged him to go back or lay down and die.

What are you without the military?

Don't know. I'll figure it out.

What are you without Soap there to hold your hand?

If I never let go of his hand, I'll never have to know.

Ghost found himself crawling into Soap's bed in Glasgow. He showered first, not wanting to dirty his sheets. Soap had been there recently it seemed but left again. His body sank into the pillows. Too large and bulky but it cradled him gently.

When he got up, he ate. He showered again. He stared at the walls before using Soap's computer.

First thing he did was snoop through emails to look at reports. They were about him. All about him. Where was he? Why was his gear left? Is he okay?

In one of Price's reports, there was a message at the bottom.

"I hope it goes well."

It was an odd phrasing. Just odd enough for Ghost to know it was on purpose.

Of course Price would know.

After a week of searching, life returned to normal. For them. Ghost was still in Soap's home. And after a lot of rest, he started to do stuff again. He started to look through more reports, but nothing was that fun. Then, he started to search the internet.

Ghost found his brother's old music. Silly teenage band music. He liked hearing his brother's drumming. The person singing didn't really matter. Just Tommy's drumming.

It led Simon down a rabbit hole. About his murder apparently.

There were videos upon videos about his family.

He watched every single one.

True crime videos. Women doing makeup and men making jokes.

it was nice, seeing his family together again sans his father.

Then, someone showed a picture of him in a bar, clearly drunk and hunched over. His body was already changed but the baggy hoodie kept it semi hidden.

"It's time stamped for 9:17."

"Time of Death was put at 9:19."

"How did he travel all the way home and tear them to shreds in two minutes?"

Ghost didn't do it. That night wasn't his fault.

The realization had him clawing at his skin and wailing until he worried the neighbors may call the cops. His head throbbed and his throat ached.

The black on his skin spread. It burned and ached and for once, Ghost decided it wouldn't be so bad to be half mad and feral. His brain hurt. There was so much heat on his body. Intense and furious.

A fever over took him. It felt almost silly. Like his emotions had gotten so harsh and bad that it gave him a physical reaction.

His body had an intense ache over it and it felt like the light blistered against his skin. Everything was hazy and out of focus, unable to focus on anything.

So Simon showered in the dark and he ignored that his skin felt so uncomfortable and that his feathers had started to fall out.

And then one day, he woke up, body incredibly sore from his fever but no more hysteria or fever. He ran his hands over his face, pausing.

His hands. They looked.

Normal.

No claws.

Just pink flesh.

There was a sound and he perked up. It didn't ring in his ears or go on for ages.

There was a click of a door and Simon went downstairs. His clothes hung off of him, no longer tight.

Soap.

Soap put his keys into the bowl. He looked exhausted. Red rings around his eyes.

Simon was stupid.

"Missed me?"

Johnny went for his gun before freezing. He just kept staring.

"Ghost?"

Simon stretched, for the first time in years not feeling the weight of wings and guilt on his shoulders.

"Just Simon."

"Simon."

"How about I make you a cup of coffee? Or food? I'm sure you're starving." Simon wanted to feel useful suddenly. It was an intense need to help that was interrupted by Soap kissing him hard. Simon only flinched back, worried his fangs would cut his lips. But there were no fangs. Just lips.

Simon yanked him closer and kissed him deeply, pulling him in closer.

Johnny pulled away and shook him. "You fucking disappeared. You fucking... You..." He kissed him again.

"I'm sorry. I waited here for you. I'm never going to let go of your hand."

"Huh?"

"Don't worry about it."

[mariacallous]

Nikki Haley spent the dying days of her presidential campaign reminding anyone who’d listen that Donald Trump is unhinged and unfit. But when she ended her candidacy last week after Super Tuesday, she suggested it was possible Trump could still win her endorsement.

“It is now up to Donald Trump to earn the votes of those in our party and beyond it who did not support him,” she said. “And I hope he does that. At its best, politics is about bringing people into your cause, not turning them away. And our conservative cause badly needs more people. This is now his time for choosing.”

Of course, it’s impossible that Trump, who regularly called Haley “birdbrain,” will make anything resembling a positive moral choice. He does not build willing coalitions. He only attempts to dominate through violence and intimidation. We know this about him because our birth certificates are not dated “Yesterday.”

But if Haley is overly optimistic about Trump, perhaps it’s because she uncritically consumes mainstream media, which seemingly can’t help but default to covering Trump as if he’s a normal candidate — even after his attempted coup and multiple criminal indictments.

Yes, major news outlets, including the New York Times, are now more likely to acknowledge that Trump outright lies than simply makes “false” statements, but the press still resists definitively calling him out for the terrible and dangerous person he is. Because their baseline assumption is that Trump is erratic and malevolent, it’s not generally regarded as big news when Trump does awful things, such as mocking Biden’s speech impediment during a speech over the weekend. (Watch the footage below, though it should be mentioned that the NYT published an article noting that Trump mocked Biden’s stutter.)

Implicit in the media’s ongoing coverage of Trump is the idea that he might suddenly stop behaving like Donald Trump. Case in point was an absurd article Axios ran last week from national politics reporter Sophia Cai with the headline, “Top Trump advisers try to steer him off personal drama.” The top of the article is bad enough, as it presents Trump’s unhinged vendettas like a “Sex and the City” brunch scene, but the low point is Cai’s suggestion that Trump is “toning down” his rhetoric as he attempts to woo college-educated voters.

On what was once Twitter, the caption above Axios’s article read, “Looking to November, Trump tempers his claims about the 2020 election — a little.” (An earlier version of the tweet that didn’t hedge as much and was widely criticized was deleted — see it at top of the post.) Cai wrote, “In some recent speeches, Trump has used different terms in describing his typical complaint that the 2020 election he lost was ‘stolen’ — saying, ‘We were interrupted,’ or ‘something very bad happened.’”

These are obvious euphemisms for Trump’s ongoing election lies, but Cai’s assertion isn’t even true. He told supporters at a North Carolina rally just days before the Axios article that “what happened at that last election is a disgrace, and we’re not going to let it happen again. Did you ever notice they go after the people that want to find out where the cheating was — and, by the way, 82 percent of the country understands that it was a rigged election, OK? You can’t have a country with that.” (Surprise! Trump’s “82 percent” claim is a lie.)

In fact, the very day after Axios’s piece dropped, Trump went on Truth Social and proclaimed, “the Election was RIGGED.”

Trump’s remarks at a Rome, Georgia, rally on Saturday were just as disturbing. He insisted that he’d won Georgia in 2020 and that the election was “rigged.” Those same lies painted targets on the backs of Georgia election workers Ruby Freeman and Shaye Moss, who won a defamation suit against Trump ally Rudy Giuliani. It’s clear that Trump won’t accept an election loss, and we can expect that he’ll incite more violence and harassment. It’s the height of irresponsibility for a major media outlet to suggest otherwise.

And it’s not just Axios. After Trump won the South Carolina Republican primary, NBC News ran an article headlined, “Fewer grievances, more policy: Trump aides and allies push for a post-South Carolina ‘pivot’.” If you’ve paid any attention to the words that come out of Trump’s mouth, you’d understand that Trump’s policy is personal grievance. He’s openly vowed to spend his second term persecuting his political enemies and anyone who dared tried to hold him accountable for his crimes.

[callsignbaphomet]

[[Kay, so the whole thing seems to fit so no need to link it but I'll still drop the link to the Doc in case it's easier to read there than here.

Link

No TWs needed for this one, at least I don't think so but as always lemma know if there needs to be for something in here.]]

Norway November 17, 880 C.E. 06:07

             Jelani burst through the door while clutching a small bag containing the last of the potions and salves Sanaa ad Loke had made to deliver. While standing at the door he looked around the snow-covered village, at that time the village would be buzzing with the sounds of people greeting each other as they made their way to whatever chores or jobs they had but the village was quiet and mostly empty. It was usually at that time that Jelani would be making his way over to his grandfather to help herding and tending to the sheep but today was a little different. Most of the people in the village had gone to help a village that had been attacked by knights, word of the attack reached them in the north and to help Ingvarr had sent a few of his people to offer aid and protection from further aggression. Most of the houses were empty and there was a silence in the atmosphere that felt almost uneasy. Jelani was used to seeing many people around the village at that time, some going to check on the cattle, others to relieve guards of their post so they could rest, the blacksmiths were on their way to make weapons and armor though most of their time was spent fixing broken or old pieces that held up buildings and houses.

The ten-year-old boy ran towards the stables to see if Loke's horse, Helga, was prepared. To his surprise Helga was ready but neither his brother nor his parents were anywhere near the stables. Jelani looked around but before leaving he reached out to pet the old mare's snout. Helga was the oldest of the mares but the gentlest one. She was used to being patted and scratched by everyone in the village, young and old, her age had granted her a patience that at times felt almost supernatural. Helga stretched her neck and sniffed Jelani's open palm as he stood on his toes to pet her.

“Hello, Helga.” Jelani said in a playful tone as he gently patted Helga's nose.

“There you are, little one!”

A voice boomed excitedly behind Jelani as he was lifted into the air. As he was turned around, he smiled when he saw his grandfather smiling back at him. Haakon gave Jelani a tight hug but before walking away he petted Helga.

“Your parents are looking for you. Why didn't you wait?”

“I'm sorry, papa. I just wanted to see what was taking so long.”

“Oh, you're that excited about the journey?”

“Yes!”

“You're not even a little scared?” Haakon laughed as he walked back to his son's home with his grandson in his arms.

“Uh-uh.” Jelani answered enthusiastically.

Haakon let out a hearty laugh as he hugged his grandson tightly. Truth was he was nervous about letting Jelani go to the village that had been attacked. Knights tended to hang around an area they’ve attacked to wait for allies to show up to provide aid and attack the allies. To make matters worse there was a recent spike in raider activity and these were brazened. There was also the matter of the distance. If it’d been up to Haakon neither of his grandsons would be making the journey to deliver supplies and medicine but Loke insisted, he wanted to help and where one sibling went the other was right next to the other. Ingvarr and Sanaa were sure it was perfectly safe. Loke was a mature, capable and fiercely protective man so neither saw anything wrong with letting their thirty-two-year-old son look after his ten-year-old brother. Haakon trusted Loke to take care of and protect his younger brother but there was an uneasiness stirring within him. As they reached Ingvarr's house Haakon put Jelani down but before he could run off to find his parents Haakon held him back and knelt to look him straight in the eyes.

“Jelani, I need you to listen to me closely, all right?”

Jelani turned and paid attention. Haakon’s tone had turned serious, and he wanted to see why.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, little one. However, this is the first time you’ll be away, so I need you to promise me that you’ll be good, and you’ll listen to your brother, all right? You do everything he tells you to when he tells you to.”

“I will, papa, don't worry.”

Haakon forced a smile on his face, he was worried, and he grew even more so as the uneasiness in his stomach grew. He looked at Jelani up and down as he rested his hands on his small shoulders and afterwards hugged him. He desperately wanted to tell him and Loke not to leave but he had no real excuse to tell them. Telling them not to go off the strength of a bad feeling didn't seem like a good idea. He was probably nervous to see his youngest grandson away for that much time.

“Oh, my sweet, there you are.” Sanaa called out and Jelani ran to his mother and gave her a tight hug. Ingvarr joined his wife and son and Haakon smiled as he looked at them as Loke emerged from the house and picked up and carried Jelani as he hugged his mother.

“Is everything ready?” Haakon asked as he stood straight, the uneasiness in his voice was almost noticeable.

“Yes,” Loke confirmed, “We should start heading out soon. We have a lot of area to cover.”

“Maybe I should go instead of you boys.”

“Father, don't be ridiculous.” Ingvarr interjected as he chuckled. “Your shoulder isn't fully healed yet. You should rest.”

“My shoulder feels fine.”

“Ingvarr's right.” Sanaa said as she walked over to Haakon and placed her hand on his injured shoulder and gave her father-in-law a warm smile. “You should rest. Besides,” she turned to Loke with a wide smile and pride in her face, “Loke is more than capable of handling this and looking after his brother. I wouldn't trust anyone else.”

“Thanks, mother.” Loke sheepishly said as he tried to hide his face by lowering his gaze as well as the enormous smile that quickly formed upon hearing his mother give such high praise.

Haakon, having given up on trying to stop his grandsons from making the journey to the village, hugged Loke and whispered something in his ear. Loke seemed confused by the words his grandfather uttered but nevertheless he nodded and returned the hug. The old berserker then turned to Jelani who was still in Loke's arms and reminded him of what he’d asked of him earlier. Jelani nodded enthusiastically.

Loke and Jelani said their goodbyes and made their way to Loke’s horse who was ready with their supplies and the supplies Sanaa had prepared for the village. Loke mounted the old mare first and got settled comfortably and then reached down so Jelani could grab hold of Loke’s arm and once he had a good grip Loke lifted his little brother and sat him in front of him as he knew Jelani liked holding onto the reins.

Both set off and headed south. Loke figured it would take them an hour and a half to reach the southernmost part of the island where they’d have to cross into the mainland, the stretch of water was less than a mile wide but usually there were boats in the area that frequently offered passage to others into the mainland so crossing with Helga and the supplies wouldn't be much of a problem. From there it would take them roughly eighteen to twenty hours to reach the village.

The journey to the shore was pleasant. Both siblings got along wonderfully and neither ceased to amuse the other. Despite their twenty-two-year gap both often found plenty of common ground and often spent hours talking. The hour and a half it took to reach the point to cross into the mainland was spent talking about Loke, Ingvarr, Sanaa and Jørgen’s latest brush with slayers that had made their way onto the island and had threatened a small village of werewolves. The four of them managed to repel the slayers before they could do any real harm. Dealing with slayers was like dealing with raiders and bandits, they had no real organization, lacked any real discipline, were mostly opportunistic cowards that heavily relied on the element of surprise and most of the time they were very unprepared. The only thing that drove them was their hate for anything that wasn't human or humans who mingled with non-humans. Aside from that they weren't a real threat. However, something within their ranks was happening. Stronger, bolder, skilled and organized numbers were appearing amongst the slayers. Survivors of their attacks heard slayers refer to these individuals as knights. They were better equipped, knew how to fight and were organized, every move they made was deliberate and calculated. The same hate that invigorated slayers drove knights but unlike slayers knights were observed using magic and other tools slayers deemed corrupt or sinful yet they banded together. Rumors of a group led by knights and backed by slayers had been circulating for about a year, but it looked like the rumors were true. Loke would be lying to himself if he didn't say he felt some level of worry over these knights. They seemed like a threat and the fact that they managed to snake their way into the mainland meant it was only a matter of time before they would find their way onto the island and set their sights on their village. He kept his worries to himself though, there was no need to worry his brother about potential future attacks. He wanted this small journey to be about both of them, he wanted his little brother to have some fun on his first excursion away from their family.

As they reached the shoreline Loke stopped the old mare and dismounted when he saw a group of armed men trying to push back a small boat with elderly people, children, what looked like injured men and women, and a middle-aged woman in it. The woman seemed angry while the elders looked to be a mix of worried, frightened and slightly ashamed.

“Stay here.” Loke said as he looked at the crowd.

“What are they doing?” Jelani asked as he observed the crowd with a bit of caution.

“I’ll find out.”

Loke made his way to the men and the boat. He could hear both parties arguing about trying to gain entry to the island and the other denying them passage. Loke looked to the oldest of the armed men and immediately recognized him, he was a disheveled, scarred old man in his seventies, with hair as white as snow and gray strands between, he had a long unkempt beard and a dead right eye. His body language was as foul as the words he spat at the people in the boat.

“Alvíss? What's going on?” Loke asked as he approached the crowd.

“They're trying to get into the island, and we keep telling them they have to go find shelter elsewhere.”

“Why?”

“Are you blind and deaf, boy?” Alvíss asked with a bitterness in his tone that Loke did not appreciate. “Knights attacked the mainland. Three villages are gone, and five others are barely standing as it is. Now mainlanders want to come to the island supposedly seeking refuge.”

“We are!” The middle-aged woman screeched as her frustration boiled over. “This? This is all that survived an attack by those knights! We're just trying to find a safe place to rest and catch our breath.”

“And how do we know you're not knights trying to attack us?” Alvíss retorted.

“Because you all would have been dead by now.” Loke responded. “If they were knights, they would’ve come prepared and armed. They would’ve easily run you all through and tossed your carcasses aside and kept walking. Now tell your men to stand down! This is absurd! These are scared and injured people, there's children and elderly in that boat, not knights!”

Alvíss’s men lessened their grips on their weapons and looked back and forth between Alvíss and the boat as if waiting for Alvíss to give word on what to do. Loke was right, knights were ruthless and didn't resort to undercover tactics to gain entry into places. Once they had a target in their sights, they usually walked up to it and set it on fire regardless of who was in it. Alvíss was terrified, he wasn't going to admit it, but he was terrified of these knights. He was a human living alongside non-humans and that alone was grounds for knights to execute him as if he were a werewolf or a vampire or any other non-human. He looked back at his men and saw their demeanor lessen, their weapons were mostly down so he sighed heavily and ordered them to keep them down.

“So be it…but these mainlanders are not welcome in our village.”

Loke shook his head in disappointment as he walked past Alvíss and helped the woman pull the boat to shore. He helped the people onboard get off the boat safely as most were either old, injured or small children. Once they were all safely off the boat Loke walked over to Jelani and grabbed his own supplies he had in a bag, patted Jelani on the head while smiling at him and walked back to the group. He handed his supplies to the woman and pointed towards his and Jelani's village.

“Follow the shoreline north and once you reach several ships and boats docked on the shore turn inland to the east. My village is there. On foot it should take you about two hours to reach it. For the sick and injured among you, find my mother, Sanaa, she can help. For everything else ask for my father, Ingvarr, he’s the chieftain. There's some food and water in the bag as well as a bit of salve in case you need any along the way. I promise, you won't be turned away.”

“Have you gone mad, boy?” Alvíss interjected as he pulled on Loke's shoulder to turn him around to make him face him. “What if the knights that attacked them are following them? You’d lead straight to your people. To your family!”

“They're more than welcome to try. We're well over three hundred berserkers, over eighty werewolves of all breeds, over twenty vampires of almost all ranks, realm jumpers, daefiernos of all kinds, dozens of some of the hardiest humans you’d never want to come across, and the most powerful arcanist berserker the world ever saw. I like our chances.” Loke finished his sentence with a mischievous smile that formed as he boasted about the people of his village Alvíss so quickly deemed in danger. However, as he continued to look at Alvíss his smile and expression turned bitter as his next words were coated with venom. “Unlike some people we never turn away those who need help.”

Loke watched as Alvíss, and his men retreated from the area. He was sure they’d return to harass other mainlanders trying to find refuge from the attacks but there was nothing he could do at the moment. His main priorities were to take care of his brother and deliver the supplies to the village. After watching the men leave Loke turned to the woman and the rest of the refugees with a softer stance and expression.

“I’m sorry about Alvíss, he shouldn't have been doing this. My brother and I can escort you back if you need. We only have one horse but–”

 “Believe me, you’ve done more than enough, and we can manage. We’ve made it this far; we’ll make it to your village. Thank you.”

Loke and Jelani watched the small group march on. He felt horrible about not escorting them himself to make sure they made it to the village safely, but he also had the supplies his mother put together for the survivors of the village he and Jelani were traveling to. With a little prayer to the stars for the group's safety he turned to Jelani and helped him off the old mare. Both got Helga into one of the boats and Loke rowed them across the water. Jelani offered to help but Loke entrusted him to keep an eye on Helga even though the mare was unnaturally calm. It would take a serious cataclysmic event to rattle that old mare and even then, some believed nothing could. Once on the other side the boys made sure to tie off the boat once they got Helga out of it. They mounted up and continued on their way south to the village.

“Why did Alvíss try to stop the mainlanders from coming to the island?”

“He's just afraid, little one.”

“Of what? They didn't look like a threat.”

“They're not but…sometimes people get scared and act irrationally. Some even turn hostile like Alvíss did. It's alright to be scared but just make sure your fears never cloud your judgment. Do you remember that werewolf that lost control of himself during a full moon?”

“Aye.” Jelani recalled the incident. The werewolf in question had lost his charm after a fight with a bear he fought off his land. When he couldn't find the charm, he resorted to locking himself in his home that night but he somehow broke free and found his way into the village looking for prey.

“Father, Uncle, Grandfather, and I were afraid when we confronted him. It could've been so much easier to drive a silver blade through him and then bury him in the morning, but we knew better so we restrained him ourselves until dawn. Just because we were scared it didn't mean we were going to turn our backs on someone that needed help. It wasn't his fault.”

Jelani remembered how scared Sanaa was that night. Her husband and her eldest son were pinning and holding down an out-of-control werewolf during a full moon. Few living beings could go hand to hand with a werewolf yet the four of them dared to in order to save the lives of the people in the village and the werewolf's life. They’d spent a few hours wrestling the beast to the ground and once they did, they piled up on him to keep him from attacking anyone else. It hadn't been easy but over one thousand five hundred pounds of near unbreakable armor and muscle kept the werewolf in place until the rising sun ended his thrashing. The man was remorseful and ashamed for having caused so much trouble, but he was grateful none of them resorted to hurting or killing him. Loke walked away with a lot of bruises and a few open wounds that bled profusely but Sanaa quickly took care of them. Loke held no grudge against the man, he was just glad no one was hurt.

“You didn't look scared that night.”

“I was terrified. All I kept thinking was that I needed to keep him from reaching Mother and you. Yes, I was injured a little, but no one was hurt, not exactly. Sometimes doing the right will frighten you but you just have to push through it. All right?”

“Yes.” Jelani giggled as Loke tickled him.

The boys kept riding south and did not stop or slow down. With Loke's supplies in the hands of the refugees there was less food for them, but Loke figured he'd hunt down a rabbit or some other small game to make dinner after setting up a camp for the night.

They rode for hours until Loke figured they had an hour before the sun would set. He looked for a comfortable spot and once he found one, he tasked Jelani with starting a fire while Loke hunted down a rabbit for both. Before leaving Loke told Jelani not to leave the camp as neither of them were very familiar with the area and he could easily get lost. Once Loke headed into the woods Jelani got to work on building the fire, he’d done it several times. He knew how to arrange the wood and how to start the fire as well as how to keep it roaring. When he finished, he walked over to Helga and retrieved his bag and removed two apples, he gave one to Helga who happily ate the apple and the other he cut in half. One half for him and the other for Loke.

Jelani sat by the fire and patiently waited for his brother to return. Out of boredom he pulled at some of the grass counting each blade of grass he pulled out when suddenly he heard a noise in the distance. Both he and Helga looked up to where the sound came from but there was nothing between the trees. The forest fell silent again, no animals could be heard, much less insects and it worried Jelani. He turned to Helga and saw the old mare’s ear swishing back and forth as if trying to pinpoint the location of something that was unnerving her. As soon as he stood up to comfort her the sound erupted from deep in the forest. This time Helga’s ears were pointed back, and Jelani could see the whites of her eyes as she stared in the direction of the sound. He had no idea what it could be. He turned to Helga and calmed her down, it must’ve been something serious as Helga wasn't known for being easily startled. As he soothed the horse, they both heard the sound again, only this time it sounded louder and this time it really scared him.

“Loki?” Jelani called out of instinct. Whenever he felt frightened or was in pain the person he always called out to was his brother.

“Loki!”

No answer. The forest fell quiet again and fear began to stir in the pit of his stomach. A thought then crossed his mind that chilled his bones. What if the sound was his brother screaming? What if his brother was in danger or was hurt? Jelani rushed to his bag and retrieved a small blade and then made sure Helga’s reins were secure, once he did, he ran in the direction of the sound.

As he ran through the forest, he called out to his brother but there was no answer. As he ran around, he listened carefully in case he heard the sound again but after a few minutes he’d gotten turned around and was now lost. He couldn't tell which direction the sound had come from or where their camp was.

“Looookiiiiiiii!”

Fear and desperation were clawing at him as he quickly looked around for any signs of familiarity. He was so far from the camp he couldn't even see the fire he’d started. As he inhaled to yell out for his brother again, he heard the sound coming from behind him but this time it sounded clearer and louder. It sounded like a strange scream, it felt almost inhuman to some degree. Jelani had no choice but to follow the sound and hope that whatever was making that sound wasn't hostile or in danger.

Jelani kept walking in the direction of the sound and soon came across a large clearing and what was once a camp in the middle of it. The grass and shrubs were black, and the smell of smoke was still in the air though faint. Items, clothes, weapons, vegetables, firewood and other items were thrown about either completely burned or half burned, what hadn't caught fire was broken and some other items were thrown about. He looked around carefully as he debated whether he should explore the area or go back to camp. Curiosity won out in the end, so he slowly made his way into the rundown camp to see what was making that unsettling sound. As he got closer to the middle of the camp he noticed several sheep carcasses along with what appeared to be two cats and five dogs. All the animals had been burned but one of the dogs had been decapitated. Jelani stared at the corpses of the animals and felt sick. He wondered what these animals could have possibly done to incur such violence, especially that one particular dog. With a heavy sigh Jelani continued on his way to see if there were any people in the camp.

As he made his way through the rubble, he found a pile of clothes on top of a haystack. The clothes were vibrant in color and looked clean and unaffected by the fire. He grabbed a tunic from the pile, it was much too small for him meaning that at one point there had been small children in the camp. When he set the tunic back down, he noticed a toy next to the pile. It was a wooden toy carved in the shape of a dog sitting on its hind legs with the front paws up to its chest as if begging. The curly tail was pinned to the back and in its mouth were several flowers. The toy was around three inches tall, the finish was smooth, especially with the paint, it was colored black with gray details. The toy resembled Haakon’s dog. Jelani knew taking it without knowing who the owner was would be wrong, but the state of the camp seemed to indicate that something terrible had happened, so he grabbed the toy and moved on.

He kept walking forward and a horrible stench hit him hard enough to cause him to cover his nose. There was the smell of smoke but something else he’d never smelled before; it was rancid and had a strange undertone he couldn't identify. As he walked forward the smell got stronger which caused him to gag but he tried his best not to throw up. It’d been a few minutes since he heard the strange sound and part of him was glad, but another part was worried.

A few feet from the camp Jelani came across a pile of horribly burned items, the smell seemed to be emanating from that pile. As he walked towards it a trio of wolves stuck their heads up and stared at Jelani. In turn Jelani froze out of fear and as he stared at them, they stared back. Each of their faces was covered in blood and gore and while two of them backed away and proceeded to run away the third one bared its teeth and snarled at Jelani for a few seconds before running away. Once the wolves had run off Jelani exhaled but as soon as he focused on the pile he began to shudder. The pile was composed of badly burnt bodies and at the top where the wolves were was a person looking right at him. Due to the extent of the injuries it was hard to tell if it was a woman, a man or other. He swallowed hard as the person weakly stretched their arm towards him and uttered in a gravelly voice, “Help…”

It was the sound he’d been hearing the entire time. Jelani clutched the toy close to his chest as he whimpered and backed away from the pile of bodies though he couldn't stop staring at them. As he backed up he was grabbed and picked up while his eyes were covered. He cried and thrashed due to the fright of being surprised as well as seeing such a horrific sight.

“I told you to stay at camp! Why did you leave?!” It was Loke who picked him up. He hugged him tightly while keeping his face close to his chest so he wouldn't look at the pile of bodies. Loke stared in horror at the sight before him. Body after body crudely thrown on top of the other, some had been mutilated, others were missing limbs, the state they were in was so gruesome he couldn’t tell what he was staring at. As he continued to look at the horrible spectacle he noticed several of the bodies belonged to children in the same state as the adults and he shuddered as he tightened his grip on his little brother.

“I’m sorry, Loki, I’m sorry!” Jelani cried.

“Are you hurt? Are you alright?” Loke frantically asked as he put him down making sure his back was to the bodies and checked him for any injuries.

“I’m–I’m alright.” He stuttered as he cried.

“You cannot just run off without me, Jelani. It's dangerous out here.” Loke wiped away Jelani's tears and picked him back up. He quickly turned and headed back to the camp, he wasn’t sure if the people responsible for that massacre were still in the area and he didn’t want to risk his brother especially after seeing that the people responsible for such a horrific act didn’t seem to care if children were involved.

As Loke rushed back to the camp Jelani wrapped both arms around his brother's neck and buried his face between his neck and shoulder to avoid looking at anything. The image of that badly burnt person stretching their arm out towards him asking for help kept replaying in his mind over and over again. He wasn’t sure how long it would haunt him, but he wanted to avoid seeing anything else that was just as gruesome or worse. Back at camp Loke sat him down close to the fire and wrapped a blanket around him to keep him warm. As day turned to night the temperature dropped significantly and Loke wanted to make sure Jelani was both safe and warm. As they ate Loke noticed Jelani picked at the food and barely said a word, after Jelani ate the little bit that he did Loke noticed the toy Jelani was keeping close to him. He sat next to his little brother and brushed his hair back to get a better look at his face. Jelani looked up at him with a concerned look on his face that made Loke upset.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Are we in danger?”

“No, we're not.”

“That camp back there, there were children in it, and I saw them in the pile and there was this one person yelling for help while wolves ate them alive. They were all burned and…” Jelani paused as he tried to find the words to describe what he saw and what he currently felt. He was afraid not only for himself, his family and his village but for others as well. These knights everyone was talking about frightened him in a way no other things did. It scared him as much as seeing his older brother try to keep an out-of-control werewolf pinned to the ground while he bit him. The one thing he remembers vividly from that night was Sanaa's worried face and the blood pouring from Loke's wounds. “What if we run into them? Those people that did that to them?”

“We won't. We’ll head out at daybreak and before you know it we’ll be at the village. We're only three hours away from this point.”

“What if they find us while we sleep?”

“I’ll keep watch, little one.”

“All night? That's not fair, I’ll stay up with you.”

“No. You need to sleep.”

“But–”

“I’ll sleep when we get to the village. It’ll be alright, I promise.”

Jelani snuggled up to Loke's side, rested his head on his lap and sighed contently as he pulled the blanket over his shoulders and grasped the toy he took from the camp. He pretended to be asleep at first as he still believed it was unfair that he would get to sleep but Loke couldn't so he could keep watch over both but after a few minutes he fell asleep on Loke.

After Jelani fell asleep Loke relaxed a little and wrapped a blanket around himself. He smiled as he looked at Jelani and gently placed his right hand around him as his blanket covered the upper part of his body. Loke then looked to Helga to make sure the old mare was alright and after looking at her for a few minutes and seeing the old girl relaxed Loke felt as Jelani hugged his right arm in his sleep. A smile formed on Loke’s face as he looked at his sleeping younger brother and he suddenly found himself fighting off the urge to grab him and hug him. He gently caressed him with his thumb and then looked up at the night sky. Thousands of shimmering stars were spread across the sky and his mind drifted to the stories his mother would tell of her people, the Nyota. Stories of warriors whose blood had starlight embedded into it, whose lustrous skin and eyes were adorned with stardust, who wielded power beyond anything anyone could ever imagine. Stories of their culture, of their practices, divine secrets, festivals and celebrations all centered around the very cosmos. To him it sounded exquisitely beautiful. As he continued to look up at the night sky and focused on the space between the stars, that space that seemed to swallow all light, he saw a faint glimmer sliding across the sky and let out a quiet gasp as he continued to stare in awe. According to his mother, her people looked to four goddesses made from the very cosmos itself for guidance, three of them: Aberash, Nuru, and Berhane were said to live among the Nyota. However, there was a fourth goddess that lent her wisdom and guidance though she did so from far away. Nomathemba is said to live in space circling the planet. It is said that if she were to stop circling the planet for even one second a horrific terror beyond the scope of understanding would find something hidden on Earth and would come after it. Nomathemba herself chose to act as a guardian in the hopes of staving off a disaster from which nothing could possibly survive so she continuously circles the Earth until she is sure the threat has been neutralized or until existence is somehow halted. It’s said that her size is so massive that if she were to ever come down from space in her true form she would envelop the Earth five times over. Whenever she was seen among the Nyota it was only ever a projection of herself. However, she could constantly be seen in the spaces between the stars. Once you knew what to look for, beautiful faint colors reflecting off her impossible hues, the subtle glimmers across the sky signified her protective presence.

Of all the stories his mother told them, Nomathemba stuck out the most to Loke. A being of immense power chose to spend eternity protecting an entire planet full of people and creatures who most likely don’t even know she exists and even if her presence was to ever be revealed to the world he was sure there would be several people who would disrespect her as people tend to do to things they can’t seem to understand. That selflessness alone earned her his admiration and appreciation as well as a type of devotion. Ever since he first heard of her when he was a boy she inspired him to protect those he loved and those he didn’t that needed help, not for glory or reverence but because it’s the right thing to do even if it’s a difficult task.

The night passed by with an odd tranquility that Loke was grateful for and once the sun began to rise over the horizon he sighed happily and looked down to see Jelani still asleep next to him. He was aware he said they’d get a move on at daybreak but as he watched his little brother sleep he felt a bit guilty about waking him up so early though between the two of them Jelani was the one that was always awake before him, in fact, he was almost always awake before most of the village.

“Is it morning yet?”

Loke was caught off guard and looked down to see Jelani sitting up and rubbing his eyes as he yawned. He couldn’t help but chuckle and give him a pat on the head that ended in a gentle scratch.

“Aye.” Loke answered. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did.” Jelani smiled but just as quickly as his smile appeared it turned into a concerned frown as he remembered that Loke had volunteered to stay awake all night long just in case. “What about you? Were you awake all night?”

“Yes, but it’s alright, little one, I’ll get some sleep tonight in the village.” Loke smiled at Jelani to reassure him that he was indeed alright despite having spent the entire night awake. Jelani stared back with doubt and a concerned look on his face, but Loke gave him a kiss on the forehead and said, “I promise, now go wash up while I gather our things, then we’ll eat breakfast and head to the village. If the weather is favorable, we should be there in three to four hours.”

Jelani nodded happily and went to grab a few items from his bag. As they rode through the area yesterday they noticed a small creek which is mainly why Loke chose the spot to make camp and spend the night. Once he had the items he needed he grabbed a bright red apple and fed it to Helga.

“Jelani?” Loke spoke up so Jelani turned to look at his older brother who was folding the blankets, “Wash up and come right back. Please, don’t wander off.”

“I won’t.” Jelani responded as ran off to find the creek.

“Is he your son?” Loke was startled enough to drop the blanket. He turned around to look at the source of the voice. A pale woman a few years older than Loke idly stood behind him. Her curly dark brown hair was loosely tied, and she wore furs adequate for the current temperature, her faintly red lips housed a smile though her dark gray eyes seemed off to him. Her posture and stance seemed friendly and Loke didn’t see a weapon of any kind on her but a strange feeling overcame him, so he looked at her cautiously.

“No, he’s my little brother.”

“Oh,” The woman’s smile widened, “he’s beautiful.”

“Yes, he is. Can I help you?”

“Mmm, no, I’m just passing through.”

Loke noticed the woman avoided looking at him directly and instead kept looking in the direction that Jelani had taken off to and every hair on his body stood on end. He moved himself to stand directly in front of the woman though he put enough space between them in order to gain a start in case he had to run to his brother or to maneuver in case she drew a concealed weapon.

“Are you traveling by yourself?”

“Yes, I am.”

Every single one of Loke’s senses were on high alert. The woman’s behavior seemed odd. She kept her answers to his questions brief and vague and while there was nothing wrong with that this entire scenario felt dangerous to him. Natives to the area were aware that the area they currently found themselves in had no nearby villages, the nearest one was three to four hours to the southeast and the closest one to that one was two hours away to the northeast. No matter where she was going she had a lot of ground to cover and Loke noticed a lack of supplies on her, no bags, no equipment, and no horse either. There was also the matter of her accent, it felt forced, like she wasn’t a native speaker of the language. Loke was well aware that depending on where in the country you found yourself in your accent would differ. His and Jelani’s accents were from those that lived in the north of the country, specifically the northern islands dotting the mainland. Those that lived in the middle parts of the mainland had a different accent and those that lived in the southernmost regions had another type of accent. Loke had heard all and was familiar with them all yet he couldn’t place hers. While a person’s accent seemed like a silly and trivial thing to worry about everything about the situation he currently found himself in didn’t seem trivial much less silly. As she averted her eyes to look to where Jelani was once again he moved to block her view.

“Where are you headed to?”

“Visiting old friends.”

“Really? Where are these friends?”

The woman didn’t answer this time, she just stared at Loke and widened her smile, yet her eyes were demonstrating an entirely different emotion, as her body tensed up her eyes intensified with what Loke could tell was annoyance. Loke had a particular talent for reading body language, facial expressions and being able to tell when someone was lying, and he was damn good at it too. The only person he told about this talent was his mother. 

“Loki?”

At the sound of Jelani’s voice the tension in the air dissipated. Jelani hurried over to Loke when he saw the woman and stood close enough to grab onto his leg. This was something he often did to silently let his brother know he was either scared, uncomfortable, in some type of pain, or to let him know he needed him. Jelani had walked back to camp silently and stood still when he saw his brother and the woman talking. Even Jelani could sense that something was wrong by Loke’s serious tone so he quickly made his way to safety, his brother. Loke in turn placed his hand on Jelani’s right shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze to let him know he was acknowledging him while keeping his eyes on the woman. In turn the woman eased her tension, looked down at Jelani and smiled as she crouched down to get a better look at him.

“Hello.” she said in a loud and friendly voice. “So, what is your name?”

“It’s probably best if you continue passing through. We wouldn’t want to delay you any further.” Loke intervened, before the woman could continue to ask Jelani questions he pulled him behind him to shield him from the woman and forced her to focus on him instead of his brother. Now that Jelani had returned from the creek he dismissed the woman. He hadn’t done so before because he wanted to make sure Jelani was with him instead of at the creek where the woman would be able to do anything without Loke knowing.

“I’m in no hurry to get to where I’m headed.”

“Good-bye.” Loke’s tone was beginning to turn harsh, and the woman picked up on that and so did Jelani who tightened his grip on Loke’s leg out of fear. The woman stood back up and without saying a word she left making her way north. Loke kept an eye on her until the forest obscured his view of her and he was sure she was gone, then Loke grabbed Jelani’s hand and walked him over to Helga and sat him on the mare, he quickly put the supplies Sanaa had made on Helga and walked to the front and handed Jelani the reins.

“Who was she?”

“I don’t know. Stay on Helga, if I tell you to run you ride to the village.”

“What about you?!” Jelani yelled out in concern.

“I’ll catch up. You keep riding southeast and you do not stop for any reason. Understood?”

“Yes…” Jelani quietly agreed as he lowered his gaze to hide the tears forming on the corner of his eyes. Loke slowed down when he realized Jelani was frightened and hugged him. “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be. I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you, you know that right?”

“What if something bad happens to you?”

“Nothing bad will happen to either of us.”

Loke wiped away Jelani’s tears and smiled at him. What he really wanted to say was that he preferred something bad to happen to him rather than it to happen to Jelani. From the very night he was born Loke was determined to take care of his brother and shield him from everything that would mean him any harm even if it meant using himself as the shield. He would gladly forfeit his own life if it meant sparing Jelani’s. Of course, a scared ten-year-old boy wouldn’t want to hear that, so he comforted him. After Jelani stopped crying Loke grabbed their belongings and hurriedly put them away and put them on the mare. This took a total of ten minutes and then he made sure the fire they had was safely snuffed out to avoid creating a fire in the forest. Once Loke was sure everything was packed and ready he hopped up on the mare and the three of them left the area and rode southeast to get to the village.

After a while Jelani calmed down enough to start laughing and talking. With the strange woman appearing out of nowhere and interrupting their morning neither sibling was able to eat breakfast so along the way Loke grabbed one of the bags and took out some fruits, mostly berries and such, for them to eat. After about an hour and twenty-four minutes of riding through the thick snow-covered forest Helga suddenly stopped in her tracks, Loke urged her to continue but the old mare’s ears twitched in all directions and subtly moved her body from side to side. She heard or smelled something that was making her very nervous. Both siblings looked around for whatever was causing Helga so much distress but neither of them saw or heard anything. As a precaution Loke tried to conjure his axe though he found he couldn’t, something was preventing him from conjuring the axe and as he kept trying he kept looking around.

“What’s happening?” Jelani asked nervously.

“I’m not sure, little one.” Loke said as he kept his left hand extended to try and conjure the axe and wrapped his right arm around Jelani.

All of a sudden Helga let out a loud scream and took off startling both siblings. As she ran Jelani, who had the reins, tried to regain control of the old mare and pulled on the reins as hard as he could to make Helga stop but she wouldn’t. Meanwhile Loke tried his best to hold on to Jelani so he wouldn’t fall off Helga as she ran through the forest as fast as her legs could carry her. As Loke held on to Jelani he looked up in time to see a tight rope being pulled and as a last-minute reaction he pushed Jelani down and tried to lower himself, but he hadn’t been quick enough. The rope missed Helga and Jelani, but Loke wasn’t as fortunate, he slammed into the rope around the chest area and was forcefully knocked off the horse and hit the ground hard on his back. The hit and the slam were hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs so as soon as he was able to breathe in he began to cough uncontrollably while trying to sit up. When Loke regained a little bit of control over his coughing a large and older man walked up to him and slammed his foot on Loke’s chest forcing him back to the ground.

“Do not move!” Another man yelled as he aimed a bow and arrow directly at Loke’s face. Next to that man was another one aiming a short bastard sword at his chest while the man pinning him down gave Loke a sinister smile.

“We’ll deal with this one and then we’ll find the boy.”

As the three men looked at each other Loke had reached for a blade he always kept with him as a backup. Once he had a good grip on it, he stabbed the man aiming an arrow at his face in the foot and as he yelled he slashed at the man holding the sword and cut him just above the knee. As the two men recoiled the third one lifted his foot off Loke, so he quickly stood up and squared off. The man looked on in confusion until he looked at Loke’s hand and saw a knife in his hands and smiled again.

“Clever. Not many of your kind carry man-made weapons. Why bother when you can conjure them with your trickery?”

Loke starred the man down, he knew what he was without needing to announce himself to him. His furs were soaked in what Loke could only guess was werewolf blood, the necklace of fangs around his neck were fangs that once belonged to vampires and the claws decorating his gauntlets were that of various other non-human creatures. They particularly hated berserkers because they couldn’t take any prizes off them. Once a berserker was dead their armor and weapons vanished back to wherever it was that they resided in until they were conjured. There was also the fact that berserkers were well over eight feet tall with massive pieces of armor and colossal weapons. No matter how strong slayers were they’d never be able to carry or wear berserker armor and weapons. Slayers loved to adorn themselves with the body parts of their victims, but these slayers were smart. Loke noticed several small dampening stones among their adornments, which is why he wasn’t able to conjure his weapons or his armor.

The man with the sword had recovered and let out a furious roar as he ran towards Loke with his sword held high to most likely swing sideways to cut him across the body. As the man swung his sword Loke dodged it as the sword clumsily missed him though it was still a little too close for comfort. As the sword slammed into the ground Loke turned his upper body and as the man, who had bent over slightly as his full weight had been used on the swing of his sword, was starting to raise himself back up Loke plunged his knife into the back of the man’s head instantly killing him. Without wasting time Loke removed the knife and turned to face the archer who had taken aim at him. As Loke threw the knife the man fired his arrow. Both projectiles quickly flew towards their intended targets. Loke’s knife dug into the archer’s left cheek while the archer’s arrow hit Loke on his right arm. The arrow cut him deeply but at least it hadn’t gone through his arm, however, the cut in his arm was bleeding profusely and he began to panic. Loke was what several people in the village called a “bleeder”, any significant injuries led to him bleeding in an almost out of control manner. When he was eight years old, he nearly died from a horrible gash he acquired from an accident while he practiced some sword fighting techniques with some of the other boys. Had it not been for his mother’s quick actions and knowledge Loke would’ve died that day.

Loke inhaled and shook his head. He didn’t have time to worry about a cut in his arm, he needed to get to Jelani in case there were more slayers in the area, there usually were. They were known to kill non-humans of any age without prejudice, so he needed to stop them from harming his brother. As he took a step forward the third man turned him around and ran his bastard sword made of silver through Loke. The cold blade had passed through him from underneath his sternum and exited out the back missing his spine by a few inches. Loke took painful and shuddering breaths as he looked at the slayer with a pained and almost angry look on his face, in turn the slayer couldn’t help but smile as he slowly pulled the blade out. The pain was so intense that Loke had lost his balance and was collapsing to the ground, but the slayer held him up as he continued to watch him struggle. Loke gathered his strength and in one swift move he head butted the slayer in the face breaking his nose in the process, as the slayer recoiled, and the wound caused his eyes to tear up Loke used the opportunity to fall on him and punched him as hard as he could for as long as he could. After he was losing his strength due to blood loss Loke stood up and walked in the direction where he’d seen Helga run off to. The more he walked the weaker he got but he willed himself to keep going at least until he could find Jelani.

After a few minutes Loke fell on his knees and hunched over as he coughed. He pressed his right hand against the stab wound and looked at his hand to see it covered in blood, he then looked down to see an alarming amount of it all over himself. He pressed his hand on the wound again, the pain caused him to shudder loudly and hang his head. He tried hard to stand back up but found it difficult.

“Loki!”

At the sound of his name being called Loke looked up and saw Jelani riding over to him and panic began to swell within him. He tried to stand but the pain was unbearable and to make it worse he felt weak and dizzy.

“Run…” Was all he could say as he hunched over and tried to hold himself up with his left arm as he clutched his chest with his right arm.

“Loki?!” Jelani cried out with concern in his voice as he stopped Helga and dismounted. Due to the mare’s size and his stature Jelani fell to the ground but quickly stood back up and ran to his brother. He fell on his knees as he held onto Loke and looked with absolute horror and fear at the amount of blood on him.

“Why did you come back?” Loke asked.

“To find you.” Jelani said as he grabbed Loke’s left arm and began to pull on it. “We have to go before they find us!”

“Listen–listen to me. Listen to me.” Loke stuttered between breaths. He forced himself to sit up and placed his left hand on Jelani’s cheek. “Get on the horse and run, you run, and you don’t stop or look back no matter what you hear.”

“All right, I’ll help you get to Helga, and we’ll go.”

“No! Je–no, Jelani, you have to leave me here. I’ll hold them back and you run and get to the village.”

 “What?! No, I’m not leaving you here!” Jelani began to cry as he tightly hugged Loke who in turn hugged him back.

“You have to, little one. Either way I won’t make it to sundown, but I can at least hold them back so that you can.”

“No, don’t say that!”

“I promised that nothing would ever harm you and I intend to keep that promise until my last dying breath.”

“Please don’t leave me…” Jelani whimpered as he buried his face on his brother’s neck and cried.

“And I never will, little one.” Loke whispered as he hugged his brother. He gathered his strength and picked Jelani up and made his way to Helga. He sat Jelani on the saddle, but he wouldn’t let go of Loke as he continued to cry and beg him not to leave him.

Eventually Loke pulled Jelani off him and handed him the reins; among the supplies was a dagger which Loke removed and held onto to at least have a way to fight the slayers back.

“Loki, please?”

Loke looked up. He hated seeing Jelani cry and if there was anything he could do to ease his pain he would, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he bled to death, by staying behind he could at least spare his brother from seeing him die next to him and at least keep his promise to protect him even if it meant dying at the hands of slayers. Loke gave Jelani one last hug as he said, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Jelani replied as he hugged him back.

Loke gently pressed his forehead on Jelani’s for a few seconds and then kissed his forehead and with the dagger in one hand he smacked Helga with the other and watched the old mare and his little brother run east towards the safety of the village. After a few minutes he looked up at the sky and begged the stars and the cosmos to keep Jelani safe once he was gone. With some renewed strength and determination Loke held on to the dagger and walked back in the direction he’d come from to hold back the slayers.

As he made his way through the forest he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a row of ten horses and their riders all staring down at him. Their faces housed gleefully wicked smiles as they looked at him. Loke took a deep breath as he scowled at them.

“Well,” A familiar voice said and from between the riders came the slayer that had run Loke through, his sword still had Loke’s blood on it, “It seems like this one may still have some fight left in him.”

The rest of the slayers laughed but Loke continued to scowl at them. The more time they wasted mocking him the further away Jelani got.

“Where’s the boy?”

“Why worry about a child when…you haven’t even killed the adult?”

The rest of the slayers chuckled in amusement though their leader hadn’t found Loke’s remark funny. He inhaled deeply as he sucked in air through his teeth and exhaled quickly. He dismounted his horse and stood in front of it as he looked left and then right and four of the slayers drew their bows and aimed their arrows right at Loke.

“You look half dead to me.” The slayer replied. He looked and pointed at one of the slayers and said, “Find the boy and bring him back, he couldn’t have gotten far yet.”

 The other slayer nodded and took off. As he rode past Loke he grabbed the dagger tightly, aimed and tossed the dagger at the slayer. The blade sank deep into the man’s back who yelled out and tried to grab it but as he did, he lost balance and fell off his horse. As Loke turned to face down the lead slayer the four archers had fired their arrows. One hit Loke on his right lung, another hit him on his right thigh, one hit his left shoulder and the last one hit him on his lower abdomen. Somehow Loke was still standing despite the pain, the dizziness, and the blood loss. He stood still as he tried to breathe though he found it difficult.

The slayer made his way towards Loke and kicked him in the chest causing him to fall back and land on his back. The landing exacerbated the pain and caused him to cough which made it all the worse as his right lung collapsed and filled with blood. The more he coughed the more blood flowed up his esophagus until it was coming out of his mouth in a red foam. The slayer stood over Loke and smiled as he took in the sight. He took the arrow that was stuck to Loke’s thigh and pulled it out as hard as he could, he did the same with the arrow in his lower abdomen and sat on him while staring at him and smiling. After a few seconds he turned to face the rest of his men and ordered them to find Jelani.

Loke swallowed hard as he watched the slayers take off to the east and tried to take a deep breath but found he couldn’t because of the pain. The slayer sitting on him leaned forward and creepily caressed his throat with his hand as he whispered, “You want to know what’s the best part of hunting down abominations like you? Getting to watch you slowly die. Looking you in the eyes as your life is slowly drained.”

In defiance to the slayer’s eerie claim and obnoxious laughter Loke spat blood on his face. He wanted to say something, but the pain was too much for him at that point. The slayer laughed and was about to say something as well when all of a sudden, a tremendously loud and booming, droning sound exploded from within the forest. Both men looked to where the sound was coming from and stood still and quiet. Loke noticed a faint fog slowly carpeting the snowy ground but was just as confused by it as he was by the sound. As the slayer frantically looked around the sound erupted once more, only this time it sounded louder. It was loud enough to cause the branches of the trees to rattle so hard that the snow covering them fell to the ground.

“What is that?” The slayer asked out loud as panic began to set in. He got off Loke and tightly gripped his sword in both hands as he looked around the forest for the source of the sound. He circled around Loke who was calm. The sound was intimidating but for some reason he didn’t feel the panic that the slayer was so obviously consumed by.

With every minute that passed Loke could feel himself fading, it was getting to the point where it was difficult to keep his eyes open. The only thing in his mind was Jelani and he hoped against hope that he had gained enough distance to safely make it to the village where he’d be safe from the slayers chasing him. With the last of his remaining strength Loke managed to sit up and leaned on a nearby tree and tried to keep his eyes open. He watched as the slayer paced back and forth as he took a defensive stance just in case whatever was making that sound made its way towards him. Perhaps it was due to the loss of blood, but Loke noticed it was getting increasingly cold and the fog was getting higher, he had no explanation for it nor did he care, he knew he wasn’t long for this world so he sat quietly and waited never once regretting his decision to put his brother’s well-being before himself.

As the slayer stared into the forest a low rumble could be heard in the distance and he quickly turned to it as he pointed his sword forward but the more he looked between the trees the more his face turned from angry to frightened. The rumbling grew louder and from the forest nine of the ten horses his men were riding ran past him. The stampede of frightened horses kept running past him though he noticed not one of his men were riding the frightened beasts. Not far behind the stampede the tenth horse emerged from the forest; only this one had a rider on its back, or at least half a rider. The lower part of a man’s body had somehow remained on the saddle but as it rode past Loke the remains fell and hit the snow-covered ground and the slayer ran to investigate.

The remains had been frozen solid, the skin along the pelvic area showed signs of tearing not cutting, whatever had done it hadn’t used a blade to cut the man’s body in half, it had torn him in half. The slayer examined the body further and found the bones, the blood and whatever organs remained were also frozen solid. In his panic he rushed over to Loke who was so weak that he closed his eyes.

“You, monster!” He yelled out as he crouched next to Loke and pulled his head up by his hair. When Loke didn’t open his eyes the slayer shook him and once he saw Loke’s eyes slowly opening he pointed to the frozen remains of one of his men and yelled, “What in the holy father’s name can do that?”

Loke looked to where the slayer was pointing to and saw the frozen remains he was yelling about, but he had no idea what could have done that. The action of tearing a body apart seemed almost bestial and the only thing Loke could think of were werewolves but the fact that the parts were completely frozen seemed impossible for a werewolf. Not to mention he knew of no werewolf that would leave that much flesh on the bone like that. The best Loke could do was groan which angered the slayer.

“You godless, useless wretch!” He exclaimed as he lifted his sword into the air but before he could strike Loke he froze as the sound that had managed to strike fear into his very core erupted once more, only this time it was so close he felt the rumbling deep within his chest cavity. With the deafening sound so close both men realized that it was two sounds emanating from one source. The first sound was a droning boom and after a few seconds a guttural roar unlike any either of them had ever heard came forth and ended in a prolonged snarl.

Loke looked past the slayer and in between the tops of the trees he saw something moving slowly like a predator stalking its prey. He didn’t know what it was, he wouldn’t be able to guess even if he tried. He’d never heard that sound before. As he watched the colossal being move through the trees it faded away.

The slayer raised his sword up and looked behind him when he saw Loke looking up. He figured he’d seen something but wasn’t able to react to it much less say anything. The forest had gone silent, only the wind could be heard eerily blowing from the north. The only other sound that could be heard was the slayer’s own deep and panicked breathing as he looked around. Suddenly right before their eyes something manifested itself before them and in one swift move it grabbed the slayer by the throat and lifted him into the air as it stared and snarled at him.

Loke managed to open his eyes at the sound of the slayer whimpering and struggling to breathe and saw what was causing him so much distress. It was massive, it looked like it stood at the very least eight to nine feet tall. Its legs were long, muscular and digitigrade, each of its two feet had three toes that ended with long, sharp black claws while the fourth toe, the largest one, appeared to be upright with a sickle-shaped enormous claw at the end of it. Further up was a slim yet powerful pelvis and torso that looked completely humanoid, loosely draped around the lower waist was a black cloth that dragged behind it as it walked. The silky material was adorned with bright golden details along the split of the side. On its back were six massive dark gray feathered wings with black details, four of them pointing upwards and the two lower ones pointing down; the middle wings were the biggest and longest ones. Golden metal dotted the spine and split into sections where the ribs were located. At the end of the spine was a long tail that started out thick and ended thin, the gold also covered the top of the tail. Its strong arms ended in humanoid looking hands with five fingers each ending in long black claws, the forearms were covered by elegant black gauntlets with golden details. Each bicep was adorned with two golden rings. The neck was covered by bright white fur, it was puffy enough to cover a bit of the shoulders, it almost resembled a mane except it only covered the neck. The head was hard to come to terms with, to Loke it looked like an off-white skull, he couldn’t exactly identify what type of skull as it looked like an elk’s, or it could be a goat’s or a sheep’s or a reindeer’s. He wasn’t sure, it looked like all of those but none at the same time. The skull-like head housed some very sharp looking dark gray teeth as well as some very long and very sharp and thick canines. Its eyes, all six of them, didn't seem to have any irises, just blood red sclera that had oval-shaped pupils that ran laterally. The top of the skull-like head had four massive black horns. Two horns shot upwards with a slight curvature to the back while the other two curled backwards and ended pointing to the front. Aside from the horns on the head the creature had an intricately woven crown floating over its head. It shone beautifully like a solar halo but dressed in golden light. However, the right side of this crown seemed broken with parts of it impossibly floating near the crown and head of the creature. The right sockets had cracks that went down to the jawline and pieces of the crown were embedded into the cracks.

It was unlike anything he’d ever seen before and yet he felt no fear as he looked at this terrible being. He felt a sense of tranquility that he attributed to being so close to death, at first. Looking over the being again, Loke focused on certain details like the skin of the being. It was a rich dark brown identical to his mother’s skin tone and for a fleeting moment Loke thought this was a manifestation created by his mother and with the little energy he had he slightly smiled. At least he’d get to see his mother, the woman he idolized since she came into his life, before he died. However, he kept looking at the being and focused on the gauntlets, the colors were different but that they had the exact design as the ones his father’s armor had. The cloth around the waist was a different color but it wore it like the cape his mother’s armor had and then a different thought crossed his mind.

As the slayer struggled to free himself the being holding him by his neck intently stared into his eyes while emitting a chilling rumbling hissing sound. As all six eyes locked onto his the man slowly stopped struggling and in a matter of seconds his entire body went limp, except for the look of sheer terror he sported. He looked as if he had just learned of a terrible and inescapable fate and all he could do was weep. The tall being simply opened its clawed hand and let the slayer drop clumsily onto the fog and snow-covered dirt but he quickly scrambled to stand back up. Once he stood back up, he lifted his right hand up to his right cheek and dug his nails into his own flesh while staring at the being. Loke watched as the man frantically scratched into his own skin until he drew blood and little by little he began to tear into the flesh. Once he began ripping off small patches of his own skin the slayer began to cry out in agonizing pain. His face contorted into one of agony and horror as tears formed in his eyes, yet he wouldn’t stop ripping his skin off. At one point he managed to get a good grip of the pieces of loose skin on his cheek and pulled on it with such force that he tore a chunk down to his neck exposing both muscle and bone and it made Loke recoil.

“Help meeeeeee!” The slayer cried out as he gargled his own blood while he looked at Loke.

Even if Loke hadn’t been mortally wounded and so low on energy due to blood loss and pain he still wouldn’t lend aid to the man, never to a slayer or a knight or anyone that harmed others, especially someone who threatened to do harm to his own flesh and blood. Loke remained still as he watched the slayer cry in agony while he tore off his own flesh. When he yelled for help again the being let out a groaning hiss and the slayer turned around and began to walk away all the while he was still screaming in agony and tearing off his flesh.

Both Loke and the being watched him walking into the forest until he could only be faintly heard in the distance. Loke then turned to look at the being, despite everything there was still no fear within him. The being slowly walked towards Loke and once he was next to him it crouched down and sat next to him, a gentle and soft purring replaced its horrible roar and guttural hissing. It stretched one of its hands out and gently placed it on Loke’s face. It was surprisingly soft but somehow cold yet warm against his skin. With its thumb it wiped away some of the blood that fell out of Loke’s mouth and Loke leaned into the hand and closed his eyes for a moment. The being then leaned forward and gently pressed its forehead against Loke’s who then opened his eyes halfway and with the last of his strength he lifted his bloody right hand and gently placed it on the side of its face. 

“At least…I got to see you…one last time, little one.” Loke closed his eyes, inhaled and for the last time exhaled. As his body went limp his hand dropped beside him, and Jelani remained perfectly still as he closed his eyes and stopped purring. He remained still for a few minutes as Loke’s body leaned on him. After a while he opened his eyes again and gently laid the lifeless body on the ground, he looked up at the sky and sighed. While still looking at the sky he reached up to his crown and grabbed one of the floating pieces of the broken side and lifted his other hand. Using the small shard, he made a cut along the middle of his palm; his blood was as black as the night sky with platinum swirled in it. He took the bloody golden shard and carefully opened Loke’s mouth and gently placed the blood-covered shard on his tongue and closed his mouth. Jelani then laid down beside his brother’s body and watched and waited.

The light of the rising morning sun broke through the horizon and as its warmth washed over his face he let out a soft groan. He sighed deeply but then suddenly he opened his eyes in a panic and stood up quickly. As he looked around in a panic, not entirely sure what he was looking for, he walked forward and bumped into a small pile of wood. He tried to slow his breathing and looked up to see Helga staring at him as she chewed on some grass, the old mare snorted and went back to eating grass, she seemed calm, almost as if nothing had happened. He looked around and saw a fire still burning, his blanket on the ground, a second blanket near his and a bag of supplies between the blankets. Suddenly Loke remembered the events that had happened though he wasn’t sure how long it’d been since it happened. He gasped loudly and checked himself for injuries, but he found he didn’t have any, he didn’t have any blood, cuts or even any scars from the injuries he received. He kept searching for any signs of injuries, injuries he was absolutely sure he had received when he faced the slayers.

“Loki, what are you doing?”

Loke turned around and he let out a shuddering gasp as he covered his mouth with one of his hands when he saw Jelani standing a few feet behind him. He looked like his usual self, not the hulking strange being he’d seen. He ran over to him and hugged him tightly, a little too tightly, as he tried to hold himself together.

“Are you alright?!”

 “Yes!” Jelani answered as he pulled himself away from Loke so he could breathe as Loke was holding him too tightly. “Are you? You’re acting strange.”

“I am.” Instinctively Loke pressed his hand to his chest as if to make sure he wasn’t injured and when he noticed he felt no pain he smiled and hugged Jelani again, a little gentler this time. “Thanks to you, I am.”

“What do you mean?”

“You–you don’t remember? You…the–” Loke looked at his brother and saw the confusion and uncertainty on his face which confused him in the process. He looked over at the tree where he had leaned on when he saw Jelani. There was no blood and the snow at the foot of the tree wasn’t disturbed at all. In fact, the more Loke looked around the more normal everything seemed, which made his confusion all the worse.

“You really don’t remember? What is the last thing you remember?”

“We were on our way to the village and along the way something scared Helga and she ran off. You fell off and when I managed to regain control of her, I came back to get you, but you said you didn’t feel well. You made camp and you went to sleep at midday and didn’t wake up until now.”

“Well…I remember falling off the horse but that’s…not what happened…” He trailed off as he realized that maybe the entire experience had been so exhausting to Jelani that maybe he forgot the events. Maybe he was still too young to retain his memories after shifting into that other form Loke saw. Whatever the reason for his lapse in memory Loke decided it was best to drop it and let it be. For now. He knew he had died; he was well aware of that fact. He may not have been in pain at the moment, but he vividly remembered what it felt like when that slayer drove that sword through his abdomen, he remembered being shot with several arrows and the burning pain of his collapsing lung and how much pain it caused him to breathe. He could still recall how much it scared and hurt him to slowly bleed to death, but the worst fear was knowing the slayers had gone after Jelani and Loke was far too injured to do anything about it. No amount of pain would make him regret dying to save his brother’s life.

As he looked at Jelani the image of that other version of him remained clearly in his mind. No matter how tall or intimidating he looked he was still his little brother. Loke didn’t know how he had come back to life, but he was absolutely sure it was thanks to Jelani, the only regret he felt was the fact that Jelani didn’t remember what he’d done for him.

“Are you really alright, Loki?”

“I really am, I promise, little one.” Loke answered with a smile and hugged Jelani again who in turn returned the hug as tightly as he could, which made Loke laugh. “Now, go untie Helga while I pick up the blankets.”

Jelani rushed over to the old mare and greeted her cheerfully as he untied her reins. Loke walked over to the blankets and rolled up Jelani’s and neatly placed it in the bag. As he reached down to grab his blanket he noticed that there was a feather on it, he picked it up and noticed it was cold to the touch but the more he looked at it the more familiar it looked. The feather was dark gray with some black details on it. All of a sudden, he remembered what his grandfather had whispered to him before he and Jelani left the village, and a wave of shock overtook him.

“Look for the frozen feathers. They’ll keep you boys safe.”

As Haakon’s words echoed in his mind Loke gasped and then stared at the feather in his hand. Technically the feather wasn’t frozen, but it was very cold. When Jelani appeared in that other form Loke had noticed a sudden drop in the temperature that made even him feel chilly. How could Haakon have known about the feather? Loke wasn’t sure but he thought it would be best if he kept it between him and his grandfather for Jelani’s safety. He looked down at the feather one more time and smiled. He neatly tied and secured it to the end of a small braid he had on the left side of his head and continued to roll up the blanket and put it in the bag. When he put out the fire, he made his way to Helga and Jelani and secured the bag on the mare and then hoisted Jelani up on the mare reserving his spot on the front so Jelani could hold on to the reins as he usually liked to do.

“Oh!” Jelani exclaimed as he looked at his brother and touched the feather he tied to his hair. “Where did that come from?”

Loke remained silent for a minute and hoped that seeing and touching the feather would jog his memory of the events but going by the look on Jelani’s face Loke was sure it didn’t work. He simply smiled and said, “I found it on my blanket.”

“It’s cold, I wonder what it belongs to.”

“Maybe we’ll get to see it someday.” Loke replied as he climbed up on the horse. Once he was sitting comfortably on it, he patted Jelani on the head and said, “Are you ready to head out?”

“Yes!”

“Then let’s go.”

[rafent]

(set in fell xenologue world)

In ordinary circumstances, Alcryst wouldn't give Lord Nil's birthday any more attention than a verbal acknowledgement. They aren't close. He first found the dragon's self-deprecation and constant fawning over his sister grating, only tolerable in small doses. Now, today of all days, Alcryst finds another thing about the dragon to annoy him. Immense strength and potential, centuries of supposed "wisdom", all wasted on a weakling like him. Today, Nil gets another year upon a pile of thousands. Not everyone is blessed to enjoy such a long life. Not by dragon standards. Nor by human standards.

Citrinne would admonish him for thinking so poorly of their ally. And what would Lapis think if she saw him being so ungracious? Just thinking about their recent deaths brings Alcryst such agony. They will never know another birthday. They were not fated to live long lives, unlike...

"Nil." Good deeds are supposed to lighten one's heart, or something like that. Alcryst remains unconvinced—Diamant has never been very convincing—but that doesn't stop him from pushing his present into the dragon's hands. Rock candy, a Brodian speciality. "Happy birthday. Since you like sweets, you ought to enjoy this. ...We'd give a stick for each year, but there wouldn't be any left in the continent if we did that for you."

It's meant to be a joke, something lighthearted, but speaking the words now it's anything but. Alcryst's voice finds his voice beginning to thicken and waver as he follows up with, "....How many would I have needed to give you? North of a thousand, right? But the exact number...

"...Never mind. Forget I said anything." It's a useless question. This is all pointless anyways. Alcryst takes his leave, not waiting for an answer.

Much had changed after the war. An eternal winter for those in Lythos seized by the Divine One's loss and for others one just the same. Their world from that perspective met with standstill. Frozen as the drops that turned to ice in Elusia upon the first seconds of their birth; as flowers in Firene no longer sufficed to boom; or as the Somniel itself - sunken halfway to the ocean, to mirror what could become of even heaven. But Nil on the other hand had not stopped.

In a sense, Nil was always moving.

"Oh! Thank you, Prince Alcryst. I really appreciate it. Birthdays come and go for the dragonkin, I wouldn't have minded if you hadn't gotten me anything." Faced with Alcryst's generosity, he smiled at his former ally with surprise and sincerity. Few acts of the kind ever transpired toward the children of Sombron, or now to the outward dregs of his legacy; one fell son and one fell daughter.

Nil suspected the Firenese prince and princess wouldn't have done what Alcryst was doing, bespoken the two-word celebration of life he was saying. Likely in their fiercely begotten grief they'd have spit on his shoes or worse - wished that he'd died in the Divine One's place. Touched by the difference, his expression fluttered shyly. Hands grasping at a gift forced upon them and still they were guiltier than Alcryst's. Their fingers grazed, faintly warm and faintly cold.

"I'm just over a thousand. You'd be shocked to know I'm still young for a Fell Dragon. But if it's any consolation, not even I could eat that many pieces of candy—this amount is perfect." But the second prince of Brodia did not see or hear Nil, trapped in his own head. The dragon could see that, when even a quiet 'Prince Alcryst?' and all its sympathy could not rustle him. So instead he watched him go.

As Alcryst disappeared from sight so too did his smile. He took next to his unearthing of the satchel. Alone, the void filled itself with the pop of a single piece into his mouth, his offhand interest in the flavor, the density and texture, the answer. For Nil's imagination had wandered a few childish speculations beyond reality; expecting some sour flavor, something drab and earthen, something corpselike, instead Prince Alcryst's gift remained as sweet as could be.

Candy from a Corrupted didn't taste so different.

[ourlittleforever]

Like Real People Do

Rewrote me and Arvad's first kiss in preparation for our 5th anniversary on the 18th. ♡

Words: 2341

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, very brief mention of alcohol

Jhoira, captain of the Weatherlight, had a problem.

Lucky for her, she had been around 1500 years, and was decently good at solving most problems. However, this particular situation was one she had never truly experienced: playing matchmaker for two members of her crew. And she was in a time crunch.

Jhoira had planned to retire from her position as captain soon, and hand the reins off to Shanna. But as she watched Arvad and Millie quietly chatting by the rail, refusing to admit their feelings for one another, she knew she had to see them together before she left.

The light flutter of Tiana’s wings made Jhoira turn slightly. “Plotting, are you?”

“When aren’t I?” Jhoira laughed. “How close are we to Meadowlark, Tiana?”

“We’ll be landing soon,” Shanna said as she joined the duo. “Reports of the Cabal have ramped up recently.” She handed Jhoira a bundle of letters. “Your owl dropped these off. Sorry for poking in your mail, but…”

Millie and Arvad glanced up from their conversation as the other crew members approached. 

One piece of paper had written on it, in bold red letters, URGENT! WEATHERLIGHT CREW! READ NOW! “I understand,” the captain replied. She set off down the stairs, the two women following her. Raff, who was reading in a hammock, nearly fell out trying to join the rest of the crew. 

“Here’s the plan,” Jhoira said. “We’ll meet with the village council of Meadowlark, then split up to investigate. Tiana and I will check out the North side; Shanna and Raff, you two will scout the outskirts of the farmlands. Millie and Arvad, you two will investigate the graveyards.” 

The cleric nodded. “Of course.”

Shanna piped in. “There were reports of Cabalists raising the dead for their own purposes. Maybe your glyphs could help keep the dead in their graves, Millie.”

“I’ll watch your back.” Arvad bumped his arm against Millie’s, and they smiled gently. 

“Of course you will.”

Gag me, Jhoira thought fondly. “We’re about to land. Ready yourselves.”

—

Millie sighed, brushing a vine from the headstone. They frowned; this grave had clearly been defiled sometime recently, judging by the loose, fresh dirt and scratches on the marble. “The Cabal was definitely here.” They stood, taking out their notebook and jotting down the name on the headstone. “We’ll need to find these bodies before I can seal the graves.” Millie shoved the notebook back into their bag haphazardly. “Luckily, I know just the spell…”

They knelt, drawing a small glyph in the dirt. Millie closed their eyes, steeling themself, focusing on the magic within and around them. “By the light of Angelfire… reveal the lost. Guide them to me.” They tapped the glyph, and it began to glow green-red. A small fire lit in the drawing. 

Arvad extended his hand, and Millie took it as they stood back up. “I’ll always be amazed at how you do that,” he said. 

Millie smiled. “Thanks.” It was a mix between Serran and witch magic; they had developed the warding techniques after discovering a dead Cabal witch’s manuscript. The combination of dark magic and Serran wards proved to be powerful, and Millie had spent much of their time before joining the crew placing glyphs on graves, allowing the dead to continue resting. “Now, we wait.”

Arvad tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes as he listened closely. After a minute, he nodded. “There’s noise in the brush. Not an animal.”

“Get back here!” someone shouted, and Millie heard the signature sound of a necromancy spell. It was like razors tearing through the air, and they winced. 

Millie braced themself before drawing a glyph in the air and setting it alight. It burned with the holy flame of Angelfire and Akroma, a shield and a sword in one. Any grimnant who strayed too close would be burned to a crisp. 

A zombie burst through the bushes, compelled to seek out Millie’s calling glyph. A grimnant followed, shouting more spells before spotting Millie and Arvad. “You!’ he snarled, throwing a spell toward them. Arvad raised his blade, and the spell’s physical components withered and disappeared on the steel.

Arvad charged forward, slicing at another grimant’s raised arm. Blood spurted from the wound, and Millie noticed Arvad’s brows furrow. He growled and swung at the grimnant once more, but the Cabalist staggered back just out of reach. 

A dementia caster flung a nightmare at Millie, but their magic shield blocked the spell. Millie drew on Angelfire’s eternal blaze and cast a radiant flame. The caster’s hair caught fire and she wailed in pain. Millie pressed their advantage, calling on the vines beneath her feet, trapping the caster in place. 

The caster broke free of the vines and staggered out of sight. “Fall back!” she screamed – to no one, she quickly realized, as her fellow Cabalists had already fled. The dementia caster bolted into the woods, with Millie’s radiant spell just missing her.

One of the zombies the Cabal had raised reached the initial glyph Millie had created and stopped, the cult’s hold on it finally subsiding. The corpse fell to the ground, and Millie dodged. Another zombie stumbled closer. Should have made them return directly to their graves, Millie thought, knowing they’d have to rebury the dead themself. They made a mental note to edit their glyph. 

Millie huffed, wiping their brow, then prepared to pursue. They glanced to their right, where Arvad –

Wasn’t. 

Millie frowned, adjusting their corset. The corpses at their feet lay in a pile, and they had neglected to bring their shovel along to rebury the dead. Millie would have to return to town. 

—

Jhoira leaned against the door of the tavern, her arms crossed as she gave the townsfolk a report of the day’s discoveries. “Shanna and Raff killed a few of the grimnants out by the Mosscave Farm. Tiana and I found their abandoned camp and took care of it.” She smiled at the sight of Millie walking in, but her expression turned to confusion when she realized her security chief wasn’t there. “Millie! I – what happened? Where’s Arvad?”

“I don’t know,” the cleric admitted. “We found some grimnants controlling some of the dead. I managed to break the cultists’ hold on the dead, but Arvad… I think he chased the grimnants down when they tried to escape.” Millie sighed. “Jhoira, let’s step outside. I think–”

“Help!” a young soldier shouted, stumbling into the tavern, shoving past Millie and Jhoira. “There’s a vampire! And he’s eating someone! That filthy monster–”

The captain gave them a knowing look. Millie’s face flushed slightly, but they knew they’d have to stand their ground. Arvad wouldn’t be in the best state, and Millie was sure he didn’t want anyone else seeing him like that. 

“Stop,” Millie snapped, whirling on the man. “Arvad’s not a monster. He’s my… he’s our crewmate.” They took a deep breath, then looked at the rest of the crew. “If you don’t mind, Jhoira… I’ll deal with this. He needs my help.”

Jhoira nodded. “There’s no one better for the job.”

One of the townspeople inside the tavern spoke up. “Once you’re back, we were planning on having a small celebration, to thank you for your help.” He must be the mayor. “If you do come back,” he said, eyes narrowing at Millie.

“You say that now.” The mayor crossed his arms. “But if you don’t return, that vampire is as good as dead.”

“I will,” they replied sharply. “Arvad would never hurt me.”

Millie nodded their thanks to their friends, and looked to the young soldier. “Take me to him.”

“Over our dead bodies,” Shanna snapped, stepping between Millie and the mayor. Tiana and Raff also put themselves between the cleric and the townsfolk. “Go ahead, Millie. We’ve got it under control here.”

—

The soldiers were whispering among themselves as Millie approached. “What kind of beast…?”

“Look at him. Disgusting…”

“Why can’t we kill him again?”

Fury burned in Millie’s heart at the comments. They shoved past the soldiers, stopping at the edge of the clearing. They couldn’t possibly understand; Arvad had been starving himself to the brink of death, all in the name of never harming an innocent person. He hadn’t eaten in half a year: not even the blood of a cultist. Of course he was going to go overboard…

Arvad was hunched over the corpse of a Cabal grimnant. Several other bodies lay strewn around him, all presumably drained of blood. Millie’s heart broke for him; they knew he’d be devastated by the carnage once he came to. The cleric took a deep breath before stepping into the grass.

“Miss, I wouldn’t–” another soldier shouted, but a quick, sharp glance from Millie silenced him. 

The dead grass and twigs crunched under their boots as Millie approached. They could sense the soldiers tensing behind them. But Millie wasn’t afraid, not of Arvad, not ever.

As the cleric stopped before him, Arvad snarled into the grimnant’s throat before dropping the corpse. His face was twisted in pain as the body fell to the ground. Millie’s skirt shifted in the wind, catching his attention. Arvad gasped softly as they knelt before him.

A few of the soldiers loudly unsheathed their weapons. Millie knew their fear was unfounded. 

“I…” Arvad stared at the grimnant. “How long… what happened?” As the fog of bloodlust receded, horror dawned on his face. “Oh, Serra, help me…” He locked eyes with Millie and swallowed hard. “I – Millie, I’m – I’m sorry –”

“Hey,” they said softly, raising their handkerchief to his bloodied cheek. “It’s okay.”

As soon as they touched him, Arvad’s shoulders relaxed. He leaned into their palm, closing his eyes and taking a deep, shuddering breath. “Thank you,” he whispered, taking their free hand in his. “For everything.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, and back to town,” Millie murmured, wiping the rapidly drying blood from his face. “They’re having a party for us. Wouldn’t want to miss it, eh?”

The vampire chuckled ruefully. “If they let me in.”

“You’re with me. I’ll make sure you can get in.” Millie stood and offered their hand to Arvad. 

“How about–” How about you take it now? Millie thought. Instead, they forced a serene expression. “Um. Let’s go. I have some bodies to bury, but then we can head to the celebration…”

“If I take your hand, I’ll drag you down,” he said, standing without their help.

---

When they arrived at the tavern, all eyes were on the duo. Arvad refused to meet anyone’s gaze out of embarrassment, so Millie did the talking. “He’s fine, I’m fine. It’s fine.” Arvad mumbled a quiet thank you as the cleric fielded question after question and steered townspeople away from asking anything related to drinking blood. 

The party was boisterous; Jhoira, naturally, was at the center of it all, eagerly chugging glasses of Benalish ale. Shanna was telling a story about Sisay, while Raff tried a swig of alcohol and tried to act like he enjoyed the taste. Tiana tinkered with a clock as the tavern’s owner explained every issue it had to her.

Arvad leaned down to whisper in Millie’s ear. “I think I need to get some fresh air. Would you like to come with me?”

“I’d like that,” they replied. 

They followed him out of the tavern and into the cool night. Stars twinkled above, and the moon hung low in the sky. The dark sky had always made Millie feel most comfortable; they did their best work at night.

"Thank you for stepping outside with me," Arvad said, pulling them from their thoughts. Millie hopped onto a table, and Arvad leaned against the edge beside them. A light breeze lifted Millie's hair, and they tucked a stray strand of hair behind their ear.

Arvad watched them carefully. "Thank you. For earlier." He sighed softly. "I'm so sorry you had to see that. It's… embarrassing." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"I know it doesn't help, but… you don't have to be embarrassed. Around me, at least." Millie turned slightly to face him. His eyes flickered to their lips, and Millie smiled softly. They gingerly reached out and placed a little hand on his chest. "I have never been afraid of you. In fact, I feel safest when you're near."

Arvad's lips curved into the tiniest smile. "You make me feel safe, too."

Millie could hardly take the tension between them anymore. Their heart thundering in their chest, they leaned forward and pressed the softest kiss to his lips.

At first, Arvad stiffened, and Millie felt a surge of fear. Had they misinterpreted his signals? But after a moment, he relaxed, his hands finding their waist.

When the cleric pulled back, Arvad followed, catching their lips once more. He embraced them tight against his chest. Oh, he felt heavenly, solid and strong, better than any daydream – and Millie completely melted into his arms.

Arvad kissed their cheek, then their forehead. He lay his forehead against their own and raised a hand to cup their cheek. "Your lips are so soft," he whispered. "I've wanted to do that… for so long…"

"Me too," Millie murmured as he kissed them again; they couldn't help but smile against his lips, and Arvad chuckled in kind. In moments, the new couple was a giggling mess.

—

Jhoira watched the door open, and Arvad and Millie returned to the party. The knight, gentlemanly as ever, pulled out a chair for the cleric before sitting down himself. Both wore expressions of giddy, youthful love for the other.

Arvad took Millie's hand and leaned in to whisper something, like a teenager in love. The Angelfire cleric squeezed his hand and began to excitedly chatter, Arvad listening intently. Jhoira grinned.

Shanna bumped her shoulder. "Looks like our work is done."

"So weird to see Arvad smiling," Raff commented. "It's good! But weird."

"Agreed," Tiana replied. She turned to Jhoira. "So…"

"Not going to announce my retirement tonight." She shrugged. "Let's let the lovebirds have the night."

[the-firebird69]

There are changes in the makeup of the warlock there are separate groups they're saying and we're not going to buy that right now and it's annoying but there are numbers that are new right now there is a battle on Antarctica it's very small huge ones on Australia huge battles in New Zealand and the pseudo empire is attacking New Zealand the pseudo empire is fighting on Australia with tech and it's a catastrophe for the marlock

-Australia has been hit quite steadily the populace there and we said was 15% on the islands it has dropped to 12% and recent weeks today it dropped another percentage to 11% it is approximately 4% on New Zealand remaining and 7% on Australia that's basically the whole population too they're mostly Mac morlock Trump or BGA and there's some miscellaneous but those are on Australia

-other news the battle in Northern New England and the northern tundra at the sudo empire bunkers has reheated the ships are seen as starting their engines and they are running a cycle that could appear to as the last and final approach Tommy f is checking on land basis and would have to avoid them and reflectors if they exist and stuff up on the planet toys there's a huge number of people who are growing weary of Tommy f and others they just do not have what it takes to be rebels they say it's really kind of getting annoying there's other things in the news but these battles up north on the bunkers are tremendous and they have not breached a bunker in days and they only reached maybe four or five and then they were pushed out and they're not doing well up there

-additionally there are battles going on in Massachusetts is a huge battle huge and it's probably around five times the size people think it's pretty good the car is being fought over and money and position in the land itself and buildings and there are stashes of caches and their antiquities but basically it started over wachusett area and David audette and the firebird and spread into the money and other things. It is a good size battle tonight we expect the morlock to lose another percent if they lose a percent today they are not going to do they're not going to be here pretty soon they're down to about 19% I just under it on and off Islands and there's more too but we're going to publish now

Thor Freya

Olympus

This is good news it's relevant but the other news was more important and that things are happening and changing and it really is about time we don't need this clunking piece of junk around your neck and he is a waste of time there are also interesting things happening in westborough people are up there fighting over access to Armstrong at this very moment they want to know what happened they want to know where those sticks are and they want to know who was murdering who and the evidence is up there in the lockers they say Dan was the teacher who took the sticks and it's wrong it's Dan trying to cover up the fact that he was hitting people and he's using the threat here and it exposed what he was doing back in Armstrong and people remembered it with his piece of wood for his aquarium that he's using as a threat and there's other threats too that are exposing them back east and they're going to face charges and they're going to get kicked out and find an interesting that they're really really stupid about it. The code is proceeding and it is against them but it's kind of mild it's against the warlock in general and it holds off on BG and Brad because they opposed Jesus a little and they oppose the disciples and they opposed John remillard who is like the disciples but he's more of a blaspheme and they saved them for later they say but the next trial coming up which will have a finding shortly is pretty big it's a civil suit and it's like the one with the woman no that's what it is he's appealing and she sued and won for slander and his appealing that and that's going to go to court shortly this coming week and the code is going on that and we didn't discuss it much but it means to go after people like him who is slandering people for other reasons and that's one that they are going after him there's another civil case and it's not the Stormy Daniels that's criminal it is Trump and the lawsuit by anyways he's going to look it up cuz I'm not telling him

Hera

[queenshelby]

A NEW WORLD - PART SEVEN

A QUIET PLACE 2 FANFIC

Pairing: Emmett x Fem!Reader

Warning: Angst, Gore, Death, Murder, Attempted Rape, Aliens, Violence, Movie Spoilers, etc…

***

DAY 758

The journey north towards the sea over the old highway bridge took longer than expected and, when you finally arrived in the nearby seaside town, it was nightfall.

There was no breeze, no rain and everything was quiet as the sun sat over the small cove and you remembered visiting this township in the past with your stepfather and brother.

Charlotte was fast asleep wrapped around you in her carrier and Leanne was guiding the way with her torch as the streetlights in the small township were no longer operational.

It was another two or three kilometres until you would reach the marina and you didn’t quite know what to expect when you would get there.

You passed a pharmacy on the way and, since you were running low on Lucas’s medication, you decided to make a detour, possibly gathering more medical supplies before you would head to the island.

As you stepped inside, you could see that people had visited the township recently. There were fresh blood stains on the wooden floor inside the pharmacy.

You pointed them out to Leanne who indicated to you that you should leave immediately, but you shook your head and went on to search for Lucas’s medication.

Following Lucas’s transplant almost ten years ago, it was important for him to treat his immune system and the medication was important.

It didn’t take you long to locate five packets of the tablets he needed and you quickly placed them into your backpack.

Unexpectantly, when you turned around, you saw Leanne surrounded by three scary looking men carrying guns and knives.

One of the men indicated for you to drop your weapon and you complied without hesitation. Then another one of the men walked over towards you and grabbed you by the shoulder harshly.

Quietly, you tried to plead with the men but they were insistent and made you both follow them.

As you followed them out the door of the pharmacy, you could see Lucas sitting under one of the large oak trees on the street, holding his leg with both hands. He was bleeding profusely from his thigh and his jeans was covered in blood. His mouth was tied up with what appeared to be an old and dirty piece of clothing and his hands were tied together with cable tie.

You starred at him with wide eyes as the men dragged you across the road into what appeared to be an old butcher shop and slaughter house.

First, you were taken through the shop front which smelled horrendously like decomposed meat and flesh and then, at the back of the premises, there were two rooms with concrete walls.

It was obvious to you that these rooms would have been used to slaughter animals in the past and had now been converted into sleeping facilities for these men.

‘If I knew that we would have visitors as pretty as you, I would have cleaned up this pigsty’ one of the men said. ‘Pigsty…you get it?’ he joked, showing you his dirty black teeth.

Your eyes widened as the man approached you and told you that no one could hear you inside these walls. According to him, pigs were slaughtered here and, if anyone would have heard them squeal, no one would have eaten them in the end.

‘Please just let us go’ Leanne pleaded and the men laughed collectively as one of them ran his dirty hands through your hair before taking Charlotte away from you.

‘No! Get your hands of her’ you screamed all while you kicked him and tried to scratch him. But your efforts were futile and the man slapped you across the face harshly.

‘Looks like we will have you first bitch’ the man said as you hit the cold and wet concrete floor. ‘I do like my prey feisty’ he then went on to say all while one of the other men took Leanne and Charlotte outside into the other well insulated room.

‘Ya don’t mind if we take turns Love’ the man grinned while the other man shut the door behind him, leaving you to deal with two of the three predators.

***

As you were taken to the butcher shop, Lucas tried hard to reach for the knife strapped to his lower leg in order to get the cable tie cut off from around his wrists.

His efforts were futile and he stilled as, from further down the street, he noticed two men approach him with their rifles and torches.

The men came closer second by second and Lucas believed that they were with the men who took you, Leanne and Charlotte.

However, when they finally approached him, they appeared to be somewhat confused and one of them kneeled down and removed the dirty cloth from Lucas’s mouth while indicating for Lucas to stay quiet.

The man’s face was covered and Lucas didn’t recognise him. To his surprise, the stranger cut off the cable tie around his wrists and used the cloth, which earlier covered his mouth, to stop the bleeding on his leg.

The other man stood watch and Lucas indicated to the stranger that there were others in the butcher shop across the road.

The man finally pulled down his face covering as he couldn’t clearly understand what Lucas was trying to tell him.

Immediately, as he lowered the fabric covering his face, Lucas’s eyes widened. The bearded stranger was no stranger at all. It was Emmett.

Emmett realised that Lucas had ran into trouble and, without losing any time, he quickly grabbed an old piece of paper and a pencil from his pocket.

‘Y/N?’ Emmett wrote on the paper before handing the paper and pen to Lucas.

‘Men took her’ Lucas wrote quickly while pointing to the old butcher shop across the road.

Emmett immediately sighed and indicated to his friend to come with him, showing him the piece of paper as they went.

Lucas tried to follow Emmett and the stranger but Emmett shook his head, indicating for him to wait.

Not long after Emmett and the other man entered the butcher shop, they found the way out back where you, Leanne and Charlotte were kept.

Briefly and quietly, Emmett looked through the hallway only to see a little girl sit on the cold floor, tears running down her eyes. Then he heard another woman cry, but it wasn’t you. Her voice was much deeper but sounded familiar.

Emmett walked towards the room quietly and soon realised that the woman was his sister Leanne who was struggling against a tall but skinny looking man.

‘Strip or I will rip em off’ the man said harshly just before Emmett’s friend held up a piece of rope he had found in the abandoned premises.

Emmett nodded and his friend walked to the back of the hallway towards the rear entrance of the room where Leanne and Charlotte were held. At the same time, Emmett tried to get the attention of the little girl, seeing that the man inside the room was occupied with his sister.

Charlotte soon noticed Emmett who indicated to her to stay quite and crawl over towards him.

But Charlotte was reluctant and looked back at Leanne until Emmett moved his lips and fingers as if he was about to speak.

‘Look at me’ he said and, again, he caught Charlotte’s attention.

‘That’s it…look at me’ he said again while he held up a chocolate muesli bar from his bag before nodding to his friend, giving him the go ahead.

Just as he did, Emmett’s friend took the rope and pulled it over the man’s head before pulling the man back against the wall.

At the same time Emmett quickly grabbed Charlotte and indicated for her to cover her ears, ensuring that she would not see or hear what was going on behind her.

Leanne immediately ran towards Emmett and Charlotte as her attacker finally took his last breath.

‘Where is Y/N?’ Emmett asked worried and Leanne pointed to the other room. She was still in shock and couldn’t speak nor react to the fact that her brother was standing right in front of her.

Emmett nodded and handed Charlotte over to Leanne before he and his friend made their way to the other room.

***

‘Get the fuck away from me’ you screamed, trying to bite one of the men while kicking the other and, by this point, they hadn’t gotten far with you and were losing their patience.

It was at this moment that you saw a strange man enter the room, going unnoticed by your attackers.

The man was tall with dark black hair and dark skin. He indicated for you to keep doing what you are doing as he walked closer towards you and the attackers.

Then you saw another man enter the room and, despite your situation, your chin dropped as you saw that it was Emmett.

‘Shh’ he indicated with his finger as each of them approached the backs of the attackers before, suddenly, pulling out the strings of rope and going through the same motion as before.

After a struggle of less than two minutes, you watched both of the men take their last breath and you sighed with relief as their lifeless bodies fell to the ground.

With tears running down your face you immediately fell into Emmett’s arms until, suddenly, you looked around you and Charlotte wasn’t there.

‘Where is Charlotte…oh my god…Charlotte’ you panicked.

‘Mumma’ you then heard all of a sudden as both, Leanne and Lucas walked into the cold room with Charlotte clinging on to Leanne’s chest.

You ran over to her immediately and picked her up, kissing her and hugging her before strapping her back into the baby carrier.

Just as you did, you noticed her reaching for Emmett and her small hand took hold of his arm gently.

‘Chocolate’ was all that she said quietly and Emmett couldn’t help but laugh.

‘I tell you what little miss, you can have the chocolate bar when we get to our boat. But you need to be really quiet until we get there, alright?’ Emmett said.

‘Boat to Island?’ Charlotte went on to ask and Emmett nodded.

‘Boat to the island, yes’ Emmett smiled, realising that you already knew about the safe haven on the island.

***

After you covered Charlotte’s eyes you made your way to the marina with Emmett and his friend who had introduced himself as Morgan.

You learned that they were gathering supplies to take back to the island as they ran in to Lucas. Apparently, most of the outcasts in the area had been dealt with and the men who captured you must have been new arrivals to the area.

Not many people knew about the island but, the ones who do, would usually be screened upon arrival and there are always several men and women who keep watch from a tower the community had recently built.

When you finally arrived at the marina it was around 4am and Charlotte was struggling with her sleep pattern. She had been overtired and it you were keeping your fingers crossed that you would make it to the boat without further interference.

Fortunately for you, Charlotte remained quiet throughout the journey and you made it the boat without further problems.

Emmett and Morgan put the supplies into the boat first while Leanne helped Lucas to get on board quietly.

Then Emmett held out his hands and you gave Charlotte to him before you stepped on board yourself.

To your surprise, the boat was motorised and you instantly cringed as you heard the sound of the motor following by the roar of one of the creatures.

‘Boat’ Charlotte said and you quickly indicated for her to be quiet.

‘It’s alright, they can’t swim, watch’ Emmett said as he pointed to one of the creatures trying to get into the water on the side of the shore.

After the boat had turned around and the creature was no longer visible, Emmett removed Charlotte’s blind fold and she instinctively touched his beard with her tiny hands.

‘What’s this?’ she asked using her hands and lips.

‘Beard’ Emmett responded using both, sign language and spoken words.

‘Beard’ she laughed as she kept pulling his hair until, eventually, she remembered that Emmett had promised her chocolate earlier.

While Emmett was steering the boat towards the island, Leanne took Charlotte from him and finally gave her the small chocolate muesli bar she was promised.

‘I didn’t think I would ever see you again Y/N’ Emmett sighed with relief as he was standing next to you. A small tear ran down his face as his blue eyes looked into yours.

‘Me neither until I found these at the old steel factory’ you said just as you took several photographs out of your backpack and handed them to Emmett.

‘Are the boys and Nora on the island?’ you then asked and Emmett’s eyes teared up almost instantly as he took the photographs from you.

‘They didn’t make it Y/N. I couldn’t save them’ he said as he shook his head.

‘Emmett, this is not your fault. None of us could have known’ you said as you gently ran your hand over his arm.

‘What kind of father am I if I cannot protect my own children Y/N’ Emmett sighed and you instinctively kissed his cheek but not in a sensual way but rather in a way a friend or relative would.

‘Don’t Emmett, please don’t do this to yourself’ you said as you gently ran your hand over his shoulder.

‘You don’t get it Y/N. I’ve lost everything. At least you’ve got your brother and now you’ve got a child even’ he said saddened just as you were approaching the island.

‘You didn’t, you’ve got…’ you said but, just before you could finish your sentence, two people from the island jumped on board of the boat, one of which was a rather attractive brunette in her late thirties.

‘Hi Stranger’ she said as she gave Emmett a deep kiss before grabbing some of the supplies and introducing herself to you and the others.

‘I am Nancy…welcome’ she said with a big smile before waving at Charlotte.

  Tag List (Cillian):

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall @elenavampire21 @hanster1998 @mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-my-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang @0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney @missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo​ @vhscillian​ @ysmmsy​ @littlewierdalien​

Cannot Tag (please check your settings):

@l0tsofpennies @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee @daydreamingnymph @fookingshelby

[pillage-and-lute]

The Stars Are Not Wanted Now

Was this among my list of WIPs I posted recently? No. Not at all. Because it popped into my head fully formed and hurt my feelings so I decided to make it everyone’s problem.

TW: Believed character death (not real) ,grief, discussions of hallucinations.

Title cheerfully stolen from W. H. Auden’s Funeral Blues

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took Geralt almost an hour to realize what he’d done. He’d sat and stewed and wished his tearducts would give him more catharsis than a handful of small drops. He wanted to sob, really cry, eyes red and face wet, but his body let him down. He stared for a while at the dirt. At the footprints in the dirt.

They weren’t his. They were from Jaskier’s stupid shiny boots. Impractical boots that gave him blisters, but he’d only had enough money for one pair and he needed ‘court boots’ apparently. And he was walking down the mountain in those silly boots and a doublet that wouldn’t keep him warm as the mountain air chilled with night and Geralt had just let him go. Geralt had made him go. He didn’t have any gear, they shared gear and Geralt had made him leave.

Geralt’s slow, witcher heart beat double time as he realized he might have murdered his bard. 

Roach huffed at him for being gone so long but he shushed her and loaded her up as quickly as he could. He needed her, and Jaskier needed him.

Geralt followed the footprints like a bloodhound, eyes and senses searching, but his mind wandered behind. Their relationship was such an odd one, Jaskier always traveling ahead or staying behind. Bards needed audiences and witchers needed wilderness, but they were never more than a few days from eachother, and every town Geralt went into he could be sure Jaskier was there. There had been exceptions of course, when bardic festivals or court appointments swayed Jaskier’s path, but he always came back. It was down to the separate nature of Geralt’s Path, with the capital P, and Jaskier’s path. Bards traveled between towns, straight shots, rarely sleeping rough, so his bard didn’t need gear, and it would only slow him down. Witchers wandered, fighting a monster here, collecting potion ingredients there, and coming to towns only for contracts and coin.

Geralt’s eyes scanned every inch of the track, never missing the boot prints, noting the depth of them, the scent of sadness lingering. A human would have missed the single, red thread caught on a bush, the shade of Jaskier’s stupid, too thin doublet. Geralt’s fingers plucked it from a branch. 

He remembered how, in the first years of their acquaintance, he’d watched the bard walk away each time, believing he’d never see him again. But Jaskier had always come back. He’d circle around or wait in the next tiny village, playing ditties for barmaids and he’d greet Geralt with a smile that struck something sensitive and previously well protected in Geralt’s chest. Slowly Geralt had started expecting Jaskier’s presence and those treasured smiles.

It had come with detriments, that was true, Jaskier talked so much Geralt wondered how he found the air and he was foppish and disinclined to wake before noon. It was just that, so slowly that Geralt didn’t know how it had happened, those faults found favor in Geralt’s eyes. 

And now he’d told Jaskier he was a burden. That he wanted him gone. As Geralt had grown to treasure his bard he’d stopped expecting Jaskier would leave him and started fearing he would instead. Geralt had just been the creator of his own nightmares, doing to their friendship what wind, weather, time, and age could not. 

That was the thing, Geralt thought as his eyes scanned the trail, near invisible in the dark. Age. Jaskier was forty at least. Crow’s feet, Yennefer had said. He would have to leave Geralt sooner or later, settle in some city and see him only if Geralt sought him out. The impending end to their precious routine rolled Geralt’s stomach and took over his thoughts. Now, though, well, how weak was a forty year old human? Strong enough to go down the mountain in the dark? It seemed so, which was frustrating. Geralt was going as fast as he could while tracking Jaskier’s every footstep, but even his magical eyes only saw so much in total darkness. Jaskier was hiking blind. 

A new scent drifted to Geralt’s nose. Wolf. A mixture of fur and wilderness and wet dog. 

And blood. 

Geralt let go of Roach’s reigns, sprinting as best he could, letting his nose lead him. He could smell blood. He followed it into the trees, crashing through the brush, careless of the briars that tore at him. He didn’t even smell his own blood, it didn’t matter, he didn’t care. All his senses narrowed down to the smell of Jaskier’s blood and...

and his eyes saw red. a torn doublet,

Geralt lurched forward, hoping, praying that it didn’t mean what he knew it meant. He clutched the rags to him and he stumbled. His foot hit something. 

A boot. A stupid, shiny boot and it reeked of blood. Geralt let it fall from numb fingers. A tiny beam of moonlight struggled down, gleaming dully off of leather. Geralt knelt before the instrument case, smelling blood on the strap, feeling the contours of it. When he lifted it it was heavy. Jaskier had died alone on a vicious mountainside, devoid of his beautiful doublet and his lute. 

Geralt felt a puff of breath on the back of his head. Roach had followed after him, picking her way through the forest in the wake of his mad dash. He pressed his face into her mane and finally felt tears flood his cheeks. She settled beside him when he no longer had enough water to cry and he just stayed there, knelt between tree roots and bushes, cradling the lute and a scrap of doublet that still smelled like chamomile. 

He didn’t move until dawn.

When the runny light of morning came Geralt just moved on. Whatever had happened to Jaskier’s body, he couldn’t see it. Of course the bard deserved a proper burial, and Geralt cursed his weakness all the way down the mountain, but there mightn’t be much of Jaskier left to find. Geralt felt sure that if he saw his friend like that he’d simply lay down next to him and die too. 

He already felt like he might. 

Geralt moved on, physically. He moved around, slinging Jaskier’s lute up with his saddlebags. He wandered between towns and fought monsters, going north in a roundabout way. Going home. 

Kaer Morhen was going to be cold that year, it always was, and Jaskier was never there, but without the hope of Jaskier’s smile in the spring the cold seemed to have taken residence in his soul.

Geralt wasn’t eating well. He couldn’t bring himself to do more than chew a few pieces of dried meat. He drank a lot and didn’t sleep and took too many risks when fighting monsters. It was foolish, he knew, it was how witchers died, getting sloppy like that. He did it anyway. And on the rare nights he did sleep, he clutched the tattered piece of doublet. The chamomile scent was slowly fading and Geralt feared when it left entirely. It and the doublet were all he had.

In light of all of this, Geralt wasn’t that surprised when he finally lost it. He heard music in a tavern and it sounded like Jaskier. Every bard sounded like Jaskier now. There were no instruments, just an achingly familiar voice. Of course, Geralt still had the lute. 

When he walked into the tavern and saw a bard turn, saw Jaskier smile wide at him, Geralt didn’t even flinch. His medallion was still on his chest. This was no ghost, he had simply lost his mind. 

Geralt sat at the bar without looking away from the apparition, and his heart swelled as it sauntered towards him. Jaskier looked so lifelike, so alive. There wasn’t a scratch on him. He was exactly the bard Geralt remebered, no crows feet to be seen. He was dressed in blue, not unlike when they had first met. Geralt’s heart twisted as he remebered all things he’d said, and, even worse, the things he hadn’t. His heart was thundering in his ears, blood rushing, everything else tuned out. It didn’t matter that Geralt had gone crazy, Jaskier was here and so beautiful and Geralt loved him so much that it hurt. 

“Mind if I join you?” The hallucination said. Geralt just stared. He wasn’t going to talk to it, there were enough rumors about witchers without the townsfolk knowing he was crazy.

“C’mon, now, Geralt,” the faux Jaskier said. “You wouldn’t keep a man with bread in his pants waiting.” 

Geralt just stared as the bard pulled a half-eaten roll from his pocket and winked. The hallucination stopped smiling, shoulders slumping. “I’ll go,” it said. 

“Stay,” Geralt whipsered immediately. He was alright with going crazy because this last bit of comfort was so tantalizing, so real Geralt could almost reach out and touch. “Please,” he said, even quieter. “I’m sorry.” 

Jaskier beamed and sat and ate and Geralt wondered idly who the bartender served in place of the man he knew couldn’t be there. 

Geralt had thought the hallucination would be gone in the morning, but the vision of Jaskier was standing by Roach the next day, a travel bag over one shoulder. Okay, Geralt’s brain was in it for the long haul. Fine, but there had to be rules. That momentary weakness last night couldn’t happen again. He needed to get to Kaer Morhen soon if he wanted to beat the snows and there could be no distractions. So, no talking to the bard.

It was very hard not to talk to the hallucination. It traipsed and danced and prodded and teased, but when it got not even a hum in response the exhuberance dimmed. That was horrible. Geralt didn’t need the reminder that he’d hurt Jaskier’s feelings, he’d already killed him. The proof was walking right beside him.

Something in Geralt felt healed, though. It was why he didn’t try to fix this. Having Jaskier, even if it wasn’t real, was nice. He wondered what would happen if he reached out and kissed the bard. It was his hallucination after all. The thought, though, that he would reach out to Jaskier, who looked so real and alive, and feel nothing but air....Geralt would rather go through the trials again. It would be like losing Jaskier all over. 

One night, when the hallucination reached out for the instrument strung on Roach’s saddle Geralt tensed. Some part of him believed that if this shade of Jaskier was reunited with his beloved lute he’d go, dissappear and leave Geralt all alone again. He didn’t, of course. This wasn’t a spirit, Jaskier wasn’t tied to this realm by the lute. He was a figment of Geralt’s tortured mind. 

He played Toss a Coin and Her Sweet Kiss. As far as Geralt knew, Jaskier hadn’t finished the latter, but his imagination finished it anyway. It hurt to hear Jaskier singing about love unrequited, it was obviously about Yennefer but that...that wasn’t Geralt’s love. Geralt’s love had be eaten by a mountain. Red sky at dawning, Geralt had had enough of red. It didn’t put him in mind of Yennefer’s lips or of rubies or harpies or anything else, but Jaskier’s doublet, the scrap still hidden in Geralt’s bags, and some words. “See you around, Geralt”

The apparition continued to play, but Geralt turned his face away. Maybe this was torturing him for killing his only blessing. 

At the crossroads of the northern mountains Geralt paused. He had been walking besde Roach, resting her for the trek up the Killer, with Jaskier’s lute across the saddlebags and his hallucination trailing along behind. This was where Jaskier always parted from him in the autumn, and the hallucination stepped forward, reaching toward the lute on Roach’s back. Geralt felt ice down his spine. 

His hallucination was going to leave, of course it was, Geralt had never brought Jaskier to the keep, but to be there all winter without this small, fake comfort would kill him.  

Geralt wrapped his hand around the lute strap, ready to pull it from the nonexistant fingers of his dead companion. “No,” he said. 

He slung the lute over his shoulder and walked toward the Killer, praying that his failing mind wouldn’t choose now to become sane. To his relief, the hallucination followed. 

On the way to the keep the vision changed into a warmer cloak and gloves and Geralt marveled at the detail. He wondered if he wasn’t dead himself, or asleep and simply dreaming, but he kept going up the trail, hearing the crunch of Jaskier’s shiny boots on frost. The vision talked and Geralt loved its voice and cursed the sound.

Night was falling when they reached the gate of the keep, and Geralt could see three lit lanterns, one for each brother and another for Vesemir. He paused, watching the lights come closer. He drew a breath, in through his nose, smelling pine and chamomile, out through his mouth. He couldn’t let the others know. He had to pretend that the ghost of all his regrets wasn’t doggin his steps. He flexed his fingers on the strap of the lute. 

“Don’t just stand there, idiot, get in here, it’s cold,” Lambert called. Eskel smiled at Geralt and took Roach’s reigns, cooing to her as Geralt followed Vesemir and Lambert into the hall. 

The fire was lit and warmth seeped into Geralt’s numb fingers and toes. Vesemir raised an eyebrow at him.

“Aren’t you going to introduce your guest?”

“What?”

“Vesemir shook his head. “Gods almighty, Geralt, I didn’t raise you boys with much manners but I thought you had some.” Then Vesemir turned to where the vision of Jaskier stood. “You Geralt’s bard?” he asked.

“There’s no one there, Ves,” Geralt hazarded. 

Vesemir scowled at him. “Stupid prank to play on your old teacher. Never get an apprentice, lad, they’ll take your sanity and all your time.” That last part wasn’t aimed at Geralt. It was like someone had poured fire into Geralt’s veins.

“You can see him too?” he asked, quietly. 

“What game are you--” Vesemir began, but Jaskier’s eyes had gone soft with understanding.

“Oh, Geralt,” he whispered. 

Geralt stretched out one shaking hand and caressed his bard’s chilly cheek. Jaskier leaned his face into it and brushed a kiss against the palm. “I’m so sorry, dear heart,” he said, stepping closer to Geralt and wrapping his arms around his neck. “I should have known something was off.”

“You were dead,” Geralt said into the crook of his neck. “There was blood and your doublet was shredded, and you left your lute behind.” 

“You truly thought...all this time? Geralt, I thought you knew,” Jaskier said, warm breath brushing Geralt’s ear. To his surprise, Geralt was crying, tiny, bare tears and shoulders shaking. 

“Knew you were alive?”

“That too, but dearest, I’m a changeling, on the mountain I...I was so sad I just wanted to run away, and I was so tired, so I became a wolf.”

“Changeling...you’re fae?”

“Only half,” Jaskier said. “Or less, I’m not sure, but I can change into all the animal of the forest.”

“You never have.”

“It’s a painful feeling and you can’t play a lute with wings or paws but I was overwhelmed so I just...oh darling I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for you to think--”

“I smelled blood.”

“My boots, you told me to buy the practical ones, but I didn’t listen.”

Geralt pressed his forehead against Jaskier’s and felt the warmth of him. “You’re alive,” he said. “You’re real and you’re alive.”

“You thought all this time I was a ghost?”

“A hallucination,” Geralt said. “A good dream, or torture for killing my...”

“Killing your what, darling?” 

“Killing my love. Letting my greatest blessing be taken from my hands. I thought it was penance, my love.”

Jaskier leaned in and kissed Geralt softly. His lips were soft and perfect and too chapped to be a dream. His breath tasted like the jerky they’d eaten on the trail and it was real. When he pulled away Geralt leaned back in and kissed him again. 

“Nothing I said on the mountain was true,” he mumbled against dry lips. “Not a word. I love you more than life itself.”

“I love you too,” Jaskier said. “And I won’t leave again, not even if you tell me to.”

“I won’t,” Geralt said. “Never again.”

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (April 9/2021) - Interrogation

Tubbo does some interrogating, hoping to find out the truth about the missing nuke. Foolish joins in.

The mysterious messages continue.

---

VOD LINKS:

HBomb94

Foolish

Tubbo

TommyInnit

Philza

Captain Puffy

Ranboo

---

- HBomb makes his way from the savannah village back to the main area. He explores around Kinoko and meets with Niki, who shows him her underground city.

- After Niki gets a grass block from an Enderman, HBomb mentions the glitched snow block he got a while back on September 24th, near his parkour challenge: the rarest block in the game. He and Niki leave the city to visit it. 

- They reminisce about how HBomb joined the day of Schlatt’s inauguration, and the subject comes up of HBomb’s other characters.

- HBomb logs out and Thevir logs in. Thevir has arrived in the Dream Land. Rumors say, if you go to a special dream land, a green blob gives you more money than usual. Niki shows him around.

- Tubbo needs a way to interrogate people to figure out where the nuke went. He gathers resources to build.

- He remarks that it seems like the Egg is dying away.

SOMEONE NEEDS

TO TELL HIM

- Tubbo takes supplies from Eret and creates the desk of interrogation. He says he needs to scare people so that they take him seriously. 

HE MUST GO TO

- Tubbo emphasizes that this room is for interrogation, not torture. He tries out different shaders to see what would look scariest

THE NORTH

- Tubbo turns on some acid shaders. He walks around the mansion and remarks that it’s even more cursed looking to the north.

- He goes down to the north gate to see what Foolish is up to and turns off the shaders. He decides to interrogate Foolish and tells Foolish to put all his belongings in two barrels.

- Tubbo leads Foolish to the interrogation room and tells him that he’s lost something valuable and needs Foolish to be honest with him.

IF ANYONE CAN

- When the nuke went missing, Foolish was online. Tubbo tells him only three people were on the server that day. Foolish says he was probably just building that day. 

- Tubbo tells him that the missing “firework” is a very big deal. He asks, if Foolish were to steal something, what his motives would be

- Foolish says he’s just building for people. Tubbo asks about the other kingdom that Foolish is building for, and mentions that Foolish is a citizen of Snowchester. If this other kingdom wanted something of Snowchester’s, would Foolish mention anything?

- Foolish says no. He wouldn’t mention the vault or tell the people of the other kingdom about Snowchester’s “fireworks.” He only mentions things concerning the build.

- Tubbo asks if Foolish has ever seen any strange books. A very distinct book. One with a list of instructions. Foolish says no.

- Tubbo says it was more than just a valuable firework. He thinks Foolish is innocent and tells Foolish to walk with him. He leads Foolish to the confidential nuke factory and shows him.

- Foolish asks if it couldn’t have been stolen before. Tubbo tells him that the nuke was there five minutes before, and Foolish was working on the mansion.

- Foolish insists, though, that he has no motive to steal a nuke, as he’s a pacifist. Tubbo trusts him.

- Who would steal a nuke? Who would be an enemy of Snowchester?

HEAR THIS

- Foolish says there’s no one who seems to be on the war path right now. 

- Tubbo tells him that he needs Foolish to gather reconnaissance on all the places he’s been building for. Foolish mentions that there’s another place that he’s been building for, but it’s a secret...there are too many voices, ears and eyes that could be listening. He’ll have to tell Tubbo later.

- Foolish suggests the Eggpire. He tells Tubbo about this event that the Eggpire is holding, a “bury the hatchet” kind of party. He, Sam and Puffy have been invited so far, but there will be more invitations.

- Whoever stole the nuke, they took a scuffed one. One with a dead man’s snitch. It leaks and poisons nature.

- Foolish asks about Sam. What about the prison guard? Tubbo says that Sam’s been couped up. Foolish says he’s worried about Sam, though. Tubbo tells him they’ll kill him someday, put him out of his misery. It wouldn’t be him.

- Tubbo and Foolish return to the interrogation room.

- Is there anyone who lives far away, where if they stored the nuke near their home, they wouldn’t know? Sam lives far away. HBomb lives far away, and Foolish built a mansion for him too, in the savannah. They should pay H a visit.

- They chase after HBomb (Thevir). They spot Niki at the Community House and think it’s H, following her through the Nether to the underground city.

I STASHED A

- They reach the city and see Niki and Thevir together. The two run, and Tubbo and Foolish pan out to look for them.

- Tubbo and Foolish speak with Niki, who insists that she doesn’t know where HBomb is. Niki says H isn’t here, Thevir is here.

- Niki explained that earlier, she showed H around her city and they went to the L’cast area, at which point HBomb’s game crashed and Thevir joined, and Niki has been showing him around.

- Tubbo and Foolish stumble across Thevir hiding in a corner and talk to Niki, who tells them it’s Thevir and not HBomb.

- Tubbo and Foolish tell Niki they lost a weapon and try to waterboard Thevir. (Thevir says that he’s been tortured before and he’s into this, so it isn’t particularly effective)

- Tubbo and Foolish leave. Thevir could possibly have connections to H.

BOOK

- They head to HBomb’s house in the savannah. Foolish asks who else has been to Snowchester? Puffy, Ranboo -- Tubbo says that wouldn’t be possible -- Sam, Fundy...

- They make it to the mansion. Tubbo asks what direction it’s in -- they find it’s east of Snowchester. They search around.

IT HAS INSTRUCTIONS

- Foolish and Tubbo listen to chat to search places. Foolish says they’re all saying to go north, but he doesn’t know why. Tubbo doesn’t think they should go north.

- They think through more possibilities as they run back through the Nether. Quackity? No, Tubbo says he’s on good terms with Quackity. They have mutual respect.

HE NEEDS TO

- Does Tubbo have any enemies? Tubbo mentions that Phil isn’t the biggest fan of him due to the ankle bracelet, but Phil doesn’t really care.

- Tubbo suggests they go to L’manburg. He’s trying to think of past relations. Who were the enemies of L’manburg?

Dream, Technoblade, and Alivebur

- Would someone take the nuke for money or for power? 

Tubbo: “The power. Everything on this server is about power, Foolish.”

- They reach L’manhole.

- Eret? Foolish says that when he spoke with Eret last, he was looking to a clean start.

Tubbo: “There are some benefits to knowing your insides and out around your country.”

- Tubbo leads Foolish down to the old underground library and panic bunker. They look through the chests. There are still bits of yellow and black concrete, blackstone... Original pieces of the walls.

- He takes Foolish through the tunnel to Pogtopia. Foolish remarks that he’s never been.

Wilbur and Tommy split off during the reign of Manberg. Tubbo built this tunnel to Pogtopia, but it was eventually found out.

- They mention that things have been quite...quiet recently.

- Tubbo shows Foolish the water drop escape into the tunnel, mentioning that he used it to escape death many times.

- They reach Pogtopia.

Foolish: “When you see this, do you see this as happy or sad memories?”

Tubbo: “Conflicting memories.”

- Tubbo shows Foolish the old pit. It’s dark, the lights are out. There’s the old potato farm that Tubbo made for Technoblade. They reminisce about Tubbo and Antfrost being taken hostage.

- They head back.

WAKE UP!

- Tubbo explains to Foolish that he built the bunker before the tunnel to Pogtopia. He shows the tunnel through which Tommy and Wilbur escaped during the inauguration.

- Foolish says it seems like L’manburg was a nice little place. Tubbo shows Foolish all the various escape routes he used. Dream used to hunt him down during the first L’manburg War for independence.

- Foolish can’t imagine it. There were so many little skirmishes that used to happen. Tubbo shows him the old surface entrance to Pogtopia.

- Tubbo leads him over to Technoblade’s old secret base. A significant part of history -- the original vault.

They find that some of the chests still have supplies that haven’t been taken yet.

- Tubbo patches it up a bit

Tubbo: “This is not how this place deserves to be remembered.”

- Foolish asks -- was this a revolution, a rebellion? Tubbo says it was a reclaiming. The revolution.

HE MUST!

- Foolish and Tubbo make it back to the crater. Foolish wonders if there would ever be a community like this again. Tubbo doesn’t think so. Everything’s too complicated now, everyone’s too split apart.

Tubbo: “So all we have now is memories.”

Foolish: “Well, we could always try to make new memories.”

Tubbo: “Yeah, but it won’t be the same.”

- Foolish tells Tubbo that Bad and the others have said that they can start cleaning up the Blood Vines.

- Tubbo leads Foolish down the Prime Path, asking whether he knows who built each of the builds along the route. Tubbo tells him who built each one.

- Tubbo thinks the Final Control Room is now gone.

- He shows Foolish his and Tommy’s old nuclear war bunker.

- They then return to Snowchester and the interrogation room. They haven’t narrowed down the suspects.

WAKE UP!!!!!!

- Foolish asks, what if the nukes were never really stolen, but just moved to a different part of Snowchester?

- Tubbo tells Foolish the mansion is north of the facility. They need to pause their investigation for the time being. 

- Tommy does a birthday stream

- Tommy tells Tubbo that he doesn’t think Ranboo is right for him, and getting married at 17 was a bad idea.

- Ranboo joins the call.

- Tommy leads Tubbo into the ruins of Tubbo’s old house to give him some relationship advice. He thinks Tubbo should rebuild his house and move out.

- He then takes Tubbo to his “secret place.” Ranboo’s just there in the call. He asks where all the Egg has been going. He takes Tubbo to Fundy’s house, where he’s been keeping his things.

- Tubbo gets stuck in a cobweb

- Tommy wants to create a proper vault for his things. Drista gave Tommy many seeds.

- They go to see if the barrier block staircase is still there. 

- Tommy wonders what a good place to hide things would be. He mentions Pogtopia.

- Tubbo leads him to L’manhole. Ranboo appears and gives Tommy a Totem of Undying for his birthday.

- They go down to the tunnel. Tommy tells Ranboo to tell him what problems he and Tubbo are having as they reach Pogtopia.

- Tommy starts mining a room into the wall and puts his riches in a chest. He asks Ranboo to talk about his feelings. 

- They ask Sam for help with a redstone door and talk about TNT cannons. Maybe they could launch one at the prison to get to Dream. Sam comes to Pogtopia. He gives Tommy a few stacks of TNT for his birthday.

- They ride the railway back to L’manburg.

- They try to blow up the POG2020/ASS2020/CRY sign and in the process explode pretty much everything but. Tommy dies and respawns a million blocks away. He can’t break the bed due to mining fatigue. The totem was used up, he just died again and lost all his things.

- The CRY sign is now the Y7 sign

- They decide to work on clearing off Ponk and Punz’s towers of the Blood Vines. Here are some of the more interesting quotes that came up...

“My sacrifices are boneless, man, just like the wings.” - Ranboo

“Moist is just wet without the commitment.” - Ranboo

“God, why did you invent impotence?” - Tommy

“Who’s the god of English?”  “Shakespeare?”

“The mouth sounds are the reason why we can’t remember!” - Ranboo

“How do you reckon you’ll die?” - Tubbo

“Volcano.” - Tommy

- Afterwards, they head over to Ranboo’s house. The instant Phil logs on, Tommy logs off.

- Phil, Ranboo and Tubbo hang out at the Arctic.

- Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson wishes Tommy a happy birthday and tells him to drink tequila.

- Ranboo fills a whole barrel full of totems.

---

Upcoming Events:

- The Red Banquet

- Quackity’s lore stream on Monday

- Quackity’s business opening

- Dream’s lore video

- Ranboo’s lore stream

[carrotmakar]

Not Going Anywhere Without You

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 2.6k 

Summary: When Y/N finds out that she’s expecting, she’s scared out of her mind. She doesn’t know how she’s going to get through it all. She doesn’t know if Harry even wants to be a father. Fortunately, Harry’s more than ready to take a step back from the stage for a while to start the family that he’s longed for his entire life.

Warning(s): unplanned pregnancy, nerves, pet names, a brief argument (idek if you could call it an argument tbh), fluffiness, dad!harry

A/N: this is one of the pieces that have been on my mind since i saw the dadathon that @tbslenthusiast​ is hosting!! Everyone should go read the masterlist of submissions and join if you want to!! Also a warm thank you to @taintedwonder​ and @sunflowers-styles​ for beta reading/getting me through writing the whole thing!!! and @havethetimeofyourstyles​ for listening to me tell her about how i cried writing/editing this (ily jill) !!!!! 

Masterlist | Taglist | Request - Guidelines | Come Talk!

Reblogs help a lot and are greatly appreciated!!

*

There’s absolutely no way that this can be happening. 

She stares down at the two pink lines on the pregnancy test and has to hold back the sobs that are threatening to overtake her. How could this be happening? No. This simply just cannot be happening to her. 

Except it is. She’s pregnant. She’s carrying the child that she and Harry have created together.  The truly awful part though? She doesn’t even know how to feel about it. 

Of course, she’s excited. She’s happy. All she has ever wanted is a family with the man that she loves, but she's also nervous. She has no idea how he’s going to react to this. She doesn’t know how any of this is going to work. He’s in the middle of a world tour and she doesn’t even know if he’ll be done by the time she’s due. 

Hell, she doesn’t even know when she’s due. She doesn’t know how far along she is and the amount of unknown facts threaten to send her spiraling. 

What if he’s mad? What if he doesn’t want the baby? What if she has to do this alone? She doesn’t think she can be a single mother.

There are so many unknowns and there’s no way that she can do this on her own. For the time being, however, she knows she has to figure this out herself.  She’s in  their house in London while he’s in the States performing to thousands of screaming fans every night. There’s no way that she can drop this news on him in the middle of that chaos.

No, she reminds herself instead that he’ll be home in less than a month and she can tell him then. It’s better to do these things in person anyway.

Fortunately, that also means that she has a few weeks to calm the nerves that are coursing through her entire body. She also has that time to figure out how she’s going to break the news to him. She can’t just come out and say “Oh by the way, hey, I’m pregnant.” Can she?

*

“I’m pregnant.” The moment the words tumble out of her mouth she hears the excited squeal coming from her mother. 

She needed to tell someone about the news, and since Harry wasn’t an option yet, her mother had  automatically been her first choice.

“Baby, I’m so happy for you!” She shrieks through the phone and Y/N can see how excited she is even though the FaceTime quality isn’t great. The image of her mother all but jumping up and down from excitement brings a beaming smile to her face. “Does H know yet?” 

That question causes Y/N’s smile to falter and her mom immediately catches it. “Why doesn’t he know?”

“Well he’s not here and I didn’t want to tell him on the phone, and I don’t know, really. I just found out the other day and I guess I’m just a little scared.” She’s trying her best to not tear up, and the newfound hormones are not helping the cause, but the lump in her throat is letting her know that she’s not succeeding.

“Why are you scared?” Her mother questions softly, trying to get Y/N to open up about what’s bothering her without pushing too much.

“I’m not sure… just scared he isn’t going to be happy with me.” She’s surprised when her mother audibly scoffs at her words. 

“Y/N, sweetheart. If you really think that he’s not going to drop to his knees the moment that you tell him you’re carrying his child, you’re delusional.” She lets out a light chuckle before continuing. “He’s so head over heels in love with you that there’s absolutely no way that he could ever be upset over something like that.”

“Yeah but what if he’s not ready? He said he had wanted to wait a bit.” The tears that she’s trying so desperately to suppress are beginning to pool in her eyes and she wants to kick herself for letting this get to her again. 

“Honey, H is the only person I know that is completely, without a doubt, ready to have children.” The first tear rolls down Y/N’s cheek as she observes the way that her mother’s face softens at the mention of Harry being ready to start his family. “Y/N, the moment that you break the news to him, his entire life is going to get a million times better.”

She nods and knows in her heart that she has nothing to worry about. She continues to converse with her mom for a little while longer, moving on from the topic of the pregnancy and Harry. Her mother’s words had calmed her nerves considerably. 

After the phone call ends she decides to text Harry; it feels like they haven’t been talking as much recently, and she feels bad, knowing that her nerves have partially been the reason for that. 

Hey babe, how’s everything going? Where are you this evening? 

His reply comes in an instant, almost as if he had been waiting for her text.

St. Paul :) it’s been pretty great here! The show was great last night! Haven’t really done much lately though, it’s just been hotel room after hotel room and show after show. 

The thought of him sitting in his hotel rooms alone, more than likely nursing a drink to calm his post concert adrenaline, makes a frown appear on her face. She knows how he gets when he’s away on tour and has to watch everyone around him pair off and go out to enjoy the city that they’re stopped in. He hasn’t been up for going out as much recently and, despite her efforts, she doesn’t know why. He’s usually always up for going out to let the adrenaline run its course, but every time they’ve talked lately, he’s just been shut away up in his room. 

Why don’t you go out and enjoy the city with the band, sweetheart?

Feels wrong to go out without you, angel. Miss you being here with me.

Her heart clenches in her chest and she can’t help but feel guilty. He had asked (more like begged) her to come on the North American leg of the tour with him. She had refused, thinking that she needed to stay at home so she wouldn’t have to take so many days off of work. Looking back on it, she probably could have taken the time off  and not had to explain. It was just one of the things that seemed to happen when her boss had found out she was dating Harry Styles.

I’m sorry for not coming with you :( I miss you, though. So, so much.

The awful feeling in her gut doesn’t subside - in fact, it only grows stronger. She suddenly realizes that if she had said yes, she would be with him right now. Not only would she be getting him out of those god forsaken hotel rooms but she also wouldn’t be withholding the life changing information that she has.

It’s alright, love. I’ll see you in a few weeks and then we can be together for a while. No worrying about tour. 

The prospect of him being at home for a while, possibly even more than a year, causes excitement to course through her veins. Maybe if he’s home for long enough to where he can start raising their child with her, then he’ll be happier when she tells him the news.

I can’t wait until you’re back in my arms, bubs. I miss cuddling with you.

She can’t see him right now but she knows that - most likely - he’s got that soft smile on his face that he always says is reserved for her. He always does so when he lets himself take a moment and think about cuddling with her. 

You’ll get all the cuddles the moment that I’m home. Promise.

Their conversation doesn’t last much longer. With the time zones being so different and the two of them being in different countries, with their sadness eating away at them.

*

She’s in his arms the moment that he swings the front door open. The force of the surprise impact knocks him back for a moment, but he eventually regains his balance and wraps his arms around her. 

She sighs in content at the feeling of  warmth radiating from his body to hers. He’s always been warmer than her, but right now, after he’s been gone for months, he feels warmer than all the blankets she’s tried to keep herself cozy with. 

“Hey, baby.” He mumbles into her hair, not making any move to pull away or even shut the door.

“I missed you so much.” He can hear the crack in her voice and he immediately squeezes her tighter. 

“Missed you too, darling.” 

She’s the one to pull away first. She unwraps herself from his arms and moves to shut the door behind him. She avoids meeting his eyes knowing that he’s already sensed that something is going on. She never pulls away first, and she’s afraid that he’s going to notice and ask her about it. Hopefully, he’ll just brush it off as the fact that the door needed to be closed or that dinner still needed to be cooked.

Of course, he doesn’t just brush it off. “Is something bothering you?”

She turns away from him and begins to make her way towards the kitchen. “I’m fine, H.”

“Love, please don’t lie to me.” Her breath hitches and her steps falter. That’s the last thing she wants to do  but she knows if she looks at him and tells him what’s really going on inside her head, she’s going to completely crumble. 

“I’m not lying to you, honey. I’m fine.” He scoffs at her words. He knows they’re not true, but he chooses not to push her too far. If he continues to pester her about it, she’ll close herself off to him and then there will be absolutely no way that he’ll be able to figure out what’s bugging her. 

“Do you want me to cook dinner, petal?” He comes up behind where she had stopped and wraps his arms around her from behind. She immediately leans into him and he knows that all she needs right now is his love. 

“I can do it, honey. You’ve been busy lately.” She hesitantly turns in his arms and peers up at him biting her lip. 

Now seems like as good of a time as ever to tell him.

“H, can we maybe wait a minute on the food?” She tries her best to not let her voice waiver but she knows there’s a slight wobble that won’t go unnoticed by Harry. 

“Yeah, of course.” He keeps his arms wrapped around her and waits for her to make the first move.

She stands still for a few moments, barely moving an inch. She inhales but it’s shaky and she feels the tears bubbling up to the surface before she can stop them.  She tucks her head into his chest as the sobs that she’s been holding in for weeks escape. 

“Shh. It’s okay, petal. I’ve got you. Just let it out.” He smooths the small wisps of hair on her head and slowly rocks their bodies back and forth. The gestures calm her and soon enough the tears start to subside. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” She sighs at his question and he’s scared that he’s crossed a line, that he’s asked too much of her too soon. He knows that he hasn’t, however, when she slowly nods her head and takes a step back. 

He releases his hold on her and she wipes the remaining wetness of her cheeks. She glances around the kitchen and Harry gently lifts her up onto the counter so that she won’t have to stay standing. 

“Um, so I have to tell you something.” She starts, and she busies herself with picking at her nails to avoid his gaze. “And I don’t want you to be mad, okay?” 

She still doesn’t look up at him, but she pauses, giving him the time to answer. After he hums his agreement, she takes a shaky breath and continues. “I didn’t plan for this to happen, I promise. I just… I don’t know… somehow it happened and I just… this is terrifying. And I’m probably making absolutely no sense right now, I’m so sorry.” She can feel the lump in her throat returning yet again and she buries her face in her hands to take  a minute to breathe.

Harry hasn’t moved from the spot that he was in. He feels like his feet are stuck to the floor. He can’t come up with a reasonable guess as to what she could possibly be talking about and it’s making him more nervous that being on stage does. 

“It’s okay, baby. Take your time.” He doesn’t want her to feel like she has to rush to get the words out. 

“Um, so, I know you’re on tour and you have a career that doesn’t slow down for anyone, which is why when I tell you this I want you to know that you don’t have to stick around for it. I can do it on my own, okay?” His stomach drops when she says that, but he doesn’t say anything yet. “I’m… I’m pregnant, H. Like I said, you don’t have to help if you don’t want to, you’re terribly busy, and---

“Y/N why would you even say that?” He tries to hold the harshness back, to not snap at her right now, but the fact that she thinks he wouldn’t want to be completely present in his child’s life makes him see red. 

“What do you mean?” She’s suddenly on alert, the tone of his voice taking her completely by surprise. 

“How could you even let the thought cross your mind that I wouldn’t want to be around? You know me, love.” He’s trying his hardest to not let his emotions take over because honestly, he’s not entirely sure if he’d start yelling or break down sobbing. 

“Harry, you’re a singer. Your entire career is touring the world. Singing is your dream, and there’s no way that I’m going to ask you to give that up.” She didn’t think that he would be offended by her giving him an out, but by the cracking in his voice, it’s clear she’s never said something more hurtful to him.

“Yeah, music is my job, and I love that. But my dream, Y/N, the thing that I want more than anything in this entire world, is you.” His voice catches in his throat and she finally looks up at him. He looks broken, like the things she said, the things she thought would help, really just ripped his heart into shreds.

“H, I really can’t ask you to give that up in any way.” She wants to give in, to say that everything will be fine, that he can take time off of touring if he wants. The rational part of her, however, the part that remembers asking him to give this up to any extent could make him resent her, fights against it.

“Baby, listen to me, please.” He pleads. “You’re not asking me to do anything. Regardless of whether or not you want me in our child’s life… which I pray to the lord that you do, I’m taking time off after the tour. I want to spend time at home, with you, with both of you.” He gently cradles her face in his palms and strokes her cheek with his thumb. 

“Are you sure?” She doesn’t want to keep fighting him on it. All she wants is to raise the family that she’s wanted for her entire life with the most extraordinary love. 

“Absolutely.” He promises.

He bends slightly so that his face is directly in front of her stomach. “Daddy's going to be here for you and Mommy every step of the way, bub.”

*

Thank you so much for reading lovelies!!!!! Again, reblog the pieces that you like and don’t be afraid to leave feedback!!

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[targaryenimagines]

Tempering the Storm

Daenerys Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: 2,164

Summary:

Notes: For @alphawolfworld— I hope you enjoy it. I decided to make my own little spin on it, which I hope you enjoy.

The harsh winds of the North whip at your face as you step from the rowdy Great Hall. Your eyes watering slightly because of it. Pulling your cloak tighter to your body you begin to make your trek back towards your room. Thick plumes of your breath being the only thing that accompanied you on your journey. 

You could still hear the faint sound of laughter and drunken shouts. Something that brings a small smile to your lips. Even if you couldn’t stand to be around the drunkards that inhabited the Great Hall, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth that they were able to be so happy. That they were able to find something to be so carefree about. You just hoped that they didn’t end up regretting it in the morning. 

With a smile, you hunker down against another strong surge of wind as you cross the courtyard. Your body canting to the side as you tried to right yourself. Alas, your body wasn’t used to the conditions that you had put it in. Something that you quickly discovered as your foot hit a patch of ice underneath the snow and your entire world flipped upside-down. The breath leaving your lungs in a whoosh of air as your back made contact with the cold stone of the ground. Thankfully it was slightly cushioned by the snow that made up the entirety of the North. 

Groaning, you flop your head down-- not having the energy to rise from the ground. Trying with all your might to ignore the cool liquid seeping into your clothes. Your eyes slip shut on their own accord as you imagine that you were simply resting against the warm sands of Meereen. The sound of crashing waves taking the place of howling wind. The harsh bite of the weather giving way to the gentle touch of the sun. When your eyes open once more you could feel the way your mood drops when you’re not met with the crystalline blue sky of Essos. A sight that you never knew you would miss so much. What I would do for this snow to become sand.

The soft sound of laughter pulls you out of your thoughts. Craning your neck, you had to squint through the thickening barrage of snow to see the figure approaching you. Even though as it drew closer and closer you could make out the familiar silhouette of Sansa Stark. A woman that you had grown rather fond of during your time in the North. You watch as she stops next to you with a gentle smile curling her lips. The blue of her eyes standing out against the stark fairness of her skin. Familiar waves of auburn being kept in a simple braid. Her soft voice filled with both amusement and concern. 

“Are you doing alright? I can’t imagine that you’re comfortable laying on the ground like that.”

You allow your own smile to appear as you looked up towards her. “I am doing quite alright down here. Why don’t you join me?” 

Her nose wrinkles at the offer. Her blue gaze tracing the lines of your clearly soaked cloak with a disgruntled air. “I would much rather stay where I am.” She turns her head towards the Great Hall-- a slight frown furrowing her brow. As if she was piecing together a puzzle that didn’t make much sense to her. After a moment her gaze meets yours once more. “Where is Lady Daenerys? Should she not be out here with you also?” 

A surprised look blossoms on your face at the question. Your own frown appearing as you mull over the words. The familiar warmth spreading through your chest as you thought about your dragon-- your Daenerys. But it quickly turns sour when memories of recent events come to the surface within your mind. Seemingly sensing your mood change, Sansa glances at the snow-covered ground with a pointed glare before she gingerly sits. Her back ramrod straight as she tried to ignore the feeling of it melting underneath her. 

Offering Sansa a weak smile, you begin to speak. “Dany has a lot on her plate right now. With the impending battle with the Night King and Cersei being a constant threat in the background.” You pause as a small sigh escapes your mouth. “It’s enough to make anyone feel pressured.”

“Has she been neglecting you?” Sansa seemed enraged by the thought. 

“No.” You shake your head at the mere thought of Daenerys doing so. “I just don’t see her as much I used to, but I know she tries her best to make time for me.”

Blue eyes darken at the thought. An expression flashing across her face that you couldn’t quite decipher. “I see.”

A silence settles over the two of you-- only the howling of the wind and far-off laughter permeating it. Opening your mouth, you try to figure out what you could possibly say to Sansa to soothe the situation. Even though you weren’t exactly sure what situation you were in. However, before you could, Sansa turns to you with a slight smile. Her expression much clearer than it had been a moment prior. 

“Why don’t we start heading towards your chamber? I think a change of clothing and wine between friends is more appealing than sitting out here. Don’t you agree?” 

Not knowing what to truly say, you simply nod. 

And with more energy than you were expecting, Sansa springs to her feet and holds out her hands towards you. Her normally closed off eyes sparkling with affection. 

“Then let’s go.” 

---------

“Did Jon truly do such a thing?” You ask in an incredulous tone. Not believing that the silent brooding man could ever do something like that. 

Sansa lets out an airy laugh. “I promise you it’s all true. Jon and Robb got into such mischief together.” A sad look flashes across her eyes before she can hide it. “I miss those days.”

Setting down your goblet of wine, you gently take Sansa’s hand in your own gentle grip. A look of complete understanding washing over your face. “I can understand that, but do you know who can also understand that. Better than anyone I have ever met?” 

She shakes her head in response, but there was the same look in her eyes from before. 

“Daenerys.” You frown at the small scoff that Sansa lets out in response. “I’m serious Sansa. Daenerys knows better than anyone how it feels to long for days long passed. To wish for a different future than the course you have been put on.” 

Sansa lowers her head-- her voice dropping to a low whisper. “You seem to old the Dragon Queen in high-esteem.” 

“I love her, Sansa,” you whisper back. “She has saved me more times than I can count. Has been there for me when I didn’t even know I needed someone. She has never given up on me. Has never faltered in her devotion for me. And I will never do so either.” 

An almost pained look appears on Sansa’s face at the clear conviction within your tone. It was a look that you suddenly understood. For it was a look you had seen many times before. A look that many potential-suitors held when they finally understood your complete devotion to Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. 

Sighing softly, you offer Sansa an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Sansa.”

She offers a weak smile in return. “Not as sorry as I am.”

Tightening your hold on her hand, you pull Sansa into a warm hug. Wrapping your arms securely around her as she buries her face into the crook of your neck. A silent understanding passing between the two of you in that moment. That everything was going to be okay in the end. 

The sound of your chamber door causes you both to jump away from one another. Your eyes widening at the slim figure standing at the threshold of the room. A furious violet gaze meeting your shocked one. 

Standing you take a slight step forward. “Daenerys?” 

You pause when her gaze seemingly freezes you in place. Her eyes turning to the woman behind you. A harsh look taking over her features at the sight. 

“What in the Seven Hells is she doing here?” 

With widening eyes, you begin to speak-- desperately wanting to salvage the situation. “Sansa and I met earlier in the courtyard, and after a brief discussion we decided to convene in my chambers for some wine.” You gesture behind you towards the goblets. “And after another brief discussion I decided it best that I should hug her farewell.”

Daenerys’s eyes narrow. “Then why is she still here if you were simply hugging her farewell?” 

You flounder for an answer. Your brain seemingly short-circuiting as you tried to speak. Luckily, a soft voice speaks up behind you.

“I was just leaving.” You wince internally at the sharp quality to Sansa’s tone, but you smile gratefully towards her as she passes you. Thankful that she was able to speak when you couldn’t.

Pausing for a brief moment beside you, Sansa murmurs. “I shall see you tomorrow.” She shoots Daenerys a thinly-veiled glare. “I hope you sleep well.” 

With that she exits the room. The banging of the door being the only sound in the room for some time. Taking a chance, you glance towards Daenerys’s still figure. Only to find that she was still staring at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher. 

You take a small step towards her. Your expression open and honest. “Dany, I promise what you saw isn’t what you think it was. I was simply offering her a hug as a friend. Nothing more.”

Her mouth twists down in a frown. “I am well aware of your intentions, my love.” She turns from you and moves towards the window. Her expression pensive as she takes in the sights just beyond the glass. “It’s hers that I am vexed with.” 

You frown. “What do you mean, Dany?” 

She turns to you with a slight smile curling her lips. The first she had offered you since entering the room. “Oh you must realize how she stares at you, my love. Must realize how she speaks towards you without a care of who overhears.” She turns her gaze back towards the outside world. “Her gaze is filled with that of longing. A deep-rooted longing for something that she can never have. The type of longing that keeps one awake at night. Her words simply highlighting the fact. For they show no inkling of self-perservation as she tries to take something that is already someone elses.” Sighing, Daenerys moves towards the bed where she gingerly sits down. “So, no, it’s not you I am worried about, my darling.” 

Clearly seeing the anguish within Daenerys’s violet gaze, you move to sit beside her. Taking her still gloved hands in your own. Your eyes pleading with her to listen to you. 

“Dany,” you mumur with a soft look on your face. Your hand coming up to caress her cheek. “There is no other person that I could ever see myself with. No other person that I could ever see myself loving as much as I love you.” You dip your head as your next admission comes out. “I am aware of Sansa’s feelings towards me. Even though I had no knowledge of it when I entered this room with her. She has since become aware of my complete devotion towards you. Something that will never change.” 

Daenerys’s eyes flash with various emotions. Though you could tell clear as day that her insecurities were eating away at her. 

“Truly?” She asks with a small tilt of her head. “Even when my plans have to take me away from you for long periods of time? When I can’t spend time with you like I used to?” 

You smile. “Even then. For I know that you will be just as miserable as I am. That we will both be wishing for the day that we can be in each others arms once more.” You bring your lips to hers in a small, chastised kiss. “I am yours, Daenerys. For now and forever.”

Daenerys smiles back at you. Her violet eyes sparkling with warmth and affection. “And I am yours, my love.” She wraps her arms around your neck and pulls your body flush against hers. Her mouth ghosting across your cheek towards your ear. Her warm breath fluttering against the shell of your ear. “I just hope you realize that the next time Sansa Stark tries anything I won’t be so forgiving.”

Chuckling, you turn your head and press your lips against hers. Relishing the feeling of having her in your arms. Any other thought leaving your mind as your hold her tightly to you. 

For there would never be anyone else you would ever need.

Not as long as you had her.

[starfirette]

Ok but Helena Bertinelli x fem!reader where Helena takes all her pent up anger out on reader thru sex and she just tops the FUCK out of R and it’s super hot and R lowkey loves when Helena gets angry when it leads to steamy sex👀 oof I need a MINUUUTE😫

a/n: this is very smutty. it is more emotionally angry, and y/n more takes her anger out on helena, BUT i think it's good. .......i think?? | 18+

masterlist | more helena | inbox | ships + requests open

Every single piece of furniture was toppled over.

The fine china that you’d once had shelved on display littered the floor in ground little pieces.

It was a shocking scene to say the least, especially when you were expecting to walk through the door and take an instant nap.

After being in Moscow for the week, both you and Helena had been looking forward to coming back to the shared Alaska home high up in the mountains.

As you stared around in a state of shock, Helena pulled you by the waist. It was as though she wanted to shield you from the destruction that laid before your eyes.

You weren’t naive. At least, not too naive. You could recognize what was going on.

The last time something similar happened was three years ago. At that time, you and Helena had recently been married. It was the threats and destruction that followed Helena which caused her to leave Gotham with you in tow. Together, you traveled halfway across the across the country, in search for a haven that would protect you from Helena’s enemies.

But they’d found you. Again.

“Get your coat,” Helena instructed as she pushed you towards the foyer. 

“But-”

“Get your coat, now, Y/n,” she snapped again, not bothering to look at you. 

You felt oddly embarrassed by the way your wife had spoken to you. You mustered a submissive nod as you hurried to pull on the coat you’d just taken off.

Helena’s angry, Italian cursing bounced off the walls as she turned through the house, her shoes crunching over glass. She spoke with someone in the phone. Her words were fast and icy. She rarely spoke in Italian, but you’d been with her long enough to learn some of the lingo.  She spoke about a safe house and about a rabbit--

Maybe rabbit wasn’t the right word. 

But you’re positive it’s something about a safehouse. 

You waited in the foyer, shivering in the heavy coat you wore despite the warmth it was generating. 

Helena came rushing to you after her phone conversation ended. “We’re getting back in the car,” she instructed you, using her hands to physically turn you back to face the door. 

“Wait, what’s going on?” you asked, feeling dumb as she snatched a random sweater from the coat closet. 

“We’ve been found, so we’re leaving,” Helena said again, slowing her words as if she was trying to dumb it down for you. She put her arm around your waist, ushering you out of the house and carefully down the snowy pathway that led to your driveway. The fresh powdered snow had two sets of footprints, your own and Helena’s. You didn’t see any others, nothing that would have alerted you to thinking someone had broken in. 

Your face burned with warmth as Helena buckle you into the passenger seat. You don’t like being babied by her. You were tempted to bitch about the way she was treating you, but you knew better. At least, right now. You try to remember she’s in a panic, and she’s running on auto pilot. 

The car raced down the long driveway that wrapped in a spiral down the mini mountain. 

Your heart thumped in your throat as she sped away from the house. You clutched into your seatbelt, letting it dig into your palms. “Slow down,” you finally blurted out.

Helena grunted in response. Her foot reluctantly pumped the break.  

You know she doesn’t like to be told to slow down, or to relax, or to be safe. Even so, Helena knows you don’t like when she drives to fast, or goes into a rage, or puts her safety on the line. 

The drive was silent as she expertly navigated some snowy backroads. You wanted to talk to her, maybe even distract her from whatever was boiling in her brain. She didn’t explain what was happening. You were left to your own devices. You could only assume she was taking you to one of her safe checkpoints in Cordova. That had been ingrained into to your mind; Cordova is safe. If anything happens, go to Cordova and call someone, whether it be Harley or one of Helena’s contacts in Italy.

You slumped down your seat, shifting all of your body to lean against your door, your head against the window. "I love you," you muttered.

Helena didn't say anything.

The underground house in Cordova spans 500 square feet. It's nothing fancy. It's more of a basic studio flat than a house, really, with a very well structured lay out. The kitchen consisted of a two burner stove and an old fashioned ice box. On that same note, the given bedroom was really just a queen size mattress on the floor, shoved in a corner against the north eastern wall. It had a pile of new pillows, still wrapped in their Macy's store liners.

You dropped your coat on the little coffee table in the dead center of the room. It faced an outdated, but thorough, television set, with a boxy TV and VHS player. Stacks of worn VHS tapes and magazines were laced neatly on the little coffee table, alongside the clunky television remote.

A single door was on the western wall, and you assumed it led to the bathroom.

You pried off your shoes as Helena closed the heavy vault door, turning all of the metal spires so the locks clicked, leaving only you and her within the room.

It was a heavy silence for a couple minutes. Helena didn't do anything but stand, staring intensely at the vaulted door, as if it was responsible for destroying your mountain top mansion.

You curled into the bed. The quilts had the consistency of hotel blankets, thin and flimsy, allowing all the cold air to pass through the threads.

The side of the bed sank when Helena sat down, her long legs bent at the knees awkwardly. Her hand placed softly on your back, which was huddled in the corner of the bed, pulled over with the quilts.

"Are you okay?" Helena asked. Her voice was hard. She sounded as if she were in a great deal of pain.

You rolled over. You faced your own wall, turning your back on her. When you did not answer, Helena asked again. "Don't ignore me," she snapped.

You jerked upright.

Helena looked momentarily surprised, as if she'd watched a corpse rise from his grave. You stared at her with wide, angry eyes.

"Don’t even start,” you snapped, holding up a finger to stop whatever words Helena was about to start blabbering out.

"You're not allowed to speak to me any way you want, any time you want," you added with a jab of your finger. You scrambled to leave the bed, tripping over the bedding as you clumsily plunged out of her reach.

"I understand that you're stressed," you said, trying to control the volume at which you spoke. "But you always take it out on me. You always make me feel like the world's going to end."

Helena pinched her nose, bending so her elbows rested on her knees. She looked stressed, just so stressed, just about as stressed as you were feeling, but maybe less angry and shaky. "This is serious, Y/n," she said slowly, as if she didn't think you would have understood her otherwise.

"Even so, we have to keep our wits about us. We have to keep our relationship steady, otherwise we're just going to fall apart and fail. This relationship will not last. It will not last. We are always going to be chased by these troubles, by your enemies. I think I could handle it if we didn't get into massive fucking fights every time it happened. It feels like I'm a kid again, watching my parents go back and forth, staying together 'for us kids', when it's pretty clear that divorce would just be better for all of us."

Helena by now had released her face. She had a blank expression as she stared at you.

"I'm sorry," she finally said.

You couldn't muster much energy, so you shrugged and collapsed on the little sofa. "I don't care anymore," you muttered. "I just want water. I want to sleep."

Helena ran to your side. She knelt at your feet, quite literally on her hands and knees for you. She braced her hands on your thighs. "How can I make it up to you?"

You stared down at her, unsure of what to say.

"I cannot lose you," she said next. "There wouldn't be a reason to have such safehouses like this if I lost you."

"I cannot handle these fights anymore. It's too much."

"What can I do?"

"I just want to sleep," you sighed. "I'd rather just...listen to the television."

Helena led you to the bed, straightening out the mess you'd made when you'd trampled out of it. You shimmied out of your pants, throwing them out so you could sleep comfortably.

"Please just talk to me," Helena begged as she laid behind you. She wrapped her arms around you tenderly, your back pressed against her chest. "I'm just tired, Helena," you sighed as you let your eyes fall shut.

Helena dragged her hand up the stomach of your shirt, her calloused palm tucking close against your belly.

"I'm tired," you whispered.

Her fingers slipped beneath the band of your underwear. Her palm cupped your warmth, her lips pressing soothing kisses behind your ear.

She did not tease that night. She swept two finger tips into the opening of your hot, twitchy cunt, swiping drops of arousal and then spreading it around your clit. The lubricant beneath her fingertips made the sensation slippery and slick. You slowly gasped at the feeling. The sensation got you to slip out of your body for a split second, as if you could see the scene playing out in front of you. Your hips were grinding fast and hard into Helena's hand.

You snatched her wrist and pushed her hand down. "Inside," you snapped. "If you're really sorry, then inside."

"As you wish," Helena murmured. Her three fingers pushed up and in, stretching the velvety walls of your cunt out. You wanted to scream. Her fingers curled and reached up at the spongey spot way inside of you, like the brightest star in all the galaxy.

"Shit!" you cried. You lurched your head back, your hair scrunching up into Helena's face and nose. She didn't seem to care as she slowly pumped in and out, always making sure to press up at your starpoint.

"Never again," you cried as you gripped at Helena's forearm. You used this as an anchor point to keep you grounded while you wiggled your hips into Helena's hand. "You're never again going to treat me this way. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Dove, yes," Helena assured you in a soothing voice. "You're such a good bird for me," she sighed, her cool breath tickling your ear. "And you deserve good things. You deserve to cum all over my hand."

Yes, an internal voice shrieked within you. You thought another version of yourself would punch through your chest and take over, take over everything.

Your entire existence rolled up into nothing but pure light as you felt your high coming on quickly. You knew you were cumming, and Helena did too, for she used her other hand to simultaneously stimulate your clit.

The pressure released, like a balloon snapping in your belly.

You were breathing heavily as you sank into Helena's arms. You hadn't realized how tense you'd been until all of your muscles relaxed.

"I'm sorry, Dove," Helena murmured into your ear. She held you tight and close. Her natural perfume, a blend of rosewater and fresh flowers, flooded your senses. With your energy dwindling after such an exertion, you didn't have the strength to argue or complain. You laid there, silently accepting her apology. No longer were you distracted by the wanton desires for orgasm and relief. And in the same way, you were no longer consumed with bitter anger.

"Do you promise we're going to be alright?" you asked, voice cracking and hoarse.

Helena kissed your neck.

"I do."

[wiypt-writes]

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch9: Lebanon, Lebagone  

Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary:  A few months post their reconciliation, Jake and Stella run a mission with the rest of the team…

 Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Word Count: 8k ish.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. We do not own any characters in this series bar Stella Stevenson and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: So the mission detailed here was highly inspired by the second book in the Grey Man series. Locations and a few major details are changed, and the names are completely made up.  The Terrorist/Political party- The Lebanese Freedom Party, does not to our knowledge actually exist.

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 8 

 “Alright, let’s get in position before daylight hits.” Clay looked around as they walked down the narrow alleyway.

“Roger that.” Stella nodded as Cougar replied with a tip of his hat to show he had heard, Pooch also inclining his head.

The four of them stopped by a door to their right, Stella pulling the tool from her utility belt which was fastened around the waistband of her camo pants. She picked the lock in under thirty seconds, a simple job that required a little bit of jiggling, twisting and a good jerk with the torque wrench Cougar was holding to defeat.

“Not particularly high security considering this was a bank.” She mumbled as behind her Cougar chuckled.

Inside it was pitch black, dust rose in clouds, shimmering in the moonlight, which was streaking through the dirty arched windows. Both of them flipped out their flashlights, quickly scanning the room for any sign that someone had been here recently, but there was none. 

They crossed quietly and quickly through the main atrium of the old building, taking care to keep to the shadows. The old bank was completely deserted bar a few desks and old telephones which sported thick layers of dust as they moved through, heading for the spiral staircase at the far side.

“We’re clear.” Pooch said as he looked up to the top of the staircase. “This place hasn’t been accessed for years.”

“Lima Six, anything to report?” Clay spoke into his radio and a moment later Jensen replied.

“Nothing on the comms, they’re talking about moving Kilo One out at the time we suspected but it could be a rouse to make sure…but Lima Two knows the code-word should they decide to go early.”

“Okay, as soon as you get movement let me know.”

“Ten-four, One.”

“Okay, let’s get set up.” Clay instructed and the team nodded in agreement as they all set about, placing various pieces of equipment around the place exactly where it needed to be for when their target and his security detail, in which Roque had embedded himself undercover, came storming into the pre-designated building, seeking refuge from an attack outside.

It took them roughly an hour to set up completely, things having to be precisely as Pooch directed. Eventually, when he was happy, they climbed the staircase at the back of the room. Four sets of eyes swept the square below. It was deserted, as was to be expected at such an early hour in the morning.

Stella scanned the buildings, nevertheless, her eyes sharp, looking for any sign of movement around the whitewashed and pebble-dashed sandstone that they had grown accustomed to seeing over the last three weeks or so they’d been in Nabatieh, Lebanon.

“So Khalil should be coming from there.” Pooch raised his arm and pointed to a small road to the right. “The plan is we lay down some fire by his bodyguards as he approaches the podium, and force them to take shelter in the bank, as led nicely by Roque.”

“Why do we want this guy alive so badly, anyway?” Stella mumbled to herself. “If he’s such a bastard, why don’t we just kill him? He’s a terrorist leader.”

“The Lebanese Freedom Party ain’t deemed terrorists all over the world.” Pooch grinned and Stella snorted. “Russia views them as a legitimate socio-political force.”

“Russia basically executes people for being gay” She scoffed. “Forgive me for not taking their viewpoint here as the one to set my moral compass against.” She sighed. “Cougs could take one shot, straight in the head. Boom. Job done.”

Cougar chuckled as he unloaded his rifle and stand, looking up at Clay. “She’s not wrong, Boss.”

“Whilst wiping that particular shit stain off the face of the earth might be appealing, they ain’t our orders. We apprehend alive.” Clay spoke, matter of factly and Stella rolled her eyes.

“Whatever helps us sleep at night, huh?”

****

Stella had to hand it to their Intel department. The start of the hit went like clockwork. At bang on the designated time, Jensen radioed in to say that they were moving out and sure enough, twenty minutes or so later he accounted the SUVs and jeeps had left the compound. He joined the rest of the team little over half an hour later, leaving the dirty van he had been driving hidden down a dark alleyway at the back of the bank, behind the one the rest of the team had arrived in and headed into the dank building, wrinkling his nose at the musty air as he walked in. 

“Hey.” He greeted Stella, his hand falling to her shoulder as she sat in the back, her attention focussed through the window, a pair of binoculars raised to her eyes.

“Hey.” She whispered back, her gaze flicking to him quickly, flashing him a smile as she turned back to her spotting.

“So I picked up on their coms that they think Khalil’s personal security have done a sweep of the area.” Jensen looked at them. “Roques done his job nicely. They should be entering the square from the South West corner.”

 “ETA?” Clay turned to him.

“Less than five minutes.”

“Excellent.” Clay nodded. “So far so good.”

The next five minutes or so passed in silence, all five of the Officers in the room observing the roads leading to the square just in case. Even though their intel was solid, it was drilled into them that they should never rely on it completely.

“Boss,” Cougar spoke suddenly, his shoulders squaring back, “target approaching. Roughly two miles out.”

“Fuck, I got something coming too from the North East.” Pooch groaned.

“What?” Clay demanded.

“I dunno but it looks suspiciously like an ARV.”

“An ARV?” Clay frowned.

“Yup. They’ve stopped. Six hundred yards out.”

“What do you mean they’ve stopped?” Jensen demanded, snatching the binoculars off him.

“What the fuck do you think I mean?” Pooch replied. “They’re not moving.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Stella growled and Clay took the binoculars off Jensen. She watched as Clay took a look before he sighed heavily and dropped his head.

“It’s the Lebanese Special Service. I recognise one of them from a mission a while back.”

“What the hell are they doing here?”

 “I should have seen this coming.” Clay bit his lip. “They’re going to hit him at the rally. The false trail we leaked to them means they think we’re moving on him as he makes his way out of town and up to Beirut. They’re going to get in first.”

“It’s a double cross.” Stella looked at Jake and Pooch as she spoke, the pair of them exchanging a look before all eyes bar Cougar’s, which remained firmly fixed on his target, turned to Clay. “Why?”

“Death to the West and all that.” Clay sniffed. “They’re gonna take him out and try and use USA involvement as cover.”

“Don’t they realise that won’t work?” Stella shook her head. “We’re Black Ops, the thick fuckers. As soon as there’s so much of a sniff that shit is going west, the CIA will leave us high and dry, denying they had anything to do with it.”

“So what’s Plan B?” Pooch turned to look Clay. “I’m hoping you got a Plan B, because Plan A is going to shit.”

“Kilo one still approaching.” Cougar stated.

“You got anything special in your arsenal?” Clay turned to Pooch. “As in blow up an ARV special?”

Pooch blinked. “Yeah, the RPG but…”

“Go get it.” Clay instructed.

Pooch didn’t hesitate, he shot off down the stairs and Stella watched him go before she turned her attention back to the large square, which was roughly the size of two football pitches, busy with people bustling about their everyday business.

“If we get this wrong, the whole square is gonna be caught up in a fucking gun fight,” Stella spoke, her eyes falling on a group of kids in the middle.

There was a pause before Clay spoke again. “Khalil is our main objective; we just need to keep collateral to a minimum.”

Collateral. Stella hated that fucking word. She swallowed and looked at Jensen who gave her a small smile, which she returned before she glanced back at the square.

“One mile out.” Cougar informed.

“Okay,” Clay spoke, clapping his hands together. “Pooch, as soon as the LSS move, you shoot that RPG straight at the fuckers.”

“Gladly.” He nodded, “But, chances are if they’ve got an ARV out there then they’ll already have agents on the ground.”

“It doesn’t matter, all we gotta do is get a shot off first.  Once that initial gun crack is heard, Khalil’s security outfit are gonna herd him in here anyway. And hopefully, when the LSS get note their vehicle has gone bang it’ll draw them into blowing cover somehow.” Clay nodded. “At least then we’ll be able to spot where they are.” He took a deep breath. “Cougar, keep watch on Khalil. As soon as you get a viable opportunity to lay down the fire, take it.”

Cougs, who hadn’t taken his eye away from the target sight of his gun simply tipped the brim of his hat again with his finger to show he had understood and Clay turned to the other three of them as they waited instructions.

 “What about Roque?” Stella asked. “He doesn’t know about the LSS.”

“He’ll roll with the punches.” Clay rubbed his hand over his chin. “Everyone clear?”

“Clear as, boss, it’s a shoot-out.” Jensen snorted, nodding his head as he gave a chuckle. “Good times.”

“If this is your idea of a good time then I’d hate to see a bad one.” Pooch grumbled and Stella gave a chuckle.

“Hey, Poochy, I just like to see the positive in all aspects of life.” Jensen grinned, holding his hands out to the side, palms up. “You’re just grumpy because Jolene’s finally managed to…ouch!” Jensen gave a yelp as Stella punched him hard on the arm. “What was that for, babe?”

Stella shot him a look which instantly shut him up. Pooch had confided in her, Cougar and Jensen no less than two days ago that Jolene was four months pregnant, but he didn’t want to tell Clay or Roque for reasons that he was keeping to himself, as per his prerogative, she supposed. It had made her and Jensen snort a little, as when Aubrey had found out she was pregnant roughly five months or so ago, the entire world had known pretty much before the pee was dry on the test stick. Jensen’s eyes widened as he realised exactly what he’d been about to say and he grimaced, before turning to Pooch, giving him an apologetic look.

“Kilo One is approaching the square.” Cougar spoke, and they all turned their attention to him, stepping forward to the window, Clay observing their surroundings with the binoculars. 

“Okay, focus up Losers.” Clay hushed them all, gesturing to Pooch. “Get ready with that RPG”

Pooch shot Jensen one final filthy glare before he stepped forward, resting the grenade launcher on his shoulder.

“Arty, Jensen, in position.” Clay instructed. “Coms on, code names only.”

They both nodded, Stel picking up a device that had been in Pooch’s big bag of tricks, and made their way back to the spiral staircase.

And then, it all happened at once. Clay gave the order to fire and both Pooch and Cougar took their shots at the same time. The popping of guns, sounds of screaming and yelling and a rather large explosion followed by Pooch’s loud chuckles of glee hit their ears and Jensen looked at Stella as they waited at the top of the stairs.

“I really shouldn’t enjoy this as much as I should.” He grinned, and Stella snorted as suddenly the room below them was full of voices, once of which the recognised instantly as Roque. From their extensive planning, Sella knew that they would likely hustle into the room in a tight cordon, with Khalil in the middle and head to the most secure part of the building, the vault. They had no idea how many of the guard had made it into the building with Khalid, but essentially it didn’t matter. The Losers were one step ahead.

As soon as the group made their way towards the main part of the atrium, through the open double doors which led through the cashier area, Jensen grinned at Stella.

“Hit it, babe!” 

Stella smirked as she pushed the button on the device she held in her hand. The large electromagnets that had been placed on the locks snapped into place, firing the four inch thick steel bolts into their slots, securing them tightly, ensuring no one could get out, and no one else could get in. Yells of warnings rang out about the place as the guards instantly wheeled round, their guns raised and Roque’s eyes flickered upwards to where they were hidden on the veranda above. Jensen raised his right hand, his index and middle finger extended and he waved them across his face, indicating that their next move was about to go down. Roque made no sign he’d seen them, bar a quick double-blink.

“I’m sorry, pal.” Jensen grimaced a little as he ducked down and lifted a heavy square box off the floor, flipping the plastic cover up, jamming his thumb onto the red button. “Lima Two is about to deploy, please return to your seats and cover your ears.” He spoke into his coms, giving the rest of the team a warning. As soon as the device beeped to say it was charged, Jensen launched it over the side of the railing where it fell onto the floor below. As soon as it left his hands, he and Stella ducked down, their fingers jammed in their ears, eyes scrunched shut as the device activated.

Referred to merely by Pooch as the S-Fud- ‘Sensory Fuck-Up Device’, the item had been developed by the boffins in the CIA lab to create complete optical and aural disorientation by using ultra violet and bright white lights and a loud, high pitched sound and sonic wave. Even with his eyes screwed shut, the flash of light still bounced off all the surfaces surrounding Jensen, and the hands which were clamped over his ears might have dimmed the majority of the loud wailing siren, which lasted no more than two seconds, but the combination was still enough to leave him feeling slightly woozy as he stood to his feet, blinking furiously, his eyes feeling like he’d stared straight at the sun, his eardrums ringing as if he’d spent hours in a nightclub with music thumping in his ears. Besides him, Stella staggered to her feet and shook her head, pressing the heel of her palm to the space between her eyes. But they had no time to waste. Jake gently shook her shoulder and she nodded to show him she was okay. Together they made their way down the stairs as quickly as they could. 

The S-Fud had done its job, all the men were incapacitated to some extent. As Stella’s eyes glanced around she quickly counted six men in total. Three, one of whom was Khalil, were completely unconscious, face down on the floor. Two more, including Roque, were writhing in pain, hand clutched over their ears, and one was attempting to stagger to his feet. In a flash, Stella had nailed him with a kick to the face, and he fell backwards with a thud, his nose shattering as her heel smashed straight into the bridge.

“Did you see that?” Jensen turned to the other three men who had joined them, all looking around the room. “My girl, she’s a bad ass chick.”

“Can you concentrate on the mission in hand for once and not your dick?” Pooch shook his head as Cougar hit the moving guard with the butt of his rifle, knocking him out.

“Your momma concentrated on my dick last night.” Jensen shot back and Pooch groaned.

“Seriously? Momma jokes, now?”

“Shut up.” Stella nudged Jake harshly with her elbow as she walked past, following Clay as they stepped over the unconscious guards, heading towards Roque as he groaned and lay curled up in the foetal position. Clay knelt down and reached out, loosening his tie and the top button of his dress shirt before patting him on the shoulder, as Stella did the same to their target.

“Okay, lets move.” Clay looked up. “Jensen, Pooch, you take Roque. I’ll get Khalil. Cougs, Arty, give us cover to the vehicle.”

The team all nodded, Jensen and Pooch stepping forward, each seizing Roque under his arms. They managed to get him to his feet, each supporting him, their arms round his back as his arms slumped over their shoulders. His feet staggered on the floor as he made an attempt to talk.

“We got you, buddy.” Jensen said softly. “You’ll be alright, just feel like you’ve got one hell of a hangover for a few hours.”

Meanwhile Clay had managed to hoist Khalil to his feet with Cougar’s help, the man a complete dead weight, which he allowed to slump against his right shoulder. With an almighty heave he ducked and then stood, using his legs to rise up fully, Khalil slung over him in a fireman’s lift, his arms dangling freely down Clay’s back.

Without another word, the team moved as quickly as they could to the dead-bolted doors where Stella reached into her pocket with one hand, whipping her pistol out with the other. She clicked the device, which unlocked the glass doors and they made their way across the atrium, the chaotic noises from outside growing louder as they approached the back door to the bank they’d used to enter. Stella flattened herself against one side of the wall to the right of the door as Cougar took aim with his rifle. He looked at her and nodded, and in a flash she reached out and yanked it open, Cougar darting through, rifle held in front of him. 

“Clear.” He spoke and Stella moved to allow the rest of the team to step out into the alleyway, taking up the rear. 

She spotted the man hiding in a doorway two down before Cougs even had chance to shout a warning. In a flash she fired pistol twice. The first shot hit the guy in the arm, causing him to drop his gun, the second in the knee and he fell to the floor, screaming in agony. Then came another, and another. As Stella and Cougar continued, Jensen, Pooch and Clay heaved their charges to the side of the van, ducking as shots rained down on them. Pooch wrenched open the door, and Jensen hopped into the back, hoisting Roque in as gently as he could, a sharp contrast to the way Clay simply slung Khalil unceremoniously into the back. As Pooch ran to the front and hopped into the driver side, Stella and Cougar both sprinted towards the van, flinging themselves in as the engine started. With a sharp tug, Clay pulled he door shut as Pooch started the engine. 

Seconds later, the van roared back off up the alley, the crackle of gunfire from the square growing quieter and quieter as they put more distance between them and the danger.  Pooch drove them out onto the main road, towards the point, some six miles or so away, where they would ditch the van and hop into two separate SUVs and make their way to the agreed Ex-fil point at Saida Port roughly a half an hour or so drive away.

Stella closed her eyes, resting her head against the cool metal of the van, watching as Pooch and Jensen  hoisted Khalil into a sitting position, securing his wrists with flexi-restraints behind his back. Cougar was busy offering Roque some water, Stella pleased to see their teammate was finally starting to come round. She smiled as Jensen flopped down next to her, his arm looping round her shoulders as he pulled her to him for a soft kiss.

“I love working with you,” he grinned and she snorted, shaking her head as she chuckled.

“Yeah, we’re a regular nine-to-five couple, aint we?”

****

“Stel?” Jake called through the door of the bathroom of their temporary lodgings before he opened it and to be greeted by Stella led back in the bath, eyes closed. She turned her head to look at him. “I was gonna ask if you wanted head out with the guys for a beer and food but you look pretty comfortable.”

She pulled a face. “I’m feeling anti-social.” Jake laughed at her frank answer and smiled as she gave a small shrug. “Sorry, not sorry, but we spent four weeks in a hell hole motel and I’m extremely grateful Clay’s managed to get us holed up in a nice place and not the Officers’ Quarters on base so I intend to make the most of it.”

“Babes, we were both in the army.” He snorted. “Rocks for pillows and all that.”

“Yeah, well it’s been a while since I did that. What can I say? I’ve grown used to the finer things again.”

“Fair enough, I’ll let Clay know you hate them all and don’t want to socialise.” He teased.

“Jakey, we’re gonna be here for by my guess a week at least, plenty of time to go out sampling the finest bars the UK has to offer.” She shrugged, not bothered in the slightest by his teasing. “If you wanna go meet them, feel free. I’ll grab a take out. There were some leaflets pinned to the board in the kitchen.”

“Or…” Jake smirked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, “I stay here, because frankly, that bed looks really comfy and I kinda wanna test it. See how grossed out we can make Pooch.”

“Jerk.” Stella snorted.

“Well, he’s done nothing but complain since we got here about how he has to share this house with us and can’t go in with the others, so I wanna give him something to really complain about.”

“You’re such a little shit.” She laughed and Jake groaned. 

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what? Laugh?”

“Yeah, it’s making your boobs wobble under the water, and that’s making me horny.”

“You’re always horny.”

“Hornier than usual.”

“Well, I can solve that problem.” She grinned and Jake smirked.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, turn around and shut the door on your way out.”

“Ouch, Stells.” Jake slapped his hand over his heart. “That’s cold.”

“Hmmm,” She muttered, laying her head back and closing her eyes again. “If you’re getting in here you better hurry, or the water will be cold too.”

Jake grinned and in a flash, reached back to grab a fist full of his t-shirt behind the collar and pulled it over his head. As his hands flew to the button on his jeans Stella nodded to the door.

“You better lock that, I know you said you wanted to gross Pooch out but if he walks in on us he’ll be scared for life.”

“And?”

Stella merely arched her brow, “No locky, no fucky.”

With that Jake spun on his heel and flicked the lock, before he turned round and shoved his pants and boxers down in one full swoop and swung his leg over the side of the tub. Stella moved forward so he could settle behind her, his legs laying either side of hers. It was a tight squeeze, the tub in the two bedroomed terraced house wasn’t built to accommodate two but neither paid it any mind. 

Stella took a deep breath, closed her eyes and leaned back, her head laying against Jake’s chest as his hands softly rubbed up and down her forearms, his lips pressing a kiss to her shoulder. 

They were silent for a while, the pair of them simply contented to stay there for a moment, relishing the peace after a long and tedious mission and the chance to relax for an evening before the debriefs and analysis started the next day in the War Rooms of the RAF Base in Suffolk, England. Often, the aftermath of a mission was more hard-going than the action itself. They’d hash over the events, listen to the CIA operative justify some of the more morally ambiguous decisions made, no doubt the ramifications and political fall-outs, be informed about how the CIA were going to play it and then they’d have to submit written reports, which would be Classified at the highest levels and stored in the top secret vaults in Virginia. 

It was part and parcel of being in a black-ops team. They knew the script, having read and played it many a times before. But it was draining and exhausting, one of the many reasons Stella was glad that the actual missions they ran, whilst they could last months at a time, were on the large few and far between.

“You okay?” Jake broke the silence and pressed his lips once more to the back of her shoulder and Stella nodded, tilting her head round so she could look at him.

“I spoke to Rey before.”

“Yeah, how is she?”

“She said she felt the baby move for the first time.” Stella beamed.

“Oh, that’s awesome.” Jake grinned back, “are they gonna find out what they’re having?”

Stella snorted, “dur. You know what she’s like. She’ll want to decorate and buy it blue or pink clothes, plus if it’s a boy she’s got time to mentally prepare seeing as all she wants is a little girl to treat like a doll.”

Jake laughed. “Is it wrong I kinda hope it is a boy?”

Stella grinned. “Nope, I was thinking the same. She’s asked me to be with her when it’s born.”

“I’m not surprised.” Jake wrinkled his nose. “Dick’s gonna be about as much use as a knife in a gun fight.”

“Knives can be very useful in a gun fight, if you know how to use them.”

“Oooh I love it when you talk dirty, babe.” Jensen smirked and dropped his head to kiss her softly. His right hand moved from its spot on her arm to stroking her hip, tracing a path down the outside of her thigh. His fingers softly traced shapes on her warm, wet skin just to the side of her knee before he moved his touch up her leg again then across to her abdomen. Stella sighed against his mouth, as her head lolled to the right. Jensen’s mouth moved, trailing a line down her neck, nipping at the hinge of her jaw. 

He was growing hard against her, Stella could feel it, and the way his fingers were ghosting over her made her skin tingle and her body shiver. "Jake," she whimpered. "Yeah, baby?" His fingers found the tuft of curls and then her nub. "You gonna sing for me, Stells?" He encircled her clit with his fingertip and drew back up. "Let me play that pussy?" “Fuck...” she groaned, leaning further back into him, her body sagging into his. She loved his dirty talk, being so in control for most of the time, she enjoyed letting herself go when it came to this. “Feels good, Jakey.” "Yeah? You like it when I touch you, feel my fingers inside? Stretching you for my dick?" He dipped two fingers inside, his thumb able to press into her sensitive clit. "Jesus, fuck," Stella gasped as he moved into her. The thickness of his fingers felt like she was on fire and had her silently begging his foreplay wasn't long. "So fucking wet already, babe." Jake was enjoying the feel of her on his fingers. It'd been a long while since he'd felt all of her and he hid his desperation well behind dirty words and filthy ministrations. His mouth moved down her neck, teeth gently nipping at her skin as he went, lips curling into a smirk as he listened to her softly groaning. Her hips moving in time with his hand as his fingers curled inside her.  Water began to just teeter over the tubs edge but neither paid any mind. Stella's breathy pants bounced off of Jake's cheek as he watched himself finger fuck her. "I love it when you fuck my fingers, baby." "Oh God," Stella squeaked, for she was going to hit that edge and fall right over. The time between, the angst of their mission and Jake's mouth were nearing too much. "Jakey, please," she moaned. "Cum on my fingers, Stells, then I'm gonna fuck you, really...really... good." With each 'really' Jake barely rutted against Stella, just enough to tease her at what he wanted to do to her. He wanted to slide in, slow and deep, her body seated on top his, while he feasted on her nipples and neck. He wanted to be buried into her to the hilt and paint her walls with his seed. Stella came undone as her body quaked against his chest. With a breathy squeak she went rigid and her hand flew from the side of the tub, wrapping around is wrist as she came, her walls clamping around his fingers "Fuck, Stella, turn around baby, sit on my lap." She was as languid as the water around them, her body drowning in ecstasy as Jake helped her turn in the small space. His fully erect and throbbing cock stood at attention, his head just above the water’s surface. He guided Stella just where he wanted her and slowly dipped inside her still trembling walls. The sensation was more than Stella had bargained for and she moaned out loudly as she sank into him. "That's it baby, let them hear you" Jake bucked a bit into her, closing the gap that Stella was slowly shortening, his cock fully inside her and he moaned himself. She felt so good, so tight. Like there was no one else made for him but her. The thought gave him a flutter deep in his belly. She was his, and would be forever, if she'd have him. Stella rolled her hips against his, grinding down the pressure on her sensitive clit while Jake's lips moved over her skin, nearing her pert nipples. His hands wove around her back, fingers pressing into her spine as he bobbed his hips up and down to meet with her rolls. It was a dirty grind, water sloshing out of the tub like waves licking the shore. When Jake found a nipple and rolled it between his lips, his tongue tasting her flesh and his teeth nipping at it, Stella tugged at the little bits of longer hair atop Jake's head as she squeaked out a pleasurable sound. One of Jake's large hands palmed down her back and over the curve of her ass, squeezing her cheek as she rocked all whilst he played with her breasts. The same hand soon found its way between their bodies and pressed hard into her clit before smoothing upward over her tummy and grasping her left breast, kneading it gently. The more he gave, the more she took and before long she was grinding down against him, her breathing ragged as he thrust up, hard, his hands dropping to her hips.  “Come on baby,” he groaned as her head fell back, his lips nipping against her collar bone, “fuck, I love you.” “Love you.” She groaned as he thrust up, her hands curling over his shoulders, nails biting his skin. “Shit, Jakey, I’m gonna...” “Cum baby, come on.” His jaw clenched as her body trembled and her eyes fluttered closed, as she let out a broken, whispered groan. As she clenched around him, Jake gave a soft growl of his own, his hips moving slightly faster as he rutted up, pulling her down onto him. The coil in his abdomen that had been tightening and tightening snapped and his entire body surrendered, a surge of warmth spreading from his belly outwards and he stilled, his cock twitching as he came. A few sloppy thrusts later and he stilled with a satisfied him, his hands moving to smooth Stella’s damp hair back off her face as hers cupped his cheeks. She simply looked at him for a moment and he gave her a grin causing her to chuckle as she pressed a soft kiss to his mouth.  “Jesus Christ, that was amazing.” Jensen mumbled and Stella grinned, her lips meeting his once more. They stayed still for a moment, soft kisses being shared until Stella shivered a little and Jake helped her move off him so he could get out of the tub and leave her to finish off. He grabbed a towel and his glasses from the basin unit before he dried off, gathered his discarded clothes and headed onto the small landing of the accommodation. Pooch, who was just emerging from the other bedroom shot him a look. “You better clean that damned bathroom before I use it.” He arched his eyebrow and Jensen grinned. “You’re like the best disgusting person I know.” Pooch continued with a snort before he nodded his head to the stairs. “Take it you’re two ain’t coming?” “Already came, Poochy.” Jensen grinned as he walked to their bedroom, laughing as the sounds of Pooch’s groans of disgust hit his ears.

****

Stella woke the next morning to a burning deep in her core and Jake’s face between her legs. Her orgasm roused her much better than any alarm or cup of coffee ever could and as Jake stuffed himself insider her, his mouth nipping softly at her neck, she smiled softly to herself as she realised he’d done this very thing the first morning they’d moved up to college together.

After pulling on her Army Uniform cargo pants, Stella tucked her khaki green tee into the waist and adjusted the belt before she sat down and laced up her heavy boots as Jake fiddled with the collar of his, complaining that it felt tight. When Stella pointed out he was slightly more built than he had been last time he wore it a good few months ago, he grinned and flexed his arms to give her the ‘gun show’ making her snort and shake her head.

They headed out of the house and walked the half a mile to the main gate of the base, flashing their ID and making their way to the Mess for breakfast where they met with the rest of the team, Pooch giving them another filthy look as their antics had continued beyond the bathroom and much later into the night. Once they’d finished eating, they each grabbed a coffee to go and headed down to the War Rooms - a network of conference rooms and IT facilities nestled in a bunker along the runway of the RAF Base - and settled down in the leather seats around the large, polished mahogany table ready for whoever it was from the CIA that would be arriving to give the debrief.

They’d been there for roughly half an hour or so and Jensen was already bored. He was messing around, twirling his pen in-between his fingers, the other tapping against the disposable coffee cup. After a pause, he took his pen and began to draw a face on the white plastic lid.

“What are you doing?” Stella looked at him, having caught his fiddling in the corner of her eye.

“I’m bored, Stelly,” his voice was a childish whine, “where is this guy anyway? We’ve been waiting here for like thirty minutes!”

“Just take the fucking pen off him, Arty.” Roque groaned. Stella reached over for it and snatched it away”

“Hey, that’s mine!”

“Jensen, shut up!” Roque shot back and Jensen turned to him.

“Why? It’s not like anyone is talking anyway.”

“You, you’re talking. As usual. Put a sock in it.” Roque turned to Stell as Clay stood up and walked to the door to see if anyone was coming. “How the fuck do you put up with this?”

“He has his mouth busy most of the time.” Stella quipped as she leaned back in the chair and Jensen gave her a dopey grin.

Both Roque and Pooch let out noises of disgust, Cougar’s chuckle just audible from the other side of the table where he lounged with his feet on the table and his hat pulled down over his eyes.

“Yeah, laugh all you want but next time it’s you sharing the digs with them.” Pooch looked at him. “I’m done.”

“Chill out.” Cougar replied and Pooch blinked.

“Did you just tell me to chill?”

Cougar smirked in response, tipping his hat up slightly to flash Pooch a wink.

“The Pooch is perfectly chilled.”

“The Pooch refers to himself in the third person,” Jensen shook his head, “that’s so not chill.”

“Oh…this just got even better.” Clay’s remark had them all turning towards him, the teasing banter dying off as Roque sat up.

“What?”

Clay simply walked into the room, rolling his eyes. Less than five seconds later, in walked a very familiar face.

“Oh great.” Jake mumbled as Stella blinked, coming face to face with her ex for the first time since he’d stormed out of her apartment all those months ago.

“Good Morning.” Evan greeted them all before he nodded to Stella, a little awkwardly. “Hey.”

“Evan, hi... what are you... what are you doing here?” She asked and Evan took a deep breath.

“It was my intel you guys were running down so I’m here for debrief.”

“That was your intel?” Pooch spoke and Evan nodded.

“Yeah, we’ve been tracking Khalil for a while and reached out to him a while ago to offer him a deal. He declined so we needed to bring him in.” Evan nodded. “His activities were giving us cause for concern, not to mention with the Russians behind him. We needed to make the grab before he got even more power behind his cause.”

Jake sensed Stella tensing slightly besides him and slid his hand over her thigh. Her fingers gently locked over his as she kept her gaze on Evan, who had spotted the subtle movement of Jake’s hand. He didn’t say anything, instead the man’s eyes flicked to Jake’s who simply stared back before Roque chipped in.

“So, we got the guy. Did he give you what you needed?”

“I can’t tell you that.” Evan replied, apologetically. “It’s classified, need to know basis.”

“In that case I don’t wanna know.” Pooch mumbled.

Stella’s mind was whirling. Truth be told, she’d started to think about exactly why they’d been dispatched to capture this particular guy alive, when his type were ten-a-penny all over the place. There was a lot more to it than the fact this guy’s ideologies didn’t fit with those of the Western World.  And then, the final little piece dropped into place in her analytical brain and she turned her head to see Clay watching her.

“Did you know?” She asked.

Clay shook his head. “Suspected but…”

“Suspected what?” Jensen looked at Clay then Stella. “Babe?”

She took a deep breath. “There’s a reason why we were on a capture not kill mission. At first I assumed it was to do with not making him a martyr but then throwing him in prison would cause just as much unrest. But that unrest will die down when he’s released in a few months in exchange for his cooperation for details on his Russian backers and arms suppliers.”

The rest of the team looked at her, then to Evan who blinked, his face remaining stoic as Stella shook her head and continued.

“He then lets his supporters know that he and his friends in Russia had a disagreement and he was traded away. He retires to some island somewhere, under the careful watch of the UN and fades away into non-existence.”

There was silence and Evan took a deep breath, “it’s not quite as simple as that, Stel…Stevenson, but yeah, that’s pretty much the basics.”

“God, this is so fucking bent.” Stella shook her head. “It’s no wonder the entire world hates us.”

“You know, considering you technically work for the CIA and the Armed Forces, you kinda signed up for this.” Clay raised his eyebrow as Stella rolled her eyes.

“We tried to negotiate terms with him. He turned them down.” Evan replied, matter-of-factly. “So we sent you in to enforce them. The rest, as I stated a minute or so ago, you really don’t need to know.”

“Yeah, classified, we heard.” Clay replied, leaning back in his chair.

“Did you suspect the Lebanese Special Service would try a double cross?” Roque looked at Evan and the man shot him an apologetic look.

“It was always possible, yeah. But you know how it goes…”

Roque scoffed and Cougar shifted in his seat, Evan’s eyes flicking to him before he took a deep breath and shrugged.

“If it helps, think of the bigger picture. We remove their leader, cut off the Russian support, and suddenly the LFP is nothing more than an overhyped street gang...”

“Yeah, that doesn’t really help.” Jensen wrinkled his nose and Evan shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Well, that’s your opinion. Not ours.” He cleared his throat, “anyway, it’s done. The mission is over. For now, you guys need to lay low. We’ve cleared it with the RAF for you to stay in the area for a while until all the fuss about Khalil going missing has died down. We’ll be monitoring all the usual lines and channels of communication, making sure no one has your descriptions and doing what we can to keep your faces out of the public eye.” Evan paused. “But, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you what happens if we can’t.”

At that The Losers simply looked at one another. Evan was right, they didn’t need reminding. That was the whole point of the CIA running the number of Black-Ops teams it did. It gave them a way to do the slightly grey area dirty jobs and remain at arm’s length, denying all responsibility if required.

“Any idea on how long that’s gonna be?” Pooch asked. 

“Probably be a week, maybe two. But once we’re confident we’re clear, we’ll send word and get you back to the US.” Evan replied.

“So what you’re saying is we got two weeks off?” Cougar spoke and Evan looked at him, giving a shrug.

Pooch grinned and fist bumped Cougar.

“Are you staying here too?” Jensen looked at Evan and he shook his head.

“Don’t worry, I’m flying back to Virginia tonight”

“I’m not really worried…” Jake shrugged. There was a moment where both men simply stared at each other until Clay coughed.

“Right, is there anything else?”

“Mission reports due as usual, next forty eight hours.” Evan turned his head away from Jensen and looked around the team. “I’ve arranged access into the Red Network from the hub on the base. Your liaison officer, Wing Commander Levinson, says he can set you guys up with time on the range or the phys- ops courses too, have you join their drills if you want. Might be an idea to keep yourselves sharp.”

Cougar, Pooch and Jake all groaned at the suggestion of the physical training whilst Roque and Stella looked at one another, nodding.

“Yeah, I can go for that.” Roque agreed.

“And that’s it, other than on behalf of the CIA I wanted to thank you, it was a slick operation. We’re really pleased with how this one turned out.”

The team exchanged looks and soft smiles, before Clay stood up.

“Okay, Losers. Let’s grab some more coffee and then we can regroup. Figure out what we do for the next two weeks.

Movement filled the room as they all stood to leave, and just as Stella had picked up her empty coffee cup, Evan cleared his throat.

“Stella, can I have a word?”

She hesitated and Jake turned to look at her. He opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off. “Jakey, it’s fine. Go, I’ll catch you up.”

He blinked, before he turned to Evan, the glare he gave him positively filthy before he turned and left the room. Evan and Stella stood still watching him go, before Stella turned to Evan, the man giving her a soft smile.

“You look well. Being happy suits you.” His tone carried no anger, and Stella found herself returning his smile before she sighed and shook her head.

“Listen Evan, I...”

“It’s okay Stella,” he spoke, holding his hand up, “I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to apologize. I was an asshole when you broke up with me.” Stella took a deep breath as he continued. “The way I acted and the things I said were horrible. My mother would be ashamed and I just ...” he shrugged. “I wanted to let you know I was sorry, that’s all.”

Slightly surprised at his outwardly contrite tone, Stella simply shook her head. “It’s okay. You were hurt. I hurt you.”

“Yeah you did but that doesn’t excuse the way I reacted. So, like I said, I’m sorry.” He smiled, gesturing with his hand to the door. “And I’m glad that you and Jake are, you know, making it work.”

As he spoke the final like, that tell-tale nerve in his jaw twitched a little and Stella knew that he wasn’t happy, at all. But, given that the rest of his apology had been genuine, she accepted the gesture for what it was.

“Thank you.” She gave a soft smile. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. I did like you Ev, it just…”

“It wasn’t meant to be.” He shrugged. “Yeah, I get that now. And hey, no hard feelings. If we hadn’t broken up I’d never have met Talia so…”

“Oh, you’re seeing someone?”

“Yeah.” Evan nodded. “It’s early days, we’ve had a few dates and been away for a weekend. She’s nice, I like her.”

“Good, well I hope it works out.” Stella smiled. There was a pause before she took a breath. “I better…” she jerked her hand towards the door and Evan nodded.

“Of course…”

“I’ll, erm, see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah, take care, Stella.”

“You too, Evan.”

With a final smile at one another, Stella left the room and headed back up the corridor. Jake was waiting outside for her, leaning against the wall of the building.

“All okay?” He asked and she nodded.

“Yeah.”

“What did he want?”

“To apologise for the way he acted when we broke up.” Stella shrugged. “That was it, oh, and he’s seeing someone else. Which is nice. I hope it works for him. He’s a good guy.”

Jensen made a non-committal noise in his throat and Stella looked at him. “Don’t start.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t need to.” Stella rolled her eyes. “Stop.”

“Okay, okay, sorry. I just, well, I don’t know what it is but I still don’t trust him, never have. He’s shady.”

“He’s an intel officer for the CIA.” Stella scoffed, taking Jake’s hand. “We’re a Black-Ops team. Far more shady than he is.”

“Suppose.” Jensen sniffed, as the two of them walked down the side of the building. As they went, Jensen suddenly had a sense of unease. Almost as if they were being watched. He turned his head to glance over his shoulder, but found no one. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head, telling himself he was being ridiculous. They were on a secure Military Base, probably the safest place they could be given the circumstances.

“You okay?” Stella asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” he assured her, “so, the rest of The Losers are in the coffee shop. Pooch is already on his phone checking out local bars, fancy hitting a few tonight?”

“Why not?” Stell grinned up at him, leaning up to place a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw. Jake smiled, and pulled her closer as they headed off to join up with the rest of the team, casting a final glance over his shoulder, once more seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

**** Chapter 10

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Our Doll 13//Rumlow

B.Barnes x S.Rogers, B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

Series Synopsis | After the events of the horrific past, y/n Stark, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes have finally admitted their feelings for each other. But is life as an avenger whilst dating two super soldiers any easier than anything y/n’s experienced in the past?

sequel Series to Their Doll

Series Warnings | smut, violence, torture, swearing, threesomes, drug usage/substance abuse

Chapter Summary | Peter comes up with a plan to get y/n to safety. Steve attempts to find the man controlling her

Warnings | swearing maybe? Slight violence

A/n | This is a sequel book/series to my fic Their Doll! This book loosely follows the mcu timeline, starting in CAWS in book one and starting just before AOU in this book. Bucky had been recovered and is safe, and Peter was taken under Tony's wing when he was much younger.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The plan was simple.

Get in, get her out.

Peter, to his credit, had thought through the plan in such detail that Bucky was strained to find a fault. Even a small one.

The boy had recruited Bucky and Wanda to reenact his scheme, the two being the only people he knew would be one hundred percent on board.

Other than Steve, who was on a 'very important mission' and wouldn't tell anyone about it. All they knew was that he'd taken a strike team with him and didn't know when he would be back.

He'd thought through everything: how to avoid triggering any alarms, which doors to use, who would do what to make everything seem less suspicious. He'd even considered the physics of anyone being able to spot them running from any of the rooms around the back of the compound, from any angle.

Just in case someone was angsty and couldn't sleep, he'd informed Bucky and Wanda.

Peter was currently hanging from the side of the glassy building, webs holding strong as he leant his weight back into them and waited for the signal.

Bucky was down in the cell with y/n, under the pretence of checking on her as Wanda used her powers to break into the security system. The aim was to retrieve y/n without making a sound, or alert the others.

A flash of red. The quiet click of a door shutting.

Peter took his cue.

The boy swung down, quickly webbing the heavy, metal door shut when the flutter of ginger had followed Bucky and y/n out the back of the compound.

Door sealed and little chance of a break-in, Peter goaded the three Avengers past the tree line as he swung from branch to creaky branch.

"Go, go, go!" His voice was coming out as a hoarse whisper as Bucky's legs worked mechanically - y/n's sleeping frame locked tightly against his chest as Wanda followed closely behind.

The girl's head kept turning, checking behind them to see if anyone was following. But no one was ever there, only the crisscrossed leaves and shrubs covering their tracks with such accuracy that the scarlet witch could hardly believe it.

Bucky broke through the clearing just after Peter, the young boy already holding the car door open for Bucky to slide his girl onto the backseat.

The car was run-down and shabby - looking just old enough to blend in but not too obvious as if to scream 'were trying to be inconspicuous'.

The car door shut as slowly as Bucky could make it before he was running around to the front - bionic arm yanking the driver's side door open before he hopped in himself.

"Are you going to be alright?" Wanda asked, only a hint of her accent left to grace her voice now. Bucky nodded, nimble fingers twisting the keys in the ignition until the car roared to life.

She wiggled her fingers, a movement Bucky struggled not to find funny, and a little stream of glowing crimson flowed from them. It curled under y/n's nose, the sleeping girl instantly groaning with protest as she begun to stir.

"Tell Steve I'm sorry, but this was the only way." Bucky gritted out, throat dry and sticky as the words crawled into his mouth. Wanda nodded, ready to walk away when Bucky's hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"And give him this - but only when he starts to look for us." Bucky proclaimed, taking a ruffled envelope from one of his pockets; the paper was crinkled and creased, had clearly been stuffed into his pocket for a while now.

Wanda took the letter between her fingers, a small tear pricking at her eye when she read the name scribbled over the back in rushed - yet somehow neat - handwriting:

My greatest love...

"I will, he'll get it." Wanda nodded, folding the envelope and pushing it into her back pocket. "I promise."

"Thank you." With his last words spoken, Bucky gave a thankful nod to Peter - who had hung back awkwardly behind Wanda until now - before rolling his window up and pressing his foot on the accelerator.

Steve's foot stung as it crashed through the door, yet the super soldier ignored it as he paced past the now-splintered wood with little care.

"Where is he?!" Steve spat, the words like a venom in his mouth as he crowded a cowering man in black tack gear. His strike team followed closely behind, guns raised in a defensive position just in case there were unexpected hostiles in the room.

"I-I don't know! I swear!" The man stuttered, teeth clashing together as he stumbled blindly backwards towards a wall. He squeaked when he made contact with the bricks, sucking in a breath as Steve held his shield against the man's neck.

"I don't believe you." Steve grated through bared teeth, the vein popping out in his forehead as he flushed red with anger. "Tell me."

"Okay! Okay, I'll tell you." The man whimpered as Steve pressed the shield harsher against his oesophagus, his shaking hands raised in hopeless surrender. "He's in a safe house, a few miles from here - he recently came back for supplies then left. He said he'd never be coming back."

Steve pulled away as the man cowered, a shout of annoyance ripping from his throat as he threw the shield against the wall.

Steve grunted as he caught the vibranium, looking over to his team.

"We need to find him! I won't have my girlfriend controlled by some- some monster!" Steve barked. A chorus of 'yes, Captain's echoed from the men. Someone was already on comms and Steve was careering back across the room.

"Captain, we may have a location." One of his men spoke up sheepishly after a moment, pulling away from their laptop.

"And?" Steve prompted, brow raised.

"It's only a few miles north - we could be there within minutes and they'd never see us coming." Steve sprung into action at the words; he pushed off the table he'd been leant against and made his way outside the building they'd just breached.

"Find a car with keys in - our vans are too obvious and can be spotted from a mile away." Steve directed.

"Yes, Captain." One of his team said, and they were quickly followed by two others as they went in search for a car.

"We need to be quick and inconspicuous - turn off the comms, they may be able to detect the link. I want all out - if we fail, y/n could never be back to full control again. Got it?" Steve finished his instruction as he turned around to face the rest of his team and they all nodded. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, captain!" They all agreed.

"Then get to it."

So much for a simple plan.

...

"B-bucky? Where am I?" Y/n's voice was saturated with sleep, drowsy and dopey as she propped her frame up on her elbow. "Where are we?"

"We're going somewhere safe, Doll. You're going to be safe now." Bucky promised, blue eyes flitting to meet y/n's in the mirror as he kept his hands on the steering wheel in a firm grip.

"Where's Steve?" Bucky felt his heart drop at the words. This was the only downfall of Peter's plan - they'd have to leave Steve.

"He's on a mission." Bucky answered simply.

"He's not coming with us, is he?" Y/n affirmed, eyes glinting with a hue of guilt.

"No."

"What- I had some dreams...I think." Y/n mumbled, pressing her hand to her forehead as she felt a dull ache forming.

"Were they good?" Bucky asked, making a left at a junction. Y/n took a moment to assemble her words.

"The best. It was- it was our life, Bucky. But it was..." she trailed off, pieces of her story shattering away from her memory.

"In the 40s?" Bucky finished for her and y/n's eyes widened.

"Yes. How did you know?" Y/n demanded with squinted eyes and Bucky chuckled lightly.

"They weren't dreams, doll. Wanda made a new reality in your mind. Someone was getting in so we had to keep them out. Now put your seatbelt on." Bucky explained and y/n have him a glare.

"So who, uh, how was it possible?" Y/n queried as she sat up properly. The soft click of her buckle filled the space of the small car until Bucky answered.

"Wanda. She's been so helpful, that Parker boy too." Bucky commented and y/n quirked a brow.

"Peter?"

"Yeah, this whole plan to get you out was his idea. Smart boy." Bucky commended.

"Huh." The girl considered. "Do you know who was - what did you say? - 'getting into' my mind?" Bucky sucked in a breath. Y/n frowned and nudged his shoulder with the tips of her fingers. "Tell me."

"Rumlow."

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