#I thought if killer's and dust's souls were this fucked up. their bodies should be fucked up too.

[soaked-ghost]

girls that struggle to breath and can't maintain a stable form and who hate each other

[mistyresolve]

| RTB - Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Pilot Reader

Word Count - 3.4k

Summary - The reader is the pilot, AKA Stitch, of an apache helicopter, one the most dangerous, advanced killers in the sky. She’s been the 141′s go-to when they need aerial support for a year. After their latest mission, Ghost seeks out Stitch to offer a special thank you.

Warnings/Tags - 18+ ONLY, swearing, dry humping, switch, unprotected sex, creampie 

A/N - If you haven't already, I would suggest you read Incident Report before this one

Masterlist  ❤︎

Soot and smoke coated Ghost’s tongue and every breath felt like an attack on his lungs. The smell of burning flesh and gunpowder made his head spin. All that combined with adrenaline and anger, it was his life support. He clung to his senses with a feverish need. Rubble and bullet shells littered the ground around them. His once-black uniform took on a greyish hue from all the dust. Sweat rolled down his back and he had to blink it from his eyes. 

Beside him, Price was on the radio, his outrage tangible as he called for aerial backup for a third time, “I’ve got my men pinned here! Where the fuck is my support!”.   

Ghost felt a bullet's heat as it raced past the exposed skin of his neck, leaving behind the ghost of a burn. He ducked down behind the concrete barrier, cursing at himself, “We won’t be able to hold this position for much longer, Price. We need a plan to get us the fuck out of here,” Simon repositioned himself for a better vantage point. Ghost had long since run out of ammo and had resorted to picking up magazines from his dead comrades. He silently thanked every one of them, ripping off the dog tags from the few he could to take back to base with him. 

Price gave him a curt nod, “Chopper is five minutes out. They were diverted from another mission.” his face was grim and every muscle in his body was taut, readying to run for new cover or the bite of a bullet. Five minutes was a lot of time in situations like this, a lot could happen in a matter of seconds. He could die in half that. 

The team was forced into a corner of the compound, and they were getting hammered.  There was nowhere left to go. He kept one eye on the darkening sky beyond the compound's wall, hoping to catch a glimpse of the incoming heli. He figured the pilots on board would have reached out by now, but the radio remained utterly and eerily silent. 

He craned his neck, hearing the distant sound of its propellors, but with the ruckus around them, it was difficult to determine exactly how far out it was. Something in his soul urged him to bring his radio to his mouth, “We’re in the southwest corner,” he was speaking to the pilots, who were most likely biding their time before revealing their presence to the enemy. If that were the case they were probably dark, using minimal instruments to keep their profile as discreet as possible. 

Then he saw it. The slightly darker patch of sky. 

Then it was firing, and screams followed. 

And just like that, this fight was shifted in their favour. 

Bursts of orange and red as fire erupted from the helicopter's guns in erratic intervals, and in between they would shift positions, making it nearly impossible to predict where they would shoot from next.           

Then a very familiar voice came across the radio, “Hello boys.”

An involuntary smile split across Ghost’s face.

“You’re fashionably late,” Price quipped back. 

“And here I thought you’d be excited to see us,” you replied as you dipped the heli back behind the walls, using it as cover as you moved closer to the closed gates keeping them from their escape, “Should I knock?”

They didn’t bother with a reply before Dutch let loose, blasting open the gates. You could nearly hear his smile, “Ladies first.”  

Being diverted from a different mission meant you didn’t have nearly enough firepower or fuel to do any real damage, but you could do enough so the soldier below would be able to breathe a little and regain their footing.   

You glanced down at your fuel gauge, cursing, “We’ve got five minutes of fuel before we’re RTB. Give me some targets,” You couldn’t stop yourself from searching the ground below in hopes of seeing a familiar figure.

Someone pointed a laser at one of the watchtowers, marking it and the people within as prey. You angled the aircraft, giving Dutch a clear view of the tower. With the help of the last HELLFIRE missile you had, it was desecrated in a matter of seconds. 

The floodlights that were pointed to the outside of the compound turned on, momentarily blinding you. The enemy used the distraction to shoot back at you. Bullets dinged off the sides of the Apache.

“Smoke!” someone called from over the radio.

“Flares,” your muscle memories kicked in, your thumb finding the appropriate buttons as your eyes still had yet to adjust. Somewhere beyond the cockpit, you heard as your flares interrupt your death. You gritted your teeth, you weren’t sure you had the firepower left to fight this fight, but the thought of leaving those guys down there helpless wasn’t one you were willing to have. 

Your attention snagged on the fuel. 

You didn’t have a choice. You were already cutting it close. 

Dutch listed off what he had left to throw at him. The list was devastatingly short.     

“I have one more good run before I have to turn back.” 

Another laser pointed to a truck on the other side of the now blown open door, a mounted machine gun giving suppressant fire to the ground crew. With that truck, even with the gate opened, they weren’t going anywhere. 

“Copy,” Dutch replied, his head already turned and locking in on the target. He unloaded the last of his rounds into the truck and the surrounding area. 

Reluctantly, you pulled back from the fight, “We’re RTB,” again you search for Ghost amongst the group. Finally catching the flash of white of his skull mask. The nerves that gripped your chest loosened, “And as much as I love these play dates with you guys try and stay out of trouble will you?” 

You’d arrived back to base a few hours ago but still had yet to change out of your jumpsuit. You were immediately dragged into a debrief. You checked your watch for what seemed like the hundredth time since this meeting began.

Task Force 141 has yet to return, and you were beginning to ruminate. While in the sky it was easier to ignore your feelings, having to focus on not being struck by an anti-air and falling out of the sky didn’t allow for such mundane activities. Now that you were on the ground, you had all the time and safety in the world to just think. 

You could say that’s why you loved flying so much. You’d never be able to say it out loud under the fear that you’d be grounded for a month under the mental health act; but, you’d sooner die than give up flying. 

Suppressing a yawn you sat next to Dutch in the room, arms crossed and legs stretched out in front of you. Your eyes grew heavy as you blinked up at the screen before you. You leaned closer to Dutch, “You think they’d notice if I just left?” 

A mischievous smile tugged at his mouth, “Not if you crawled.”

You pinched his thigh, scowling, “You’re a pervert.” 

There were probably twenty other people in this room right now. You could undoubtedly sneak out. 

A shiver raced down your spine, and your instinct told you that someone was looking at you. You peeked over your shoulder and locked eyes with the tall ominous figure standing at the back of the room. His hand still hovering over the doorknob. He jerked his chin to the hallway. A silent invitation to join him. 

Dutch was already rolling his eyes in pretend irritation, “You’re boyfriend beckons you.”

You made a face at him, “He’s not my boyfriend.” 

“Tell him that.”

You bit your lip to keep from grinning at the idea. You two were by no means together. Not to say that there wasn’t something there that could potentially foster such as relationship, but now wasn’t the right time. Neither of you had the time or the means for it. It would only compromise both of your work. 

And relationships between two soldiers were frowned upon by the higher-ups.  

You stood up silently, kicking Dutches ankles on your way by.   

Ghost slipped out of the room all too silently. You met him just down the hall.

His eyes dipped to your chest and heated. You removed the top of your jumpsuit and tied it around your waist, revealing the plain black tank underneath that did everything right to show off your curves. 

Then he was looking everywhere but you, his shoulders tensing, before he started to walk down the hallway. You fell into pace beside him. 

You check over him, looking for any signs of injury. Once satisfied that you couldn’t find anything you tilted your face up to his, “You guys should've had an aircraft on standby for that mission,” you reprimanded, half annoyed with him for getting into danger. 

He shrugged, “It was supposed to be covert.”

You analyzed his dark uniform, perfect for blending into the night and the shadows. He didn’t have his gun, and he carried his tactical vest in his hand. 

“You guys were lucky we had enough fuel to divert our route. What if we weren’t there?” you bit out, anger flushing your skin. 

He opened a door for you. The door to his accommodations, you realized. You couldn’t help but notice the space still smelled like you. Or your signature scene of eucalyptus and lavender. You’ve been spending a condemning amount of time here, and with him.  

“Good thing we’re lucky,” he pulled at the words with his tongue before turning back to you, eyes flashing to your figure again. His hands reached down to the know that kept your jumpsuit tied to your waist and tugged you closer to him, his other hand wrapping around the back of your neck. You could still smell the fight on him. Dirt and smoke. A now familiar smell. 

Your fingers hooked around his belt loops. Heat radiated off of him and warmed your front. Already you were breathless. 

He shook his head, “It’s a damn good thing you were there.”

A question formed and you tilted your head at him, lips parting, “How did you know to tell us where you were? How did you know we were already there?” You had made sure your ETA was skewed to disorientate the enemy if they had access to your guys’ comms.  

“I figured there was a reason you guys were dark,” his hand traced the lines of your body, memorizing the feel of you under his fingers. They twitched impatiently against you. He slowly walked you backwards to the door to his bedroom, taking his time in watching you stumble over your weakening knees. “How can I thank you?” 

If he could read your mind and all the filthy thoughts that popped into your mind, he hid it well. Your ears burned in chagrin. You tugged his shirt out from his pants, diving underneath to touch his skin, “Let me touch you.” 

Ghost bit back a hiss when you dug your nails into his abdomen. He kicked the door closed behind him, reaching back only to lock it. Within seconds, his shirt was discarded somewhere on the floor, his muscles on full display as he did so. Your mouth went dry and the sight and the heat that was just at the tips of your ears shot down between your legs. No amount of time would ever tire you of seeing this man undress. 

Next was his mask, revealing the devilishly beautiful man underneath. The only way you could describe him was as “sinful”. Black still smeared across his features but it only accentuated his features.   

Fuck, you would eat out of the palm of his hand if he told you to. 

Whatever he saw on your face made him look away from you with a shy smile, a breath of a laugh escaping him. 

You brought his face back to yours, and you had to stand on your toes to reach his mouth. You’d be a fool to think that the kiss was anything but greedy. His mouth immediately opened to yours and he tilted your head with a hand to deepen it. You pressed yourself into him, needing to feel him against every inch of you. A calloused hand reached to touch the bare skin under your tank and traced the line of your spine. Your tongue brushed against him, and you turned to liquid.   

He undid the knot of your jumpsuit, and you stepped out of it. Leaving you bare apart from the tank top, a bra, and underwear.

This time, it was your turn to guide him. You took him to his bed, “Lay down.”

He didn’t waste a second and pulled you down with him. You were a tangle of limbs before you planted your knees on either side of his hips. With shaking fingers, you shamelessly outlined the lines and curves of his abs and chest.    

Not once did either of you break the kiss, which had become a mess of breath and lips and teeth.

You pressed your hips into his, finding his own arousal there. He groaned at the pressure, hands flying to your waist, and pulling you harder to him. Already a carnal heat that only showed up when you were with him was building somewhere low in your womb. And even lower still.

God, he felt good.   

He was going to be the death of you. You were going to burn up in his arms until there was nothing left of you but your need for him. 

He paused for a second, his hand disappearing under the waistband of his pants to readjust himself to better align with your strides. You tested, feeling the full length of him pressed to your core, “Carry on,” before his smile could take form it fell away to a hiss when you began a languid pace.  

You rolled yourself down on him, your mouth finding the pulse at his throat and licked a stripe it. 

Simon liked to pride himself on his control over his needs. He wasn’t a teenage boy after all. He was a man who was more than capable of asserting some sort of rule over his body. 

Until just now. 

Right then, his entire mind went blank.

He wasn’t sure if he had inhaled too much smoke or if he over-exerted himself today, but that control was nowhere to be seen. His hands fell to your thighs, allowing you full reign on the speed and intensity. 

You felt a knot at the apex of your tights tighten, and the liquid arousal that accompanied your desire. You hadn’t even cum yet and you were already soaking through your panties and his pants.

Your kisses to his skin turn into hot desperate breaths, and it sent tingles throughout his body. Your moans were like fuel to a flame and it was driving him insane.    

You clung to him, his skin slick with yours and his sweat, as you chased after your climax. He let you use him however you needed. Some ludicrous and giddy part of him revelled at the fact that he wasn’t even inside you and you were still half-wild for him. 

Suddenly, your pace stuttered and became erratic. That knot finally loosened and you melted onto him, your body twitching, but you maintained some form of a rhythm.   

You pulled back to look at him, his eyes squeezed shut and his bottom lips pulled between his teeth.   

You felt him jerk under you, pressing himself impossibly closer to you, his mouth falling open into a downright filthy moan. 

You welcomed the wet warmth between him and you that followed. 

You chased after his release with him. 

You also came back down with him, slowing down to a purr on top of him. 

He was breathless, his body jolting with every change of direction.

He would have been a little embarrassed for cumming in his pants if it hadn’t felt so fucking good. 

“So sensitive,” you crooned, drawing a line from his heart to the line of hair that faded into the cover of his pants. At first, you weren’t sure he heard you, but then he was growling and flipping you off him. You were face down on the bad, trapped underneath him, his knees moving to spread your legs apart. 

“Shouldn’ve said that,” he snarled, his voice dangerous. 

He pressed himself into your backside. 

He was still devastatingly hard. 

You whimpered into his bed, arching your back.

A hand slapped your clothes pussy and you mewled at him in understanding. 

Do. Not. Move.

Then the fingers of the same hand outlined your folds over the already damp fabric, focusing on your clit. With his weight on top of you giving your lungs little room to expand and the fact that your brain was short-circuiting your breaths become shallow and unproductive.

He pressed his fingers into your cunt, the only thing keeping him from actually entering you was your panties. 

You writhed, desperate for friction. A second slap against your heat stilled you. 

“Ohmygod,” you breathed, your legs trembling.

He pushed the cursed fabric down your legs, stopping at your knees. His fingers delved into the slickness there. He swore, almost impressed with how wet you actually were. 

Spread your arousal everywhere, across your folds, the sides of your thighs, up to the rounds of your ass. He wanted you a mess in his bed. And you were. You weren’t sure if you were drooling or not, but there was a high chance you were. 

Then his attention was back at your core, finger sliding into you without so much as a warning. Your greedy pussy tightened around his fingers, milking them as if they were his cock. His approving groan was nearly enough to send you over the edge. He was whispering naughty, impish things into your ear. Your name rolled off his tongue in a way that made to want to scream.  

Still sensitive from before, it didn’t take much from him to entice another orgasm from you. Time wrapped but it couldn’t have been less than a minute before you were spasming around his fingers, and your mind was momentarily fried. 

He was whispering in your ear. Your comprehension went out the window so didn’t know what he was saying but from the tone of his voice, he was mocking you. 

You felt him shift so he was behind you. He attempted to knock your legs further apart but your panties were still locked around your knees, tying them together. 

You felt something warm and velvety soft tap at your entrance. Once, twice. He slid his cock between his fld, coating himself in you. 

He asked you a question, probably for permission. The thought that you could string together a coherent sentence right now was laughable. You weren’t even sure you could be trusted to provide your own name. 

You could only nod and with your last dregs of will, lift your hips to his.     

There was no amount the sex or foreplay that could prepare you for the sheer fucking size of him. He wasn’t just long, not that his eight inches was something to roll your eyes at, but he was thick. Thick enough that when you took him into your mouth, your jaw would ache for days afterward. He was always gentle and never shoved himself inside you like an animal, but you still needed a few seconds to catch your breath each time.  

The broken sound that same out of you was naughty, and Simon had to bite his lip to keep from cumming from the sound alone. You were also impossibly tight, but he’d be damned if he got bested by you a second time tonight. 

He cruised into a fast pace, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. The tip of his dick hit your cervix with every thrust. And with every retreat, he brushed against your g spot.  

In these moments, there was only him. Only the sounds of his breath, and the feel of his skin. It made him addicting. When with him, especially like this, it was like a moment of reprieve from worries and stresses in life. 

The world could be ending and you wouldn’t care. There could be air raids and a fire outside your door and you would still feel completely safe with him. Death and hurt couldn’t reach you when you were in his arms.  

His rhythm faltered when you squeezed around him, and he cursed, his arms moved from your ass to brace around you. He just arms shook to keep from crushing you.  

He could feel you quivering, both around him and beneath him as your third orgasm approached. 

You were going to be the death of him, and he didn’t mind one bit. 

You writhed under him as you reached your undoeing, unsure if you wanted him further in or out of you.  

You could feel his seed spurt out of him, and coat your inner walls. You could feel his cock twitch with every spray. 

He started to slow, letting you reel yourself back into your body. You were spooled out across his bed, onto the floor, floating in the air. 

He slid off the bed, carefully tucking himself back into his pants. Which, only now did you realize he didn’t have the patient to remove. He was all wandering eyes and a rueful grin. He was slightly out of breath when he spoke, “So sensitive.” 

A/N: You like that?

[havarstpapyrus]

Nightmares left hand man of should I say boys..

Dust and Pyrus

Now this is going to be long as there two of them and will be done separately on this one post so I'll be doing Dust for the beginning then switch to Pyrus then back to Dust and so on

Up first is Dust ^^ let's get his good stuff down first

° Mumbles to Pyrus while talking when others are around - irritates the fuck out of Cross -

° Wishs to have a pet snake

° Enjoys reading with Leo

° Loves to play card games

° Sometimes does pranks

° Loves the smell of candles

° Loves Leo and Horror equally

° Treasures Pyrus old scarf - what's left of it -

° Loves to sleep in Horrors clean hoodies

° Will help clean the castle with Pyrus

° Magic training

° His AU before everything happened

° Loves his brother

° Loves being around everyone

Now it's Pyrus goodies now ^^

° Loves pulling pranks

° Adores small animals

° Collects squish mellows

° Playing card games - extermly good at it-

° Teasing Dust

° Sometimes likes to possess Dust

° Adores Leo and Horror

° S'mores

° Cooking

° Scented candles

° Bomfires

° His scarf - what's left of it -

° Being a gremlin

° Knitting

Now on to the bad and dislikes for Dust

° Killer

° Doing supply runs

° Genocide

° Pyrus Squish mellows

° Having Nightmares

° Cock block

° Being alone

° Bright Colors

° Being possessed

° Having to kill

° Being defenseless

° Hates Liars

° Keeping Promises

° Hates the smell of Fish

° Losing to Killer

° Eating to much

° Nightmares Corruption

Here's Pyrus dislikes and hates

° Hates Killer smoking

° Dogs

° Dirty Rooms

° Loud Music

° Scary Movies

° Dust getting/being sick

° Being dead

° Genocide

° Pancakes

° Being forgotten

° Abandoning their home

° Corruption

° Dream - he's to bright -

° Dust over working

° Killers stages

° Castle being in a mess

° Leo's Amnesia

A little info about the brother's

Dust didn't kill everyone but was forced to when the human came down fully Corrupted. Dust at first didn't think much of it until they did an endless Genocide. The timeline became glitched to the point his brother Papyrus stayed dead and had haunted him telling him to end everyone. At times he was himself other times it was like he was a completely different monster.

Papyrus was corrupted the moment he stayed dead and with that. They were trapped in their own mind unable to call for help as he watches helplessly as he encouraged his own brother to kill exegesis went as far as to possess him taking his will away.

Day after acking day Dust tries to leasen the pain with whatever he could. He turned to drugs, took as much as he could and for as long as he could until his body gave out. Dust would always wake the next day with everything he took flushed out thanks to his brother.

Oh how he wished he never did that. Why couldn't he at least get rid of the acking pain that's embedded into his very soul.

The only thing that Papyrus couldn't stop him is when he smoked. Dust smoked anything he could get his hands on, anything to make the pain go away.

At some point the human stopped coming but the damage was already done. Ink, Error and Nightmare came and saved them both yet his home was destoried by error while Ink healed Dust and his brother.

Nightmare took him away and gave him a new home, a new family, and unknowingly two of the best Lovers he could've asked for.

Both Dust and Papyrus were caught off guard when Leo could see and hear Papyrus. It delighted then both as Dust wasn't going insane like Nightmare had once thought due to the trauma Dust was forced to endure.

Whenever Dust got sick his brother who Leo nicknamed Pyrus freaked out since Dust gets the worst of it. The common flu can turn deadly in a matter of hours for Dust. Due to Dusts high LV he's able to stay alive and fight a good chunk of any illness away. Pyrus on the other hand would freak out and try his best to help Dust even if he can't do much of anything to help having to end up getting Leo to get help. It usually makes Pyrus cry every time he can't do something to help Dust.

Leo gave Dust his new cloths the same time Horror got his which he likes greatly. The new hoodie helps block out the light for him to actually see since bright lights and colors blind him and also helped Dust quit smoking while Horror yelled get him to stop drinking and using.

Some years later they meet Killer who both Pyrus and Dust don't like. Pyrus always lectured Killer whenever he started to smoke in the castle while Dust didn't like how he always acted around Pyrus and himself. Killer pisses them both off.

When Horror gets stress Pyrus would try to help him bake something, at least Horror and Leo understands Dust and believes that Pyrus is here without the need for proof.

Dust couldn't have asked for more

Pyrus wishes Dust would tie the knot with them both and just fuck already

Here's Dusts stats and be careful what you read

Name: Dust

Age : 318

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/Him

Height : 5'10

Relationship: Horror and Leo

HP: 20,375

ATT: 120

DEF: 93

Magic lv: 93/100

Magic: teleportation, bone att., blue att., Gaster Blasters, magic coated weapon items, KR, levitation

Special ability: can steal magic - uses ungloved hands and bites - . This ability can allow Dust to steal magic from others to replenish his own magic.

This can cause the victim to experience magic exhaustion, chills, and lack motivation to continue the fight

While using his ability Dust is vulnerable to attacks due to how close he needs to be. The ability can cause Dust to use more energy and cause him to lose the will to eat or drink anything for a few days. The more he had to use it the longer his will to stay alive slips away from him.

Weapon of choice: barb whip

Side weapon : shurikns - 3 to 8 points -

Dusts motto

" never give up without a fight as long as your alive there will always be someone to protect and care for. "

" There is no second chances when your life is in the line "

Now it's time for Dusts brother stats

Name : Papyrus " Pyrus "

Age : 283

Height: 6'11 - when alive -

Gender : Male

Pronouns : They/Them

Relationship: none

HP : ?????

ATT: 560

DEF : ?????

Magic lv: ?????

Magic: Copycat , possession

Special ability: swap

This ability allows Pyrus to ??????

[ INFOMATION UNAVAILABLE ]

* IT'S RUDE TO LOOK WITHOUT PERMISSION HUMAN *

Weapon of choice: ??????

Side weapon: ?????

Pyrus motto

" Not everyone deserves kindness and not everyone is worthy of your time."

" Silences is stronger then action when in the face of Aggression, show them no emotion and they will give up when they don't get the reaction they wanted. "

* Dust stares you down. You don't know if he'll attack or not but his brother looks at you with murderous intent. You get the feeling your about to have a very bad time. *

[sillyrabbit81]

The Instructor - Part 5

Summary: Augusts confronts your betrayal.

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader

Word Count: approx 4k

Warnings: Dark, violence, abuse, choking, hitting, punching, orgasm denial, orgasm control, sex (p in v), mdom/fsub, switch, praise kink, degradation kink, name calling, dubious consent. I tried to mention everything if I missed something I sincerely apologise.

Authors Note: FINAL PART. There are probably going to be massive plot holes, sorry about that, this was never meant to be a series, so I didn’t do anywhere near the set up needed. However, I’m glad I did do a series because I enjoyed playing around with some of the darker aspects of the story. If it sucks, I'm sorry, I just went for it and this is what came out! It probably also isn't strictly cannon, but I made use of some aspects of the MI cannon.

Unbeta'd and unedited, there will be errors.

Masterlist

Part 4

The Instructor Part 5

You thought you had felt true fear before this moment, but you were wrong. Confronted with the unyielding stare of August, your stomach twists and your mouth goes dry. You’re completely and utterly fucked.

You try to answer August, make up a believable lie, beg forgiveness, say anything. But you can’t, it’s like he can see into your soul and you know that any lie you tell him will only make him angrier.

Quicker than lightning, August’s hands grip your throat. He pushes you to the wall, uncaring as your head hits it so hard your vision swims. Both his hands push into your neck, compressing your arteries and you feel the blood pooling, building pressure behind your eyes. This wasn’t the subtle choking he engaged in when you played. No, this was Special Agent August Walker trying to kill you.

You are stretched against the wall, your toes barely touch the ground. You are a trained soldier, but August is a trained assassin, you know you won’t last long in a situation like this, you will pass out in less than a minute. Then all August had to do was keep squeezing and you would be dust.

“Why, pet?” August asks through clenched teeth.

You can’t speak, you have no air. You plead to August with your eyes, silently begging him to stop. His hands press harder and you feel him crushing your trachea with his leathal hands. You scratch at his hands, his face, his eyes. You kick with your feet, frantic, feeling yourself get weaker by the second. You get one lucky shot in and for a moment August’s grip falters as he doubles over retching in pain.

You slam the palm of your hand into his forearms and he lets you go. You run for the door, your nudity the last of your concerns. Your throat hurts as you run, bruised and raw, you gulp breath in, coughing you try and fill your lungs again. You reach the door, pull the handle. It stops, not making a full rotation.

“Fuck!” you scream in frustration. You turn the lock and try to open in again. It does and for a brief moment you taste freedom.

A foot kicks the door closed and August is in front of you. You back away from him as he locks it again. In the unlikely event you live through this night, you will never forget the snarl on his face. You look into his eyes, expecting to see the eyes of a killer and August doesn’t disappoint. His azure eyes burn with such murderous intent, for a moment you think you are going to lose control of your bladder.

But there is something else there, something he tries to hide behind his fury. You search his face, trying to see past the mask and find what he is concealing. You wince when you see it. August was hurt. Your betrayal had hurt him.

“This is even more fun than the first time we fucked, Pet,” he says, mockingly. August advances on you with a bullish intent. He is magnificent as he stalks you, his loose pyjama pants hang low on his hips, his chest is taut and his thick ropey arms flex as he readies them for a fight.

You try and think clearly, maybe you should confess everything. He’s going to kill you if you don’t. If only you had long enough to check his records, but you couldn’t put your associates at risk if you weren’t sure.

Lifting your chin, you accept your fate. You ready a fighting stance, and August does too. You understand you can’t beat him, but you won’t die without a fight.

You dodge his first attack, and you’re not surprised that he led with his fists. He only needs one to land and he would break your bones. You retreat to the kitchen, praying its laid out the same as yours. Opening the draw with the knives, you pull one out. It’s not ideal, its weight wasn’t distributed well for fighting, but it was better than nothing. Your gun is in your room and you have no idea where August keeps his.

Turning the tables and going on the offensive, you make August back up and you move to the door. You hold the knife expertly, and as long as you keep August from getting his own weapon, the fight might be a fair one. You have so much adrenaline pumping through your veins you start to shake. The blade accentuates the tremors and August see’s, of course he would find your weakness.

“Put the knife down, Pet,” August orders, his voice was smooth, calm and commanding. You nearly stumble, his words sent shivers down your spine. How can he still have an effect on you? “You know I can’t let you out of here.”

You gage the distance to the door, it was still so far away. Your fear made you want to run to it again, but you knew it would be a mistake. Better to keep advancing slowly, forcing August back.

But August stops retreating and plants himself in front of the door. He stretches his neck, rolls his shoulders, his naked torso hides nothing and you see his muscles ripple under his skin. Your body and mind are in conflict, confused by the stimulus. You’re terrified of August, but fear of him and what he is capable of was part of his appeal, part of his savage, dominant sexuality. Your body can’t tell the difference and you feel it responding, your centre grows warm, throbbing and your arousal moistens the apex of your thighs.

“Please,” you murmur. Confronted with August’s obstruction and his dismissiveness of your threat, you lose hope. You feel weak and exhausted. Again, you contemplate confessing everything, but you aren’t a coward, you were realistic.

The cruel snarl on August’s face becomes a smirk as you plead. “I love hearing you beg, Pet,” he taunts.

He attacks again, this time grabbing a chair from the dining table. You try and duck but he is too fast for you and the solid wood chair cracks you over your head and shoulders. You stumble to the ground; your vision wavers and you nearly pass out. You try and get to your knees, but your arms won’t cooperate and you fall to the floor, no doubt you have a concussion. You look for the knife, see it about a metre away. With your head thumping and your heart racing, you scramble for it, but August reaches you first.

Gripping both your ankles, August uses your legs and body weight against you, flipping you onto your back. He pulls you to him, your skin rubs against the carpet and you howl with pain as you feel the fibres burn your ass and back. August climbs on top of you, his hands are at your throat again, squeezing the life from you.

“You’re killing me, August,” you try and say, but all you hear is your pathetic whimpers. You feebly punch and slap at August, but you are spent. You give up, you tried. You get angry at yourself for even thinking of giving up, but you didn’t know what else to do. You can’t win. Tears well in your eyes and start to roll down your cheeks. You squeeze them shut, ashamed that you cried in your last moments, that you gave up, that you didn’t fight.

The pressure on your throat relaxes, and you gulp in air, coughing and retching as your inflamed throat protests. You try to roll to your side to breath easier, but August doesn’t allow it, his body still traps yours and one hand still grips your throat. You feel his whiskered lips on your cheeks, kissing away your tears. You open your eyes and are consumed by his and the fire that burns within them. You wonder what your eyes are saying to his.

August shifts his hips and you feel him, hard under his thin pants. Your eyes widen, he really had been enjoying the fight. It scares you, feeling how hard and fully erect he his, aroused by trying to kill you. But you knew how hypocritical that was, because even now, terrified, a moment from death, you ache for him.

You roll your hips, sliding your bare, slick slit against August, the fabric of his pants harsh against your clit, but you feel him beneath it, and you can’t stop. You don’t want to but your craving for him was too strong.

If you didn’t know August as well as you did, you may have missed the surprise in his eyes. It came and went so quickly. His lip curled, triumphant, he had you where he wanted you, desperate, without fight left and completely his.

August’s arrogant look, his smug sneer, his complete domination of you made you lose the last shred of dignity you had and you beg for him.

“Please, please,” you whimper.

“You’re such a little whore,” August scolds you. “Do you think you can fuck your way out of this?”

You shake your head, “No.” You cry again, fat tears rolling down your cheeks in a constant stream, but you don’t stop your wanton grinding. You need to feel him inside you.

“Why are you so fucking wet, Pet?” August asks, his jeering tone warmed your face with shame.

“I don’t know!” you cry.

“Yes, you do, Pet.”

You try to turn away and hide from his knowing eyes. August won’t let you, griping your cheeks with his fingers, digging deep, the soft flesh pressing painfully against your teeth. Through your sobs you say, “Because I want you.”

“Beg me,” August’s voice changed, becoming low and hoarse. He starts to move with you, teasing you. “Beg for my cock.”

You don’t try to hold back, the words fall freely, “Please August, please.”

August tuts, “You can do better than that, Pet. Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me, August,” you sob. You’re ashamed of yourself, of how wet you are, how badly you want him, how easily you submit. But it feels too good, playing on the edge as you were, where fear and arousal become interchangeable, you had never felt such bliss.

Taking his pants off, August fists his cock as he takes you in, his gaze rakes over you, lingering on your desperate cunt. Lining himself up, he teases your entrance. When he slides himself over you, he groans as his eyes close and he throws his head back. You realise, you’re not as powerless as you thought, he wants you too and just as badly.

Bringing his head down next to yours, he growls in your ear, “Keep going, Pet. Tell me how badly you want me to fuck your hot little cunt.”

You start mumbling, “Please August, please. I need you.” You throw your arms around him, grip his ass and pull him closer. Your nails dig into his skin as you urge him into you.

With a violent thrust, August enters you. Both of you cry out, your twin shouts echo in each other’s ears. “You feel so good, pet. So wet and so fucking tight.” You mewl under him. He is stretching you, painfully. He offered your core no preparation and it protested his invasion, clamping down hard. August wasn’t fucking around, if he had taken any pity on you in the past, he wasn’t this time. He pumps into you, his pelvis making long driving strokes, your walls straining against the force of his cock, unready for his intrusion.

August hooks your knees over his arms and forcing your legs wider, he is finally sheathed. Increasing his pace, he uses you, furious, punishing and without pity. He offers you no pleasure, he takes what he wants. His face above you is twisted, angry, and hateful. This is payback, revenge, hurt me and I’ll destroy you. But despite that, or maybe because you feel you deserve it, a familiar pressure starts to build between your legs.

“August,” you beg. “I need to cum, please.”

Leaning down, pushing his weight onto your already strained legs, he brings his face to yours. His eyes are dark and sadistic as he says vindictively, “No.”

You groan. You were so close, you don’t know if you can stop it. “Please!” you howl. Fresh tears fill your eyes and you implore him.

“No.” August says, his voice cruel and merciless. “You cum and I’ll fuck your ass raw.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. You try and think of all the parts of your body that hurt. Your head, shoulders, legs, the skin on your back rubbing against the carpet. But it doesn’t work. Your body is so warm, tingling, your skin feels alive and the pain is dull compared to the rapture you feel.

Your body is suddenly wrest from the floor. August withdraws from you and flips you onto your knees and violates you again. You feel August’s hand in your hair and he forces your face into the floor. You heard a thud next to your head, his foot is there, and he continues his assault, kneeling on one leg anchoring himself with the other.

You bite your hand to muffle your shouts, you don’t want to give August the satisfaction of hearing your pain or pleasure. You thought he was deep before, but now you feel every impact in your gut, your core uncomfortably full from his brutal jabs. You can’t stay on your knees, your legs too weak to withstand his punitive thrusts. August doesn’t care. He digs his fingers into your hips, holding you in place as he continues his ruthless assault.

Unable to stop it, you feel your release approach again. You try to deny it, but the savagery of August is too much. The feel of your bodies slaming together, the slapping of his balls against your clit, the sound of his grunts of exertion overwhelm you and you can’t stop yourself from whining, “Please, August. Please. I’m fucking begging you.”

You hear August’s malicious chuckle. “No, Pet.”

August seizes you by the nape, pulling you up to your knees and your back presses against his chest. Wrapping his hand around your neck, he holds you against his shoulder. His other hand moves over your breasts, kneading into them, squeezing them. His face is close to yours, you feel his ragged breath tickle your cheeks.

He starts whispering in your ear and he presses his rough hairy lip into you. “You fucking little bitch,” his voice was low, harsh and dripping with venom, but August can’t stop his desire from seeping through. “Who sent you to me? Who told you to whore yourself for me?” He pinches at your nipples, and you shudder against him writhing. His insults pushing you towards your climax as much as his touch.

“Was it the CIA?” he asks, sliding his hand down your belly to between your legs. Fear makes your heart skip, if he touched you there you would not be able to stop your orgasm. You try and pull away, but he is too strong.

“Did those useless government hacks, turn you into a fucking whore, or did you volunteer, Pet?” He slid his fingers over your slit, and one grazed your clit sending your core pulsing around his cock. You want to tell him he has it all wrong, backwards. He thinks he’s been caught, he doesn’t know he’s being recruited.

He slaps your clit with his palm, a quick flick of his wrists that shocks you and if August wasn’t holding you up, you would have doubled over in pain and ecstasy.

“Don’t fucking cum.” August orders, rubbing a calloused finger over your oversensitive clit. Then, he says, sadly and with regret, “You could have come to me, Pet. Told me. I would have protected you. I could have gotten you out.” His voice almost cracks as he adds, “We could have gotten out together. BE together.”

You want to tell him, you want that too. You didn’t mean to fall for him either, none of this was planned. His fingers dance over your hard nub, coaxing from you the orgasm he forbids. Frustration suddenly pours out of you. You fight him again, punching the arm he had wrapped around your waist, and between your legs.

“Why do you fight so hard, Pet?” he asks. Those simple words he said to you all those months ago rock you. It was his invitation to submit willingly rather than be pulled under by the force of his will. But it was different this time, it wasn’t just you at stake.

You beg again, “August…” It’s all you can say through your short gasping cries. You break out in sweat, the need in you was so strong it took everything you had to fight it.

“Answer my question and you can cum,” He says. You nod, vigorously, you don’t even feel shame at giving in so easily, you’re too far gone. He brings his face in front of yours. Your whole body is shaking under his touch as he draws your orgasm and confession out of you.

“Were you sent by the CIA?”

You shake your head, and whimper, “No.”

August looks into your eyes for a hint of a lie. When he can’t find one, he coos, “Good girl,” and you wriggle at his praise. He kisses you roughly, lips hard against yours. “You can cum now, Pet.”

With unrestrained cries, you finally allow the pressure in your core to grow. You feel your release roll over your contorting body. Your guttural shout signals you’re the arrival of your long denied ecstasy and tears streamed from your eyes as you succumb with immense relief.

August watched every second of your orgasm, his face studying yours as if to memorise every expression, until you were done and can’t hold yourself up anymore. He removes himself with a gentleness that was unexpected and he tenderly carries you to his room. Cradling your head against his chest, he kisses your forehead, muttering something you can’t catch and were too far gone to ask.

He lays you on your side, and you are so malleable and weak, you let him curl you into a ball before he leans over you. He lifts your chin and turns your head so you are looking at him. You give him a half smile, which he returns with a soft hum. His eyes go to your collar and a look of sadness crosses his face, a grief so intense you feel it too.

You don’t know what to say and neither does August. He does the only thing he knows how to do when he feels what some people call love. He fucks.

When August enters you this time it’s different. Although his thrusts are brutal and powerful, it’s not punishment. He is trying to make a connection, to see if there is something salvageable between you. He needs to know if he means anything to you. He drops his forehead onto yours, resting there while his eyes met yours. He holds your throat and his thumb plays with your thin golden collar.

“You’re still mine, Pet,” August says, firmly.

“Always yours,” you reply with certainty. And you were. But by the end of this night he would know he was yours too.

As if to seal the promise you made, August kisses you. His lips pry yours open and his gentle explorative tongue massages yours. When you kiss him back, you are surprised by the growl he makes in his throat. Feeling bold, you place a hand on his cheek as you kiss. He doesn’t pull away so you slide your other hand into his hair and you expect him to shake you off, like he did before. He allows it, and he slides his free arm around you, pulling your bodies together. The rhythm you find together is nothing like the primal fucking you two are used to. It seemed as though he was making love to you, as much as someone like August could.

You feel the warmth grow again and radiate from your core. August instinctively knows your close again and stops your kisses watch you again. “Come for me, my sweet girl,” he utters.

You fall apart. Your fist tightens in his hair, you tremble beneath him, while you call his name.

“Fuck,” he grunts while you fall over the edges, and he forces himself deep within you, splitting you, owning you as you feel him thicken and pulse, releasing his seed into your milking core. Then he breaks you by growling your name as he makes his final throes.

You’re both slick with sweat, but August doesn’t care and he brushes your face with kisses. He looks like he wants to say something, opening his mouth and closing it again without saying a word. He helps you get up and he walks you to his bathroom.

August runs you a bath, and he sits on the edge for a while, watches you while you bathe. He showers quickly before returning to his spot.

Finally, he speaks, but he looks away as he says it, and for the first time you see August doubt himself, “If not the Agency, then who?” He asks.

“We have no government affiliation,” you say.

He nods, “Why did they send you, was the plan always to use sex?”

“No, August,” you say honestly. “This was not part of the plan. I was only supposed to be assigned to you while I did my training. This assignment was last minute, I don’t even know how it happened.”

He turns his attention back to you and looks for the lie he believes he will find. When he doesn’t find it he asks, “Your aunt, was that a lie?”

“She’s officially missing,” you say. “Unofficially, she brought me into group.”

“Something doesn’t add up, Pet,” August says. “I’m don’t know anything that a hundred other agents don’t also know. What did they send you to find out?”

“You don’t get it. We don’t want to bring you down, we want to recruit you. I had to make sure you are who we think you are.”

You see a glimpse of understanding in August’s eyes. “Go on,” he prompts.

You watch him carefully as you explain, “My assignment was to find out if you were the one who wrote a certain manifesto making the rounds in certain circles.” He doesn’t blink. You smirk, realising he’s trying too hard to keep his face smooth. He is the one.

“And, am I?” he asks.

“You are,” you say moving down the bath. Unbelievably, knowing he wrote that poetic and chaotic brilliance made you hot again. “This operation is all wrong, too big for simple arms traders. You’re using the CIA to get the connections and resources you need.” You run your finger down August’s bare arm, tracing the ridges of his muscles and the slight protruding veins on his forearms. August watches you intently, trying to appear cold, but you see his breaths grow shallow and his jaw clench. “We have the resources to help a man like you,” You reach his hand, turn it palm up, and lay a kiss into it before holding it to your cheek. “’A man with vision’ Lane calls you.”

“Lane?” August says, he seems confused, and he should be.

“Yes, meet with Solomon Lane and you will get your new world August.” You take his hand off your cheek and fold down his fingers except for the middle one. You take him in your mouth curling your tongue around him, and sucking.

August can’t look away. Already thrown by being discovered, he is completely transfixed by your sudden seduction.

“How?” he breathes.

You open your mouth and show August his finger sliding down your tongue. You get out of the bath and stand in front of August. You move his finger down your body, between your breasts, over your belly and between your thighs. You slide his finger between your warm folds and you hear August groan as you rest him against your entrance.

You ask him, “Have you, ever heard of the Syndicate, Pet?”

End

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I have a feeling I missed someone, if I did, let me know!

[skelanonymous]

First - Killermare

Words - 3.1k

I decided I needed more happy Killermare, even though I’ve literally written a ton of it. I should write literally anybody else next…>_>

-

Killer entered into the kitchen with a tense back, casually perusing the fridge with a wince. He’d taken a hard hit on the side during the last fight with the Stars. Probably cracked something, but nothing was falling off so he didn’t bother too much with it. His determination would hold him together.

He grabbed the carton of milk and took a swig straight from the container.

“Other people use that you know.” 

“Too bad for them.” Killer turned around to grin at Nightmare. He’d recently gotten into his Boss’s VERY good graces and no broken bones were going to keep him out of it. “Well if it isn’t small, dark, and Lovecraftian.” That got a chuckle, a rare thing to hear from Nightmare. It made his target soul ache something awful, hearing that cute sound and not being able to do anything with it, not nearly close enough to Nightmare to capitalize on the opportunity. 

“As good with words as with a knife, hmmm?” Nightmare stood in his space, touching along his arm unconsciously. Killer tried to keep his mouth in check.

“I’m also pretty good with my hands.” God damn idiot brain, hitting on his fucking god level boss. There’s fucking with people and there’s shooting out of your league. He just smiled through it. “Whatcha need Boss?”

“I’m moving a wing of the library and needed an extra pair of hands.” 

“And you knew how talented mine were, so you came right to me?” Killer slid the milk back into the refrigerator. He leaned back on his left side to keep from agitating the right, elbows on the counter, a picture of relaxation. 

“Something like that.” Nightmare laughed again. Killer held in the pleased sigh, standing up, crossing his arms behind his head very delicately.

“I’m all yours Boss. Lead the way.”

They wandered down the hall directly towards the library, Killer keeping step just behind Nightmare, letting him stare all he wanted without being caught. Those strong thick tentacles swayed around his back, framing his ass for Killer to appreciate along the lengthy hallways. He rarely went over this way unless Night summoned him here.

Nightmare already cleared small sections away, stacks of meticulously organized books littering the floor. He gestured to a pile.

“Start here and work clockwise. I’ve laid it out to make it easy enough for you to do without me babysitting your progress.” 

So began replacing them on the shelves. Killer hid the winces of pain from stooping and bending fairly well, silently moving until he hit a tiny snag. He reached up to place one on a tall shelf when he flinched into the wall.

His body hit the shelves and dislodged an avalanche onto his head. He almost moved away before one smashed into his cracked ribs.

"Son of a fucking bitch!

"Killer!" Nightmare raced over to unbury him. The tentacles made quick work of them, stacking haphazardly off of Killer’s winded form. His hands were on Killer’s forehead in an instant, checking for cracks, diligently looking over him after hearing the cry of pain. Killer groaned angrily when he was cleared off.

“Fucking Blue and his fucking blue attacks. Ugh.” Killer couldn’t sit up, pain still blossoming fresh in his chest. Night paused in looking him over.

“Were you wounded on the last mission?” His single eye penetrated his two, pinning him under it until he relented, grimacing with a gesture to his ribs he’d been carefully avoiding.

“Yeah. Stars got a good hit in on me. Was fine until the book hit it though.”

“Clearly not, considering you lost your usually impeccable balance!” Nightmare’s tentacles wrapped Killer up to get him standing without making him bend the wounded area. “Come with me. Healing magic is easiest when accompanied by intent, wrapping it will make it easier.” He grumbled and took off towards his room, Killer hobbling after to keep up. 

Walking into Night’s room changed the mood. He suddenly felt out of place, surrounded by luxurious purples tones and dark wooden furniture. Night had gestured to the bed before wandering into his private bathroom.

His bed was comfortable. Killer’s nerves ruined any enjoyment of getting into Nightmare’s room, jittery from the moment he was directed to sit on the plush comforters. Nightmare returned with a roll of bandages and an unimpressed look.

“I thought you were smart enough to know how to care for yourself.” He moved in front of him. “Take off your jacket and t-shirt.”

Thankfully Night was too focused on unraveling the bandages and gathering antiseptic to see Killer’s face go red, suddenly very aware that he was in his boss’s room, said boss’s hands about to be on him after a request to undress. He pulled them off smooth and casual, but his grin practically cracked at the edges. 

“What the hell?”

Night’s hands hovered over the cracked ribs, flinching back at the small break that Killer had dislodged from its setting.

“Yeah, it’s not great.”

“Killer!” Night growled at him. “Why didn’t you seek treatment before THIS?!” He gestured to the crumbled ends of the break from grinding against each other. “This is entirely fucking curable! It’s ridiculous you didn’t, at the very least, wrap this!” The growl travelled up his body, baring his teeth at him, tentacles cracking like whips at his back. Killer didn’t move, but his voice took on a nervous edge.

“I’m a dead man walking boss. I’ll just keep going forward until I can’t anymore.” Healing magic was taxing. All of them were terrible at it besides Nightmare, who never offered, only taking over when he was clearly needed. They never want to bother him to ask for it.

“I could’ve fixed this sooner.” Nightmare pinched the bone into place with a click. Killer gasped in pain. He wrapped it tightly, uncaring about Killer’s harsh pants while doing so.

“We only take it when you offer. None of us wanna annoy you.” Fuck, he was so falling out of Night’s good graces for this. After he worked so hard, some dumb break was gunna take him back to zero. He fisted the plush comforter. “Your time is important.”

“To whom, when you dust from accumulating injuries that I can’t see?” 

“The multiverse I guess.”

“The multiverse doesn’t give a shit about me or my time. This is all I have.” Nightmare pinched his nasal crest after finishing. “You serve me, but I cannot do this alone. Your lives are valuable to me. I thought you, especially, would know this Killer."

"Why do ya say that?"

"Because of how important you are to me." Nightmare's hands grew warm with gathering magic, mending now that everything would heal correctly. "All of you are valuable, like the supporting beams holding the castle aloft, but you are more integral. You are the center pillar. As my right hand, as long as you stand, I have faith in my ability to recover. I believed you to be my most valuable asset, but if you’re going to just let yourself turn to dust, then I’ll-”

“No!” Killer’s soul snapped into a heart shape, eyelights flickering in time to meet Night’s inquisitive gaze. “I’m not dusting on you just like that.” He grabbed Night’s warm hands away, taking them up in front of his startled cyan face.

“K-Killer?” He brought them up and kissed the phalanges as one would do to their king.

“If you’ll continue as long as I am by your side, then I’ll remain with you until I die.” Killer’s sockets went half-lidded, struck by the emotion his inverted soul let in, his silly crush amplified ten-fold by Nightmare’s faith in him. He’d never seen his boss look so confused, eye wide and frantically searching Killer’s. “What’s wrong boss?” 

“You-I’m...what’s-why all-”Killer’s hands had long since gained a mind of their own. He slid wordlessy off the bed into Night’s space, silencing him with a casual touch on the cheek, fondly caressing the bright greenish glow. 

“Shouldn’t have told me I meant so much to ya cuz I’m gunna take that to heart.” Then he swooped down to kiss him.

Killer pressed their teeth together firmly, tilting their heads to line up for deepening the kiss. He relaxed into it, holding Nightmare close while getting a taste, slowly touching and teasing Night's tongue with playful flicks. He could feel the very hesitant kiss back before they parted for air.

"Feeling shy Nightmare? Don't worry. I'm bold enough for the both of us." 

Killer laughed into the next one, leaning into it to force Night's response, groaning at the feel of the shy tongue in his own mouth. He could feel his small partner shaking in his arms when they broke apart.

"Killer…" It must've been awhile since Nightmare got with anyone to sound so needy. 

"I'm here. Wanna have some fun Nightmare?" He whispered it into Night's ear, smiling at the trembling he could still feel against his ribs, lost in the heady feeling. Night devolved to breathy pants, which Killer dove into before he felt tentacles lay solidly against his chest to push him back.

"Killer, wait, I can't-I'm not prepared for this." Night's flushed face told a different story, but he didn't fancy being killed.

"I've got lots of patience. I'll just make you feel good until you are." Killer's mouth slid down to Night’s neck, sucking on the bone to the high pitched whines, sending all his thoughts south, ecto eager to form at the slightest provocation. His haze broke under the Night's firm push out of his space. 

"Killer, stop." 

His back connected with the bed, wincing from his still (though much less so) wounded bones. The rejection stung worse.

"Sorry boss." That HURT, knowing he'd fucked up pretty royally. God, he'd forced himself on Nightmare right after he'd been given a shred of attention. He was such a fucking idiot. "I'll keep my hands to myself." His eyelights poofed decisively. He almost couldn't bear to look at him, but he needed to see Nightmare's face at least once.

Night hadn't stopped shaking. His tentacles attempted to hide him from view, face fully blushing, head still tilted away from the fresh mark Killer had left, noises leaking unfiltered from his trembling body. 

"S-s-sorry. I-I c-can't handle it-t. Too much." Killer grabbed his shirt and hoodie from where it lay beside him.

"I'll leave you be. Maybe annoy Horror or something, I don't know." Anything to not be here. Playing it off would make it easier to take, even if it meant no second chances with Night. He slid his clothes back on. "Come find me when you got the next mission lined up."

A tentacle wrapped around his ankle before he took the first step.

"Why are you leaving?" His voice was airy, light, breathless.

"I'm a dick, but not that much of one. I went too far, I'll give ya some space for a day." He shrugged, a drop of hate splashing on the floor. He'd describe his emotions as 'in shambles.'

"I don't want space. I just need a minute."

"I don't know Boss. Shouldn't rush that kind of thing." He could stomach taking advantage of people outside of this castle, but betraying the ones inside it, those who guarded his back and knew where he slept (and cared about but he'd never tell them that), it turned his mood sour. It ate at the pit of his stomach and it’d eat through him entirely if he didn’t get the fuck outta dodge.

"What thing?"

"Being assaulted, harassed, whatever you wanna call it. And being the person who forced themselves upon ya, don't think I should be here." He tugged at his ankle again, but Night hadn't relented.

"Killer, I didn't stop you because I didn't want it." He avoided Killer's eye roll.

"Uh-huh." Killer really didn't want to resort to cutting off the tentacle. It wouldn't hurt him, but it'd suck and prove he was an asshole, so he pulled harder. "Say I believed you. Then why?"

"Killer, I…" Nightmare looked like he wanted the carpet to swallow him. "I've never kissed anyone."

"...What?" He stopped struggling against his restraint. "There's no way. You're telling me, five hundred years of existing, and you hadn’t had your first kiss?"

"Yes." And Killer commited a cardinal sin without thinking.

"But Dream definit-" Is fucking Ink or Blue or Cross or all of them, he wanted to say, but Night was quicker.

"I am aware." Nightmare's glare was potent, but Killer's confusion was denser. "But he is lovable, unlike me."

"You're lovable." It slipped out in-between all the mental gymnastics. He wasn't sure he wasn't being fucked with still. "So you haven't…" How to phrase this delicately, he wondered. "...slept with anyone?"

"Killer, I haven't kissed anyone. Why the fuck would I have slept with someone?"

"You gotta know how unbelievable this is." Talking wouldn't reassure him, so Killer leaned down into Night's space again, stopping just shy of his teeth. "You're telling me that someone as fuckable as you's been ignored all this time?" Nightmare's single eye widened with the flush. Killer smoothed out his tone, dropping it low to hold him at the edge of his words. "Nice juicy peach you are, no one's tried to pluck you up? I can barely look without salivatin'." He lapped at his teeth, careful to keep his hands in safe places. He wanted to see how inexperienced Night really was without ruining his chances forever.

Nightmare's tentacles laid limp behind him, all the tremors coming from his real form, whose hands had raised to snatch at the shoulders of his hoodie, gripping tightly when he caved under the languid licks at his mouth by letting Killer in.

Patience led this one, Killer carefully taking over every inch of Night's mouth. The slower pace served to work up his partner faster. Nightmare's calmness abated, tentacles waking up to come and clutch at Killer's form, Night crawling onto him, transforming the kiss into a frenzy of desire that Killer surrendered to, as long as Night was leading the way. The tentacles touched plenty of hot spots, but he kept his own hands on innocent ground. Night's confidence could crumble under too much of a good thing.

"Take a breath, Nightlight." Night shivered against him after breaking apart, so much sensation his body was unaccustomed to. "I gotcha." Killer rubbed soothing circles into his back.

"I can see how that could escalate." Nightmare finally got out. It made him laugh. 

"Yeah. It's pretty easy to get carried away." He kissed the top of his skull before laughing again. "You give handsy a whole new meaning though."

"Sorry." The sweet little monster in his arms barely resembled his boss, hiding his face by burrowing into Killer's chest. 

"Don't be. It's pretty hot." His lewd grin made Night blush again.

"I would've thought my corruption would be the ugliest and most disgusting part of me." He punctuated it with said appendages undulating behind him.

"Boss, I just kissed the fuck outta you and I've never known you without it. Trust me, not a deterrent." Killer stroked down one to make Night's spine curl. "If you learn how to use ‘em right, they're pretty useful in the bedroom."

"Don't call me Boss when we're like this." Night whispered softly. His face caught between a glare and something soft, he was starting to come back to his senses.

"That might be too much power Nightlight." He grinned at the tiny glare. "How was your first kiss then?"

"Nice." Nightmare sighed as he sat up, unfurling all the aching limbs. The usual persona rebuilt itself. But now, Killer knew how easy the composure was to break. "I'd like to repeat it sometime."

"I'm all yours." He'd never get sick of that face if Night was willing to let him see it. They rose together from the floor, Night reestablishing the space between them.

"I'll have to talk to the others about not bringing injuries to me. Time spent on them is not time wasted." He straightened his sweater, presentable before opening the door. Killer choked the urge down to mess it up again. “The idea that you would’ve rather lost a rib than speak to me is absurd.”

"Yeah." They better not take his catch. Fuck them.

"I'm not going to kiss them Killer. The sour look is atrocious on you." Night's brow raised. Caught red handed. Killer laughed.

"Can you blame me? I know the kind of filthy degenerates who live here; I'm one of them. I don't want 'em to take a bite outta you." Subconsciously, he shook his sleeves to feel the weight of his multiple blades.

"You act as though there are many vying for my affection. People used to throw rocks at me for walking by their homes, and now they try to kill me. I'm not surrounded by suitors." He said this while walking down the hall towards the still upturned library. His strides were confident, power inherent is his manner, carried with a royal grace that Killer could only ape with minimal success. The only reason he wasn't swamped with competition was everyone had been too chickenshit to make a move. 

"Ya also thought I wasn't interested and nothing has ever been less fucking true." He pushed his luck a little further, stepping in front of Nightmare to kiss him quickly. The chaste thing was almost too much considering the shakes. "I'll just keep doing it if ya don't say anything."

“We need to reassemble the library.” He huffed through, walking by with weak knees, Killer trailing just behind. “This wasn’t an invitation to touch me at all times.”

“Only some of the time then?” 

“Shut up.” He humored the request once inside Night’s treasured library. 

Back to quietly organizing, clockwise, his talented hands flipped them onto shelves with ease now that he wasn’t hindered by aches. It was quick and effortless like it should have been the first time. He’d begun humming by the time he placed the last one, not expecting the hand on his shoulder but welcoming it as he had earlier the same day. Night silently pressed something into his palm.

“I trust I don’t need to explain.” Killer’s fingers closed over the silver key, smiling and spinning it on his pointer while leaving the now neat library. Guess his league was a lot wider than he thought. It wasn’t an invitation to his bed, but the invitation to his heart was just as good.

“Gotcha loud and clear boss. See ya soon.” 

-

They CUTE.

[wizardofrozz]

The Perfect Pair

Warnings: swearing, violence, death of background characters, angst

Pairing: Loki x OFC

A/N: I hope everyone is enjoying this so far! ❤

____________________________________________________________

Chapter 9: Sakaar Welcomes You

My eyes snapped open at the sudden impact of my body slamming into a solid surface, knocking the wind out of me; I gasped, violently clawing at my chest, trying to relieve the pressure. Being able to breathe again chased off some of the stress, momentarily at least; I pushed myself into a sitting position, squinting at the sun, surveying my surroundings. Pulling air into my lungs at a steady pace soothed the burning feeling in my chest, but the ache I was all too familiar with roared to life again. Free falling through space for what felt like days left my legs about as useful as wet noodles; it took me a few minutes to adjust to gravity again, bracing myself against piles of garbage. Where the hell am I? I shuffled between mounds of trash, hoping to run into someone; after 15 minutes or so, my legs had adjusted, making trudging through the scrap yard easier. I caught a flash of movement off to my left, but I turned to get a better look, only to come up empty; another flicker of movement caused me to whip my head in the other direction. I froze when I heard something crunch behind me; I spun around, coming face to face with a group of eight creatures that I didn’t recognize.             “Back off,” I snarled, lunging forward. The creatures jumped, stepping back slightly but proceeded to stare at me; a few narrowed their eyes, trying to understand what they were seeing.             “Food!” one of the creatures yelled. The rest of the group responded with an array of screams and shouts as they charged me; I simply lifted my hand, palm out, sending tendrils of magic to wrap around each of their throats, lifting all eight creatures off the ground. A wicked smile crept across my face as I watched the creatures struggling against the magic cutting off their airflow; I slowly turned my hand, the pressure against their throats increasing. I gently started to close my hand, watching their eyes bug out until I noticed a ship clumsily lowering towards the ground behind where the creatures came from. The ship roughly dropped, a walkway extending as a woman stumbling out of the ship; I rolled my eyes as she drunkenly made her way to solid ground.             “Hm, impressive,” she laughed when she noticed the creatures hanging in the air a few feet from her. I raised an eyebrow, simultaneously flicking my wrist, snapping all eight necks, smiling at the distinct thuds as bodies hit the ground.             “Who are you?” I pushed my hood off, watching the woman nudge one of the bodies with her foot, nodding as she moved around the bodies.            “Scrapper 142,” she shouted over her shoulder. “You’re powerful,” she raised an eyebrow, meeting my eyes.            “Really, I had no idea,” I snorted, glaring at her.            “Hm, Grand Master might like you,” she mumbled, surging to her feet, tossing a small disk at me. I lifted a hand again, freezing the object a few inches from my hand; the disk turned to dust with a simple thought.            “Yeah, I don’t think so,” I snickered.            “Actually, I kind of like you too,” she laughed, taking a step closer. I ran my eyes over her now that she was facing me; I caught the tail of a very familiar tattoo on her right wrist.            “Oh, for shit's sake, you’re a Valkyrie,” I sighed, scrubbing my face.            “Was,” she corrected.            “Whatever,” I waved her off. I watched as she studied my armor, slowly getting closer; I tensed, magic crackling across my fingers.            “Relax, killer; I thought I recognized your armor.”            “I’d hope so; it’s Asgardian,” I sighed again.            “What’s your name?” she barked, narrowing her eyes at me.             “Violet,” I disclosed, narrowing my eyes at her. Something about her seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place it; I continued to stare at her, willing my brain to come up with something.            “No fucking way!” she shouted, a smile spreading across her face for the first time. The goofy grin on her face finally made it all click.            “Brunnhilde?” I gasped, my eyes widening.            “Holy shit, I thought you were dead!” she laughed, pulling me into a rough hug. I tensed for a moment but quickly relaxed into the hug, wrapping my arms around her. “How long has it been since I’ve seen you?”            “I have no idea,” I laughed sharply, pulling back to look at her. “The last time I saw you was before Odin sent you off on some secret mission.” She visibly cringed at the memory; pain was written all over her face before it was replaced by disgust.            “Odin sent us to our death. Hela broke free, and he sent us to push her back. She massacred the Valkyrie. I managed to escape, barely,” she mumbled, wringing her hands.            “Shit, Bea, I had no idea,” I whispered, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Well, good news, Hela’s back,” I grunted.            “No shit? Glad I’m here then,” she laughed dryly.           “Where is here, by the way?”            “Welcome to Sakaar.” Bea spread her arms wide, a smirk pulling at her lips.            “Looks like a shithole.” Bea laughed, clapping a hand on my shoulder, steering me towards her ship.           “You got that right, but unless you’re in a rush to get somewhere, stay a while. Could always use more scrappers,” Bea smiled, slinging her arm over my shoulders.           “I should try to get my ass back to Asgard,” I grumbled, irritated that part of me even cared about Asgard.            “Let me rephrase that; Grandmaster isn’t going to let you leave easily. You’re stuck without a good ship, so stay a while,” Bea sighed, gesturing to the seat next to the pilot chair.            “Son of a bitch,” I rubbed between my eyes, trying to chase off the migration building. “Great, my...partner is going to be pissed when I eventually show up again.”            “Sounds like an asshole,” Bea snorted, raising an eyebrow.            “That’s an understatement, but I love him for some stupid ass reason,” I sighed, trying to ignore the persistent ache that gripped my soul.            “Well, kick back and relax for a while,” Bea smirked, steering the ship off the ground. I took a deep breath, leaning back into the seat; I have to figure out how to get a ship of my own if I plan to get back to Loki. Unfortunately, it looks like being a scrapper is my best bet.                                                                                                                                 /// 3 weeks later I threw back the rest of my drink, slamming the bottle onto the counter, cheers erupting around me; the harsh burn of the alcohol dulled the suffocating agony enough to function.             “Damnit,” a dirty, ragged creature mumbled from next to me.             “Pay up motherfucker,” I laughed, holding my arm out. I watched the credits deposit into my account, a devilish grin spreading across my face; I winked at the angry creature, jumping off my stool.             “Alright, enough hustling asshole,” Bea laughed, grabbing my arm to pull me away from the bar.             “You’re no fun,” I bump shoulders with her when I stumbled, earning a loud laugh from her.             “Oh, did you hear, Grandmaster has a new apple of his eye,” she chuckled, taking a swig from the bottle dangling from her fingers.             “Oh boy,” I rolled my eyes. “Who’s he pining after now?”             “No idea, a few of the servants were gossiping about it. Apparently, Grandmaster has the hots for this guy, but he’s not interested in screwing the old guy,” she burps as she finished her sentence.             “Poor guy has no idea what’s in store for him,” I giggled, drunkenly stumbling a little.             “Don’t blame Grandmaster, though; I’ve heard he’s pretty good-looking. Hair almost as black as yours,” Bea winked, licking her lips.             “Stop imagining about me naked,” I laughed, burping in between giggles.             “I’m not sorry,” she giggled, stumbling into me.             “Scrapper 142, Scrapper 210,” someone called from the end of the hall.             “What?” I yelled, hiccupping again.             “Grandmaster is looking for the two of you,” a small servant girl called, rolling her eyes at us.             “Where is he?” I asked, stopping a few feet from her.             “Follow me,” she sighed, turning away from us.             “I’m too drunk for this,” Bea giggled, bumping into me again.             “Ah, there’s my favorite scrappers,” Grandmaster bellowed, a wide smile on his face.             “Grandmaster,” Bea and I hummed together, trying to collect ourselves.             “I wanted to pay you for your last haul. We have a new wonderful group of unpaid workers,” he smiled, bouncing on the balls of his feet.             “Thank you, Grandmaster,” I stated, bowing my head slightly; Bea followed my lead.             “OH! Have you met my new friend?” -he leaned in to whisper to us- “He showed up a few days ago,” he wiggled his eyebrows, making my stomach wretch. “Here he comes, say hello,” he pushed, gesturing towards the door to my right.             “Of course,” Bea answered. I took a deep breath turning to face the poor sap Grandmaster was pinning for now; my brows pulled together when I had the unshakeable urge to move towards the door. I didn’t move, but my stomach dropped to my feet, suddenly sober, my heartbeat like a jackhammer in my chest as he rounded the corner, his eyes focused on the floor. I almost fainted, frantically grabbing Bea’s arm to steady myself as tears pricked at my eyes. “What the hell’s wrong with you!” she whispered harshly.             “Loki,” I borderline sobbed. Loki’s stopped dead in his tracks, his head snapping up, his gaze landing on me a few seconds later. Loki stumbled slightly, like the sight of me almost knocked him to his knees as his eyes watered.             “Vi? You’re alive,” he choked. The relief that flooding over me made me gasp for air, my head spinning momentarily. The second a relieved smile spread across Loki’s face, I ran for him, sending him stumbling back a few steps when I slammed into him, instinctively, wrapping my legs around his waist; Loki gripped my thigh with one hand, wrapping his other arm around my ribs to hold me close.             “Holy shit,” I choked, squeezing him tighter.             “I was sure you were dead,” Loki whispered into my skin, his shoulders shaking slightly.             “Please” -I pulled back so I could see his face- “only you’re allowed to kill me for good. A handful of scrappers tried, but nothing I couldn’t handle.” I stared into his sparkling shamrock green eyes, just taking a minute to comprehend that he’s alive. Loki’s thumb traced circles along my thigh, bringing me back to reality from the sea of emotions coursing through me.             “Haven’t lost your edge, darling,” Loki chuckled, his face getting closer as he spoke. My stomach fluttered, having him so close, and decided I wasn’t waiting anymore; I surged forward, slamming my lips to his. Loki let out a surprised yelp that quickly morphed into a throaty moan as my tongue coaxed his lips apart. “Darling,” Loki hummed, reluctantly breaking the kiss.             “Fuck,” I groaned, my head dropping onto his shoulder.             “Believe me, I’m going to ravage you” -I shivered against him- “but we have to wait.” I sighed, bracing myself on his shoulders so I could unwrap my legs from around his waist; once my feet were safely on the floor again, Loki gripped the back of my neck, looking into my eyes. “I love you, little one,” he said with a sweet smile, his fingers massaging my neck.             “I love you too, shithead,” I chuckled, resting my hand on his forearm.             “Well, I can assume you two know each other,” Grandmaster pipped up.             “Uh, yes. It appears my queen made it here before me,” Loki mumbled, continuing to rub the back of my neck.             “Queen?” Grandmaster and Bea said together.             “It’s a long, kind of awful story,” I laughed awkwardly. “But yes, I technically was Queen.”             “That means you’re married….” Bea trailed off, her eyes flicking between Loki and me.             “Yes, we kept it simple and a secret,” Loki sighed, squeezing my neck a little too tight.             “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, Bea” -I stepped away from Loki- “but I honestly thought he was dead. I wasn’t ready to bring it up.” I grabbed one of her hands, trying to ignore the death glare she gave me; I locked eyes with her, her expression softening slightly. “Come on, I never shared my feelings,” I giggled, squeezing her hand.             “No kidding,” she snorted, rolling her eyes. “I guess I can’t be too pissed. I knew you weren’t getting blackout drunk just for fun.”             “Well, this is interesting, to say the least,” Grandmaster huffed, turning to leave the room. Once Loki, Bea, and I were alone, Loki let out the breath he was holding, bracing his hands on his knees.             “Thank god,” Loki panted; my heart swelled when the light caught the metal chain that shifted around his neck when he bent forward.             “Don’t worry; you don’t have to sleep with him,” I jabbed. Loki’s head shot up, his eyes wide with fear as he stood straight again.             “Oh god, I hope you’re joking,” he croaked.             “Nope, that was his plan,” Bea tried to say around laughter.             “When it comes down to it, I don’t particularly care about gender, but he makes me extremely uncomfortable. I could feel him watching me.” Loki shivered at the thought; Bea and I lost it, laughing until our stomachs hurt, earning a dirty look from Loki.             “Come on. I’m starving,” Bea grunted when we finally calmed down. I reached for Loki’s hand, and he made sure to give me another dirty look before threading his fingers with mine.                                                               

                                                         ///

Bea and I left Loki with Grandmaster when he requested we make a few extra rounds when unknown life was sensed in the scrap yard.             “So, are you going to tell me about your wedding?” Bea probed, her elbow catching my ribs.             “As Loki said, it was nothing big or elegant. Mainly, it was so I could take on the responsibility of Queen behind the scenes,” I shrugged.             “Bullshit. You two didn’t get married for strictly business reasons. I mean, come on, I was just in the room when you two saw each other again. So spill it,” Bea insisted.            “...okay, no, it wasn’t strictly business. Loki and I have been doing this intricate dance for years now. Rage-fueled fights, empty threats, mind-blowing hate fucking, but I’ve never felt a deeper, more complex connection with another being in my 1000-something years of life. It’s like something deeper connects us,” I rambled, my eyes trained on the floor.             “Gods, you make me feel old,” Bea grumbled. “Anyway. So what, you two married in secret, and the Asgardians didn’t make a fuss?”             “Well, that’s the thing. Loki was impersonating Odin, so the Asgardians didn’t know Loki was actually ruling, meaning I wasn’t publicly named Queen.”            “I was wondering how Loki managed to get the thrown before Thor,” Bea mumbled, shaking her head.            “Yeah, it wasn’t our best moment, but Asgard is thriving. The Nine Realms are at peace. I think we did a pretty good job,” I boasted.             “I think I’d take Loki over Thor anyway. Loki never struck me as part of the typical royal family with all the lies and secrets. So I’m not surprised he managed the throne well,” Bee said with a shrug.             “You don’t even know the half of it,” I mumbled. Loki’s Jotunn heritage was still a reasonably well-kept secret, and I planned to keep it that way, along with my halfling bloodline. I glanced at Bea, feeling guilty for keeping it from her; for a second, I thought of telling her, but the fear of judgment and hostility kept my lips sealed.

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Series Masterlist | Chapter 10

Taglist: 

@criminalyetminimal​ @marvelfansworld​ 

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 8: The Light]

Hi y’all! Thank you so much for reading and supporting my writing. Each and every message/reblog/comment/etc makes me smile, and it’s a dream come true to get to share my work with you! 💜

Chapter summary: John shares a secret; Y/N excels at Scrabble; Brian makes peace; Roger suffers a misstep.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, medical stuff, pregnancy (not who you think!).

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @killer-queen-xo​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @bookandband​ @queen-crue​ @jennyggggrrr​ @madeinheavxn​ @whatgoeson-itslate​ @brianssixpence​ @simonedk​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

Medicine teaches you to be fiercely skeptical of things that seem too good to be true. Bodies fail—completely and inevitably, though the timing may differ—and patients lie. Medical records don’t, fingerprints don’t, track marks up the underside of an arm don’t, blood and paternity tests don’t, oftentimes the eyes don’t; but given half a chance, people will lie themselves right into the grave.

Those bruises, doc? Got ‘em from a nasty fall down the stairs. I’m lucky I didn’t break my neck!

Nope, never done drugs, not even a joint, I swear on my mother’s life.

I’ll give it up, I’ll go to rehab. Never again. I promise. I don’t want to die.

Doc, I don’t care if the timing doesn’t seem quite right. My husband IS the father. There’s been no one else!

That doting fiancé is flirting with the nurses. Those grown-up children who fluff pillows and dab away tears are asking about the will. That wife is never going to testify against her abusive husband. That addict is going to relapse again...and again...and again. Are there exceptions? Of course. But if you get in the habit of trusting people—of believing all those tantalizingly attractive, hopeful lies—it’ll break your heart six ways to Sunday. There is no perfection in medicine, and there are very rarely miracles.

And so during those first few weeks with Roger—as you watch him from the reeling crowd, from the other side of the tour bus, from across the restaurant table, from the tiny viewfinder of the Canon F-1—you can’t stop searching for the cracks, the shadows, the lies, the dark malignancies breeding beneath the surface. Because everything about Roger Taylor is too good to be true. He’s bright and he’s loud and he’s brilliant and he’s always smiling, always warm. He careens backstage after every show—you keep bracing yourself not to be disappointed when the novelty wears away, when it ends, but it doesn’t—pushing aside roadies and reporters, shouting “Where’s the love of my life? Where’s my Boston babe?” with the most absurd grin you’ve ever seen until he finds you, collides with you, scoops you up and spins you in ungainly circles as your toes skim the floor. Then he cradles your face in his scarred hands and kisses you, breathes you in, tells you everything about the show (even though you were there to see it) in a rush of pure, manic adrenaline. And you stumble into some dressing room together—or a hotel room, or a taxi, or a limousine, or an elevator—and finally it’s your bare thighs his palms are gliding over, your tongue tasting the Heineken and craving on his lips, and it feels impossible for that to ever change. Roger is too good to be true, that’s undeniable; but when you watch him with those doubtful, cautious eyes, you can’t find anything but light.

He wakes up at 6 a.m. to join you on a bayou tour in New Orleans, taps his cigarette over the moss-covered sides of the boat, points out the alligators with leathered skin and ancient yellow irises lurking in the depths. He walks Fremont Street with you in Las Vegas and makes you choose his numbers for the Roulette wheel, for his fate. He snaps photos of you on a sun-drenched balcony in Miami, roaring cobalt waves crashing in the background. He takes you to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, the Art Institute of Chicago, the National Aquarium in Baltimore, the Philadelphia Zoo, Myrtle Beach and the Saint Louis Arch and the Santa Monica Pier. Because he was telling the truth when he said he could show you the world all those months ago when Queen was at Top of the Pops; he was telling you the truth about the list that’s etched into the rushing scarlet chambers of his heart.

When the American leg of the tour ends and the band gets a brief reprieve in London, you move into Roger’s paltry, disorganized flat and scrub away all the remnants of his past life: dust and empty cigarette boxes and women’s socks, ashes and copies of Vogue, a tube of lipstick that isn’t yours. You don’t complain, don’t even frown; you’re under no delusions that something eternal can be founded on resentment, on lies. And so you clear out the clutter and open the windows so sunshine and crisp spring air can breathe through the apartment, so you can both start fresh along with the bellflowers and delphiniums and roses and the tawny newborn ducklings scampering behind their mothers. You hang photos from the tour and John’s sketches on the refrigerator, place your Canon F-1 and pink conch shell from Ostia on the nightstand, litter the drawers with your own socks and makeup. You teach Roger how to sew (although he’s not much good at it) and how to treat blisters (although you’ll always be there to do it for him); and in return Roger teaches you how to trust, how to believe, how to stop searching desperately for faults in the light.  

On the second day of April, Queen boards their flight to Tokyo. Brian settles into a plushy, billowing blanket and loses himself in an astronomy magazine; he’s an engaged man now, an honest man in the eyes of society at large...and, far more importantly, his parents. Freddie pens lyrics in his notebook, humming disjointedly, napping like a cat when the mood strikes him. Roger snacks constantly and tries to get John chatting, but John is particularly subdued today, preoccupied, prone to gazing unfocusedly at the clouds that drift by outside and wringing his hands.

And you think, as you peer down into the glistening sapphire waters of the East China Sea: Brian’s a willow tree, Freddie’s a lightning storm, Roger is wildfire...but what is John?

Something deep, something beautiful and strong and constant and hidden.

The ocean, you decide as Queen’s private plane soars over the quicksilver waves that conceal the abyss. John is the ocean.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You didn’t have to stay, you know.”

John is lying on his back under a small grove of cherry blossom trees outside the hotel, sketching grey outlines of petals and arcing branches in a new notebook. He hasn’t given any sign that he heard you coming, doesn’t turn his head to see you. You freeze, startled.

“How’d you know it was me?!”

“You have very distinct footsteps. Dainty, yet purposeful.” He sets aside his notebook and sits up, crossing his long legs. “Why didn’t you go to lunch?”

“Because you didn’t. You turned down ramen, and you never turn down ramen. I was worried. Plus someone has to make sure a roving posse of screaming Japanese girls doesn’t carry you off.”

That makes him laugh. The Japanese fans are inexplicably obsessed with John; or maybe it’s not so inexplicable, maybe they just have a better eye for quiet, unassuming wonders. “Always so thoughtful.”

You sit down beside him, open a pack of chocolate-flavored Pocky and offer John a piece, frown when he lights a cigarette instead. “That’s really bad for you. Seriously. You should quit.”

“At last. One thing you and Brian agree on.” He exhales a gale of smoke and peers up at the cherry blossoms.

“John?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t break up with Veronica, did you?” Chrissie and Mary didn’t mention anything about her tearful devastation, and you suspect they would have had John gone through with it.

He sighs. “I did not.”

“And...are we feeling...okay about that...?”

He twirls the cigarette nervously between his fingers. After a silence, he surrenders. “Look, I haven’t told anybody yet, but I’d tell you first anyway. So here it goes.” He glances over at you guiltily, gloomily, wishing he could disappear. “I didn’t break up with Veronica because she’s pregnant.”

Your jaw falls open. A half-eaten stick of Pocky rolls out of your mouth and onto the grass. She’s what? She’s WHAT?

“Please don’t be disappointed,” John pleads. “I’m disappointed in myself enough for both of us, believe me.”

“I...I...I’m not disappointed, John, I’m just...” You blink at him. “Oh my god.”

He nods, acquiescent. “I’m in complete agreement.”

You shake your head, gaping at him, stunned; and suddenly you don’t like what you’re feeling at all. Because it isn’t just shock and horror, it isn’t just apprehension. You hate the thought of him touching her, of her delicate white hands on him, of innocence stripped away and memories impressed into muscle, into soul.

Because you know she’s not right for him. Because you know he doesn’t love her the way he should. Because you want the best for him and always have.

Oh, there’s a comforting rationale; but is it true?

And then: You fucking hypocrite. Since when do you get an opinion on who anyone sleeps with?

“It must have happened in January,” John says miserably. “Right before we left for the States. She didn’t want to tell me over the phone...I guess maybe she thought if she did I’d never come back. So she told me as soon as I landed in London. And here we all are.”

You stare down at your shoes, trying to compose yourself. “What are you going to do?”

“There’s only one option.”

“Actually, there are quite a few. But I know you’d never consider them.” John’s father died when he was ten, and he never talks about it; which is precisely how you know it’s a wound that can’t ever heal, a gash that goes straight down to the bone. He would never leave his child, never banish them to some dusty, repressed corner of his consciousness while he moves on with a blissfully unencumbered life. You whisper: “I’m so fucking sorry, John.”

That snaps something in him, something he was choking back. He buries his face in his hands. “What the fuck am I doing?” he moans. “I’m twenty-three years old, I’m broke, I turned down loads of jobs, good jobs, as an electrical engineer, I’ve somehow become the bassist in an increasingly famous rock band...I mean, how the hell did this happen? How did any of this happen?”

“It’ll be okay,” you insist with newfound resolve. I have to save him. I have to protect him.

John rolls those soft greyish eyes, hopeless, distraught. “Sure.”

“It will be, I promise you. The tour is going great. I had my doubts about the band when I first met you, I’ll admit it, I didn’t know if there was a future for Queen. But you’ve made me a believer. You’ve made millions of people all over the world believers. The money will keep rolling in, Queen will finally start seeing some of it, you won’t be broke forever. You’ll have two more months on the road and then we’ll be back in London, and it’ll be on to recording the next album, more shows, more money...the hard times are almost over, John. You can do this. And I’ll help you.”

His brow furrows. “You will?”

“Of course. If it’s easier for Veronica, it’ll be easier for you. So I’ll be extra friendly, take her to appointments when you’re busy, help organize the wedding, babysit the littlest Deacon whenever she needs me to. We’ll get through this. I’ll be there to help every step of the way.”

“You’re happy, aren’t you?” he asks suddenly. “You and Roger. You aren’t going anywhere.” He’s reading you closely, sifting through your words and forced smile for something deeper.

“I’m happy,” you assure him. “You don’t need to be concerned about that. I’m staying with the band, I’m staying in London. Whenever Queen is home, that is.”

He nods, but perhaps that wasn’t exactly what he was looking for. He finally accepts a piece of Pocky from you and takes a bite. “Then I guess we’ll plan for a summer wedding.”

“You could do a double one with Brian and Chrissie.”

He laughs so hard he almost inhales the Pocky, then doubles over coughing. “I think Bri would rather slit his own throat, but a charming thought. Thank you for that. Bravo.”

You smile at John, genuinely this time. “You’re going to be an amazing father. I hope you aren’t worried about that part of it, at least.”

“Will you be their godparent?”

“What? Me?!”

“Yeah. Because, you know...” John averts his gaze. “You’d be the person I would want to raise them if something happened to me and Veronica. You’re the most dedicated, stubborn, capable, nurturing, remarkable person I’ve ever met. You’re my best friend. And maybe Roger’s your best friend and you’re his, and that’s all fine, that’s alright, but you’re still mine.”

“Roger is a lot of incredible things, but he’s not my best friend.” You lie flat on the grass and lace your hands behind your head, tracking the weightless snowy clouds as they float by above. When did we become adults? When did all of these rules catch up to us? “I would be honored to be your child’s godparent.”

John plops down beside you. “Don’t tell the others yet, okay? I want to wait until the tour’s over. I don’t want them to panic and think I’m leaving and try to replace me or anything.”

“They wouldn’t try to replace you, John.”

“No?” he asks doubtfully.

“No. Roger knows it, Fred knows it, I think even Bri knows it.” You reach out and weave a lock of his hair through your fingers as cherry blossom petals tumble in the breeze. “You’re irreplaceable.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Sod,” Freddie mocks. “That’s the best you could do? Really? Sod?”

Roger flings up his hands in frustration. “Freddie, I’ve got like a million Cs!”

“You could have done cod,” Brian notes, sipping a cup of hot tea. “Cods, actually.”

Roger glowers down at his Scrabble tiles. “Fuck.”

“And I’m so delighted he didn’t!” You place your tiles, expanding on sod to make rhapsody. John high-fives you and records the points in his notebook. Freddie and Brian groan in defeat.

“What the hell is a rhapsody?!” Roger snatches the Official Scrabble Dictionary off the table and flips through it.

“It’s a, like a...” Freddie waves his cigarette, scattering smoke through the air. “It’s like an epic poem. Or an opera. With lots of bizarre, different parts all pieced together.”

“That sounds made up.”

Freddie cackles. “Darling, it’s a real thing, I swear!”

Roger locates the pertinent page in the Scrabble Dictionary and his shoulders slump. “Goddammit. Fucking...too smart...nerdy...college-educated...girlfriend.” He drags you into his lap and kisses your temple. “You’re lucky you’re cute. I don’t usually tolerate being conquered like this.”

Bri smirks from behind his teacup. “I rather think you conquered her, Rog.”

“Oh, a rare good one from Bri!” Freddie trills as everyone laughs, although John soon busies himself with clearing empty bottles and cigarette butts off the table.

“Yes,” Roger agrees. “Against her superior judgment, I finally won her over. Only took eight months. Which is approximately...wait, let me count...seven and a half months longer than it has ever taken me before.”

You trace your fingertips across his stubbled cheeks, his soft lips, his little dark blond tufts of sideburns. “No one knows how to say no to you, do they?”

“It’s impossible. I’m too charming. Blindingly heroic. Perseus in the flesh.” He kisses your forehead and steadies you, his hands on your waist, as the brakes squeal and the tour bus lurches to a halt.

Freddie leaps to his feet and claps. “Alright, darlings! Off to the new digs we go. Deaky, hand me my shoes, they’re under the table...yes, right there...and toss over Brian’s hideous clogs as well.”

You help the roadies and the band drag luggage into the hotel (no small feat, as the elevator is out of order), unpack your toothbrush and hairbrush and a floral-patterned dress for dinner, giggle as you listen to Roger’s feral, raspy singing in the shower. It’s something about loving a car, how perfectly on-brand for him. Then Roger goes to fetch Freddie and John for dinner while you find Brian. Bri is collapsed on his bed in a striped t-shirt and jeans, freshly-washed and dewy, gazing up at the ceiling in a daze.

You tap gently on the doorframe. “Bri? You want to join us for dinner? There’s a sushi place a few blocks away that’s a local legend, apparently. Lots of veggie options too.”

He looks over at you. You haven’t spoken about the argument since you had it two months ago. Brian sometimes grimaces or smirks or rolls his willowy viridescent eyes, but he never says anything; not to you, and not to Roger as far as you’re aware. “I’m sorry,” he says simply. “I may have been out of line before. Incorrect, even.”

“No need to apologize, Bri. I’ve forgotten all about it.” You haven’t, but there’s no reason for Brian to know that.

“I just want what’s best for you. For you to be happy.”

“I know, Brian.” You cross the room and take his long, moon-white, artful hands in your own. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ll be in the wedding party, won’t you? I know Chris will ask.”

“Of course. And I’ll proudly wear whatever dreadfully tacky and uncomfortable bridesmaid dresses she picks out.”

“Even if they’re a frightful shimmery green?”

“Oh god.” You swallow noisily. “I’ll still do it. And then burn the photos.”

Brian chuckles as he climbs out of bed. “In a stroke of luck, I suspect she’ll ask you to take the pictures. So you can avoid being in them as much as you’d like. And conveniently lose the unflattering ones.”

You study him thoughtfully. “Are you happy, Brian?”

“I am. Chrissie’s excited, my parents are thrilled, they’ll be sitting in the front row with the proudest smiles you’ve ever seen. Next comes a proper house, and children, and all the rest of it.” But something in those mellow olivey eyes is resigned, melancholy. His words from two months ago echo in your skull: It’s necessary. It’s self-preservation. Because sometimes the people who set us on fire would burn us alive.

“Do you still think about New Orleans?” you ask softly. About the woman he’d fallen in love with there before you ever met Queen, about the utopian passion he never quite stops searching for. Everyone has demons, secrets, shadowy trenches like cracks in porcelain; you’ve learned all about Brian’s. What about Roger’s? What about mine?

He shrugs, staring out the window at the dusky skyline of Yokohama. “Maybe I’ll always think about New Orleans. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have to grow up and start taking responsibility.”

“Responsibility,” you reply cynically, before you can stop yourself. “Is that all love is about anymore?”

“Not for you. Not for Roger. You both want your freedom, your adventure, your true and uncomplicated love. And you’ll get to keep it.”

For now. But you don’t say that. Instead, you smile appeasingly and gesture for Brian to follow you out into the hallway.

The others are waiting by the door to the stairwell: John in a smart grey suit, Freddie in his black-and-yellow jacket, Roger in sunglasses and a ridiculous leopard-print vest he’d dug out of a trashcan somewhere and precariously tall boots.

“At last, Nurse Nightingale and my darling Brian!” Freddie chirps. “Come on, I’m positively famished, and also I’ve bet five pounds that I can consume more sake shots than Roger and I could really use the dough.”

Roger pushes through the door, leading the way. “Prepare to lose!”

“Roger, please,” you implore. “New livers don’t grow on trees, and I can’t give you half of mine. I’m the wrong blood type.”

Roger laughs as he bounds down the steps, then whirls to grin up at you as he walks backwards. “Relax, Deaks will share! You’re type A, aren’t you John—?”

Roger’s heel slips and he plummets down the flight of stairs. He tumbles as the four of you shriek in horror and bolt after him, slams into the wall of the landing, ricochets off of it and plunges down the next flight as well. There’s blood, you think frenziedly as you descend, screaming Roger’s name. There’s blood all over the steps.

Roger, crumpled on the maroon-streaked landing, slowly unravels and groans. He glances down, appraises himself, then hammers his left fist against the concrete wall of the stairwell, roaring in raw agony and rage. “No no no no no no!”

“Roger—!”

And then you see it.

Roger’s right arm hangs uselessly, unnaturally, his snapped radius bloody and splitting through the skin.

[lo-55]

Shattered Chains of Fate Ch. 8

Not Yet Too Late

 When they are tossed unceremoniously out the gate of the Dangai (and hell, Ichigo never thought he’d miss the vertigo of a Ray Shift before) Ichigo and Yoroichi are the only ones who land on their feet. Orihime breaks their fall with one of her barriers. Seeing it in action, three pronged and glowing, helps him file away what she can do for later.

 He starts looking around.

 They’re in a village, one that’s empty and devoid of life. Seemingly. Ichigo sees shadows move in the buildings. Okay. Not ideal. Nothing good comes from dropping right in the middle of civilization. It always leads to a fight. London had been a shit show and a half.

 At least he can see now. And what he sees, down the road, is unmistakable.

 “Is that Seireitei?” Ichigo asks aloud. A sprawling city with the harsh edges and an oppressive aura of order and structure. There was a thin line the separate the streets there, shining and well kept, from even the nice enough streets they stood upon. Ichigo knew it for what it was even if Kyo hadn’t told him about it before. He can recognize a military compound for what it is.

 “Yes,” Yoruichi comes to stand at his feet. “Right now we’re in the Rukongai, the outskirts of the soul society. This is the part of the soul society where the most souls live, and also the poorest part.”

 Ichigo doesn’t respond as Yoruichi explains it to his friends who don’t know.

 He eyes the line in the ground.

 “They’ll know we’re here,” he said abruptly. “We need to move away from here. Our entrance was too flashy, and the people in these houses probably won’t keep us a secret. Yoruichi, the Seireitei. Does is have some kind of bounded field?”

 There was no way a military complex didn’t have defenses, no matter how it looked right there.

 “...Yes. There’s a wall that will fall should anyone try to cross the threshold without a permit. On top of that, there’s a gate guardian who will not let anyone past him.”

 “That’s fine. Okay,” Ichigo ran his fingers through his hair, gathering it all to the back of his head. He tied it into a tight, short pony tail. “We need a base of operations so we can figure out how to get in. We’re short on time but still… I’d like to avoid rushing in head first.”

 If it was just him, he probably wouldn’t be so cautious. If it was him, Mash, Cu, and Medusa he would have no hesitation. Break in, make a fuss, and disappear into the veritable maze he knows stretches out. Kyo had told him once how easy it was to get lost if you didn’t know where he was going.

 Joy.

 Yoruichi is giving him the strangest look, but she doesn’t argue.

 “You’re right. Come with me. I have a friend nearby who I believe will be willing to help us.”

 “Sure.”

 Ichigo casts one last look at the Seireitei and follows after the black cat leading their path.

     Just wait for me a little longer Rukia. I swear. I will come save you.  

       *

 Three days.

 Kisuke has been training Ichigo Kurosaki for three days when Yoruichi finally comes back from where she’s taken his two young friends for their own training. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth, this whole plan.

 Not their ages, though they are infants by shinigami time. Smaller people than them are made killers, as Kisuke himself well knows. He was barely taller than Jinta when he had met Yoruichi, and scarcely five years older than that when she first handed him envelope of thick, expensive paper. The parchment itself had been worth more money than he’d seen in his entire first century of after-life. The life inside of it, worth somehow more and less.

 He knew, understood intimately, how far a person could go for their friends. As far as follow them into a dark, dangerous new world.

 They don’t have a lot of options, other than to train these teenagers to the best of their abilities. He, Tessei, Yoruichi and the Visord are all banned completely from the Soul Society. Shy of destroying the defending, interdimensional barrier that binds them, there’s no way for them to go in.

 While he could, if he did then they would be faced with Yamamoto and the terrible two, Ukitake and Kyoraku, the second they stepped foot in rukongai. Even Kisuke, with his clever plans and deadly edge, can’t stand against the overwhelming power of Yamamoto’s burning blade.

 That’s not even to mention the other two captains, who are kind only when they can be.

 Kisuke had been young still, just a tetchy little first year in the academy, who hadn’t yet learned to hide completely behind his smiles, under Shihoin sponsorship the last year of the Quincy war.

 He can remember intimately, horribly, the dark look in Yoruichi’s eyes when she walked back into the Shihoin manor with the two trailing after her. It had been the first time Kisuke had ever seen the two, and the affable captain of the eighth and the gentle commander of the thirteenth were no where to be seen.

 They were commanders in a war of extermination, with shadows in the their eyes, and a hand on a blade at all times. Everything about them had been dangerous, weary dogs barely leashed to their master. Ready for the next fight, ready for the next kill. They hadn’t had the luxury of mercy then.

 If any of them are caught in Seireitei, there will be no luxury allowed from the Central 46.

 But these teenagers are young. The old guard, Yamamoto, Unohana, and Yamamoto’s first two students like to pretend that they’re no longer wolves. Kisuke is forced to bank on the idea that they will go after these children with as much mercy as they will be allowed.

 That was the plan.

 It had started as a contingency plan when Masaki and Isshin had first come to him with news of her pregnancy. A dark scheme that he wanted to discard, but he wasn’t able to. A child with the blood of a great shinigami line and a long standing quincy one. Half blooded on both sides, with the potential of a natural born hollow inside his soul.

 (Kisuke’s hands have itched for years to see this boy, to find out what he could do, where his tendencies lay.

 Then Masaki had died, and Isshin had forbidden any of them from coming near the Kurosaki house. Even Kisuke has enough respect for that.)  

 The plan      was    a hail mary that banked on the better nature of war veterans and murderers, and Yoruichi’s ability to train and keep track of human teenagers. She’ll have more luck herding cats.

     Was    .

 Now, things have changed.

 Ichigo lies a hundred yards away in a crater, his arms stretched out and his breathing even. Even asleep, he’s not let go of his sword.

 Yoruichi sits at his side, her tail curled around her front paws.

 “He really just meditated and woke up his powers?” Kisuke has to ask again. It’s the second time. Rarely does he need something repeated but this… This is a bit different.

 “Mmmm. He was in a house that wasn’t his families. It only smelled like him and the mod soul, Kon. I didn’t get to see everything, obviously. I’m not sure what he did. He said, and I quote, ‘Fucking everyone is so damn cryptic all the time’. And then, ‘a backwards ray shift’. After that he slipped into something like jinzen. His reitsu changed while he was meditating, and you know the rest.”

 Kisuke frowned deeply. “Who was being cryptic?”

 “I couldn’t tell you,” Yoruichi shakes her head. “He’s a strange kid, Kisuke.”

 “That’s putting it mildly. Have you seen him fight? I’ve never seen anyone that refined and that coarse in the same time.”

 “He doesn’t have a single particular style,” Yoruichi agreed. “But it’s clear he knows several different ones, and is at least proficient in each. Did you notice he’s ambidextrous?”

 “Mhmm. I did. Did you notice his soul looks older than his body?”

 Kisuke is reluctant to admit it, but he might have to talk to Isshin about this.

 He should be more worried. He is, his mind spinning a hundred paranoid ideas. Everything from Aizen has already gotten to Ichigo, even though he knows that’s impossible right now, to Ichigo has been replaced by a clone that Kisuke didn’t make.

 * *

 They finally lure the people out of hiding so Yoruichi can ask the leader of the village for someone named Kukaku.

 Shiba Kukaku. If Ichigo recalls, Kyo had once told him that Shiba were a strange type of royalty in the Seireitei. Not as stuck up as the rest of the noblemen, who Kyo quietly despised (he’d never been good enough at lying to hide all of his vitriol from Ichigo) they were a rowdy bunch that blew things up a lot.

 Not exactly stealthy, but Ichigo was willing to go along with whatever Yoruichi’s plan was for now. Clearly she knew what she was doing. She and Urahara, and probably Tessai and the kids, were undoubtedly from here. What happened and why they were in the world of the living was none of his business.

 They were in the middle of talking to the old man when the door burst open and a pig launched a man off of her(?) back.

 Ichigo caught him effortlessly around the middle.

 “Ah! She threw me again!” The stranger shouted, far to close to Ichigo’s ear. Ichigo set him on his feet.

 “Careful,” he advised. The man dusts his pants off and finally looks to Ichigo.

 “I’m fine, I’m fine. It happens all… the… time?” He stares. Ichigo can see the flip switched in his head, and suddenly he’d ducking a punch. “A punk ass shinigami!”

 “Hey. Don’t be rude,” Ichigo says with no sense of irony at all. The man is broad, strong, with a bandana over his black hair and goggles over his eyes.

 “What are you doing here?!”

 Ichigo just stared at him. This guy was so rowdy. They really didn’t have time to be dealing with him…

 Of course, he got right in Ichigo’s face. He even patted his cheek patronizingly.

 “Didn’t you hear me? I asked what a punk ass shinigami like you is-”

 When Ichigo punches him he goes flying right back through the wall.

 “...huh,” Ichigo says idly. “I tried to hold back.”

 That training with Urahara must have done him more good than he first thought.

 He picks his way through the broken wall to find his attacker knocked out on the ground.

 “Oh. Well that happened.”

 He shrugs it off and goes back inside to sit beside Yoruichi in front of a bug eyed mayor while a bunch of punks riding literal hogs surround the guy Ichigo knocked out.

 “Anyhow. You were saying your friend lives somewhere around here, weren’t you?”

 “....yes. We will have to find Kukaku’s house, but I believe that she will help us.”

 “How is she going to get us into Seireitei? If the walls come down and there’s guards at the gate that cuts off the direct route.”

 “You’re not wrong.”

 Yoruichi explains that the Seireitei is surrounded on all sides by a spirit barrier. No amount of spirit energy will serve them any good. Which is irritating. If it was spells or a bounded field they could maybe find a way to wind through them or hack past the barriers, like Flat does as easy as breathing. But if it’s that secure, above and bellow, Ichigo really has no choice but to trust Yoruichi to know what she’s doing.

 He doesn’t have any better ideas, certainly. So they set off to find this Kukaku Shiba.

 The only problem is that she is, apparently, the older sister of the guy Ichigo KO’d. And that’s how Ichigo finds himself running away from a woman with one arm and a hand full of bombs.

 How is this his life?

 Yoruichi manages to smooth things over by explaining that Ganju had started everything and Ichigo had only hit him once. Then the scolding goes from Kukaku on Ichigo to Kukaku on Ganju.

 “And I thought I had weird family dynamics,” Ichigo muttered to Uryu, who’s been watching the whole ordeal like it’s a sitcom.

 “Your family dynamics are weird,” Uryu replies without missing a beat.

 Ichigo snorts, but shuts up when Kukaku turns to them.

 “Alright. Since this is Yoruichi and Urahara asking me, I can’t say no to this job. But I don’t trust you kids. So once Ganju,” Who had been dragged home by the hog riders while Ichigo’s group was looking for the house, “Wakes up, he’ll be going with you.”

 First Ichigo knocked him out, then his own sister. Ichigo is starting to pity the fool.

 Which was just great.

 “Fine,” Ichigo mentally starts changing his plans again around the new arrival. It’ll add friction. Ganju clearly hates shinigami, but if they’re going up against shinigami hopefully the common enemy will help smooth over the enmity.

 “But first, how exactly are you planning on getting us in there?”

 “Huh? I’ll show you.”

 Kukaku leads them into the bowels of the house, until they’re standing in a dark room and looking up at a round chimney that Ichigo knows extends high outside.

 “I’m going to get you in through the sky!”

 “...fuck me,” Ichigo says. “It’s a canon.”

     Please dear god let this be less terrifying than being shot into the sky on a bow.  

 “That’s right! You’re looking at the number one fireworks maker, Kukaku Shiba!”

 Fuck.

 “Okay.”

 Kukaku tosses a ball his way. Ichigo turns it over in his hands, inspecting it curiously. There’s a design on it that reminds him vaguely of a phoenix and star wars. The door slides open while Ichigo is inspecting it, and Ganju steps inside. He’s got a nasty black eye.

 “Focus your energy in there,” she orders.

 Ichigo, who has spent five years pouring his mana and reiryoku into literally dozens of people, does just that. It’s as easy as breathing. A light flickers and he finds himself in a perfect sphere that glows so brightly with his energy it threatens to blind even him. Beyond the confines he can hear his friends shout. So he cuts off the pouring of power and drops the ball to the floor.

 “Was that right?” he asks.

 The dropped jaw on Kukaku’s face was enough of an answer.

 Ichigo always has been good at making impressions.

 “Yeah,” she says at last, recovering faster than Ichigo was expecting. “That’ll work. My men will take you to the training room for some more practice. If it’s not perfect by tomorrow, you’ll blow up on entry.”

 Ichigo doesn’t even blink.

 “I understand. Thanks.”

 While they’re walking away, Ichigo takes a look back just in time to see Ganju’s face twisted in unmistakable pain.

 * * *

 Tea steams across the table, twirling in the light of the overhead. The kettle sits on the counter, unplugged but still hot and ready to use. The wonders of human convenience.

 Isshin sits across from Kisuke on the low table, his eyes strangely dark, his customary smile missing. It’s frankly disturbing, and a good sign of the times.

 “So,” Isshin starts. “Why did you call? I doubt it’s a social call.”

 Indeed, his son has just left on a potential suicide mission to save a girl he barely knows on grounds of a favor that he owes. It’s such a Shiba thing to do.

 Ichigo is a frightening boy, he is his parents son, but Kisuke thinks he will surpass them both rather soon.

 “No, I'm afraid not,” Kisuke’s tone is still light, still somewhat playful. He misses Yoruichi at his side. He kind of misses the brash, unbending teenager that had been in his basement. Ichigo seems to have a talent for worming his way into people’s good graces, despite his manners.

 Kisuke can’t imagine how often he gathers followers if his plan for invading seireitei was to make allies and convince them to commit treason. Ichigo doesn’t seem      stupid    . Perhaps just overly optimistic?  

 “When did you teach your son to fight with a sword?” he asks instead, starting with the easiest question. Easier than asking ‘Isshin why the fuck does a child move like he’s lived and breathed fighting but thinks the bonds of friendship will save him?’. Or, ‘How did Ichigo do in one hour what normally takes more than ten years?’.

 “I never have. Why?” Isshin frowns. “He went to karate for years, and we spar at home, but he’s never held a weapon before.”

 “Is that so?” Kisuke cocks his head, his grey eyes narrowing minutely. Never touched a sword? No, that’s impossible. Ichigo moves with grace and holds a weapon with ease that only comes from long years of practice.

 “Why? Kisuke, what’s going on with my son?” Isshin’s voice raises. He slaps his hands on the table, only to retract them with Kisuke gives him a Look.

 Kisuke can only shake his head. “I couldn’t tell you. Your best guess is to ask him, but I know you won't do that.”

 Guilt and discomfort flickers across Isshin's face. He looks down, his fists clenching in his lap.

 “The time isn't right yet.”

 “The time's never going to be right,” It’s something Kisuke has wanted to say for      years    now.  “You'll keep putting it off until eventually, it's too late. I know you.”

 Isshin's jaw sets and he narrows those dark eyes at Kisuke. Anyone else might have at least squirmed. Kisuke doesn’t so much as blink. “That's why I asked you to look out for him.”

 “Have you seen your son lately, Isshin?” He hardly needs anyone to look out for him anymore. Even Kisuke has nothing to teach. All he van do right now, without jeopardizing Ichigo’s trust in him, is keep pushing Ichigo to grow stronger and stronger.

 It occurs to him, briefly, that Ichigo might learn who they are in Seireitei, but that is a bridge Kisuke will cross when they reach it.

 “Don’t talk down to me!” Isshin’s temper finally frays. The fact that it took so little is telling. Isshin is worried about Ichigo. A father who told his son none of what his life may hold is worried now for what will happen to him that life.

 Kisuke wants to laugh in his face.

 Since he doesn’t want to be punched, even by Isshin in a gigai, he snaps his fan out over his smiling mouth.

 “Then step up, Isshin. You’re children are growing. If you’re not careful, your children will leave you behind.”

 He thinks, privately, that Ichigo already has.

 Isshin is silent for a long, terrible minute. Isshin is never silent. He is loud and brash and makes an excellent ‘idiot distraction’. Too good, sometimes, if he really hasn’t noticed any of this.

 Ichigo walks with purpose. With weariness. Kisuke is too familiar with the dark edges of existence not to see the way Ichigo faces windows and door, the way he watches shadows, the way his hand twitches to the right like there’s something or someone there when the air is empty. Kisuke can see the darkness in the back of brown eyes.

 Something happened, and the only time it could have occurred was over the summer.

 What happened, in this Chaldea?

 “...he asked me about Masaki,” Isshin says at last. “He asked me if she was a quincy.”

 “Did you tell him?” As if Kisuke doesn’t already know the answer.

 “No.”

 His voice is quiet.

 “He asked me in front of her grave, and I couldn’t tell him the truth. It’s already too late, Kisuke.”

 “Isshin… You really area fool.”

 Ichigo is gone now. Maybe, for Isshin, forever.

 * * * *

 That night, Ichigo finds himself sitting outside in the grass, rolling stones through his fingers while lightning bugs flicker around him.

 It’s picturesque out here. Almost enough to be the paradise so many people hope for.

 It’s nothing like the long, dark corridors of Kur. It’s nothing like the dead soil and the flickering cages tended to so carefully by Ereshkigal. Ichigo aches with thoughts of what might have happened to her. Where is she, that she allowed her land to fall into such a state of poverty? When had grass started to grow? When had a King taken over the afterlife?

 He has a million questions and not a single answer.

 Ichigo rolls a rock around in his palm. In his other hand he brings up a small knife and cuts into the stone a familiar rune. One line with a single smaller one branching off downwards.

 ‘Torch’.

   He knows mana won’t work here. There is no life for this land of life energy. That was how they’d defeated Tiamat, after all.

 So he must come up with something else.

     Ichigo knows, for Scathach has told him, that most mages have absolutely reiryoku to their name. Once they die they can no longer perform their precious magic, for there is no mana for them to use.

 Ichigo is blessed (or something) with an over abundance of both and a talent only for mana transference.

 It seems to him that the concept can’t be that different.

 So he focuses on the stone in his hand and calls on the energy he can feel humming around him. In the air, the grass, the earth, it makes up everything the same way mana does. He draws it into himself and tries to press into the rock in his hand.  The energy sinks in, slowly at first. It’s like trying to force syrup into a water balloon made of concrete.

  It’s not really working.

  Some instinct hisses in the back of his mind and Ichigo sits straight up, drawing Zangetsu from where he’s sat in the grass beside him. He’s not a second too late, barely blocking a blow that comes from the shadows.

 Ichigo is on his feet in a second.

 He hasn’t survived this long by being stupid, and he’s always trusted his instincts. They’ve never let him die yet.

 They’re far enough away that if he shouts no one will reach him in time to help. Even if he was closer, when he sees the man step out of the trees he knows without a doubt; none of his friends can take this man.

 He’s tall. Silver hair and a curved smile makes him think of a snake. He almost feels like Stheno, enough that it sets Ichigo’s teeth on edge. He remembers clearly her habit of toying with those she likes, embarrassing and driving them to ruin while watching them struggle.

 “You know it’s rude to attack someone when their back is turned?” Ichigo says, tilting his blade and letting the bandages flow off and into the air.

 The mans smile stretches.

 “You have good reflexes for a kid,” he teases, his voice light. Ichigo narrows his eyes. This man is strong. Stronger than Ichigo for certain, but if he’s careful…

 “I’m not a kid. Who are you?”

 “Me? Oh, no one really. I just wanted to see who it was that came to visit today. You’re causing quite the stir, you know.”

 “Oh yeah?” Ichigo narrows his eyes. “Are you here for a fight?”

 The man considers him. He lifts a dagger up, twirling it elegantly. He drops into a hard stands, one leg behind the other, partially bent, his hand with the knife at the back.

 Ichigo gets Zangetsu up without a second to spare, blocking the blade an inch from cutting into his shoulder. It extends and retracts in the time it takes to blink.

 Joy.

 Ichigo isn’t the fastest person, and his sword is big and powerful not small and swift. They’re a bad match up.

 Oh well.

 Ichigo lifts Zangetsu and brings him back down, slicing the air and cleaving the earth. The man, a shinigami with a white coat the flutters around him, dodges to the side with a single step. Ichigo catches a glimpse of his eyes. Quicksilver, it’s gone a second later and replaced by that same smile.

 “If you’re looking for a fight, I won’t back down,” Ichigo warns. Zangetsu hums in his grasp, comforting and familiar. His blood pounds, excitement rushes under his skin.

 “You're an interesting guy,” the stranger muses, “Aren’t you afraid of me?”

 It’s all Ichigo can do not to laugh.

 Ichigo has fought gods and monsters. This is just a man.

 “No way in hell.”

 “What a strange person you are.” He puts his short sword back in it’s sheath and it disappears inside his sleeves. Ichigo doesn’t trust it for a minute. “I have what I need. Bye bye now.”

 He waves and disappears in a blur of speed that makes Ichigo’s stomach twist. If that man wanted him dead, he would probably      be    dead.

 Ichigo is left alone in the dark.

 With nothing else to do, he picks up his rock and tries again.

 He only gets a few more minutes of trying to fill the cement balloon before the door to the main house opens and Orihime comes walking out. She shivers at the chill in the air and looks around until her eyes find his. They’re full of concern and compassion.

 It’s for the best. Ichigo needs to talk to her anyways.

 He waves her over.

 Orihime is someone that Ichigo has known for years, but barely knows at all in the end. He knows how her brother died.

 (He was there when it happened, when they came broken bodied and hearted into the kurosaki clinic. Her hair was short and her eyes were wet and dull with grief. For Ichigo grief was already an old companion. He’d sat at her side while his dad tried to explain what was happening to a child that already knew. He wonders if she remembers. He almost hopes she does.)

 Yet, they’ve never hung out outside of school. She is Tatsuki’s friend, and Tatsuki is Ichigo’s, and so she is in the same orbit as he is but they’ve never really gone off with each other, and rarely had true conversations.

 (He keeps waiting for her to bring up Acidwire/Sora.)

 (she doesn’t)

 She kneels across from him, a bright smile in the dark of night and Ichigo is suddenly very, very glad that she’d not come a few minutes earlier. He’s not sure how well he could have protected her.

 The thought tastes like bile.

 “Kurosaki,” she smiles sweetly at him. “You’ve been out here so long. Aren’t you getting cold?”

 Ichigo tilts his head before he shakes it.

 “No, I’m fine.”

 “O-oh.”

 Orihime is unsure of herself. It seems like she always is, except when she protected them in the Dangai, and when she swore to follow him into battle.

 How does he keep finding these people? These inexplicably loyal beings, with power beyond humans, who follow him into convoluted plots and dangerous schemes? How does he keep tricking people into thinking it’s a good idea?

 Is everyone just stupid?

 “Orihime, listen.”

 She perks up, all of his attention on him. Ichigo doesn’t like saying this, but it’s something he has to. There’s no other option.

 “When we get to the Seireitei, you’re going to be out top supporter. You’re our only healer, and while Uryu and I know basic first aid, it’s different from actually fixing someone. On top of that, you’re our shield. I know you’ve got an attack, but listen. Can you use it?”

 Orihime’s brows furrow. “I can use it. I know how, I’ve been practicing with Tsubaki and Yoruichi for a long time now.”

 “I don’t mean physically,” he corrects. He wants to be gentle, but it’s just not going to work. “I mean, can you actually hurt someone?”

 She freezes.

 “I-”

 “If it comes down to you or them. If it comes down to them or me. Orihime, could you hurt someone? Could you attack with the intent of making sure they don’t get back up?”

 She clasps her hands in her lap. “I-I can-”

 “If you can’t,” he cuts in swiftly. “Say it now. When we fight we need to know you have our backs. Do you understand, Orihime? “

 “Y-yes,” she bows her head. Her hair pins glow faintly in the darkness, distracting from the shadow cast over her eyes.

 * * * * *

 Ichigo eyes the dark waters of the Mississippi warily.

 “This is insane,” he says aloud, “I’ve never seen anything this wide before.”

 He spins and points at Cu. “Don’t say a thing.”

 The caster lifts his hand, looking innocent. “I can’t say wha now?”

 “Fuck you.”

 “Stop being vulgar.”

 Kyo prods Ichigo from the side, garnering his attention. Mash sits at the front of their boat, a flat barge that pushes along valiantly. They’re halfway to the whitehouse now. Halfway to the end of the war, and Ichigo can feel the stress thrum across his skin. He doesn’t know what to do now.  The traveling. The waiting. The intermediate fighting is tiring everyone out, Ichigo included.

 It’s hard to stay on guard 24/7, with anxiety pushing them forwards as much as anything else.

 As much as supporting other people tires him out, staying on his toes constantly is a whole other type of exhausting.

 He trusts his servants to keep him from harm, but they still rely on him to support them, to give them orders, to supply them with information that they need. He stays in the back, he watches and waits, and tells them where best to place their blows. He looks for opening they can’t see from so close up.

 Kyo’s hand lands on his knee. Ichigo stops bouncing it. He hadn’t even realized hed started.

 “Kyo…?” It still feels wrong to voice his true name out loud, even though Kyo has told him a more intimate secret than just his name.

 Kyo turns his dark eyes on Ichigo. There’s a furrow in his brows. He’s just as tired as the rest of them. With the rest of the world collapsing, more and more hollow’s are being pushed into the only place left in the living world. Early on it was just weaklings, but now there are smaller, more humanoid monsters that stalk their steps, waiting to devour the dead they leave in their wake.

 A war is an all you can eat buffet for creatures made of fear, rage, and hunger.

 “Breath, Ichigo,” Kyo nudges him back against the crate they’re rested against, near the edge of t the flat barge.

 “I am breathing,” he grumbles petulantly.

 Kyo barely has enough dignity not to roll his eyes. That’s fine. Ichigo has been wearing him down for months. Kyo wears manners and politeness like armor, and Ichigo has a terrible habit of shattering things like that.

 “You know what I mean. You should reserve yourself for the final fight.”

 “I know. I’m trying.”

 Kyo hums. The moon hangs heavy and full above their heads. Ichigo knows instinctively that neither of them will really sleep, but resting his eyes is better than nothing. With Medusa on watch, no one will sneak up on them.

 It’s only a small comfort.

 A bigger comfort is the shoulder pressed against his, invisible and intangible to everyone but him. Ichigo will not admit it, but it feels sometimes like Kyo is only his. The rest of these heroes are here to save the world, and Kyo is too, but while they all have each other the two of them are the only ones privy to the world of the dead and the skull masked monsters that creep in the shadows.

 Something protective curls in his chest and Ichigo relaxes, leaning half into Kyo’s side. He watches the moon ripples across the water, unattainable and intangible.  

 * * * * * *

[thewritingstar]

Pretty Sparks: Greens oneshot

Pairing: Buttercup and Butch (Greens)

Fandom: Powerpuff Girls

My first fic for the greens and I’m going to self indulge cause I want something like this to happen for them. The rough around the edges are actually softies.

Enjoy!!

———

The skate park was empty, which would make sense since it was 2 am on a Saturday night or well, morning.

She grunted as she landed and pushed herself against the rail of the skate parks small gate. He followed behind her landing just as gracefully and slumping alongside her. 

“Dances are stupid.” He said and he tried to lighten the mood. Even after that dreaded thing they called homecoming, he couldn’t believe she left one comment get to her.

“Buttercup in a dress? Never thought I’d see the day, well she isn’t the pretty one but it’s great that you tried.” Princess sneered. 

“Yeah, their stupid alright.” And he thought it was directed towards something other than the dance.

The sight of seeing Buttercups fist tighten and then release was odd. It was Princess so she should have no problem slamming her facing into a brick wall, but she didn’t. 

Butch was waiting for his “date” to explode on her but instead Buttercup turned around and went back to their group of friends and ignored her. He thought she looked fine in her short black dress. He didn’t see the big deal and she had a killer body to fill it anyways.

But apparently not everyone, Buttercup, was that convinced. They ditched after a few minutes once she couldn’t stand the stares and gossip. They thought they could whisper but the super hearing she was blessed with was now a sick joke.

He had heard it too but followed her out instead of doing something to those stupid fucking girls that follow Princess around like lost dogs. 

And now they were here.

“Listen B, fuck those girls. You’re Buttercup. The Fucking toughest fighter, who gives a shit what they think?” He said but the energy was unmatched.

She was silent. Head full of thoughts and toying with her fingers.

“Buttercup, please do not tell me you are hung up on the petty comment.” He said blankly. “It was Princess. She literally hates you.”

She said nothing but looked down, ashamed at herself

“Oh my god.” He laughed again. “Did you and Bubbles switch bodies when I wasn’t looking? Since when do you care what others think?”

Her lip twitched and in that moment the silence shifted.

“Oh.” His lips turned to a frown. “That did get to you huh?” 

“It’s not that I don’t think I’m pretty.” She huffed. Her body slouched against the rail and her head went down before she looked up towards the sky. “I just don’t really feel pretty.”

He gave her a questionable look. “So you know you’re hot but you don’t feel it? Weird. Like I know I’m a hot piece of ass.”

She raised her eyebrows fast at the comment and put a hand thrown her hair.

“Yeah well you’re siblings aren’t two of the most sought after girls in the world. Long flowing hair and perfect smiles. I’m just the brawn, the muscles. Ha, most people think I’m a boy.” She rolled her eyes. “Not even me in this stupid dress can convince them.” She fluffed up the bottom angrily.

He wanted to laugh at her joke but the look on her face said other wise. He’s seen her mad, borderline raging with blood on her face and throat going dry from a scream. He knows the face of focus, eyes draw narrow and tight lips and he’s even seen her break out into a loud cackle and snort milk up her nose. He’s seen it all.

But this.

This look was one not in his Buttercup Pokédex. Her eyes held nothing, just sadness like a dog wet from the rain. Her cheeks were puffed out, red but not with anger, more like bitterness. Her stance was fragile and timid and if you were to poke her, she might just break. Everything he thought he knew about her vanished in front of him. A new and insecure side of her, he had never seen. 

He hated it. He hated that she could just lose herself like that. That the the crown she wears on her head could be taken easily and snapped in half. She was a bad ass. he wanted to see the fire and the sparks that ignited her. He wanted to see her bold and dark side, not this wimpy mess of a girl. He knew her better than that. She was better than that. 

She shouldn't have to feel less than towards her sisters. No. He knew she was the best one. The way she flies across the sky or delivers a soul sucking punch, that was the Buttercup he loved to see. 

Loved? No, he enjoyed seeing her like that. Yeah. 

-

Her shoulders shook from the cold and she cursed under her breath for not bringing her jacket. Without hesitation, he shrugged off his suits jacket and placed it over her shoulders. His fingers lightly feathered over her bare shoulders and his hands came to the collar of the jacket. 

She shouldn’t doubt her beauty. 

“I don’t think you should compare yourself to your sisters.” He spoke. 

Was he sweating???

“Look your sisters may be pretty and nice and all but you.” He lightly punch her shoulder. “You have this fire and determination. This power that just oozes out of you and commands everyone to look your way whether you notice or not.”

His eyes focused on a near by tree as he bit his lip. “You have this killer smile and boss attitude, and hey you’re hot as fuck.” He laughed that one off.

He turned towards her to see if he helped but he was met with a wide eyed Buttercup. Her mouth was slightly parted and her puffed out cheeks had become dusted with pink.

“And I think you look great in that dress. You don’t always have to dress up to put bitches in their place.”

Her eyes had soften and goosebumps coated his arms. He didn’t understand why she couldn’t see herself like how he saw her. Strong, powerful, bad ass, beautiful-

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

And he realized what he had done. That swelling feeling in his chest had plummeted through the roof and he felt the pace quicken up faster than what he thought was humanly possible.

“Sometimes I like these things.” She said softly.

His dark green eyes mimicked her bright one and he couldn’t stop himself from brushing an piece of hair from her cheek.

“Sometimes I want to be pretty.” She took a step towards him, their eyes never leaving the others.

He swallowed hard and he didn’t realize how delicate and soft she looked now. She didn’t know why she looked like she was glowing or why he was sweaty and wanted to hold her close.

He slowly touched her hand and she let him.

“And maybe you don’t feel pretty but-“ he leaned in, closer than they have ever been before. His eyes looked into hers, searching for an answer making sure that what he was doing wasn’t a mistake.

She nodded.

“You’re beautiful.” He leaned closers to her as he was a head taller. She was right there and he had nothing more to lose.

His lips fell to hers and he couldn’t explain it but there was a spark, an energy that passed through them. Sure he’s kissed other girls before but this, this was different. It was natural and fresh. Something he wanted.

His lips turned to a smile as she threw her hands around his neck and came closer to him, digging her hands into his mess of black hair. His own hands found her waist and he never wanted to let her go.

But a part of his deep inside questioned all of this. Could he really love-no that was stupid. He might have been born for evil intentions but he had human emotions. He knew it.

On the other hand, this was his best friend. The one who he could joke with like no one else. The one who can take a punch and throw it harder back to him. They were two puzzle pieces that had finally found where they fit.

And he decided together was the best spot. They always say opposties attrct but she was his idea of perfection and who would give up pefection for something else?

Her lips were soft against his own and even though she was made of spice, he wondered if perhaps the univserve had made a mistake because he was getting a suagr high from her alone. 

They pulled away, their breath visable in the cold between them and when he looked at her, slightly panting, her eyes were wide and she shook her head lightly before they both let out a small laugh. 

He rested his forehead against hers. “BC, what are we doing?” He said breathlessly and she only blew up her bangs before biting her lips.

“I think you were going to kiss me again.” Her hands found their way into his hair as he kissed her again.

Their first kiss was soft and sweet but this one held a flame they both craved. It was egar and desperate, they both knew what they wanted but now that the understood the other, it was like a full throttle.

She had forgotten how cold it was as her body became kissed with flames. She felt cold metal press under her thigh as she realized he had lifted her up and set her ontop of the rail, settled in between her thighs so now she was the one leaning down.

Her hands kept around his neck as he had one around her waist and the other on the bar, she wasn’t scared that he would drop her, it was only a three foot gate anyways. Her head tilted to feed into the kiss and she swore she had become captivated by his cologne.

Buttercup had long forgotten about the comment Princess made. He was right to say not to compare herself because she was pretty. He made her feel beautiful and made her feel like how she wanted too. Even in her sneakers and tee shirts, hair dripping with sweat or blood coating her knuckles, she felt confident and dare she say cute when she was around him.

She didn’t realize it until now but Butch treated her differently than others. Never the delicate girl or went easy on her, no he knew she could play rough and encouraged her best.

They say opposites attract but right now she never felt more connected to someone and that’s how she liked it.

And for him, he found her captivating as well. Being able to joke around and be gross and have cruel humor but she always laughed, egged him on, saw the light when most people only gave him the darkness.

They pulled away, more breathless than before and practically panting. Her lips felt bruised and used but she enjoyed it as she saw his own darkened lips which made her semi proud. She could imagine Blossom now, finding out that she had just kissed an enemy to them. Not even Bubbles had been as close to her counterpart...yet and Blossom could barely be in the same room as any of them.

It felt wrong but burned with passion on the other hand. She felt like she was doing something unforgivable, maybe she was. But she didn’t care.

She looked at him, his eyes were on the floor as he caught his breath. She stared at him intently, he wasn’t all that bad. And maybe she wasn’t all that good, after all, she was spice. Every one in awhile, she needed a little heat.

Maybe people could change, no they certainly can. Because her view on herself had shifted when she saw him on the first day of school. In that moment she knew he was always meant to be near her, as friends, or possibly more.

“Damn.” He said and looked back at her. “That’s some good shit right there.” He winked and she lightly punched his arm.

“Not to bad yourself.” She laughed.

The moon in the sky was now as high as possible and she felt the dread of having to leave. He saw her mood change instantly and he also knew she had to saw goodbye.

She slipped down from the rail, dusting down her dress and making sure she didn’t look like she had gotten caught up in a trap. The jacket was slid off her shoulders as she handed it back to him slowly. The cold air hit her skin and she wished it was on again.

A small frown appeared as he saw the black jacket being handed over.

“My sisters.” She said and he nodded, no one needed to know.

“Yeah. Guess I’ll see you Monday?” And she gave him a small smiled before turning and walking out the gate.

He watched as she walked, just reaching the edge of the entrance before stopping. She turned on her heel and soon she was in his face again before plastering a wet kiss on his lips quickly. She pulled away and a giant smile broke out on his face.

“Thank you.” She said quickly. “For saying those things.”

“What? That you’re beautiful?” He smirked.

“Um. Yeah.” Shy Buttercup, added to the Buttercup Pokédex.

He laughed a little before kissing her cheek softly, she never thought he could be so gentle. “I may be a thief and an occasional villain, but I’m no liar when it comes to precious things.” He winked and her cheeks went up into flames.

“Uh haha, yeah.” She smiled. “Um I should go.” She pointed behind her and took off with her green streak gracing the sky.

He watched as she left and his super hearing picked up a feathery giggle that came from her lips. Giggling school girl Buttercup has been added to the Pokédex.

A low whistle left his lips as he slapped his jacket over his shoulder and walked out of the park and towards his place.

He didn’t even notice that his smiled never left his face until he entered the house to see Boomer passed out of the sofa and Brick sitting in a chair drinking milk.

“The fuck are you so happy about?” Brick asked as Butch just waltzed to his room without even responding, he just hummed lightly before shutting the door and collapsing onto his bed.

“I’m fucking whipped.” He whispered to himself before the weight of sleep crashed onto him like a semi truck. The only thing he could think of was how pretty a black hair girl with bright beaming green eyes looked. And how much better she tasted.

———-

I hope you all enjoyed!!!

[dust-broken-berry]

Second post for part 6

“I don’t know, but I think we share that luck. Cause somehow I got you, and I want you to know that I’m willing to listen to what you have to say…”

“...”

“But only if you want to…”

    There was silence for a second again, then PJ said-

“On my way here I thought about something…”

“Ok?..

“And the reason I’m telling is because, I’m planning to do something stupid…”

“Oh what a shocker”

“Fresh I’m serious…”

    Fresh saw how concerned and worried PJ was, so he said-

“It can’t be that dumb...but if you reallly don’t want to then fine. But it may make us both feel better.”

“Both? What, are you worried now?”

“I have a right to worry about you...so ya I guess I am.”

    PJ looked a bit surprised to hear him admit he was actually worried, he sighed.

“Fresh...I want to tell you but-”

“PJ if you're too nervous then it’s fine.”

“Well no it’s just, I don’t want you to try and stop me…”

“I...I’m not gonna lie to you because it depends on what you’re gonna say or do. But if you don’t want me to stop you then I guess I’ll have to try my hardest not you.”

    Fresh smirked and jokingly added-

“Now you need tell me because if you don’t me, then I’ll make sure you won’t do something stupid.”

    PJ chuckled a bit and jokingly asked-

“So it’s either I tell you and you have a chance of stopping me. Or say nothing and have you stalk me for a month until I try and do something dumb.”

“I never used the word stalk.”

    They laughed for a second, then PJ sided and nodded his head-

“Fine I’ll tell you”

“Oh you su-”

“I want to, and besides I shouldn’t make you worry.”

“Well...ok…”

“I…”   

PJ thought about the right way to phrase this, then continued-

“Fresh I know what It does to monsters...and ya on the surface it may not seem so bad but there is a price for what he offers…”

“I would think”

“And I was able to kinda figure out how he thinks...so I think that when Blue has this baby that It will go after it, like mom said. Of Course I have no clue when or where this will happen, but I know that if It wants to be quick then it’ll probably go after the baby in the hospital.”

    PJ went silent after saying that last phrase, Fresh said-

“My guess is the next part you don’t want to say…”

“...”

“Ok look I was messing with you, I won’t actually follow you or-”

“Fresh…”

    PJ took a deep breath and said-

“I’m...I’m planning to switch places with that baby.”

    Fresh looked reasonably surprised and scared as he yelled-

“Wait, isn't that like real dangerous!? I don’t want-”

“It won’t be, if what I’m thinking is right…”

    Fresh stopped yelling, seeing that PJ’s eyes had tears in them. He sighed-

“Ok...I’ll hear what you’re planning… But worried Jammy…”

“I know...I know...just try and hear me out, ok?”

    Fresh sat there quietly for a second, then nodded. So PJ continued-

“Since I was born with no magic, and ever since then I haven’t had any, that just means what I just said, I have no magic. So what I think It does is add more magic to monsters soul, not just make it, or give it but add it to the magic they already have. So for instance if he tried to do this to a human it wouldn’t work, because they don’t have any magic.” 

“So you’re thinking that if you swap places with this kid, then just nothing will happen?”

“Yes…”

    PJ said, leaning on Fresh’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around one of Fresh’s.

“That’s still dangerous, and you don’t know if it’ll work.”

“I know…”

    The thought of it made PJ scared, and because he was scared he cried.

“Woah, woah hey it’s ok, don’t cry.”

Fresh said, hugging and trying to comfort PJ.

“*Hic* But I’m scared…”

“You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“That’s the thing I want to but *Hic* I’m scared....”

“Why then?..”

“I want for my brother, for mom because I know you he *Hic* still care about him too. For Blue because he isn’t a bad guy *Hic* just bad things happened to him.” 

“I don’t want those bad things to happen to you.”

    Fresh used his sleeve to wipe PJ’s tears.

“You know I’m not serious about much, but I’m serious when I say I care about you.”

“And thank you for that… I… I don’t know what I’m gonna do anymore. I’m gonna need to think about it.”

    Fresh sighed but nodded and smiled.

“Ok”

    PJ looked up at Fresh and his mood completely changed as he started to laugh.

“What are you laughing at now? Are you feeling ok?”

    Fresh asked, confused, putting a hand on PJ’s forehead. PJ kempt laughing as he shook his head.

“No, no it’s nothing, just yout glasses.”

“Ya what about them?”

“You know how the words change-”

“Oh god what are they sayin’ now? If they can make you laugh at a time like this, you were just crying.”

“Oh so you want me to cry?”

“No, no just uh...tell me what they’re sayin’ please.”

“Pfhaha ok, ok I will”

    After PJ asked there was just silence. 

“Well what do they say? Or did they change already?”

“Uh...ya they changed alright.”

    Fresh stood up to see if he had a mirror anywhere in the house, knowing that if he just took his glasses off they would just revert back to normal.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking to see if I have a mirror.”

    PJ looked at the coffee table and grinned 

“Well you know this did happen last time, and you also went looking for a mirror.”

“Did I find one?”

“Ya you put it on the table in front of the couch.”

    Fresh turned around and he didn’t look happy.

“Ugh, fuck you”

    PJ grinned and laughed again.

“Haha I guess you really could read your glasses.”

    Fresh stood there for a few seconds processing what PJ just said, he blushed.”

“Sorry”

“Pfhahaha why are you sorry?”

“It was an inappropriate time and well uh I don’t know…”

    PJ slowly stopped laughing

“I think you’re one of the only guys that would say that.”

“Well it’s polite… I guess”

“Well for one most men wouldn’t say sorry about that.”

“Ok…”

“And two”

    PJ stood up and went right to Fresh.”

“You don’t have to be sorry…”   

    Fresh happily surprised grinned

“I’m no longer sorry”

“Haha~”

    And with that PJ and Fresh walked away to the other room.

    “But what he didn’t know was that I had already made my decision…

… 

   … 

      …”

    As this was happening, Blue and Dust were just going back to the others, and as he entered he yelled-

“IT WENT SO WELL!”

“So I can hear.”

    Killer grumbled as Dust grinned and said-

“Well we did bet their asses”

    Nightmare’s head perked up-

“Their?”

“Ink brought Cross and Dream with him.”

    Blue said making Nightmare sigh and say-

“He told me alone.”

“I know he said that he ‘didn’t need more of you’.”

“Still no reason to bring any extra men.”

“Ya I agree”

    Dust said agreeing with Nightmare. But Nightmare then had to ask-

“Did you have Dust fight with you the whole time?”

“Ya? That was the plan right?”

    Blue said, confused.

“I know it’s just I didn’t think you would be able to keep Dust there for that long, and fight three monsters at the same time.”

“Well It did give me a decent amount of magic…”

“I mean ya I guess but still. Could you just let me see if anything changed in like your attacks, defense, or even like your own body.”

“Uh ya sure, ok?..”

    Blue said, a bit confused. Nightmare’s hand glowed a dark purple tint as he ran it over most of Blue’s body, surprising Blue a bit but he was fine with it. Nightmare’s expression changed slightly as he stopped, and said-

“Well there are two things”

“Ok...what are they?”

    Blue asked curiously, Nightmare continued-

“One you just over exceeded my expectations, congrats on doing that.”

“Um thanks...so what’s two?”

“That, that’s another thing I would like to congratulate you on. But for a different reason.”

“Congratulate?”

    Blue asked confused, Nightmare didn’t smile very much be he did a little then as he said-

“Yep, congratulations you’re having another child.”

    Everyone was reasonably surprised, and the fact that Nightmare said that so normally was even more surprising. Blue just asked-

“You’re joking...right?”

“You think I would joke around about that?”

    Blue went quiet for a moment, then started crying, Nightmare asked-

“Why are you crying? Wouldn’t this make you happy?”

“It would it’s just *Hic*”

    Blue wiped his eyes, Dust still surprised asked-

“Hey Berry it’s ok, just tell me what’s bugging you?”

“... What if this baby is like us now…what if it gets these powers...this curse…”

“Sadly it most likely will… I probably should’ve thought about that before I said something.”   

    Nightmare said, almost regretting that he told Dust and Blue. Dust had tears beginning to form in his eyes but quickly he tried to wipe them away, still he cried. 

    Outer said-

“You guys...it’s not your fault.”

“Even if it wasn’t it’s still terrible, and what if It tries to go after them when they’re born.”

“I didn’t think about that…”

    Nightmare said followed by Dust saying-

“It should be ok...enough. It probably doesn’t even know.”

“Ya so just relax for now, besides you should be happy, you’re having another baby.”

    Outer said, making Blue nod and start to calm down-

“Ya…I should be happier…”

“*Sigh* Ya...we should be happy...even though it’s probably going to be difficult…”

    Dust said, followed by both him and Blue saying-

“It’s our baby…”

    After they said that and everyone else realised that they started to relax. 

They all began to congratulate the new parents, everyone except Nightmare who was thinking about what Blue said earlier. About It going after the unborn child, he thought and knew that it most likely would happen. But he really didn’t have any of the answers that him, Blue, and Dust wanted. All it was, was scepticism...very scary scepticism... 

[sun-sakura]

I POISON KISS I A Vampire x Dust story

IChapter 1.I

Dust sighed heavily, crawling on the pile of unmade sheets that were supposed to represent what was left of his bed. The skeleton looked around, noting that the room was completely destroyed. Of all the places he could have chosen to vent his anger, he had wisely decided to take refuge in his room. He looked up to the sky, feeling a vague sense of irritation towards himself, another disaster to add to the mess he felt in his head at that moment. Speaking of mess, the excessively loud voice of his deceased brother kept buzzing in his head, shuffling through the walls, mixing and blending in with his boss's earlier words. "Papyrus shut up!" he exclaimed exasperatedly, closing his eyes, trying to make pass with the sole will of thought what foretold an immense headache.

Incredibly, once in a while Papyrus had decided to take pity on him, because he immediately stopped talking, dissolving and disappearing from his sight. Dust puffed, honestly at that moment he didn't even care so much that perhaps he had offended his brother's spirit. All he wanted to do at that moment was sleep, but of course it was a luxury he could not afford. The most significant words in the brief conversation he had with Nightmare seemed to appear and disappear in front his eyes, haunting him like the ghosts of his past. "Dust this doesn't work, you're too weak. You're starting to become a dead weight for the team" "what?! Boss, what are you saying?! I have the same level of LOVE as the others, in fact, i'd rather say that i'm even better than all of them put together!" "That may have been true until a few months ago, but now? Come on, stop avoiding the truth, you know it too. The others are making progress and getting better and stronger every day, but you? I can't remember the last time i saw you take training seriously" Dust gritted his teeth remembering those words, part of him knew that Nightmare was right, but that didn't take away the fact that it pissed him off, not even a little bit. "I want to give you a chance Dust, since you have always been one of my best fighters. You have one week to increase your power by at least 5 levels, if you don't succeed and you show me that you are no longer useful to the team, i will make sure that the word dust is not the only thing that represents your name. Did i made myself clear?" God, the need to hit him, to wipe that constant air of superiority from his face had never been so strong. Dust could still feel the slight tremor in his hands, a sign that he needed to kill someone, to gain more exp, now. He got up, opening the door of the room with the simple use of his magic, his hands still had a slight tremor. Surprisingly, however, he was not the only one present in the corridor. "Damn, what's wrong? Bad day D?" The two-eyed skeleton took an annoyed look at what was theoretically close enough to be called his friend. As close as a colleague of killing and destruction could be called a friend. The other could honestly consider himself lucky enough to tolerate his presence enough not to kill him right there on the spot. Killer's almost permanent smile did nothing more than expand to the discontent of the other. Ignoring the clear death threats that the other had thrown at him with that simple glance, the skeleton with black tears broke away from the wall where he had previously rested, hastening his step, walking alongside the other. "So, judging by your bad mood i assume that the boss has spoken to you" Dust couldn't help but raise his eyes to the sky, a verse of mockery came out of his tightened mouth. Obviously Killer already knew everything. After all, he was literally Nightmare's little dog. Dust had repeatedly wondered whether there was anything more behind the scene of the boss and his loyal subordinate. He had seen them, the signs and marks on the body of the other. He would not know whether to interpret them as positive or negative signs, considering that each time it seemed that Killer had fought against some kind of beast. However, judging by the usual slightly less cold smile with which the other one returned to his room each time, Dust had ventured the hypothesis that the encounters between the two were more than consensual on both sides. Not that he gave a damn, if one fuck was enough to keep Nightmare's bad temper at bay, then as far as he was concerned they could spend whole days locked in their rooms. The hooded skeleton shook his head slightly, it would have been better if certain thoughts had never taken shape in his head. Regardless of the lack of cooperation in making conversation, Killer continued to talk to him. "you know, i wouldn't worry too much, i mean, if you start to do something right away, maybe you might have a chance to survive" sometimes Dust wondered why he allowed such idiots to consume his precious time. That conversation was getting him nowhere, as far as he was concerned, Killer at that moment was more than useless to him. In fact, all he was doing was increasing his boiling irritation. Dust fasted his pace, in the hope that the other one would understand the antiphon and decide to give him a break, at least for once. Killer chuckled at this, but understood the message, stopping in his footsteps, continuing to observe how the other one hastened to increase, one step after the other, the distance that separated them. "I know a way that will make you become stronger" Dust stopped immediately on the spot, his gaze, although the other could not see him, still seemed impassive; nevertheless, a spark of interest had begun to shine in the luminous irises. Slowly, he turned, half of his face was hidden by the blood coloured scarf slightly worn by time and monster dust. "Speak" Killer smiled, knowing he had him wrapped right around his finger. The skeleton took his time, reducing the distance that Dust had created a few moments earlier into slow, relaxed steps. He stopped right in front of him. The two of them stared into each other's eyes for very long moments, as if threatening the other one to give in first. In the end, Killer shrugged his shoulders. One of the hands constantly hidden in the pockets of his sweatshirt came out, revealing together the contents he was hiding. Dust looked skeptically at the small piece of paper the other was handing him. He looked up, staring at the other with a blatant irritation, mixed with a hidden temptation to murder. "what the hell am i supposed to do with a piece of paper?" "heh, go to the address on it, once there, tell him what you came for" despite the seed of doubt still clearly present in his gaze, Dust finally decided to take it. The letters that were written on it made his mouth twitch in a bitter and annoyed grimace. "They say that the guy who lives there is able to give you everything you want, but like everything else, this also has a price" Killer's voice was reduced to nothing more than a whisper. They danced temptingly to the side of his head, his warm breath almost sensually caressing the area where his ear should have been. "I advise you to be careful Dust, they say his words are particularly...sharp" Killer's laughter continued for several moments along the walls of the dark corridor, even when the skeleton was no longer present. Dust continued to stare at the slightly crumpled piece of paper in his hand. The words "AU: Vampiretale" followed by a series of coordinates apparently indecipherable to him swayed slightly in front his eyes. Dust clenched his fist, watching as the paper crumpled on itself with a slight protest sound. There was no way such a universe like that really existed, let alone a guy who could give you everything you want. Killer had simply mocked him, it was certainly not the first time. Yet why had his soul started beating at a slightly faster pace? Like some part of him really believed a bullshit like that? Doubt seemed to continue to prevail in his mind, stifling his other emotions, yet he could not deny that a part of him was curious. Dust hurriedly slipped the piece of paper into his pocket, starting to walk again as if nothing had happened. His mind seemed like a tornado in a storm, more violent than usual. There was only one way to find out whether or not Killer had lied to him, and as much as he wasn't so excited about it, he realized that his options were not that wide..

To be continued...

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

|So...I decided to write a story about one of my favourite ships. Honestly, these two should deserve a lot more attention and love, so i hope i can get other people to appreciate this magnificent ship!^^|

| CREDITS:

Dust!Sans belongs to: ask-dusttale

Vampire!Sans belongs to: vampireprinceloki

Killer!Sans belongs to: rahafwabas

Nightmare!Sans belongs to: jokublog |

|Comments, likes and reblogs are really appreciated! Always feel free to tell me what you think about my stories. I DON'T own any of the characters used in the story, credits go to the respective authors listed above. Do not repost on any other platform. Nothing in the story represents canon facts, this is a work of fiction, please respect the creators of the characters. See you in the next chapter~♡|

[bowieandqueen11]

Positive? / Tozier!Reader x Eddie Kaspbrak Imagine

Request: Hi! I love your blog sooooo much and come on everyday to check for new imagines because they’re so good! I was wondering if i could request an adult Eddie Kaspbrak x reader where she’s Richie’s sister and when they’re all fighting Pennywise, they lose sight of her but when they’re at the 3 doors they open one and it’s like a zombie version of her and they get all scared but reunite with her later and Eddie confesses his feelings and they kiss? If not, that’s okay! I completely understand. ☺️ 

This is so sweet love thank you so so much!! <3

Warning - somewhat graphic and disgusting descriptions, as well as strong language!

Comments are always appreciated!

‘Are you sure she’s going to be through this door?’

‘Yes, I-uh, yeah.’

‘Positive?’

‘Positive!? Jesus, just come on, she better be behind this one-’

Richie doesn’t have time to mumble another word before Eddie’s hand is tugging at his elbow, his headlight nearly blinding him as he blinks back with a sharp ‘agh’. Eddie’s mouth falls into an open frown as Richie comes to settle next to him again, the thin beam of light shaking over the crumbling rock walls that seems to be closing the two of them into the darkness - that is, until he spots a striped tentacle with a frilled lace edge wind its way down the middle.

‘Yep, very scary it is’, Richie mutters as he pulls the two of them over to the wall. He swallows thickly, his fingers faltering as they hover as the rusted auburn doorknob, Eddie watching him hesitantly with a hand still on his back. Richie tries to shake the hair away from his eyes, watching the blood trail slower and slower down the cracking cream wood until it lands onto the floor in pregnant drips. Plop. Plop. Plop.

He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help but feel the same fire flick and wind their tendrils around his intestines, the same burning lava that crawled up his throat as it had the last time you had gone missing. The last time the eight of you were in Niebolt. He couldn’t shake the image of you lying on the floor, blood pouring out of your mouth and dried underneath your fingertips, screaming and screaming as you were dragged out of view.

He had to keep convincing himself that it wasn’t real. But this, this felt a bit too real.

He was too preoccupied with trying to stop his hand from twitching to notice the beads of sweat Eddie wiped away from his chin, not noticing the tear stains that were mixing in and drying on his sleeve.

‘She’ll be there, Rich. She has to be.’

All Richie can do is nod, Eddie following his lead with silent resolve to stop himself from bursting out into tears.

The door banging on its hinges is what broke Richie out of his nightmare, the slight dust falling from the top edge and raining down on his hair like winter’s snow as the lock creaked with each inch it battered forward. Throwing it open, the first thing they both notice are the cobwebs that hung from every surface as if taking on the repulsiveness of old and dirty lace. The fine strands were no longer white, instead they hang heavy with grey dust. Where they have been torn by the wind that blows unhindered through the empty door frame that had stood in that spot underneath their feet from the dawn of time, they hang in clumps, the artistry of the original cobweb destroyed.

Eddie couldn’t catch the thought that tumbles out of his mouth before he’s spoken it.

‘Where the fuck is she?’

‘Wh-what-’

Darkness is a strange substance. Since it is a sort of mystical material, it doesn't fall under the laws of science, only able to change states by the user. In solid form its almost completely black aside from a very tiny shade of red at its centre, like a candle in the dark. When a non-user touches it its like getting winded, if hit by a sharp point it will penetrate and quickly infect. As a liquid its thick; sticky, and has a pungent smell of ink, it can act like quicksand or just plain coat and suffocate people. But this, this darkness, the thing that came creaking down the middle of it, passed through it with ease. It suffocated, ate away at their hearts like acid, but the cracking of heavy footprints in the darkness never stopped, no matter how much Eddie shoved his fist into his mouth or Richie stood, eyes wide behind his too large glasses and mouth slack. 

The ghost of you had one ear missing and both lips had been bitten off, perhaps that was Pennywise’s little last departing gift. One hand had been mangled and your right bicep was chewed away exposing the white humerus beneath. Each rattling breath you drew made a low growling moan that chilled Eddie’s blood. You halted by the swinging light switch and Richie could hear the bones in your stiffened neck creak. 

You had spotted him. Death was walking towards him. 

He needed no other cue, he dived for the door and bolted out into the cave entrance, Eddie coming tumbling behind him, feet dragging and tripping over the dirt but with no control. Richie had too tight a grip on his collar.

‘What-what was that, Rich. What the FUCK WAS THAT!’  

‘She’s still alive. She’s still alive, I know she is. We didn’t lose sight of her for that long, and Pennyfuck over here has been in the centre the whole time. It’s all a trick, like before, it has to be.’

~

Deadlights.

That’s all that you saw. The deadlights.

As Eddie ran back towards the others and finally spotted to where the others were pointing, your motionless body swinging lightly in the air as if a gentle breeze was caressing your body, all Eddie could feel was anger. Anger that it should have been him in those lights, not his Y/N. He hadn’t been there. But he would be now.

Stumbling to his feet, feeling angrier and more indignant now than he ever had in his life, he turns to face the thing that had plagued this town and the one who owned his heart for too long now, raising his arms out in tight fists by his side before running forward out of a floundering Bill’s grasp, passing Mike’s reaching hands as he tries to hold Eddie back, instead picking up the piece of fence railing Beverly had broken off from outside the well house and slamming it down into the spider’s mouth.

He feels the fear. He still takes the step forwards. And then, as if by magic, he finds confidence, all those steps he took in his life building up to this, building a brave soul, an accomplished person who does much for others, one who has their respect and love.

Hitting out against the thing, he kicks and scrab and fight with all that’s left in him, closing his eyes tight and thinking only of your famous Tozier laugh. And for a moment, as its hold begins to loosen, it feels as if he’s won.

Then all you could feel was his back thumping against the jagged rocks.

He runs over to you, skidding onto the floor by your side as Richie drops down onto his knees by Mike. When he finally sees you flutter your eyes, a smile settles on his face as Eddie gazes down at you, bubbling laughter ripping from his throat as he pins you down with his thighs on either side of your hips.

‘E-Eds…?’, you whisper, reaching up to rub his thumb along the bottom of his cut.

'Is this real?’

‘What do you mean-’

‘I saw you. I saw you all those years ago, back when we were thirteen, that summer, I see it now, I see us, I remember everything I felt and everything we did, and I should have told you then, I should have- I thought I was dead Eds, it felt like it, it felt like nothing-’

‘Hey, hey, slow down, you sound like me.’ Eddie chuckles as you look up at him, a warmth radiating from his doe eyes as his hands spread out next to your face, a heat coming off from his black jacket as it hangs loosely by your hips.

‘I-’, you try not to choke up. ‘I’m sorry Eds. I’m sorry. I didn’t think our lives would turn out like this.’

‘Well, we have the rest of it to make up for it, don’t we? Because I love you, Y/n. I haven’t said that to many people- well, anyone before, because I was always saving it for you. I was always just too scared to say it. Takes a killer clown again, huh?’

Breathlessly, you gaze up at the adoration that floods out of the man’s eyes, before exhaling a shaky sob, your eyes filling with tears. Eddie smiles, a huge, genuine smile, not caring about the clown in the centre of his room as he turns his concentration quickly to capturing your lips, parting his mouth as he bites your bottom lip gently, a soft groan rumbling from the back of Eddie’s throat. Breaking apart, his lips plump and swollen from the sudden attack, he gazes down into your eyes like a lost soul searching desperately for home, before smiling softly as he finds what he’s looking for.

[the-mic-drop]

Shonen Jump Rap Cypher by Rustage

Lyrics below the cut

If anyone wants to break down some lines that you think not everyone will get, please feel free!

Monkey D. Luffy- One Piece (Performed by Rustage)

Starting with the number one, hey

How’d a pirate get this long, hey

‘Cause I eat the gum-gum, see them run run

when I hit that gun, hey

Sailin’ I’m taking no breaks when my crew’s on the move as we pillage the grand line

Looting the treasure we can find

I’m blowing up like a landmine

Going gear second, I reckon that I’m a weapon

I’m wrecking up those who threaten in messing with my own brethren

Stay reppin’ look where I’m headin’

No question the Yonkos sweatin’

I’m bettin’ in words I’m yellin’

I’m the king and there’s no forgettin’, UH

Gon Freecss- Hunter x Hunter (Performed by Fabvl)

I’ll jump the competition, really there’s no contest

Channeled future Nen and most of y’all ain’t even bomb yet

It’s nonsense

Pro exams completed as a child

Hisoka, I think these clowns are living in denial

So don’t make me power up, I’ll call the thunder at my right hand

If you want the strongest Shonen, then you called the right man

They might stan

Treat you all like Pitou, it won’t take long

Name is Gon and this time, I’mma make sure that you stay gone

Naruto Uzumaki- Naruto (Performed by None Like Joshua)

Oh, better believe it’s Naruto

Who’s the best hero? All of you know

My legacy is happening, I got a type of running named after me

while you’re slow

Can’t keep up with my chakra flow

Except Hinata, I’m her Ho

Kage

All I did was call her and I told her to come over ‘cause my parents are not home

Out of these ninjas, you can watch my dub

Even all my filler is so far above

When it comes to Boruto, why y’all givin’ up

like I did with simpin’ on Sakura?

Killer B’s rapping, but I get the encore

With the power that I bring, I don’t really want yours

‘Cause I came from the swing, everybody shunned more

Now you’re looking at the king of this Jump Force

Yami Yugi- Yu-Gi-Oh! (Performed by Connor Quest!)

I’mma master, you be

practice newbies

That’s a doozy

for Yami Yugi

Puzzle did something like a hadron tunnel

‘cause now I got Atem through me

Champ of the match see fans fawn, no matter what hand’s drawn

I’m kicking up dust, metal tanks in land form

When we d-d-d-d-duel there’s sandstorms

Cards are flippin’ I need an answer quick

and I might find my Dark Magician

If I wish, and believe hard enough in the heart that’s in ‘em

(Heart of the cards)

I see Seto’s fear

Pull the fifth part of Exodia

Guess it’s all came to a head, so clear

that your deck’s gonna get X’d, oh dear!

Asta- Black Clover (Performed by Eddie Rath)

Welcome to the magic

It’s a tale that’s tragic

Filled with a pain that’s harder than plastic

especially when you discover you don’t have it

When I started I was less than amazing

But now that I’ve been chosen by the Grimoir, I’m rising to the occasion in a blazing flame of

Magic

Ain’t no Hocus Pocus and Abracadabra

Not a wizard you joke with

This is not Gandalf the Grey, but you shall not pass hopeless

Better be ferocious

Was the poorest orphan living in darkness

but now that I’m focused, I be thanking all my hardships

Ichigo Kurosaki- Bleach (Performed by IBDL)

Uh, hittin’ back with that Bankai

Got that power like I came out of the Dangai

Pops passed the torch; now I’m the fam’s Don guy

Think you Aizen, but you lookin’ like that Don guy

Y’all like Soifon, your raps barely sting

My bars are Getsuga Tensho, got that masterful swing

They say, it ain’t over til the fat lady sings

But you’ll know it’s really over when that black lady sings

Koro-sensei- Assassination Classrom (Performed by CDawgVA)

Mach speed

Blow up the moon and now I’m making these children write essays

Comin with tentacles teach you a lesson in why you don’t mess with the sensei

I amaze

Used to be the Reaper, now I run this class

I can turn a loser to assassin, do it real fast

Light Yagami- Death Note (Performed by Zach Boucher)

I think I’ve been out of my head

Gift was given, made some poor decisions, that I wish I didn’t, but I’d do it again

Feeling different, I was on a mission to achieve my vision with a page and a pen

Sit and listen to the words I’ve written

I ain’t even finished ‘til I see that they’re dead

Don’t even try to pretend

There’s no malicious intent

Stay in my thoughts, stick to the morals I’ve got,

and kill everyone who is not

Just never get caught, ‘til every criminal rots

They’ll consider me as a god

At whatever cost, that’s how I excel

Cannot be stopped, even if I fell

I’m taking them off if you couldn’t tell

I gave up a lot to give you this L

Shoyo Hinata- Haikyuu!! (Performed by Shwabadi)

Yah, here comes Hinata

When I’m on the court the enemy has got their guard up

Never gonna fall off, bet I’m gonna pop off

Way short, but I’m packing punches like a sawnoff

Hot like a sauna, this ball of fire don’t know nada

but I’m gonna chase desire to go farther

every jump will take me higher

They put walls up, so I had to learn to fly

Putting up points, spiking it, or clearing the way

Best decoy, got a little something to say

to anyone that doubts that I’m here to stay

Only got one goal, that’s to play the game

Underestimated, I’m the ace, you just wait

when I spike it past the net, you might take it to the face

Izuku “Deku” Midoriya- My Hero Academia (Performed by Divide Music)

Coming in with 100% of me

I got you all trembling

Oh just with a flick of a finger

put you back where you’re supposed to be

I’m not, holding back

I got you so calculated. I’m

one step ahead, One for All gon’ be demonstrated

Get it? Got it? Good.

Nothing better and you should know

Started at the bottom

but I made it to the top so

Step aside, I’m climbing to great heights

with All-Might by my side

Reppin’ U.A. with pride, oh

Yusuke Urameshi- Yu Yu Hakusho (Performed by GameBoyJones)

Giving you the finger, Spirit Gun

Send you off with Botan, then you done

Hit you with the stick, and I didn’t need a grip when I’m pulling from the hip, then click!

Because I’m, locked loaded, the clip is ready to go

Got a, shotgun in my hand that’s ‘bout to blow

Cause I’m hittin’ you quick fast

givin’ you whiplash

wearing these Spirit Cuffs

You could be human or demon, cause honestly, I just don’t give a fuck

If you’re looking for the best, just know there’s no other

‘cause I’m flexing out here like I’m the youngest Toguro brother

Gintoki Sakata- Gintama (Perfomed by Shao Dao)

They call me, Gintoki, slim not stocky

Lemme Shonen Jump on your leg and your body

Odd Job Gin, don’t mess with my possee

If you touch my hair, then you will be sorry

Ne, boge (Hey, bloke)

Nanikore, uruseena (what is this? Not good.)

Cause you’re way too sloppy

Got a silver soul, Shiroyasha

Swing my sword and Amanto scatter

Gintama, not Kintama

Tell Shinpachi we need money

If Kagura or Katsura bring more trouble, we keep running

Pay rent? That’s a waste of time

That weather girl, I will make her mine

You can beat me up and that’s fair and fine

But if you hurt my friends, then prepare to die

Tanjiro Kamado- Demon Slayer (Performed by DizzyEight)

Look, slayin’ demons that’s what we do

If you filled with evil, then my blade is highly lethal

If you comin’ at my people, pray to god I never meet you

Ever mess with Nez, you KO’d when I see you

I’ve grown stronger from that fateful day they found me

I trained hard to hone the skill, the progression so astounding

My style like breathing water, that mean you can never drown me

Whirlpool, that mean I’m slicin’ everything around me

Emma- The Promised Neverland (Performed by FrivolousShara)

E-M-M-A 63194

Listen to what I’ve gotta say

The others walked, seems now we’ve gotta run away

Don’t you talk, adults are the enemy

You can break every bone in my body, I won’t falter

and if the plan fails, the idea simply alters

Ah, these demons scheming, but they ain’t the only monsters

Our combined IQ breaks the safe, strength in numbers

Now we’ve woken from the slumber

Never ending perfect Summers

Across the farm, you can’t help but wonder

Soma Yukihira- Food Wars! (Performed by DiggzDaProphecy)

See I’m the anime Raekwon

The chef baby, stay calm

You can’t stand the heat

Stay out the kitchen, get a day job

Word, and the finale’s superb

I take a sec, put on my band, an’ I’ll be happy to serve, uh

So ma, tell me what you like and I can hook it up

Ya boy’s got them recipes the best couldn’t cook it up

And she gon’ bust from the taste of my meat

Chef, boy are these boys always cookin’ up heat

Jotaro Kujo- Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure (Performed by Dreaded Yasuke)

It’s my go, they call me Jotaro

Don’t get me mad, I’mma go fat only with jabs you go through silos

Got that drip from Cairo, girls will simp my silhouette

I know think it’s a typo fighting with a platinum psycho

None of y’all is a threat

What you gotta say in your breath

Better speak with a bigger chest

Now you lyin’ down with my pet,

while Iggy piss on your neck

All types of disrespect, what you expect?

Go against a vet, better get your techs

wanna get swept through the complex,

now who is next?

Bobobo- Bobobo-bo Bo-bobo (Performed by BassedOlaf w/ ThighHighSenpai)

Bobobo making the foes stare

Call me the master of nose hair

Look at the hair on the heads of these anime characters,

brother, it’s no fair

But I’m better than these guys, don’t you understand?

I came second place at screaming face-to-face with desk fans

Afro is full of surprises, look at my power’s immense

Leaving beauty screaming-

(Bobobo, that makes no sense!)

Hunting hair hunters, Saitama, I’m coming for you

Don Patch a better Super Saiyan God than Goku

Son Goku- Dragon Ball (Performed by DaddyPhatSnaps)

Oh they went and called Kakarot

had to be danger

Leave em flat-footed like they in the gravity chamber

I’m just looking for a challenge, can you battle me stranger?

Shonen legend in the saddle and the power is major

Level up on the track, flow Ultra Instinct

Bye bye bye fusion dance is always in sync

Wink

And they wonder why I’m last on the song

‘Cause when all of y’all were talking

I just formed a Spirit Bomb

[luna-almighty-god]

Comfort a Little Dream N°12 [Epilogue]

The finale of Comfort a Little Dream! Thank you to have followed!

This story is obviously not canonical, please do not refer to it if you are looking for canonical information.

===

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

===

    They never agreed, bickering all the time over nothing. Often because of Killer, who was always trying to test him, to see if Color really loved him or was going to abandon him. And Color, although he was tender and understanding at first, had had enough, couldn't stand it when people questioned his love for him.

    Bickering had become bickering, real bickering. Killer tested his limits more and more, could sometimes make terribly hurtful remarks and, touched in his pride, Color retaliated harshly, hurting back the one he loved.

    Wasn't that a laughable situation? But it was undoubtedly what proved the honesty of their love. For despite their many conflicts, they were still crazy about each other...

    So when Killer finally left him, Color saw his world come crashing down. He didn't try to hold him back, he didn't want to force him into anything, he simply believed that their love had no place in the end.

    However, no matter what he did to forget him, Killer never left his mind, never, and Color had to assume a terrible truth: loving him was his destiny. If it hurt so much to part with him, it was probably because their souls were connected, as they always had been and always would be.

[ CHUCKLES ]

    He didn't think he could love someone that much, or even that you could love them that much. Plum had become so used to being hated, rejected, accepted only for his body and nothing else, treated like a little whore, an object that you take, use and throw away, that you don't even bother to wash and care for. An object that is useful, but that one hates. An object that we soon replace when we find it more useful.

    He hated himself and he hated the world in which he was born. He hated the monsters who took advantage of his body and hated life, fate, which seemed to mock him every minute of his life. He had so many times wanted to die, to disappear, to give himself up to the easy way out and forget his worries. But he had responsibilities, he had his brother, he had ...

    He had this unbearable fear of dying. And this crazy hope to live, to REALLY live.

    When Nightmare blackmailed him, forced him to join the bad guys, he saw this as a new cruelty of life, the fulfillment of his hopes and dreams. But if the first times had been difficult, he had been surprised - what am I saying? - the amazement of finding skeletons similar to him. Not because they were Sans, but because they all had a very special relationship with destiny.

    Fate had bent on them, destroyed them. 

    And finally, their small group of psychopathic killers had taken a different turn. A softer, more complicit, compassionate turn.

    They had become a family. And if Plum had been able to fit into that family so well, it was definitely thanks to Horror. Horror who had intrigued him at first sight, who had surprised him with his delicious and ever more elaborate dishes. Horror who could prove to be terribly wise and patient. And Plum, at each of his laughs, had fallen a little more in love with him without realizing it. 

    When they had sex the first time, the purple skeleton thought he would burst into tears, terrified that the cannibal had used him and would abandon him. But Horror had never left. On the contrary: he had pampered him, pampered him, won him over with his words and his caresses. 

    He had always been there, with his big smile and little mockery, but also his ridiculous nicknames and his desire to kiss him, to always be one with him.

[DOES NOT ABANDON ME]

    Cross had teleported to Ink to support him. Unfortunately, the Creator was only a little stunned and had no trouble getting up again. But if he went back into battle, the swordsman preferred to stay behind. By fear? Yes. Out of fear that Dream's soul - which he still had in his possession - would be hurt. And it is this same fear, this apprehension, that suddenly pushed him to open a portal to go to another UA.

    Plum was biting his nails in anguish, alone on his couch, impatiently awaiting the return of his lover and hoping that nothing would happen to him.

    Color was in his own universe, slumped in a field of echoing flowers, watching the sky and thinking about Killer, what he would have to do to get him back.

    Neither of them had expected such a situation.

    Neither of them would have thought they would see a gate suddenly open, followed by a skeletal hand that came and grabbed them forcefully to pull them into another AU. And what was their surprise when they landed in the middle of the forest, confused and stunned, to find themselves in front of a livid Cross.

“What is ... ?” said Color while standing up.

    But the swordsman left them no time at all:

“There's a portal to the West, we have to help Dust! I don't have time !”

    He teleported again, disappearing in the eyes of the two skeletons who definitely didn't understand the situation, until Plum realized that - Shit - the ritual had gone wrong!

    He got up in panic and rushed to the gate, dragging Color after him as a ball formed in the hollow of his throat.

- Their hands became clammy, their strength diminished, and the sword of Damocles hovering above them seemed eager to strike at their skulls. –

    Horror was in danger. HIS Horror was in danger.

- And he fell down, dry and mercilessly. –

- Dust dropped them both. -

    They came to the gate, saw a body over halfway through. Dust's body was shaking on all sides, as if caught in a convulsion and jolt. 

    Terror took hold of both skeletons.

[ EMPTY ]

    Killer fell. He saw the world turn, he saw Dust's gaze, he saw himself moving away, sinking, falling. But he felt nothing. He heard nothing. Nothing, except the high-pitched whistling of the wind in his ear canals. 

    A second state. A semi-consciousness. Silence.

    He should never have left Color. He should have stayed by his side, believed in him, in them, in their bond. He should have been honest, explain his apprehension, his fear of abandonment and change. He should have told him that he loved him, he should have told him so many times. 

    He loved Color. Hadn't he told Dust? Yes, he did.

    He loved Color with all his fucking, fucking madness.

    And he closed his eyes bathed in tears, his soul heavy with regret, silent sobs.

    The shock was imminent.

[ CRACK ]

    It was a heavy noise. The sound of a body hitting the ground. The sound of someone hitting the ground hard.

    A noise ... which had been preceded by a teleportation.

    The sound of Killer and Color as they teleported behind Dust.

    The skeleton of dust turned sharply, eyes wide open, throat dry, and face ravaged by terror and sadness, only to stumble upon a sight he had not expected. No ... No, he was not expecting to see Color and Plum. To tell the truth ... NO ONE expected to see those two teleporting, receiving their companions to teleport back to safety.

    Horror was stunned, just like Killer who didn't understand the situation, who didn't know if they were still alive or not.

“ABRUPTED!”

    The cannibal blamed the masterful slap he took, this time having this time beautiful and well the proof that he was alive ... and his wide-eyed eyes turned to Plum, his adorable Plum who was crying with anguish and relief mixed together:

“I told you I had to come with you, you moron ! Asshole ! You fucking ... !”

    He emptied his bag, the terror that he had accumulated in a fraction of a second, but Horror didn't let him say any more - to tell the truth he had barely listened to his cries - and grabbed his face with force, to come and kiss him, devouring his mouth and sobbing in turn. He never thought he would be so happy to be alive.

    Plum did not struggle, quite the contrary. Too happy to be reunited with his beloved, he clung to him with all his strength, responding to his kiss with all the passion and love he had inside him, as if he was afraid that Horror would disappear and kill himself for good this time.

    Next to them, Color was trembling. He held Killer without daring to overdo it, without daring to make inappropriate gestures in spite of the anguish he had felt when he saw him fall into the void. If he hadn't intervened, if he hadn't been there, if Cross hadn't come looking for him ... Killer ... Killer would definitely have killed himself.

“Color, I …” began the madman, before stopping at the sight of the tears that were beading in the eyes of the colored one.

    Color let a poor sob escape, brought Killer a little closer to come and bury his face in his neck:

“Damn, shit, Killer ... goddamn Killer ... I love you ... I love you ... I love you so much ... I'm sorry, I love you ... I love you ... I love you I love you, I love you ... !” he murmured nervously, his soul trembling, struggling not to burst into tears despite the emotion.

    Killer remained mute, blushing violently despite the situation. Moved, he came to respond feverishly to the embrace, not quite recovered from his near-death experience.

“No... C-Color, it's me, it's all my fault ... Sorry ... I love you so, so much …”

    The colored one raised his eyes, plunged his gaze into his own, before coming to fetch his mouth in a clumsy but terribly tender kiss, to which Killer took pleasure in responding. 

    But a sob interrupted the two couples. Killer and Horror froze, simultaneously turning their heads towards Dust. Dust was cracking, really cracking.

“I let go... I'm sorry, I let go…”

    He took his skull in his hands and finally began to cry with fear and guilt as the pressure dropped heavily. His two best friends almost cried again, but held on to rush to him and take him in their arms.

    They were alive, that was the most important thing. 

    They were alive. All three of them alive.

*** ***

    Cross had a poor laugh accompanied by a bitter smile, a downcast look. He raised his head feverishly, without daring to look at Nightmare or Dream.

    He made the little soul appear to be throbbing, and gently held it out in front of him.

    Shattered had a broad smile. His tentacles sped faster than the wind, violently grasping the soul they brought back to him.

    And Dream couldn't believe it. Didn't want to believe it. Because even though it had saved his brother's life, even though he was happy that Nightmare had survived, he was forced to see the cruel truth, the truth that he had wanted to bury forever.

    He was inferior to Nightmare in all areas. It didn't matter the fine words of their friends, of Cross ... Nightmare was the favorite. The most beloved. Nightmare ... was more important than him.

    Dream would have wanted to smile, to be strong, to tell his twin that it didn't matter that it was better this way. But he couldn't even do that. Unable to contain his tears, his sobs, his terror and his apprehension.

    He could only be Dream, the frail guardian of good emotions. Dream, the one who clung to his brother, looking for comfort. Dream, who had been unable to protect his best friend or to honor this stupid ritual.

[He was just a weak, stupid moron]

“Owwwwwn, you two are so adorable!” Shattered ecstatic with the crazy smile he never left, playing mischievously with the soul he held between his fingers.

    The ellipse was coming to an end, everything was going to end like this. And Shattered shuddered with joy as he watched the inverted heart he held in his palm:

“Dream, Dream, Dream ... you are so pathetic, so weak in the face of corruption! Your soul is only a reflection of your personality: bland and tasteless. So fragile that it has lost its colors, its flamboyant gold, to give way to this grey, so dirty, so sad. Ah ... HAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHH! “

    Dream clung a little more to his brother by closing his eyes. And if Nightmare tightens its grip around him, Cross's weak voice rose:

“Nightmare ... is it really too late?”

    The acerbic tone of the nightmare master answered him:

“By your fault, yes! If you had returned his soul to Dream, he would have been saved! We had completed the ritual, the ground was prepared, the surrounding magic could heal him! But now the other bastard has his soul! There is no more possibility to do anything!”

    The words were hard, so hard ... But did not destabilize Cross, far from it. Cross slowly got up and walked towards the twins.

“DON'T COME ANY CLOSER!” Nightmare screamed Nightmare, mad with rage, ready to strike the swordsman despite his weakness.

    Except that Dream held him back, raising his tear-filled face in his direction :

“Night, no... i-he did this for you, to save you…”

    But Nightmare, with tears in his eyes, could only shake his head:

“I don't care! He has condemned you! 

- Night... please…”

    The master of misfortune clenched his teeth, his throat tied, and had to use violence to let Cross kneel beside them. Cross who looked sadly at his boss, hoping to meet his gaze, but had to give up and finally look at the guardian of dreams:

“... Dream ... I'm sorry for everything ... I never meant you any harm ... I only wanted ... to be like you, to follow your example. Bring happiness to others …”

    Dream lowered his eyes sniffing, unable to respond.

    But Cross's words made him shudder:

“... Take care of Nightmare for me …”

    He looked up at the swordsman, imitated by Nightmare, neither twin understanding his words ... until Cross made a soul appear. A beautiful golden soul.

    The world froze, Shattered petrified.

“Wh-?”

    He looked at the soul that he himself held in the palm of his hand. 

    A grey soul. A golden soul.

    It ...

[Cross had not given him the right soul]

“CROSS!”

    He threw himself towards the trio, appendages drawn, the atmosphere twisting under the anger he released.

    But it was too late: Cross struck Dream's torso, inserted his soul in a guilty smile.

    The magic imploded, a ray of lightning struck the sky and fell to earth to strike Dream head on. Nightmare, Cross and Shattered found themselves thrown backwards, too weak in the face of the power released. A magic that flooded the entire UA with powerful waves of heat and sweetness.

    Nightmare was forced to close his eyes, trying to shield himself from the light with his arms. This is why he did not see Cross come between him and the rays, so that the master of misfortune would not be disintegrated by the powerful light.

    This same light came to engulf Error, whose face was buried in the neck of his lover, hugging him with all his strength despite the body which was leaving in dust ... before the dust regroups again, that it reformed the missing parts of the wounded body.

The multiverse ellipse. A moment when opposites become one, when negativity and positivity blend in perfect equilibrium, to restart the cycle of the worlds from scratch].

[Nightmares and Dreams]

[Destruction and Creation]

[A reset.]

[Among other things ...]

[A RESET]

    The light stopped. Calm returned as the ellipse finally ceased and the sky took on a magnificent bluish hue.

    Shattered stood up, sounded, trembling. He scanned the landscape with his eyes to fall on Dream ... who was standing, eyes closed, as if in a trance.

    Dream blinked, revealing his pretty yellow pupils that had regained a soft glow. Dream ... which seemed free of a weight, which seemed light, peaceful, happy.

The ritual had worked.

“No …”

[Shattered had lost]

“NO”

[And all because of ... of ...]

    He threw Cross's soul to the ground, kicking it violently, making his owner scream, who collapsed in pain, before being received in-extremist by Nightmare. Nightmare, who felt guilty for having doubted the swordsman, who felt a deaf anger invade him while he was still devoid of magic, and thus unable to recover the soul of the monochrome.

“CROSS ASSHOLE!” Shattered shouted Shattered, who disengaged his appendages before attacking the trembling soul, ready to finish him off.

    But an arrow pulverized his tentacles, caused him to scream in pain and retreat. He raised his head, to become completely livid.

    Dream was in a fighting position, bow in hand, holding a shattered yoke without mercy. And if the broken Dream wondered how his double had been able to retrieve a bow, he was even more pale when he saw Ink and Error at his side, understanding with terror that the Creator - in addition to being fine - had regained full control of his powers to the point of being able to create a bow for Dream.

“You lost Shattered.” scolded the guard, arched arches.

    To affirm his claims, Error disengaged his sons and recovered Cross's soul, taking him away from Shattered, who found himself truly destitute, disarmed and without the slightest possibility of blackmail.

[He had always been alone]

“It's not fair …”

[ Alone against the world ]

“It's not fair ... !”

In spite of his good attentions, his sacrifices] [In spite of his good attentions, his sacrifices ]

“Why ... ?”

[ Shattered tears ]

“WHY DOES EVERYONE SUPPORT YOU? WHY DO THEY CONTINUE TO LOVE YOU?! WHY AM I THE VILLAIN OF THE STORY?!”

    Dream hoqueta, destabilized. Destabilized in front of his double who fell to his knees crying, who hid his face in his hands trembling all over, shouting insults to the whole world.

[HE WANTED TO HELP EVERYONE]

[HE WANTED TO HELP HIS BROTHER]

[HE HAD ALLOWED HIMSELF TO BE CORRUPTED FOR HIS BROTHER'S SAKE]

[AND HIS BROTHER HAD TURNED HIS BACK ON HIM]

[EVERYONE HAD ABANDONED HIM, HE, THE DREAM SHATTERS]

    Dream slowly lowered his bow:

“... Ink ... Error ... can you remove my brother's necklace”

    If the Destroyer grunted, disliking receiving an order, the Creator nodded his head and executed it immediately.

Dream gently approached Shattered :

“... I can't answer you. We are the same. We should have had the same destiny, I suppose ... ...but…”

    He crouches at his height:

“... You are not alone ... You don't have to be ... I know how you might have felt. I know exactly how you feel. And I won't let anyone else continue to feel that way…”

    Shattered looked at him in amazement. Without the slightest hesitation, Dream came gently to wipe away his tears with a poor smile:

“We don't have to fight anymore. We've never had to. Let's stop all this, to build a better future for ourselves. When do you say?”

    The broken dreamer looked away, feverish:

“... Why is it so ... Why would you do this ... after everything I've done…”

    Dream laugh, before offering him a resplendent smile:

“Because everyone deserves to be happy, no matter what they've done in their lives. And I do need someone to support me in my role as a janitor. What do you think about that?”

    Shattered exploded with a frank laughter, eyes wet :

“You are ... Ahah... You're really too dumb... Proposing such a thing to someone who wanted to destroy you, who failed to kill your friends... You're just…”

    He looked shyly at Dream :

“... you are much too nice. A true guardian of positive emotions.”

    A compliment that made the guard blush, and he reached out his hand to his double. Hand that Shattered took with pleasure, exhausted by all these emotions.

*** ***

    Dream flickered gently with eyes, gently waking up, drawn from the world of dreams with regret, to slowly become aware that he was in his room, regaining contact with reality. He yawned, stretched out like a cat, almost purring as the sun's rays filtered through the curtains to caress his face. His dream was so good.... he would have liked to enjoy it a little longer. Just a little bit more. But now that he was awake, he knew he could not go back to sleep.

    He began to move to stand up, envious to go to the kitchen... but an arm came tenderly to bring him back against the sheets, then came to squeeze him against a torso.

    The guard laughed softly:

“Dust, I'm not a teddy bear!”

    The skeleton of dust groaned, squeezed Dream more tightly, whose face ended up in the neck of the elder, making the little dream blush, which was definitely not used to this new daily routine, even though it had already been a few days.

“Duuuust! he cried, swelling his cheeks. - Shut up...!” grumbled a voice in the back of the guard.

    Before Dream could apologize, tentacles also came to embrace him, and he felt Nightmare sticking to his back in a weary but possessive gesture. This made him pouffer: his twin was terrible when he woke up!

“Sorry Nighty, I didn't mean to wake you up ... 

- It's not you... answered his brother. The other moron woke me up long before.”

    Another moron who was none other than Cross, whom Nightmare had pushed out of bed without the slightest scruples when he realized that the swordsman was moving too much in his sleep. Shit what, he may have been the guardian of nightmares, he too needed to sleep properly!

    And while Dream laughed, sympathetic to the monochrome which was surely going to have some nice aches and pains, the door opened on the fly to let appear Plum and Killer, a little too awake in this early morning :

“Hey marmots! exclaimed the Lustian. Breakfast is served!

- Horror made pancakes !” The madman almost drooling, imagining himself already sitting at the table in front of the food.

    But their joy was short-lived when the atmosphere turned cold, and they swallowed simultaneously at the sight of Nightmare who rose very, very, very slowly, the crackling magic around him, his appendages releasing Dream to come and shake and slam the air.

    The two intruders retreated:

“Okay, we'll keep a share!” Plum finally finished Plum before running away in a hurry, grabbing Killer's arm and dragging him along with him.

    Nightmare grunted, annoyed to hear the duo's laughter rise in the corridor. Dream had a tender smile, straightened up in turn to come and put his head against the shoulder of his twin:

“Pancakes are fun.

- ... Yeah ... Only with maple syrup.”

    Dust yawned in his turn to come back to stick against Dream and mumble :

“Mm ... and whipped cream …”

    A rustle was heard, and Cross finally woke up with a grimace, badly awake but aching - just as the Dream Keeper had predicted. He glanced sleepily at the trio on the bed, before he could hardly get up to climb on the mattress and drop his skull on Nightmare's lap:

“... I want chocolate …”he gibbered as he fell asleep again.

    And Dream laughed again, savoring this quiet and intimate moment.

*** ***

“So they're not going to come to eat, as usual, Horror shouted, arms folded, while Plum came tenderly to massage his shoulders to comfort him.

- Own my heart, they enjoy a moment with four, we can leave them that! 

- Pff, but I've gone to a lot of trouble myself!”

    The Lustient pouffed and came to kiss his cheekbone:

“I know, and I'm going to take full advantage of it!”

    To prove his point, he grabbed a fork and stuck a small piece of pancake in his mouth before moaning with pleasure - deliberately exaggerating his reaction while sticking more closely to his companion.

    This made the cannibal blush and he quickly pulled Plum on his knees, before smiling mischievously: 

“If you keep going, I'm going to eat you.

- Oh, I'm looking forward to it!”

    They exchanged a complicit glance, slowly bringing their faces closer together, while the glow in their eyes showed all their passion, this little game that would soon lead them to ...

“Find yourself a room!” exclaimed Color, whose face was completely red. He had reason to be embarrassed: he was sitting right in front of the couple and didn't miss a crumb of their ride! How embarrassing that was!

    Plum and Horror stuck out their tongues at him before laughing and kissing without the slightest shame, embarrassing the colorful man who came to Killer for comfort:

“Killy, they're laughing at me !”

    The madman was not of much help, laughing in turn without taking his boyfriend seriously, which caused Color to pout.

    And sitting at the end of the table, watching all this little world squeaking, Error breathed a long, very long sigh, massaging his skull, already regretting having agreed to settle officially at the castle. But he had no choice. Already because he liked the bad guys, even if he didn't show it much, but also because Dream had chosen to settle here. And if Dream lived here, it was obvious ...

“RURU!”

    ... that Ink comes to live there too, not to let his best friend out of his sight for a single moment.

    The Destroyer received his lover without the slightest harm, still grumbling under the weight of the Artist:

“Damn, you're so heavy!”

    And Ink, who deliberately leaned more, sneered:

“You're supposed to say, 'Oh my love, I missed you! 

- I would never say that!

- Oooown, you're cute when you're embarrassed!

- Ink, shut up!”

    The Creator laughed as he teleported himself away, narrowly dodging a blow from his lover, only to appear on the other side of the table to grab a pancake which he came to savor with delight, acknowledging without difficulty Horror's talent for cooking. 

    His attitude made the other skeletons present smile, as well as Dream who joined them shortly afterwards in the company of Dust, Nightmare and Cross. The pancakes left at such a speed that Horror was forced to make some more, fortunately with the help of Plum and - surprisingly - Dust, who in turn revealed their own little cooking talents.

    In the midst of laughter and bickering, Dream was astonished:

“But ... Shattered is not there?”

    However, his double was always one of the first lifts.

    Nightmare shrugged and grunted:

“Maybe he went for a walk? I still can't believe you forced me to take him in. 

- Well, you're giving me a good home, so why not him?

- Your unconsciousness will kill me Dream. For one thing, this guy is not my brother. Of two, I do not accommodate you, you LIVE here!”

    The guardian of dreams laughed innocently while coming to embrace his twin:

“Olala, you're so grumpy in the morning!”

    He stood up:

“But Shattered may come from another timeline, but he's still a version of me, so he's sort of your brother! I'm going to go get him!”

    He waved to the congregation and left the room in a hurry, anxious for his other self. Shattered was a corrupt being, full of negative feelings, especially resentment and guilt. Dream was determined to help him, not to let him go now!

    But fortunately he had no trouble finding it.

    Shattered was just outside, right in front of the castle entrance, sitting on the stairs leading to the courtyard. His gaze was focused on the whole of Dreamtale, as if he was rediscovering the world that had given birth to him. And this was surely the case, since the Dreamtale of their childhood no longer resembled the one they had known. Probably because the way he looked at it today was that of an adult.

    Dream was just as moved by it, which is why he took all the delicacy in the world to come and sit next to the other guardian, without allowing himself to speak - which would surely have broken that moment of calm.

    It was Shattered who took the initiative to launch the discussion: 

“What do you want?”

    The little dream shyly smiles at him:

“We are having lunch. Care to join us?

- ... Mm-hmm... I'm not very hungry.”

    New silence, but both of them savored this moment, this moment when there was not the slightest tension in the air, when they did not feel oppressed, just ... liberated.

“... It's strange to come back here, even if it's not MY Dreamtale ... Shattered confessed Shattered, nervously coming to play with one of his tentacles. But most of all, to live there again as if nothing had happened, to see everybody talking to me quietly as if it was natural …”

    He added grumbling:

“Well, if you except for that jerk Nightmare. It seems he's just as stupid, no matter what the timeline …”

    Dream elbowed him lightly while puffing:

“Hey, don't talk like that about our brothers! They're just a little rough and clumsy!

- Just a little?”

    They laughed at the same time, exchanging a brief complicit smile before returning to contemplating the landscape:

“... Seriously ... resumed the broken dream. I feel that I am disturbing. No one will be able to forget what I did.

- No, it's true, no one will be able to forget ... but if I could forgive you, others will as well.”

    He put a comforting hand on Shattered's shoulder:

“So stop standing back like that and come and eat! Horror's pancakes are really delicious, you'll regret it if you don't taste them!”

    The other raised his eyes to the sky:

“All right, I get it, let's go!”

    And they both got up to return to the castle, while the soft rays of the sun came to illuminate Dreamtale to announce the arrival of a beautiful, beautiful day.

[END]

[sneyrwrites]

|4|  |Ace|Levi Ackerman X Reader

✘Ace: The Mighty Fall.✘

|WordCount: 6275|  |CH. 1: ✘|  |Previous: ✘|

Once I recovered from the initial shock, I was able to think straight.

Without waiting around, and with the money I earned in the last fight, Hale and I rented a cart to go back to my house. Forty minutes later, the driver left us at my door. Without a second glance he grabbed the money and left in a hurry, the dust rising behind him.

Hale's eyes were swollen and red from an interminable night of crying and judging by the throb behind my own I was in the same condition. Hurrying, I opened the door to my small house, and I let her go in, locking behind us. Hale's eyes traveled across the room, stopping at the table where my dad had left a shoe, as if it was the most casual thing in the world. The corner of her lips lifted a little bit as she sat in front of it.

"Dad?" I called, silence responding me. He had already left for his shift at the wall. "Hale, we're alone, you can start explaining if you're ready"

She nodded, shifting her eyes to her hands, frowning.

"The officers said that during the raid, a noble which I assume was Lord Reiss, came to them stating that a dark figure came out of the tunnel and tried to rob him, but he made it out thanks to the sacrifice of a valorous Garrison soldier who saved him. The mysterious girl stabbed him and flight the scene." She wiped her eyes. " In his deathbed the Guard said he recognized the girl as one fugitive of the basement they were raiding, and that Lord Reiss should get help..." Her fists were clenched.

I would have thought after twelve hours of straight crying there would be no tears left in my body, but turns out humans are surprising.

A headache that began to spread earlier now pounded heavily on my temples. Walking to the kitchen I filled a glass with water, finishing it in two gulps, hopefully it would help. I filled one for Hale and left it in front of her.

"(Y/n)... That fucker was able to turn the story in his favor... " She reached for the glass, sipping it. " Ivo had to lie and agree with him, the police that was surrounding the area found him with Ann's body... They were going to hang him up if he contradicted Reiss..." Her voice came out strained. "If we come out with the truth, it's our word against his... He's got money, and the influence... Judging by how he accused you like that he wants your head on a stick." Her lids drifted shut, looking as defeated as I felt.

My soul sank to my feet. I was so dead, but that wasn't the problem. The thing that hurt the most was the fact that they blamed me for my friend's death,  while the actual killers were laughing in my face. I already blamed myself enough, and the injustice of everything left a bitter taste in my throat.

I flopped on the couch, lost in thought, reviving the Annton's last moments. The tears wetted my cheeks once again and I covered my eyes with my arm, leaning my head back, waiting for something to show this was only a dream, an awful nightmare. But the throbbing on my knuckles let me know it wasn't the case, that Annton was gone, I beat up Kenny, and  that Lord Reiss stated a hunt for my head.

"It's not the end..."Hale muttered, catching my attention. Did Ann's passing finally broke her mental strength? Her capability to stay in control of her emotions in the hell we were living amazed me. " They are searching for Ace after all..." I uncovered my eyes and looked at her, her gaze focused on my own. She seemed to think out loud.

"Yes Hale, I'm aware they are searching for me..." That detail was clear enough.

"No... I'll (y/n)." Her eyes were bright, realization clear on them. "No one on the basement knows your actual name, they only know your nickname... No one has a portrait of you. The only solid clue is a description that fucker gave of you..." She got up from the chair, clapping her hands, making me jump a little in my seat."You can still survive this... I couldn't protect Ann. But  like hell I'll let those motherfuckers take you away too." The determination in her voice made my heart ache. The only one to blame for Ann's passing was myself... But if this gave her some sort of distraction from all the grief, so be it.

What she was saying made sense, but her plan was unclear. I could practically see the wheels turning in her brain.

"So what's your plane Hale?" I asked.

"Join the Military" I choked on my spit. A coughing fit later I managed to look at her wide eye. Now I was sure she blamed me for Ann's death as much as I did. "Don' look at me as if I'd lost my mind and think about it."

"Hale, there's no place inside these walls where I won't cross path with a garrison or a military police eventually. And if there's money involved, they won't think twice before handing me to Reiss in a silver platter. And you want to speed up the process by sending me to the lion's den?" I asked, trying to hide de waver of my voice.

"Just listen to me." The intensity of her eyes made me halt. She was serious about this plan of hers. "Not all the soldiers took part on the basement, not even a five percent of the garrison knew about it before last night. And they are the only ones that knows how you look like, the others depend on a description provided by someone else." She said. " No one knows  '(Y/n)', and Ace doesn't exist. You can sign in using your real name and papers, and nobody would notice. The branch of the military that's in charge of the training barely interacts with the rest, and I'm sure no officers from it are involved with the basement. The plan is perfect," Her face fell suddenly "well... almost perfect"

"What do you mean? " I asked. The plan made sense, and I let myself feel a little ray of hope.

"If you join the forces, you can't go into the military police like me or to the garrison like Ivo for obvious reasons... " her face held a severity that was out of character in her. "Your only option is the Survey Corps. Someone there owes me a favor... I could ask him or help ."

"So... what you're saying is that my options are; either die a horrible death because of Reiss, or Die a horrible death because of a titan?" The little ray of hope extinguished.

"You wouldn't die necessarily... You train for three years to be prepared to face the titans, you learn to maneuver on the ODM gear and the technique to slice them with the blades...."  She said " You're strong, and you have fast reflexes Ace, you'll be just fine." Te seriousness was clear on her voice, as if she wanted to imprint her next words into my brain. "(Y/n), you need to fight in order to survive, and joining the corps is your best chance."

When the word Fight left her lips, my mind wandered to Annton's words, his last request for me. I looked at my hand, where his ring stayed since last night, and I caressed it tenderly. My gut constricted, and I nodded looking at her, my decision plastered all over my face.

"I'll do it" Her eyes softened with relief

"I'm proud of you (Y/n)" She said, sighing. "I need to settle everything with my friend in the corps then, and I also need to meet with Ivo to plan the lie about our whereabouts last night, we also need to take care of Ann's..." She said, a flash of pain behind her eyes.

An ugly sensation of dread filled my body when I thought about Hale leaving me alone, but as she said to me on the cubicle, It was time for me to put on my big girl's pants. With shaky fingers I took a loose hair strand from my braid and placed it behind my ear, wincing when my battered knuckles brushed my cheek, a shiver raising the hairs in my arm. That stung like a bitch.

Hale noticed and came to me. Careful not to touch my bruised hand too roughly, she examined it.

"What the hell happened to you?" She asked, horrified at the poor state of my torn skin.

"After Kenny..." I didn't dare to mention what happened again, a knot constricting my vocal cords. Hale nodded, letting me know she understood what I meant. "I just... Floored him and fucked his face up... I was so furious I was about to kill him... But Ann called my name."

"Kenny the ripper?" She asked, a little incredulous. " Ace, the man killed a hundred of military police, I don't even know what he is doing with Lord Reiss. The guy is a butcher, How did you even manage to get close enough to him."

"If I knew, I would've grabbed the tooth I knocked out of his stinky mouth at the basement. Coul've been a good luck charm." Hale's warm laugh made its way to my ears, and it felt like a decade had passed since I last heard it.

"I know Ann is so proud of you wherever he is" She said, eyes trained on his ring, gently caressing it. "But enough crying for now, I'll have time to do it later." She said, but still sniffled, wiping her eyes, trying to avert the tears. "Let me clean your hands"

And I did, telling her where everything was I complied, being selfish, needing her care and gentleness to keep me from breaking down. With care she cleaned my wounds, blowing gently on them when the antiseptic burned. She finished wrapping them up as she did my hand wraps so many times in the basement and then she hugged me.

We stayed like that for a long time, both needing the comforting, and when she had to go the longing to keep the embrace was pulling at my heart, my hand twitching with the desire to reach out and beg her to stay.

Hale walked to the door, stopping with one foot out, turning to me.

"Wait until I come back to go outside. Once everything is settled, I'll come to help you out. And maybe you might want to talk to your dad about enlisting, if he can help you out with the ODM gear you'll have a head start. " She smiled sadly at me, the tears glistening in her waterline, threatening to spill. "Take care of yourself (Y/n), be careful and don't forget the three of us love you." She closed the door behind her back and didn't wait for an answer.

My heart ached and I broke down until dad came back and I had to pretend my heart was just fine and not the mess it was.

I surprised dad when I commented I was thinking to join the army just like him. I tried not to feel bad because of the proud expression he showed me,  I wished he could be proud of me for something I chose freely, but that could never be the case, his daughter was a runaway, a criminal, an illegal wrestler accused of killing a man. I tried to pretend I could really make him proud, that it was indeed my choices that sparked the joy in his expression, as he congratulated me on my morals and values.

During the next three days I advocated myself to cleaning the house, keeping it spotless, organising the book we had by title, then by color, then for extension and then by title again. I even went ahead and organized the pantry by the same criteria.

It was just an attempt to calm the anxiety that nibble my insides, making my nights long and sleepless, the dark and silent hours stirred my brain, the gruesome death of Ann chasing me, making the waterfalls in my eyes to cascade down until I passed out from exhaustion, holding Annton's ring tight to my chest. If I was I lucky enough I had two hours of dreamless slumber.

On the fourth day, my dad had a day off.

He woke me up only an hour after I drifted off, with the tea already made, the small white flowers that grew on the garden floating around in the cup. All morning was spent talking about his work, and laughing at his tales from the new recruits, fresh off from training. Until he asked me to be careful if I went out, because there was a killer girl running around as if nothing. A city runt that tried to rob a noble and respectable man and killed a brave guard in cold blood.

"I knew Annton" He said. My cup halted midway to my lips. "He was a good boy, he used to live with his mom around here. She died when he was around twelve. She was sick just like your mother. "His eyes were distant, remembering the old times when things were simpler " His father left his mother when he found out he was on his way. " I tried to remain nonchalant, which was really hard when the only thing I wanted to do was break down sobbing, a usual occurring in the last few days. "It's a shame... That Ace girl took an outstanding man from this world." I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs it was not me, but that filthy motherfucker and that heartless assassin were the ones who took his life away. I wanted to cry until I dried up, to hit the wall until the break apart, I wanted Annton back. But  I remained in my chair, trying so hard not to react, not to show how broken my soul was.

The rest of the day went flying after that, and the night came back. Sobs rocked my body in the shelter of darkness once again. Annton's story showed me how ruthless the world could really be, how money and being born in with a powerful last name gave you the right to decide on other's people's life.

That night a kid skinny as a corpse and with Annton's eyes haunted my dreams, his lifeless gaze staring straight at me.

The fifth morning after Hale left was the same as usual. My eyes burned when I tried to open them, swollen and redden.

After lunch dad left, kissing my cheek goodby and hugging me tight, almost as if he had an instinct, just knowing I needed it. It lasted a little too long to be a normal one, and I felt cold when he left. I resumed my routine, a weeping session as I punched the bag in the yard. I had bought it with the excuse it was for dad, but I used it more than him, training when he was on duty.

Each blow was stronger than the one preceding it, the violence behind them growing with every falling tear as I tried to get rid of all the rage and sadness within me, trying to consume me leaving nothing but ashes behind.

I would end Lord Reiss when I had the chance, Kenny the ripper next on the list, at any cost. I owed it to Ann.

With one last hook to the bag I left a broken sigh out as I pressed my forehead against the cool leather, letting the tears run free. I wasn't sobbing, those were reserved for the night, when no one could hear them.

"I'm glad to see you're still in good shape." Hale's voice broke the sad spell I was on.

I looked up and there she was, a smile on her lips, her uniform was clean and void of Ann's blood, and an ODM gear was strapped to her body, she must've gotten to my house on that. My lip trembled.

"Let's go inside..." I said, noticing how glad I was she was safe. I gave one step to the door.

"I was thinking we could walk to the market. It might do you some good, you've been inside for a long time.  I can see how much you've paled from here. When was the last time you saw the sun, Kid?" She sounded like Annton, and she had a weak smile on. Hale had aged so much in just a few days. Tired lines and dark bags covered her face.

I changed quickly out of my sweat filled clothes, grabbing a green cape to hide my face just in case.

Hale was waiting for me at the door, and once it, she grabbed my hand, intertwining our fingers and we started to walk to Rose's gate, in our way to Shinganshina, hiding my face from the guards as we passed by.

When we made it through, Hale spoke

"How are the knuckles" she asked, a casual tone in her voice, her thumb brushing the bandages.

"They're good. I keep opening a few of the cuts when i hit the bag thou, but they'll heal, eventually." One more scar on them wouldn't make a lot of difference. I looked at her from the corner of my eye. She was staring dead ahead. "How's Ivo?" I haven't seen him since we separated at the tunnels.

"He's a little better. We buried Annton in one of his favorite places after the Military police gave us his body back. They interrogated him, but he's an excellent liar, so he made it out in one piece. He always cheats when we play cards, in case you didn't notice." I hadn't, actually. I smiled, thankful he was safe.

"I'm glad." I whispered, my voice drowned by the murmur of the multitude. A few teens fere sitting around a font and sellers were screaming about their products. Everything kept going, while I felt like my life had ended less than a week ago. "And ab..."

"I got you something." She interrupted, "They called me to search the basement the day after I took you home. They had to wait until the smoke dissipated to go in," She reached in her pocket. " Since nobody had touched anything I could bring this back for you" She extended her opened palm, a golden chain in it, and Kenny's tooth was the charm on it. A laugh bubble out of me when I saw it.

She placed it around my neck.

"Don't worry, I washed the blood off" she winked, but I could see something bothering her.

"Thanks Hale"

"(Y/n)... " Her was suddenly serious " The news traveled, almost everyone knows what happened, and  who to look for. So unless there's a fucking Titan invasion every fucking soldier within this wall will hunt you down, and to make matters worse, this year's recruits already started their training, and they are not allowing extra ones until next year. " The stress was clear as she passed a hand trough her hair with exasperation. " Do you think you can hide that long? I already talked to my friend, and he said he would help, I might or might not have said you would be an amazing addition to the corps, so please try your best and don't make me look like a fool. " Her half hearted joke held some truth behind it. I could tell she was worried sick.

I stopped a few blocks into Shinganshina and rubbed my face harshly

"Fuck!" I exclaimed, the thing couldn't get worse.

"Come on Ace, leave the worry to me, everything will be fine. We're not going to leave you alone in this." Her eyes glistened in the warm sunset light.

"Yeah right, how do you plan to distract a whole fucking army?" I didn't want to be harsh to her, but she was way too hopeful, all things consider.

"We could..." Her voice got stuck on her throat when a clap of thunder shook the earth, blinding us momentarily

Startled scrams sounded all around us as people exchanged confused looks. My eyes turned to the mighty wall, smoke rising behind her.

"What the fuck? A storm? There're no clouds in the sky..." Hale thought out loud, and a unsettling feeling fluttered in my stomach.

The ground shook beneath us, making everybody at the marked wobble, some falling to the floor, their groceries rolling away. An almost primal instinct tightened my chest. I felt like I was staring dead in the eyes of a predator. The hairs on my neck raised. Something was wrong.

Exchanging a brief glance with Hale  i knew she felt the same way. I could see her hand twitch, and feel a buzzing course through my legs, I wanted to flight from there as fast as I could, and I was about to suggest it when the unimaginable happened.

A head rose above the top of Maria. It was a fucking titan, and a huge one at that. He must've been at leas fifty meter high, if not more.

His face lacked skin, the muscles and teeths on full display. Pure, cold and gut wrenching terror filled me.

I felt the blood leave my face, and how my muscles locked up, eyes glued to the beast ahead. A few persons started to run, and a small part of my brain, the one still functioning, told me to imitate them and to run as fas as I could, but somehow I couldn't. Until a harsh and unforgiving wind sent me flying a few feet back. I landed hard on my back, the air knocked out of me. A few pieces of stone missed me by a fraction, and hell broke loose.

Hale was by my side in a few seconds later, as my brain tried to process what the fuck had happened. Connecting the dots, I realized the bastard kicked a hole in Maria.

I was on my feet, and grabbing Hale's hand, I ran. A survival instinct I didn't know I had drove my body. I was convinced that if I stayed even one second longer, we would be a titan's snack, and I was not down for it.

We crossed the gate, but I couldn't stop running. They trespassed one, they might as well trespass two. Hale's hand was still in mine as we ran trough the stets, dodging people who just stood there waiting for a horrible death to claim them.

"Shit (Y/n)... You have fantastic luck or a fucking curse, it depends if you want to see the glass." How could she joke at a time like this?

What were the odds? A hysterical laugh bubbled up, and my legs burned, but i was not about to be eaten.

Hale's sudden stop made almost made me fall on my ass, I turned around to urge her on, but I noticed she was grabbing the handlers of her OMD gear and was snatching a fresh pair of blades in it. With a gesture of her head she told me to go on her back.

"Try not to move too much, this thing depends on balance. We might fall." She warned me, before shooting a hook to the nearest building, propelling us forward. I'm sure I choked her from how hard I was squeezing her neck.  The mechanism of the ODM Buzzing against my leg as the wind slapped me in the face.

We soared the air, towards my house.

"I need to go back to Rose and warn them. We need to get the evacuation protocol going, you go to the ships and you get on them right now okay?" I nodded, and she hugged me once,  leaving right after. I could only watch as she disappeared, flying.

I tried to calm the erratic beating of my heart, I looked at the Maria's Gate, the imponent door separating Shinganshina from the rest of Maria, I was going to be just fine, besides when dad noticed the commotion he was going to come straight for me.

I waited for him outside, there was nothing important inside the house, Ann's ring and Kenny's tooth were on me. But in the last moment I remembered my papers inside. If I was evacuated for safety issues I might need them. Rushing inside I grabbed the stack of documents and I also grabbed my handwraps from the table. Those were my favorite.

I pulled my hood up and went outside, waiting for dad to appear in any moment.

I wasn't even outside for a minute, when another shudder broke the earth. Horrified I turned to the Gates, where a cloud of dust was dissipating. When it disappear I saw another titan, smaller than the one who breeched Shinganshina, but with something hard covering his body. Those two differed from the rest, the managed to break down our first defense, it was almost as if they had intelligence, the focus on their eyes.

Titans swarmed Maria's territory, and a massacre begun. Unfortunate persons were devoured in front of my very eyes, blood staining the streets, limbs flying in the air. Whoever was in charge of collecting the death bodies would have a heavy load of work.  I scolded myself when I noticed the grim humor in my words. I tried to think. What should I do? Wait for dad inside or go to the boats. The titans that got in were still pretty far away, it all depended on my dad and on how fast he could come. I shuffled on my feet, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins, my breathing was heavy and the fear was making me heart beat in my ears.

A titan turned a corner, and it saw me. It was huge, at least ten meters high. Ann's words ringed in my mind and I took off, trying to stay alive for as long as possible. And if I died, it wouldn't be for lack of effort.

The boats where across the town, I turned to the right, the thundering footsteps of the beast trailing behind me, closing the gap between with each passing second. I turned behind me and almost screamed in fear as I noticed it was only a few feet away, its empty eyes and a sinister smile sending shudders down my back. The shadow of the titan leaned over me, and I knew I was dead, it was about to grab me, and I could already feel the searing pain of its teeth sinking into my flesh. Tears poured without me noticing.

I was ready to kiss the world goodbye and to join Ann in the afterlife, when the figure of a soldier flying in the air, too fast to recognize, disappeared behind the titan, the sound of blades cutting through flesh filling the air.

The titan fell to the ground, shaking the floor beneath me, and I recognized my father standing tall on its neck. A cloud of steam raising from his clothes, the blood from the titan sizzling. Shit, he was in good shape, even tho he finished his training years ago he still got the fast reflexes and strength to go.

He got down from the lifeless steaming body and rushed to my side. Grabbing me by the shoulders he inspected my face, searching for any kind of injury. Hands cupped my cheeks and I gripped them tight with my own. He was alive and I was glad I was too.

Dad hugged me and I could almost feel the relief filling his body.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" He asked me. Not fiscally I thought but I shook my head. "We need to get you out of here, we lost Maria." With one last glance at the defeated wall, he grabbed my hand and ran.

Hand in hand we crossed the city. I thought he would use the ODM gear, but he settled for running. My dad was amazing. Sadly it skipped a generation.

I still had blisters on my feet because of the long night walking the tunnels, and this running session would not help. But I clenched my teeth and held on, better hurt feet and all my limbs still attached.

The boats were filled, and the line to get into them was immense, everyone crowding around the guards, trying desperately to get on them. The screams and cries of the kids rang in my ears, my heart aching as they called for their parents. I squeezed my dad's hand tighter, and he returned the gesture. The distant howls of pain and the insults to the guards raised in the air, and you could almost feel the collective fear on your skin, like an oily substance that stuck to your clothes. Some desperate enough people jumped, not worried about the possible fall to the canals. Hysteria had taken over Maria's population, and if the titans didn't kill us, we would kill each other, the persons in the front of the line were being pushed against the metal bars, the air squeezed out of their lungs.

I didn't want to get into one of those deathtraps, I'd rather run to Rose, but obviously dad was against it.

He looked at me, and his eyes were tearful. I didn't like that look in his eyes at all. I frowned, and he smiled sadly at me.

"(Y/N), I Love You so much... An I'm sorry, but I'm not risking you not going into that boat." Determination shone on my eyes, and I knew his resolve was as strong as steel.

"What do you mean? " My voice trembled as I asked " You're getting in with me. How is that a bad thing?" I tried to smile, but my frown was deep.

He didn't answer and just shook his head. He grabbed me and as if I weighted nothing he put me over his shoulder.

"My duty is to protect the walls (Y/n)" His voice was steady" When all of this is over I'll go back for you, and we'll play cards like we do every morning, I'm going to give you advice for when you go to the army... I'm so proud of you, honey." His grip on my back tightened. "I will miss you so much, but wait for me. Okay?"

"Dad, don't do this... Please " My body was unmoving, the tears free falling at his feet, and I could only focus on the heels of his boots as he made his way through the crowd, pushing people aside. And just looking at his boots were better that acknolodging the searing pain on my chest, as if Ann's passing wasn't enough y dad was about to risk his life. "There's got to be another way... Please don't leave me...I love you please don't do it" I said trying to negotiate I refused to let him go just like that. "There must me something we can..." He shushed me.

"An I love you too, but it's my job. Understand, I swore to give my life for the sake of humanity if it ever came to that." His hands were shaking, and I tried to chase away the thought of him being afraid. It was something normal, but that meant I should've been terrified, dad was never scared. But the only thing that I had on my chest was a hole, filled with pain and grief, as if I was incapable of feeling anything else. "I'm sorry honey, i love you so much... And believe when I say I'm coming back for you"

I was going to answer, and plead some more, but suddenly I was no longer on his shoulder. An empty feeling filed my body before I landed on the wood from the boat's floor. I got up to try to see my dad in the crowd, but he was no longer there. The boat sailed away, tearing me apart from the place and streets I grew up, tearing me from one of the only people I love that was still alive... for now.

Angry with myself I pinched my arm, I was assuming he would die. My dad would survive and he was going to come back as a hero, saving the life of a thousand of humans, and destroying a thousand of titans, more titans than the whole Survey corps toghether. I had to believe it for my own sanity, or for what was left of it.

When we got to the refugee center I sat at a corner and just waited. The soldiers were coming back from Maria, one after the other, injured and with a broken spirit, witnessing horrible things, and traumatized for the rest of their lives. I prayed to whatever god there was for my father to be among those soldiers it didn't matter if he was missing a leg or arm, I just wanted him by my side.

The cold evening air was biting my fingers, and I tried to cover them with the pocket of my hood, that covered my face, feeling the unmistakable cold of metal against my skin. I pulled out my hand, and in the middle of my palm there it was.

My dad's engagement ring.

Letting the golden band slide down my finger, the tears fell again. The hours passed, transforming into days, but there was no sign of him. God had laughed at my childish hopes.

My heart ached for my lost loved ones, and to add up on top of it, the amount of kids sleeping on the floor by themselves was devastating. We were all in the same boat, orphaned for the rest of our lives. The resources were low and  Sina's infrastructure wouldn't stand for long. We would be seen as leeches instead of refugees, only sucking on their food and water.

No matter what age, kids to elders, all of us were hated and mistreated equally, the garrisons insulting us to dirt. A few of them were familiar, being in the basement's underground world.. The constant threat of being discovered kept my mind away from the grief. I couldn't even mourn Dad in peace.

I wasn't even sleeping anymore, tormented nightmares that portraited Kenny's laugh, Annton's at his feet as Lod Reiss's hands grabbed my clothes, or my dad's dismembered and broken body. So I had given up on resting. I barely had a nap here and there. My body functioning only for the sake of it. The  food was sparse and not enough water made it to my mouth.

We used old blankets as mattresses, trying to soften the stone floor where we slept, leaving our bodies vulnerable to the cold. It was only a matter of time before someone died of hypothermia.

A week had passed, and I haven't talked to anyone, staying at the sidelines, silently watching.

The children were a heartwrecking sight. A lot of them barely knew how to walk, and they were all alone, the few unlucky ones old enough to understand the severity of everything had somber expressions all day.

Next to my improvised bed, two kids slept together every night.

One night in particular, the temperature had dropped insanely low, and they were trembling in their sleep, the tears making their faces red and puffy, wet trails shining in the moonlight. The little girl's black hair got stuck to her cheeks, and I noticed her dirty and worn out red scarf. She gripped it tightly in her small fist, trying to hold on to whatever it represented to her. She reminded me of myself,  as I had my own habit of stroking the rings in my left hand as I cried. The boy was immersed in a restless dream, twisting and turning, quiet whimpers slipping out of his parted open lips, tormented by whatever they had witnessed the day Maria fell.

Fuck it I thought.

Sighing, I untied my cape, slipping it out of my shoulders,  covering their sleeping bodies. I glanced at the fabric laying on the ground. Sleep had left me a while ago, it wasn't like I would use the blanket. I picked it up and dust it off, placing it on top of my cape, building the layers, hoping it would be enough.

After a few minutes later the shudders that traveled their bodies disappeared and I smile appeared on my lips. I glanced at the boy, hopeful that his nightmares had stopped, but a pair of black eyes captured mine. Her intense glare paralyzing me, I felt like she caught me doing something wrong. The corners of her mouth lifted, and she went back to sleep.

I breathe out the air stuck in my lungs and I sat against the wall, tilting my head back, eyes on the ceiling.

Those two kids couldn't be older than ten years old, and their life were destroyed, losing everything. I wondered if they had an adult that took care of them and what would happen with them if they didn't.

Could I do something else besides giving them a shitty blanket?

I shook off the idea as soon as it came, I had more urgent problems than taking care of two orphans, like hiding from Lord Reiss for example.

[ohvalleyofplentyyy]

Merlin’s Blood

A/N: sorry if you’re allergic to walnut bread, you can just pretend i wrote something else!

masterlist

chapter 1

Chapter 2: A Moment with a Miracle

“Motherfucker—“

Mother would be sooooo mad if she heard me speaking like this.

But you had landed pretty hard in your defense, you hadn’t teleported in forever because after you nearly crash-landed into the firing zone for archery practice, mother had put a stop to it.

You landed on the top of a rather large cliff that overlooked a small town below it. “I really really hope this is Brugee or else I’m fucked.” You got up and dusted the soil of your cloak, there was a small rip at the bottom but thankfully that was it.

You started walking down the hill, pausing every few minutes to listen to your surroundings and make sure you weren’t being followed.

I can’t believe I would have the fantastic fate to meet the man who’s supposed to kill me. Also, he’s a Witcher, which makes this even worse! And now he knows what I look like, ah fuck, fuck, fuck… What am I going to do—

“Geralt I still don’t understand why you have to kill her! She’s so sweet and it’s not like you’ll be able to find her since she poofed! Into thin air!”

Shit.

You crouched down immediately upon hearing the voice of Jaskier. About 20 yards away, Geralt was walking with the reins of Roach in his hand along with Jaskier rambling off beside him.

Oh my gods, I guess my fight or flight skills decided to go halfsies and not take me to Brugee, but just get me out of imminent danger…

“—Don’t you see how horrible your reasoning is? She saved me from getting shot with a crossbow at the tavern and then trusted me to help her, I think you need to question who gave you the order to—“ Geralt suddenly perked up and put his hand out to silence the bard. You took a small breath and held it, hoping his enhanced abilities weren’t as amazing as the legends.

In a quiet voice, the Witcher said, “I smell something, lavender…”

Oh sweet peaches and cream, my oils.

Your mother had let you choose an oil for your 11th birthday as a signature statement for a young princess. You used it as a perfume and as you got older you still used it instead of the fancy ones many suitors anonymously gifted you.

You enjoyed that the scent was your own, one you grew up always having. It kept you closer to nature since once the whispers of war started you were locked inside away from harm.

Alright, deep breath Y/N.

You closed your eyes and concentrated, it only took a moment before the wind shifted to be blowing the opposite direction, taking any trace of you with it. You watched from afar as Geralt tilted his face upwards to see if he could find the scent again, but alas nothing was there anymore.

“Come on, let’s go.”

The two men walked farther away from you and once you could no longer see their silhouettes, you let out a long sigh. You looked up to canopy above you and bit your lip to keep it from quivering.

I’m alone.

The thought of that made you more scared than when your killer had been in front of you merely minutes ago.

Tears welled up in your eyes and for the first time in a long while, you started to cry.

Oh, Mama, Papa, please find me, I’m scared…

You fell asleep curled up next to the giant log you had hidden behind, the thoughts and worries swimming in your head as you fell into a blank sleep.

                                                       …

Light shimmering between the leaves of the tall trees woke you. The forest was very peaceful in the bright morning and made you feel a bit better than the night before. The forest was alive with life and wonder in the early light.

You sat on the old log and watched as some small pixies danced along the adjacent stream that no bigger than a log, perfectly pixie sized. They were brightly colored, one purple, another pink, and the last a vivacious yellow. On the other side of the very tiny stream was a deer with two small wings and a long tail, like a lion.

Creatures that resembled monkeys swang through the trees. These creatures were various versions of green, each had two sets of eyes and two tails. Long floppy ears fell down around their faces as well.

It made you smile to know that the friends of the forest you once knew very well had managed to thrive while you were confined to the castle.

Spirits of the forest and other magical creatures knew not to be afraid of you. The magic in your blood from Merlin, one of your ancestors, lifted the veil of protection that others always see when walking through the woods.

Even the most powerful mage would not be privy to such a masterpiece of wonder. The Brotherhood used magic that was, well you could say, tainted. They drew power from other things but you had your own, it was apart of your very being.

Your mother used to tell you stories about how the blood that runs through your veins was some of the most powerful in the universe.

 You always believed it was made up as a child but as you grew older, some of your royal classes turned into magic lessons leading you to question if it was all just fairytales she told you or history.

A few pixies flew down to you and floating next to them was a slice of walnut bread. You took the bread from the air and smiled at them.

 “Have you been working on your magic baking?” They are nodded, you ate the pastry and instantly felt better. The magical bread seemed to lift your spirits and you decided it was time to get moving.

Alright, it’s time to keep going.

Away from the lovely killer I’ve got on my tail…

It took some time, but you finally found the trail leading to town. You took a guess and headed in the opposite direction, hoping the two others would be going to get food instead of hellbent on finding you.

If I can just find a good stream to drink from, maybe I’ll have enough energy to get out of here.

After walking through the dense forest, you stumbled upon a good size river. It was perfect for taking a quick sip but the problem was you’d need to cross it somehow. The current seemed to be fairly strong and you weren’t at the moment. You found a spot of land that was at level with the river and rolled up your sleeves.

The water was like nectar after all this time. It was cool and icy against your palms, you took the canister Branson had been carrying in the bag thank the gods and filled it to the brim.

Who knows when I’ll find a reliable source like this again.

Poor Branson, I know he wasn’t that fantastic of a bodyguard but he did want to keep me safe, and for two weeks he did. I hope he’s in a better place now, with lots of archery fields and sword fighting classes. He was always a fanatic for fighting.

“Alight, how on earth do I cross this now…” You mumbled to yourself. You kicked small pebbles into the river as you walked alongside it. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. There’s got to be some way I can just—cross it.”

Then an idea popped into your head. You turned to the tree next to you as if to speak to it, “If my bloodline is as powerful as people say, then I should be able to just,” you put a foot out, “walk across it.”

It was exhilarating.

You’d never heard of anyone walking on water but here you were, taking a few steps on top of the gushing river that flowed beneath your shoes. You laughed and twirled across the water, dancing with the fish that jumped up every so often as to say ‘hello!’ to you.

I wish I had known about this ability long ago, crossing the moat would have been such a breeze!

But then the water started to slowly lower as if someone was taking a sponge to a spill.

Huh?

You watched as birds flew from the left, away from something. Animals on the side of the creek ran fast as if they were being chased. “What in the world…” But the worlds died o your tongue as you watch a giant tidal wave come towards you.

“Oh my gods.”

Your instinct kicked in and you immediately moved your hands. One went in a full circle while the other drew symbols on the inside of it. Water swirled around you, creating a bubble as the tidal wave roared over you.

It was horrifyingly beautiful. You watched as flowers floated in the current, most likely ripped away from the sides of the land. Some deer, sadly drowned, ran with the steam as well. They must have been crossing farther up in a shallow area, taking a rest in the lovely stream when it washed them away.

 But what was the worst, was the little doll you saw right above your head, and someone’s tiny hand reaching for it.

You closed your eyes immediately, not wanting to see the body that might come into view.

The wave must have cut through a town, but how is this possible?! It’s a river, someone must have been the cause of this…

Maybe the ones trying to kill me.

You opened your eyes at the thought, now shaking a bit as you realized the situation at hand. “This enemy has strong powers, strong enough to easily kill me.”

The river leveled a bit as the wave raced down the path. You dispersed the bubble and looked at all the debris floating downstream. You ran as fast as you could across the water, you were almost at the edge when you heard something.

A voice.

Someone called out from help, farther down where the wave must have just hit. You turned, wondering whether you should keep going or help the poor soul.

“Help, I’m stuck!” You heard them shout.

Fuck okay.

You darted down the river, sliding down the water like you were surfing when it started to drop at an angle.

Maybe it’s a farm boy? A small child? Who would be in these woods right now, maybe a survivor from the town?

You weren’t expecting to find Jaskier clinging to a log in the middle of the water, his tunic caught by something beneath the rushing stream, and the Witcher who said he was to kill you, knocked out on the bank of the river on the side you had been crossing to.

So I guess they didn’t go to town for supplies after all.

Damn.

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