#It's just that wandering the nights on earth would be too much of a risk to leave her there

[primordialruin]

Only Adam and Eve were sentenced to mortality after eating from the forbidden fruit. Lilith, while responsible for the act, was simply cast to Hell where she would have eventually turned to dust had it not been for Lucifer's care. The separation between soul and body was made for Lilith. Essentially, she is still a primordial being whose body had become acclimated to Hell.

If she dies, she dies. There's no soul recovery, resurrection or afterlife for her.

[amomentsescape]

can I also request to yandere slashers and sinclair brothers with a pregnant reader that gets kidnapped if thats ok? Thank you hope im not requesting too much, no pressure to make it 😅

Yandere! Slashers with Pregnant Reader That Gets Kidnapped

Yandere! Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, Bo, & Lester

Warnings: Yandere behavior, mentions of pregnancy, typical Slasher behavior

A/N: No worries! Thank you for requesting :) I also apologize if my last couple of Slasher fics have been a bit short. I've been stuck in a brain fog this past week.

Freddy Krueger

The moment Freddy sees you gone, he just laughs

You couldn't be that stupid to just leave, could you?

You can't escape him when he can show up at any point no matter where you are

However, him popping up and seeing you being held hostage by someone else...

Freddy's smile fades

Of course you wouldn't leave him

But who dares to have put you and his child at risk?

The moment he sees them, he doesn't even care

He immediately slashes their throat and picks you up, not wasting any time taking you back to where you belong

Michael Myers

The kidnapper was careless

Don't they know that Michael would walk to the ends of the earth for you and his child?

His abilities know no bounds

He finds your location within a single night

All you can hear at first are screams and splatters, not sure what is going on outside your little room

But the moment you see Michael, you immediately relax

You weren't sure he would come for you

But here he was

And without a word, he has you lifted in his bloody arms as he walks you back home

Just know he won't be letting you out of his sight at all now

Jason Voorhees

He can hear your screams echo throughout the woods

He knows this area like the back of his hand anyways, so it doesn't take long to locate you

The way you're holding onto your stomach, trying to protect the child from any harm, has Jason seeing nothing but red

He doesn't even want to fool around with the assailant

His machete is plunged into the top of their head before they can even let out a scream

His mood does a complete 180 when he looks back to you, gently taking you in his arms to make sure you weren't hurt

He just sits with you on the ground for a while, rocking you in his arms

He's attempting to comfort you, but there's a part of him that's also trying to comfort himself

Thomas Hewitt

When he comes home to the door wide open, he immediately panics

You didn't leave him... did you?

He thought you were finally happy

Teary eyed and angered, Thomas storms out into the night to look for you

He had wandered pretty far into the area when he heard your screams

Some crazy family seemed to have taken you from your home

Your screams were immediately cut off by the sound of a chainsaw, cutting right into the door

Your kidnappers jumped up and attempted to flee, but Thomas was quick to catch up

You had your ears covered and your eyes tightly shut when he came back in

He gently pulled your hands down and lifted you up

He carried you home without any hesitation

Bubba Sawyer

The screams of devastation he lets out can literally be heard from miles around

Doesn't even want to consider that you left him

You've been so good the last few months

There's no way you would have just left like this

After an hour of him frantically searching around the area, he can finally hear your voice

You were talking to the stranger, asking them to please let you go

The fact that they just kept ignoring you made Bubba even more angry

They only finally looked up when they heard the revving of his chainsaw

They didn't even have time to flee before they were cut in half

He runs over to you quickly, placing one hand on your stomach and the other on the side of your face

He was blubbering, promising you he'll do better next time

Brahms Heelshire

Well this was an incredibly stupid decision on their part

Don't they know that Brahms doesn't ever leave the house?

And wherever you are, he will be too

The kidnapper doesn't even make it out the door with you

The moment Brahms hears your screams, it's over

He emerges from the wall and grabs the kidnapper

You watch as Brahms slams the person's head into the wall, over and over again until they're just a bloody pulp

He storms over to you and grabs you roughly, looking your body over to make sure you and the baby weren't hurt

He traps you in bed with him for the rest of the night

His arms act as a cage, not letting you up for anything

Norman Bates

Everything is a bit of a blur

He comes home to the place ransacked, you nowhere in sight

You weren't reckless

He knows you wouldn't have done this

He turns to go search for you, and that's when things go black

He finally comes to with you crying in his arms on a dirty floor

An unrecognizable body lays beside him, blood pooling everywhere

But you and his child are safe

That's all that matters now

And he'll make sure nothing like this ever happens again

Billy Loomis

Billy is immediately in a rage when he sees you're gone

There is no way you're going to leave him

Never

He'll break into every house in this town if he has to

And that's just what he does

It's only after the 7th house that he finds you tied up to a chair

Oh you poor thing

Of course you didn't leave him

The scene before you quickly becomes bloody

A few bodies lie splattered on the floor, Billy tending to the rope around you

He apologizes for letting this happen and kisses you deeply

It's only later that night you hear of 7 families that had been found slashed in their own homes

There really is no limit when it comes to Billy

Stu Macher

He has a mental breakdown when he sees that you're gone

Goes into a fit of hysterical laughter as he reaches for his knife

He doesn't want to hurt you, but he will if he must

When he hears a scream echo not too far from where he was searching, he sprints to it

And when he sees you being held by some random person, Stu's crazed smile finally drops

He lunges, and things go out of control

Stu is left with a few cuts and bruises, but he doesn't care

He immediately looks you over and makes sure you're not hurt

When he's content, he takes you home and cuddles up with you on the couch, bloody clothes and all

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent doesn't like to venture too far from home, but he'll do it for you

Seeing that you're gone makes him assume the worse

He marches outside the home, already searching every nook and cranny of this desolate place

And it works out in his favor once he sees you in an old building, knocked unconscious

He smashed his way through the window immediately

The attackers come running towards him, but he was quick to act

You awoke to a bloody mess beside you and a worried Vincent knelt in front of you

He rests his hands on your stomach and you nod, letting him know you and the baby are okay

He's content with this and wraps you in his arms to take you back home

Bo Sinclair

If he can't have you, no one can

When he's sees you're gone, he assumes you left just like he knew you were going to try

He hunts you down immediately, ready to do what needed to be done, only to see you scared and tied up

Oh, now Bo can't help the growing smile on his face

You didn't want to leave him, and now he can have fun with whoever was stupid enough to do this

Will knock them unconscious and take you both home

He'll make their death a long and painful one

But it's another addition to the wax museum

One that he is most proud of

Lester Sinclair

He instantly tears up at the idea that you left him

He almost doesn't even want to go after you, but you're also carrying his child

He can't just let you go that easily

He of course checks Ambrose first, and he considers himself lucky to have found you as soon as he did

But seeing you being held by some random person was not what he had planned

Lester's self pity quickly evolves to pure anger

He jumps in and immediately attacks, not even thinking of finding a weapon first

His adrenaline kicks in and it doesn't take long before he kills the kidnapper, suffocating them to death

He then wraps himself up with you, holding you close and apologizing over and over again

[viperify]

Kinktober 2024 | 𝗼𝗰𝘁 𝟮𝟰: ᴛᴏᴍᴀᴄᴏ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

You belong to us.

Short summary: Your two best friends had been telling you for months. The boy who you were dating, McLaggen, had been cheating on you. When you saw him snogging with the other girl at a Gryffindor party, you were absolutely devastated and immediately looked for the only two people who could lift your mood – Tom and Draco.

Warnings: 18+ only! threesome, unprotected p in v, anal, impact play, dom!Tom, overstimulation, creampie, cumplay

A/N: Well, this turned out properly filthy. This work is another case of me trying to write around 1k words but miserably failing. I do have to say that this is my fav one yet, though. I had so much fun writing this. ;)As always, feedback is greatly appreciated <3

I am gonna work on some type of masterlist soon so you can find my works more easily. This whole Tumblr stuff is still confusing me, ngl😭

wordcount: 3,3k

“But- but I didn’t think he would actually do that!” You sobbed, head buried in Tom’s chest while Draco tenderly rubbed your back. “He is an idiot, love. We have been telling you.” The blonde stated. “I am sorry for not believing you. Next time I will listen.” Your tears soaked Tom’s shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind. “You better do.”

After you had calmed down, the boys let you shower in their dorm, fixing your appearance. What you didn’t tell them: you didn’t plan on leaving, heavily relying on the support of your two friends at the time. Naturally, they were rather surprised when you asked whether you could stay the night, but how could they ever deny you anything?

It all started pretty harmless. Tom as usual was reading something in his book, while you and Draco talked, all of you lying in one bed together. As you grew more tired, you cuddled into the blonde’s side, hand on his stomach, feeling his abs through his shirt. The close body contact with the two boys stirred something in you, and as Draco then looked you in your eyes, his hands wandering to your waist, your mind went fuzzy. Cormac hadn’t cared for you like that in so long. Yet you knew you couldn’t risk your friendship over this. Not after you had just lost your boyfriend.

Draco though seemed to sense your doubt and had had other ideas. With one quick motion he pulled you towards him, meeting his lips with yours. You immediately surrendered to him, letting the blonde dominate the kiss. All the pent-up frustration left you, fully focusing on how Draco’s touch felt on your body and the sensations he was providing you with.

“What do you think you two are doing?” Tom asked, carefully watching you two from his side of the bed. You had almost forgotten he was there as well. Regret started washing over you, your face heating up. You definitely shouldn’t have done that. What were you thinking?

“I am sorry Tom, and you too Draco.” You whined, burying your head in the palms of your hands. “I shouldn’t have-“ as soon as you started talking, Draco interrupted you. “Darling.” The blonde moved your hands from your face, his eyes urging you to look at Tom. “He isn’t frustrated with you for kissing me. Just that you only kissed me. Better make it up to him.” He grinned and you turned to face the brunette, who welcomed you onto his lap. “I am sorry Tom.” You pouted, but he was quick to silence you by kissing you like it was his last day on earth, his hands cupping your ass, eliciting a small moan from you which gave him the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

Hungry, lust-filled eyes devoured you from both sides, and as you were kissing Tom, Draco’s hands found their way under your shirt, cupping your breasts. The sensations from both of the Slytherins soon became overwhelming and you desperately needed to ease the ache forming in your lower stomach. Your hips started grinding on Tom’s lap, which gave you the possibility to feel just how hard he was. He groaned into the kiss at the sudden friction, and you parted from him. “I am sorry.” You apologized as you blushed, halting your movements.

“Don’t you dare stop. Go on darling. I know just how badly you need this. Make yourself come on my thigh for us hm? You want to be our good girl, don’t you?” The brunette purred, hands firmly gripping your hips, moving you to sit on just one of his thighs.

Draco in the meanwhile pulled the shirt over your head, leaving you in your bra and skirt. “Such a pretty girl for us. Go and show us who you have always truly belonged to.”

You whined at his words, throwing your head back, hips eagerly grinding on Tom’s muscular thighs. The friction perfectly worked on your needy clit, wetness soaking your panties, all the way through to Tom’s trousers. Tom then also removed your bra, and while you fully concentrated on the pleasure, their hands found your breasts, toying with your hardened nipples. You mewled at their touch, your eyebrows furrowing. “Your tits are perfect, darling. So gorgeous.” The brunette praised you, slightly pinching your erect bud.

Whimpering at the sting, you felt yourself get closer to the high you were so desperately chasing. The boys took notice of your state, shaky breaths and moans escaping your parted lips. Tom’s strong arms then guided your hips up and down on his thigh, applying even more pressure on your sensitive clit. His eyes laid hot on your skin, gaze stuck on your tits which bounced so beautifully on your chest with the movements you were making.

“Gonna c-come!” You blurted out, head dropping onto the brunette’s chest, your sweet little moans now muffled. “Come for us, baby. Be a good girl and come for us.” Draco encouraged, his hands wandering under your skirt, landing a smack on your ass.

Their dirty words in combination with their precise touches sent you tumbling over the edge, your mind going completely blank. All you felt was pure pleasure, your orgasm sending shockwaves through your entire body. You whined as your walls clenched around nothing, eager to be filled.

As you came down from your high, your entire body slumped forward to rest on top of Tom’s body, his hands gently stroking your hair. “Such a good girl, coming all over my thigh. That feel good, darling?” He purred, lifting your chin so he could see your face. All you could do was nod, too exhausted to give a proper answer.

They both smiled at your state, letting you rest for a few moments. “Thank you” you started, slowly lifting yourself from the boy’s body. “We are always going to take care of you, darling. Don’t ever worry about that.” The blonde reassured you, hands palming your breasts once more.

“Wanna make you feel good too, please” you whispered, eyes flickering between the two. You lifted yourself from Tom’s thigh, now kneeling in front of Draco on the bed. Your hands reached out to undo the blonde’s belt, but his hands grabbed yours before you could do anything. “You sure you want this?” He asked you, his blue eyes meeting yours. You nodded frantically, and he let go of your hands. Eagerly you unbuckled his belt, trousers slipping down his thighs, pooling at his knees. His hardened length was visible through his briefs, which you kissed through the fabric, eliciting a soft whimper from the blonde. Your hands gently stroked him through the cotton, making him furrow his eyebrows, groaning at your touch.

Smack.

You gasped at the sharp pain coming from your still covered ass, turning your head to spot Tom, visibly not amused. “No teasing, love.” He berated, voice strict, urging you to pleasure the blonde. You only nodded in return, obeying his orders without a question. You freed Draco of the fabric, his cock hitting his lower abdomen. Your hands circled him, slowly stroking up and down. In the meanwhile, Tom undressed your skirt, pulling it down your legs. Draco moaned and whimpered at your touch, your thumb swiping over his tip, gathering a bead of precum that had leaked. Then, collecting saliva in your mouth, you spit on his length, making it easier to stroke him. When you felt ready, you took him in your mouth, your tongue swirling around his sensitive tip. He groaned, throwing his head back. His hands wandered to the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair as you took more and more of him inside of your mouth.

The brunette behind you pulled down your panties in the meanwhile, sliding his fingers through your soaked folds. He didn’t waste much time before first slipping one, then two fingers inside of your needy cunt, finding the spongey spot that made you see stars. Instinctively you sped up, the blonde in awe of what his best friend was capable of. Soon enough, he took over, guiding your head up and down on his painfully hard cock. You gagged as he hit the back of your throat, the vibrations making his length twitch.

Finally, he pulled you off his dick before he could have his release. Just as you were about to protest, the familiar feeling was forming in your lower stomach again, and you gasped. “Tom please, I-“ “Come. Gotta get you nice and ready for us, darling.” Before you could even register his words, your orgasm hit you like a tsunami, the waves of pleasure threatening to drown you. Your walls pulsated around his fingers as the brunette expertly worked you through your high, only stopping when you whined at the touch on your oversensitive core.

His fingers slipped out of you, a soft whimper leaving your mouth. “Such a greedy cunt. Can’t wait to be filled, huh?” Tom asked you, and as he did not get an answer, he sent another harsh smack on your ass cheek. You squealed forward, though stopped by Draco who was now holding your head against his chest, softly stroking your hair as you cried out at the throb of the impact. “I expect an answer when I ask something, love.” The brunette gently reminded you, softly swiping his palm against your reddened skin. “Sorry Tom.” You apologized, looking at him with tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Want to be filled by both of you.”

“Exactly what we wanted to hear. Such a good girl.” Draco praised you. “Are you ready for us, love?” The older boy of the two asked, fingertips drawing figures on your back.

“Yes, please. Want you.” You slurred, your mind hazy. Your two orgasms had drained more energy from you than you had thought they would.

Draco then laid down on his back, pulling you on top of him. Tom undressed himself as well and joined you two, taking in the scene from beside you two. Draco slid his tip up and down your folds, slowly circling your clit with his crown. You whined in anticipation, eager to feel his thick length inside of you. “Needy girl” he breathed, his tip slowly pushing its way inside. As his cock had fully submerged in you, you took a few seconds to adjust before gradually moving up and down on him. You turned your head to Tom, who was hungrily watching you two. Your hand then circled his length, stroking him while you were riding Draco. The brunette groaned, his palm resting on your ass. Draco’s fingers wandered to your clit, drawing small eights on the sensitive bud, while his other hand cupped one of your breasts, rolling your nipple between his thumb and index finger.

Despite being close to reach yet another climax, your thighs started burning, making you halt your movements. The blonde began thrusting up into you, but Tom stopped him. “If she wants to come, she has to earn it. You don’t move, only her. If you are getting exhausted darling, I suggest you come in a timely manner. You want us to be proud, don’t you, doll?” You whined, yet nodded eagerly, picking up the pace again.

Make them proud, make them proud, you rehearsed in your head over and over again.

Smack. Smack. Smack. “Go on and come, darling.”

Tom’s palm met your soft skin repeatedly, the sting sending shockwaves right to your core. “I am trying! I am trying!” You cried, eagerly riding Draco to make yourself cum yet again.

It seemed to work, though. Draco’s dick, Tom’s dominant side and the groans from the two boys had you reach yet another climax. Your walls clenched frantically around Draco’s length and it took him everything not to cum then and there. You moaned loudly as you came, thighs trembling and mind reeling with pleasure. “Good girl. Well done” Tom praised you, kissing your forehead.

You were exhausted. Truly. So, when Tom positioned himself behind you, his tip prodding at your other entrance, your eyes shot wide open. “You ready, doll? It might be a bit uncomfortable at first, but it will feel good, I promise.” He spoke to you in a soft voice, gently grazing your tender skin with his fingertips. “Please no more Tom, I can’t.” You whined, trying to get away from him. At that, he firmly gripped your hips, pulling you back towards him. “You can, darling. I know you do. Now be a good girl and take it.”

Gathering some wetness from your dripping cunt, he steadily pushed inside of your second hole, groaning at how tight it felt with Draco buried deep in your pussy. You hissed in pain, Tom’s length stretching you to the brim. “You okay?” He asked you, halting his movements. “Just go slow please.” You answered, gritting your teeth. “Of course, doll. Gotta relax for me.”

As soon as you did, the pain subsided. Tom let you adjust, and soon after set an unforgiving pace, Draco following him. Your mind went completely numb as your two best friends thrusted their thick, hard cocks into you, turning you into nothing but a blabbering mess. The only words you remembered where “yes” and “please”, the two boys having achieved what they had been wanting for years: you begging them to fuck you senseless.

They had always been jealous of McLaggen, of how highly you spoke of him and of all these nights you sneaked out of the Slytherin dormitories to spend time with him instead of them. Of course, they threatened him behind your back. If he only even dared hurt you, he would regret it, which wasn’t a threat, but rather a promise. They would take care of that later still. Now it was time for them to show you who you truly belonged to. Break and mold you into their perfect little toy. Not to play with, but to protect and care for. You would only have eyes for them after today, they would make sure of that.

“S’ too much!” You cried, voice muffled as your face was buried deep in the blonde’s chest. “Can’t hear you, babydoll. Got to speak clearly if you want to say something.” Tom taunted, shoving his entire cock into your tight hole just as you were about to repeat what you had said before.

The brunette loved this, watching you go brainless as they fucked you dumb. Of course they did not actually mean to hurt you and you weren’t, but hearing you cry out for them as they slid in and out of you made their dicks throb with anticipation.

Tom, who watched his length disappear into you with every thrust, reached down to rub your swollen clit to give you your final orgasm of the night. They knew you were reaching your limit, sweat trickling down your body, not being able to form coherent sentences. You whimpered, feeling lightheaded at everything they were giving you. “Gonna make you come one more time love, okay? Doing so well for us.” Draco encouraged you, softly stroking your hair, kissing your temple. The blonde had always been the softer one out of the two. “Is that right?” Tom asked, grabbing a fistful of your hair to pull you flush against his chest. “Y-yes!” You croaked, tears staining your sweet cheeks.

The brunette was quick to wipe your damp skin, planting soft kisses on them, which was such a contradiction to his rough treatment, ruthlessly slamming his entire length into you. The knot in your lower stomach tightened and you knew what this meant. “Feel you clenching around us, darling. Let go for us. Show us how much you love this.” Draco cooed, tending to your breasts as Tom rubbed your sweet spot.

“M’ gonna- oh Merlin-“ your high hit you abruptly, and your vision went black. You could still feel the outline of every single vein decorating their cocks, even though you were pretty sure you were closer to heaven than earth at that moment. Convulsing around them, Tom laid your boneless body on Draco’s, both of them chasing their own climaxes. Your walls clenched around them, grip so tight Draco was the first to reach his orgasm with a grunt, shooting his load directly onto your welcoming cervix. He made sure you got every last drop of his fertile seed, dick still buried deep inside of you to not let anything go to waste. Tom pulled your limp body back against his punishing strokes, burying himself balls-deep inside of your greedy hole. “It’s like you were made for my cock, damn. Going to fill you up so good, doll.” He cursed under his breath, and with one last rough hit and a smack on your booty, he emptied himself inside of your ass just as Draco did in your cunt.

Both of the boys had to catch their breath, sweat covering their forehead. You hummed at the warm sensation pooling deep inside both of your holes, closing your eyes. “Are you okay?” Tom asked you softly, his hands moving your hair out of your face, gently stroking your cheeks. You nodded in return. “Feel so good. But tired. And dirty.”

They both laughed at that, slowly pulling their softening cocks out of you, making you whimper at the loss, now feeling all empty. “Sshh, love. We are just going to clean ourselves up. Don’t you move. We will take care of you, princess.” Draco soothed, laying you down onto the pillow, leaving you alone on the bed.

Tom came back first, a damp, warm cloth in his hand. “Spread your legs for me, babydoll. Gonna get you all freshened up, hmm?” You obliged, legs parting for the brunette. He hummed at the sight, Draco joining him. “Don’t you think she looks so pretty with her holes drooling our cum?” Tom murmured, spreading your folds, the boys’ cum mixing on the messy sheets underneath you. “Absolutely breathtaking.” The blonde agreed, pushing their leaking seed back into your sore hole with his thumb, making you whine. “Got to make sure you know who you belong to, baby.” He added, caressing your reddened ass cheeks.

Tom grinned, tenderly wiping between your glistening folds with the cloth, while Draco sat down beside you, giving you a glass of water. The brunette boy soon joined you two, tenderly caring for your spent body. Just as you felt your eyelids getting heavier, footsteps slowly approached from the hallway.

Knock knock knock

Your head shot in the direction of the door, instinctively covering your exposed self.

“I know you are in there! Talk to me, p-please!” A familiar voice slurred from outside. It was Cormac, who had quite a few too many drinks as it seemed like.

“She is busy.” The boys growled, McLaggen sighing in defeat. When they were sure he had left, they continued tending to your body, making sure every ache was taken care of. You still showered together, them washing your hair and rubbing your favourite shower gel into your soft skin. Both of the boys grinned at your state, barely able to keep your balance under the water. “That’s your fault! Don’t laugh at me.” You croaked, gently slapping their chest. “We know, babydoll. I am sure you remember you are ours from now on.” The brunette spoke, massaging your shoulders. “Always.” You agreed.

Back in the bed, you cuddled the both of them.

“We hope we could make you feel better, princess.” Draco stated, kissing your cheek.

You smiled, yawning. “You couldn’t have made me any happier.”

Soon after, you fell asleep, a big grin on your face. You had finally found your safe place, the boys who would always care for their girl in their own special way, no matter what happens. And you would happily let them.

[wolfsrainrules]

Quiet Night AU- Tim's return

Turns out I WILL be writing a quick blurble of a thought about Tim coming back to the Cave, unedited and more stream of consciousness moments than a sit down thought out writing lol. This one is @tobicup's fault. Link to the first info dump for Quiet Night AU found HERE.  and the link for Pit Stop blurble HERE

And again- feel free to send in asks about the AU, just make sure you mention it’s for Quiet Night AU for me. @iphoenixrising Not sure if you wanna be tagged here too BUT STILL

Gotham was in ruins. 

Buildings partially or fully collapsed, smoldering remains of fires visible across the city skyline from the rooftops, dead civilians left where they fell. Traffic in a gridlock, cars abandoned in the chaos, or holding the bodies of those who died in them. 

The thick scent of death, fear and rage hung in the air, burning Tim’s nose it was so strong. 

The scent of the cause, faint, almost invisible, but as alien as the creatures that had invaded the Earth and caused this blended with all of it. There were so many of them.

It was everything Tim could do to stay alive, save who he could, and try to make it back to the Cave. He ached, and with the way these creatures hunted, he couldn’t even check over comms if anyone else was alive. 

He wished he’d accepted the pack bonds the other Bats had offered to him before, but he hadn’t been ready for it. He bit his tongue on a keen, an omega trying to summon his pack, smothering the sound down. 

He needed to be silent, or risk the creatures swarming him. 

At least if Tim had a pack bond he would be able to feel them  on the other end, even if they were blocked to prevent distractions in the field. Instead he was alone, no bonds to check, terrified to consider a world where one of his should-be-packmates had died and he didn’t know yet. 

His body ached. He was nauseous and lightheaded, dizzy. It was everything he could do to make sure he landed silently as he ran over the rooftops that remained, and navigated the ground where he had to. 

He kept his grapple-gun strapped to his hip. He’d already been almost killed when the damn thing had been too loud and drawn the attention of the creatures to his flight.  

He tried not to think about the others, if any of them had been caught, had been- To follow that road, to consider that he was the last one standing, was to flirt with madness. 

No. Instead, he turned his attention to making it back to the cave on foot. Navigating the destruction, helping where he could, mourning where he couldn’t. 

***

Crossing Gotham on foot, pausing to save whoever he can, and needing to do it all as silently as possible takes time. Especially trying to balance the unknown factor of anyone or anything in the city making a sound that could lead to Tim getting caught in the crossfire. 

He hurts. 

Worse- he’d had to slip into the cave using the natural entrances, didn’t dare to chance opening the cave  and grabbing anything’s attention. Worked his way towards the cave using the memorized routes, moving slowly and carefully, praying that none of the creatures had found their way inside. He wandered the dark caverns mourning the statistical probability that one of his should-be-packmates had died being the vigilantes they’d chosen to be. That at least one of them had made too much noise somehow. 

He couldn’t help but think about Jason in those moments. Think of the pack alpha with his loud personality and guns. Jason could operate with stealth of course, every Bat could, but… Jason used his guns most often, explosives, and-

And Tim was terrified that he may have died. 

He wasn’t the only one Tim worried for, but he was the most statistically likely to have trouble and- 

Tim closed his eyes for a moment, breathed in the damp air of the cavern, and forced himself to still the shaking in his hands. 

***

The lights of the Cave come into view and Tim feels sick with it. 

What if he’s the last? What if the others didn’t make it? What if he has to see B fall apart all over again, and fall with him this time? What if he lost any of the others before he ever- 

The cave is quiet, aside from the bats quietly rustling through the cavern, and Tim knows it should be, of course it would be, with the creatures tracking sounds, but it makes his stomach swoop and his lungs constrict. 

He has to squint, as he breaks from the tunnels and into the Batcave, his lungs tight and hands shaking all over again. The urge to keen and call for pack crawls up his spine and sits heavy in his throat, but he doesn’t dare, wary of the sound carrying. 

The sight that meets him, when he can finally see properly, sends him staggering, knees weak and tears in his eyes. He counts, one by one, each of his small family gathered together. They’re silent, their hands flying sign language keeping their voices unused, eyes flickering over each other and the computer they’re gathered around. 

Usually Tim would jump right into what looked like a planning session, but in that moment-

In that moment he could only stagger closer, breathing heavily, hands shaking and tears in his eyes. Jason sees him first. 

Tim is already reaching for the pack alpha when Jason darts across the space to sweep him off his feet. 

Tim is choking back keens, as he clings back, burrowing into his alpha’s chest. Jason is nuzzling him, rubbing his scent all down Tim’s spine and brushing their cheeks together, Jason’s hands holding tight, one pressed to feel Tim’s pulse.  

Tim hadn’t been ready to join the pack officially, but each of them had given Tim permission to claim them as his pack when he was ready to join it. In the aftermath of this disaster, Tim is certain he is. That he never wanted to go without the bonds again. Was certain he wanted the bounds wound around his ribs and heart, anchored in his head. 

Tim clings hard for a moment, lets Jason scent him, basks in the safety of his pack alpha’s arms, before turning his face to tuck into the right side of his neck. He breathes for a second, but doesn’t hesitate to drag his tongue over the right side of Jason’s neck, claiming the alpha as pack, and baring his neck to allow Jason the chance to reciprocate the pack claim. 

He can feel Jason’s body tense, and then shudder hard, his hands tighten around Tim, but he doesn’t hesitate either. 

Feeling the first of what is soon to be many pack bonds bloom to life in his mind takes Tim’s legs out from under him. 

Jason doesn’t let him fall.

[writersdrug]

Mourning Dove

König x Reader

Chapter 2. Dead End

Masterlist

Summary: You managed to escape Drew, and you have a plan. Who knew walking for an entire day could be so boring?

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, cursing, brief mentions of rape/unwanted sexual intercourse, anxiety, mentions of death

It was surprising how much stamina Drew had after a day of putting up with you – and you’d been intentionally dense that day.

For the last fuck you were letting him give, in the most literal sense, he’d chosen to take his time with it. You had resigned your dignity to the pine needles and humus when he had shoved your face into the ground. It was a much more forgiving position than having to look him in the eyes as he used your cunt – you managed to tune out the unwelcomed intrusion by pretending your body was rooting into the earth with each thrust, until you could become one with the dirt, irrelevant to both Drew and the infected.

One can only dream.

Still, your hard work had paid off: after a full day of nagging him, playing dumb, and letting him plow his frustration into your body, he was wiped. He had collapsed onto you after he’d spent himself inside your walls, panting and groaning like an animal (a wounded one, to any passing wanderer). Then, promptly after that, he banished you to lie underneath the fir tree, at good three yards away from him. He didn’t like being touched after sex, which was a blessing in your situation.

You couldn’t tell what time it was – which was always. But there was no clue to whether you were closer to yesterday’s sunset or tomorrow’s sunrise. You began to create questions in your mind, ones that pressed like nails into your plan, which seemed more paper-thin as the night continued on. What if he woke up before you could leave? What if you don’t get far enough, and he catches up to you? The possibility of your plan failing was more terrifying than if you would end up becoming infected, or snapping your neck falling down the steep mountainside.

Every fiber of your body was telling you to stay still. What if it’s better to stay with him? What if I die in the first thirty minutes on my own? Instinct told you to remain with Drew, to stay with the pack. That quantity was quality in this situation. But you respected yourself too much. You’d spent a whole week promising yourself that this would be it – there were too many encounters of blood and bruises by Drew’s hand to convince you to stay rooted to him.

If you didn’t go tonight, you might never take the risk again.

Drew hadn’t stirred for the last fifteen minutes – or what felt like it. Your eyes were locked on him out of fear and anticipation. He could wake up soon, or he might not. The unknown was what terrified you. But you knew he was exhausted. You had made sure to tire him out throughout the day, mentally and physically. You’d planned this. It would work. You just had to get moving.

Thankfully, the only foliage beneath you consisted of the pine needles from the fir, and they hardly made any noise. You rose as slowly as you could, your eyes fixed on Drew’s unconscious silhouette across the small clearing. One knee carefully pressed underneath you, then the other, laying your hand against the tree trunk. Pushing your palm against the rough, prickly bark for stability, you leaned your weight into it and rose until you were standing.

You paused there for a moment, your pulse thrumming in your ears. Your breath ran shallow and quiet as you were frozen, eyes locked on his form, your mind already brimming with fear. It felt wrong to be on your feet when Drew wasn’t. Part of you expected him to wake up in an instant, imagining the angry words and beating that would follow soon after. Your skin was too familiar with the feeling of his hand, either open or closed, laying bruises somewhere along your body. Without the possibility of someone seeing the marks, Drew hadn’t been worried about leaving them where they weren’t hidden by your clothing, meaning most of them were visible along your face, arms, and legs. You looked more like the infected than a human, you thought.

Focus.

You managed to peel your gaze away from him, taking a quiet step towards the bags. The night was unsettlingly quiet as you knelt in front of them; you carefully grabbed the handle of his pack, wincing at the sound of the canvas brushing against your skin. The more dire the situation, the louder the nose, it seemed. The zipper was equally and unfortunately as audible as you tugged it open. It was meticulously organized, a pocket for every item within. You tried your best to sift quietly through the items, only taking what you needed, or what you saw Drew using on a daily basis. One of the Lifestraws (he said something about them lasting for ages, so you didn’t take both), two MRE’s, his flint and steel striker, and a small medkit (military grade, he had boasted). You had your own backpack of things that Drew had given to you – it wasn’t designed for you specifically, it was just an extra Armageddon rucksack that had been lying in the back of his car, and you were the extra pack-mule to carry it. A clean change of men’s clothing, the majority of the remaining protein bars, another multitool, extra batteries and some maps. It wasn’t filled to the brim, but you wanted to travel light.

You left the bag unzipped and laid it back down. Of course, he would know that you had fled once he woke up in the morning. You could only hope that it would buy you a few more seconds of time once he would grab his backpack in a hurry, only to find you had stolen from him, too. On the chance that he did wake up within the hour, any extra moment of time could be the difference between life and your corpse lying in the river.

Quietly stuffing the supplies into your backpack, you glanced back at Drew. He was in the same position as when you first got up; facing the decline of the forest, sleeping bag tucked tightly around him. You really must have wiped him out, considering he hadn’t changed positions since his eyes had closed. That same sense of uncertainty clawed its way back up your throat as you watched the rise and fall of his diaphragm: this is a bad idea. If you go through with this, and he finds you, you’re dead. He’ll murder you. You’re being selfish. He’s helping you, and here you are, stealing his shit and running away. If he doesn’t find you and kill you first, the infected will. Or you’ll die of your own stupidity. Just because you wanted to prove a point.

Like water from a tap, you let the thoughts flow from your brain and out of your mind. It was normal, natural to have so much anxiety. But you let it pass.

It was time. You had everything – ironically, only what was necessary – and the cover of night. It felt impossible to turn back now; cowardice would be a worse sentence than death, and your pride was, somehow, still blooming brightly in this dark age. A tendril of stubbornness poked above the surface of your doubt as you glared down at Drew. You leaned down, letting a fat glob of spit land quietly on the ground next to his back.

Good riddance.

The forest was unbearably quiet as you shouldered your backpack, polyester sliding noisily against your cardigan. The click of your flashlight made you cringe, the sound bouncing off the surrounding firs, shooting back into your skull like lances. After a moment of recovery, you cast the light ahead of you and started-

“Mmh… what y’ doin’?”

Fear took hold of your throat like a vice, strangling the breath that was leaving your lungs. Your limbs turned to stone, one foot out in front of you, frozen mid-step. Daring to turn your head, you saw him reach a tensile arm out and above his side, thick fingers flexing towards the sky. He pulled his hand back down and behind him, groaning quietly as he stretched his shoulder muscles.

Fuck fuck fuck-

“Bathroom.” You replied, the rest of your body as still as a statue. Air hadn’t made its way back into your lungs since you first heard him speak, and each second felt like a lifetime.

His arm lowered back down, retreating into the sleeping bag. He didn’t answer you, his silence stretching across the clearing and drowning out the sound of your own heartbeat. Your pulse thrummed in your chest, flowing down your arms and into your fingertips where the flashlight shook in your trembling hands. You waited… waited… but nothing. The rhythmic, deep breaths from before resumed their pace, and you finally exhaled a quiet breath between your lips.

That was your cue to leave. You weren’t going to test your luck any more than you had spent.

With quiet breaths and leftover adrenaline coursing through your veins, you left the clearing, the cliff, and the fir that was your shelter. The cold air reached deep into your lungs, bringing in determination and resolve, exhaling uncertainty into the night. You reassured yourself: you were prepared, you had a plan, and Drew was none the wiser, nor was he awake to find you. You had a head start. You were proud of yourself. Breaking the cycle wasn’t easy, especially when sticking in groups was preferred in such a situation. But, you did it. Even if you ended up succumbing to cruel weather, starvation, or whatever elements decided you didn’t deserve to live, it would be a better fate than sticking around with a monster of its own kind.

Fortunately, you were able to cover decent ground while it was still dark. The sun had only just begun to rise when you had estimated four miles between you and Drew. The woods were a bit daunting when the early morning fog was thick, and the haze surrounding you was a deep azure, providing barely any light. Your flashlight didn’t do much to help you see; it bounced off the mist around you, enveloping you in a blinding wall of white. You’d headed west until you were ablet to make out the rough terrain beneath you, and then decided to retire the flashlight. You only had so many batteries, after all – the entirety of Drew’s stash.

Make it back to the car. That was the plan. You weren’t sure if it would even start after all this time, but Drew had revealed over boiled water and lukewarm MRE’s that there was an extra battery stashed in the trunk. If it came with instructions – bingo. You’d be back on the main road before too long.

You had your deductions: any towns might still have usable supplies and canned goods – at the rate the infection was spreading, there wasn’t enough time for the stores and pharmacies to be drained of everything. You needed the car to get to the closest city, and based on the map you’d been studying over the past few weeks, it would only be an hour’s drive. There should be enough gas left in the tank to get you there, if not a short walk from it. If you took the autobahn, you had a chance of avoiding the infected, since there weren’t many “resources” for them there. If you did have to walk the last portion of the trip, you might be lucky enough to miss them completely.

Finding the car was the most difficult part; reading a map was surprisingly not easy, and the only reason you hadn’t lost yourself in the penciled-in mountains and trees is because you had followed the river. Each bend that you shadowed was an echo on the map’s interpretation, and if you followed it for another mile or so, it would be a straight line south to the area where Drew had abandoned the car. Locating the car would prove to be a challenge, since you would have to break away from the river to find it. But you trusted yourself to recognize the area once you (hopefully) stumbled upon it. You may not have run into an end-of-the-world situation before, but you weren’t helpless.

The early-afternoon glow that cocooned the forest was helpful in calming your nerves. The world seemed pre-apocalyptic here; you stopped for a brief moment to appreciate the birdsong calling through the trees, and the gentle wind blanketing over your anxiety like a balm to your soul. If you forced yourself to pretend, the pine trees and the mist could appear almost aesthetic. Like this was just a hike in the woods. Maybe you were on a journey to self-discovery, choosing to meander through nature just to break from “the real world.” The fantasy was short-lived, however, when the rustling of the contents of your backpack roused you from your maladaptive daydreaming.

Every now and then, the snap of a branch or the shuffle of leaves would have you breaking your neck to check your surroundings. It was unlikely that an infected could have climbed up the mountain this far, let alone quietly enough that you had missed it. But, the world had already proven to be rather unpredictable; you couldn’t afford to take things for what they were. What if they’ve learned to hunt?! What if they eventually make their way up the mountain when they run out of fresh meat? Anxiety had rooted itself into your scattered mind, tearing holes into it like the ground did to your shoes.

What if there was nothing left in the town besides dead, hungry corpses? What if the car doesn’t start? What if you never find the car? What if you’re lost?

You shook your head clear of the mess of questions. Thinking like that would only send you into a spiral of despair, and you didn’t have the energy to waste on supporting whatever secure mentality remained. One foot in front of the other – that’s what you had to force into your mind, squeezing your eyes shut hard enough that purples and yellows kaleidoscoped behind your lids. Deep breath in, and out. You were lucky enough to have made it this far without being caught by Drew.

Drew. The thought of him alone made uncertainty resurface, and you opened your eyes with a dissatisfied sigh. He couldn’t be close… right? He didn’t seem like someone who would bide his time once he had discovered you, frolicking in the forest with his protein bars and his gear. Based on the lack of his shouting, and the absence of someone rushing up the hill to tackle you, it seemed he hadn’t discovered your trail yet. Maybe he hadn’t even realized that you were missing. Considering the energy he had put into fucking you the night before, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was still asleep at this hour.

Whatever hour it was, anyways…

You huffed, kicking a small stone further down your path. A glance at the map confirmed that you were still in the right area, and that you’d be following the river for a while. Progress had seemed so easily obtainable at the beginning of the journey, but now, dare you say it, you were bored. It seemed selfish to experience such a feeling, when you were lucky enough to have been one of the ones to survive the infection. Based on the map, you had walked nearly twelve miles – have you ever walked that much in a week, let alone one day? You deserved the right to be bored.

Hours passed agonizingly slowly, and the golden halo of light gradually turned into a warm orange, then waned off altogether. The haze of mist around you became colorless and thick, seeping into the cracks of your mind and stirring up the fear you had been stomaching all day. You knew it made no difference to the infected – they’d hunt you by the light of the sun or the moon, there was no preference. But it made you wonder… were they the worst things out there? Could there be other abominations lurking in the woods, waiting for you to take one wrong step?

Stop it, you scolded yourself. Another sigh fell from your lips. Get it together. You’re fine. You were never afraid of the dark, but that fear was slowly seeping into your bones with each passing day of this damn virus. They didn’t sleep. They didn’t have to. You did.

Enough was enough, you decided, as a deep blue began to settle between the trees. You didn’t have much longer before it became too dark, and you wouldn’t be able to see. The chill around you only seemed to drop further – shit, should I have been setting up camp by now? You didn’t even think about that. The intention of finding the car had sucked every other rational thought from your mind; you didn’t expect that task to take more than a day.

Good thing I took the flint and steel, you thought. Gathering bits and bobs for the fire was easy; decent chunks of wood and broken branches lay scattered about the forest floor, and you scooped up as much as you could into your arms. You found a boulder not too far ahead of you, not nearly as big as the one from the night before, but it would provide enough shelter to push your back against. The sky was nearly midnight-blue now as you dropped your bag by the rock (boulder seemed too generous of a term, now that you were looking at the thing up close).

With some leaves and twigs, cold fingers, and a great deal of patience, you managed to bring a small flame to life with the flint and steel. You cupped your hands around it and blew, begging whatever cruel being had started this whole mess to let it catch into a bright fire. Each log you carefully placed over the blaze slowly took, and you soon had a warm campfire.

You didn’t care if this wasn’t smart, or if you were making yourself a target for the infected. Exhaustion and the dropping temperature were the only two things on your mind now; Drew was an afterthought, now that you’d had the chance to calm down and take a rest. Considering you were a “dumb bitch” in his eyes, as he’d so politely put it, you trusted that he had assumed you would head south in search of the nearby city. It was safe to believe that you had fooled him, and you were making do just fine on your own.

The ground was cold and wet as you curled up onto it, pushing your back against the rock. You attempted to pretend this was all one, big, dumb camping trip, but that failed when you remembered the lack of a sleeping bag or any sort of cover. You felt just as bored as before, plagued with both prostration and restlessness, and a wandering mind. You were still alone, which was both a relief and a fright. At least with Drew, you had strength in numbers…

You made the right choice to leave. Despite having to remind yourself of this every hour, and despite the gnawing feeling in the back of your mind that maybe this was a mistake, you know it was the right thing to do. Drew may have ended up killing you eventually, if you had given it another weak. He’d only let you use so many of his resources before he would decide that your sex wasn’t worth lugging you around for. Not only that, but you had to prove to yourself that you weren’t utterly helpless. You moved all the way out here on your own, didn’t you? It wasn’t luck that you got stuck in the apocalypse with the worst man in the country – it was unfortunate. You weren’t lucky to have Drew. Maybe his car, his extra backpack, and the map he’d forced you to study for the past several weeks, but Drew wasn’t your savior.

You were your own savior.

You rolled away from the fire with a groan. The flames warmed the skin on your back, spreading across it like a blazing liquid, but it felt good. You leaned into that, focusing on the heat and the crackling of the fire. The burning pine was acrid, but comforting. You had always dreamed of taking a vacation in the heart of Olympic National Park, didn’t you? This wasn’t much different. Ignoring the circumstances, the only real difference was that you were somewhere in Europe, not the states. But with the way things had been carrying on recently, you doubted that borders between countries really mattered anymore.

With your eyes fluttering shut, you imagined that there was a warm cabin behind you; that you could go inside if you really wanted, that you were choosing to spend the night in your front yard. If the night grew too cold, or if the ground was too stiff, you’d just head back to your cozy room and queen bed. There’d be pancakes waiting for you in the morning, and you’d be happy, and warm, and safe.

Next ->

Taglist: @nic-stars @teenagellamaangel @zhuyingsworld @crypticme @konigswifeyforlifey @zlunia @gremlinmodetweeker

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Chapter 6 - Best Laid Plans

A Mafia!Steve Harrington AU (featuring Mafia!Eddie Munson)

Previous l Next

Masterlist

Summary: Nothing can stay secret forever when there are such high stakes. Bliss becomes a nightmare as things start to unravel and Nik isn't as clueless as he seems to be.

18+ Only! Minors DNI!

This chapter contains very heavy content but is crucial to the continuation of the story. Read at your own risk!

CW: Reader is referred to as "Dove" as well as other pet names. Tense situations. Violent threats. Physical and mental spousal abuse (reader is slapped, choked and kicked). Sexual Assault (not explicit but heavily implied).

WC: 5.7K

The days pass slowly, yet quickly in the presence of his company, giving way to weeks in the blink of an eye. You're so wrapped up in each other the outside world fades away each time, leaving you in this perfect bubble you've created for yourselves.

Steve and you manage to meet a few times a week. Making sure to be cautious, always during the evening, never staying too late and slipping back into the gallery without so much as a hair out of place to meet your driver back out front for the small trek home.

Loving him was to live again, though keeping him hidden away in the dark felt like a sin. Each time you were in his light your leaves unfurled a little more, trying to catch his golden rays to flourish and bloom, feeling once more like the woman you were all those years ago.

He was warm sunshine on your skin after Winter's long, bitter embrace. He was the embodiment of hope and everything good in the world. It felt like that part of you that had been missing had finally found its way back.

You were afraid that Nik would grow suspicious, but he hasn't said anything in the few weeks that passed, barely giving you the time of day, business as usual. You remained playing the part of dutiful wife in public settings if absolutely necessary, while behind closed doors you practically never saw him.

Steve wanted nothing more than to call you and tell you about his day. He longed for the mundane experiences. The things that most people take for granted but for now, he would keep you to himself until he could finally tell the entire world that you were his once more.

Playing pretend here in this apartment, in this little world of make believe and to share a bed with the man you loved, felt like pure bliss but it wasn't solely about sex. It had always been deeper with Steve, a connection beyond the physical. You'd known it since you were teenagers, though then you hadn't fully understood.

You took turns cooking for each other, while some nights it was takeout. Mind numbingly boring TV played in the background as you talked about your day while sipping wine. It was hand holding, stolen glances, and talking about the future. Everything you had been missing.

It was perfect. It was a refuge. It was home.

A moment of weakness or a mistake of passion, in between tipsy kisses and whispers of “I should head home” followed by “I know”. Wandering hands and moans of pleasure quickly pushed those more sensible thoughts away as the night slowly edged toward morning.

He slowly began to rouse, releasing a soft breath while reluctantly letting his eyelashes flutter open, only to be met with your still naked form cocooned in the sheets beside him.

The early spring sun had started to settle through the open curtains, casting its luminous rays across the bed. A patch of warm sunlight highlights your body so perfectly that for a brief moment he swears you’re an angel sent to Earth just for him.

He'd left the window open the night before. The sounds of the outside world began to trickle in with the soft breeze prickling his skin. The city was just beginning to come to life, the birds were chirping loudly, almost enough to drown out the engines and horns of the cars on the already busy street below.

Your hair lightly blows with that same breeze sending the intoxicating scent of your lilac and jasmine scented shampoo his way. The bed would smell like you until he inevitably has the sheets washed in the coming days.

You'd explained that Nik was away the entire weekend, business in New York, teasing him you should just stay in the apartment the entire time.

Drunk on wine and high on each other, you hadn't meant to fall asleep but the lure of tender touches and inviting warmth was too intoxicating to leave so soon.

It was stupid and reckless.

He laid there a few more moments basking in what he thought was still a dream before his waking mind caught up to the gravity of the situation.

“Shit,” he hissed, wiping the sleep from his eyes before his blurry vision focused enough to see the time on his watch.

You groaned softly, waking up from his sudden movements when he untangled his legs from yours.

“Dove. Baby, wake up.” He called urgently, but no louder than a whisper, trying not to alarm you too much.

You hum and try to bury your face further into the pillow as he runs his knuckles lightly across your cheek.

“Dove,” he whispers once more, pressing his face into your neck, while warm lips place soft kisses along your jaw.

Another low hum escapes you as he whispers against your skin.

“You fell asleep, tesoro. We both did.”

The moment those words register, your eyes fly open, as you jolt up.

“Shit! What time is it?” Hissing out, as you quickly move off the bed, bending down to pick up your discarded clothes from the floor with a foggy mind.

“Almost 6:30.” He replies, pulling his shirt over his head, crossing the room.

You pull your underwear on, grabbing your phone, fingers working fast to open your notifications. There were numerous missed calls and texts from your driver. No doubt he'd already alerted Nik that you hadn't gone home.

“Fuck! Have you seen my bra?” You ask, eyes searching your side of the bed.

“Over here.” He holds it up and tosses it your way when you turn back around.

He notices the frantic nature of your movements as you rush to finish getting dressed.

“Hey, Dove. Baby.” He says, trying to gain your attention but you don't even bat an eyelash, already too caught up in your own mind.

He finally knocks you from the spiral when he comes to stand in front of you, wrapping his hand around the nape of your neck as your gaze drifts up to those warm, honey hued irises, pulling you back from the brink.

“Hey, it's okay, tesoro.” He says, calm and reassuring as you search his face, wrapping your hand around his wrist, anchoring him to you. He brings his lips to your forehead, pulling you further into his chest. “Take a deep breath.”

And you do. Slowly expanding your lungs, breathing him in, holding it a moment before releasing.

“That's it.” He reassures you with a kiss to your temple. “Finish getting dressed. Call your driver on the way to the office. You fell asleep there. Got it? Right at your desk.”

He pulls back, cradling your face between his hands as you nod.

“Good.” Responding with another kiss to your forehead, lips warm and grounding.

Though he was calm on the outside, his own worry was there. You'd both fucked up. He knew it and was hesitant to let you leave but eventually gave in. It was too early to make a play.

He watches you from the window as you get into the car, silently praying this isn't going to derail everything he'd worked so hard for.

Your heart was beating wildly against your ribcage as the car approached home, wringing your hands nervously as you sat silently in the backseat. You could feel the eyes of your driver every few minutes through the rearview mirror, but you ignore his glances.

As the large house came into view, it seemed to loom over you as if your demise was imminent. You tried to dismiss those thoughts. Now was the time to maintain a level head and not let your emotions get in the way.

Play it cool. Play it cool. Play it cool. You repeat over and over in your head.

The driver opened the door with a “Mrs,” knocking you from your daze. You said nothing exiting the vehicle, as sure and steady steps lead you to the front door.

Silence as you stepped into the foyer, holding your breath for a beat as your heels clicked across the marble flooring, not bothering to look for him as your legs carried you to the stairs. One at a time, they lead you to the second-floor landing and then to the safety of your room.

It was only then you finally let out a heavy sigh, shoulders sagging, as you leaned against the closed door, locking it.

Nik hadn't rushed home, quelling most of your fears but not extinguishing them. He hadn’t called or bothered to check in, which wasn’t unusual, but your guard was still up.

You'd been too careless. Foolish.

Maintaining the facade that nothing was amiss, you lazed about the rest of the weekend, barely leaving your room unless it was for the occasional meal or walking around the grounds for some fresh air.

He had stayed on his “business” trip, until Monday morning rolled around.

It was raining as you sat in the breakfast nook, distracted by the steady stream of raindrops pelting the window surrounded by the peaceful silence sipping your coffee.

His heavy footsteps quickly approaching caught your attention, as your posture stiffened.

Just breathe. You could hear Steve's voice, as you closed your eyes for a brief moment.

“Kitten.” His deep voice cut through, smirking at you when you turned to look up at him.

“Nik.” You grumbled, taking a quick sip and looking back out the window.

He poured his coffee, crossed the room and took the seat across from you.

His eyes were practically burning into you, the way his gaze never wavered as you steeled your features, never giving him a hint of the turmoil churning inside of you. It's as if he was waiting for you to confess, drop to the floor and beg for forgiveness.

“My, my. What did you get into this weekend?” He asked, chuckling. A deep throaty sound that sets your already frazzled nerves ablaze.

“Don't start.” You sighed, bringing your mug back down to the table as you finally held his eye contact. Icy blue shards of indifference peered back at you.

He suddenly reached across the table and gripped your chin forcefully, making a small mewling sound escape your throat. He kept moving forward until his nose grazed yours.

“Oh, Kitten. You know very well who started this.” He spoke, shoving your face away, as you winced. “And you won't soon forget this is all on you.”

You shot up from your seat, backing away from him as quickly as possible. His mocking laughter followed you down the hall as you rushed back to your room.

His threats were no longer idle. You could feel the walls closing in around you, trying not to panic as a familiar sting was felt behind your eyes. He wouldn't do anything, not yet. That thought alone gives you a small amount of hope. If he wanted you dead, he would have already done it.

There was still time.

You arrived at work earlier than usual, feeling a sense of impending doom as you walked through the doors of your office and immediately retrieved your burner.

Steve had thought it best for no contact until you went back to work. Now, more than ever, it felt as if you were being watched.

No missed calls. No new notifications. You only hoped it was a good sign.

“Mrs. Petrov?” The voice of Abigail startled you enough that you nearly dropped the phone, as you clutched your chest.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.” She began, walking further into the office as you shoved the phone into the nearest desk drawer.

“That's quite alright.” You replied, straightening up and smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles from your shirt. “Today's agenda?”

“Right here.” She extends the paper toward you, glancing over it and immediately dismissing her.

Your attention went back to Steve as soon as the door shut, grabbing the burner and quickly dialing his number.

He picked up on the second ring.

“Are you okay?” He asks, with a hint of relief in his voice.

“I— I'm ok.” There was a slight hitch to your breath that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Tesoro, did he do anything to you?” He asks, his voice coming out a bit more strained.

“No.” You lie. “I just— I have to see you. Tonight.”

“Dove, that's not—”

“I know it's not a good idea, but I need you!” You all but wail out, cutting him off.

He sighs but doesn't say anything as your meek voice comes through again.

“Please.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. How could he deny you? His tesoro. His heart. His everything.

“Okay, okay Tesoro. Be ready at 6 pm. And Dove?” He pauses. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The line went dead as you sat back in your plush, leather chair with a forlorn sigh, wiping away the evidence you'd been crying and reapplying some fresh mascara. Everything was fine. Work as normal. Not a hair out of place.

Internally you were a frazzled mess, counting down every second until then.

Somehow you managed to keep your mind preoccupied for most of the day. As the time edged a little past 5:30, your phone lit up with a new message. You smiled. It was no doubt Steve telling you he had made it to the apartment, as he normally would.

Your heart suddenly sank as you read and reread the message in bold print.

921-987-5555 5:32 PM: DO NOT LEAVE THE OFFICE! THE APARTMENT HAS BEEN COMPROMISED.

Four weeks of pure bliss. Four weeks of living in your little fantasy world. Four weeks of feeling like everything would work out and one single text brought this false sense of security crashing down.

You slowly sank back into your chair on trembling legs.

It could only be Nik.

You quickly called Steve.

“Dove, do not leave. I'm coming to get you.” He breathes out heavily.

“No, you can’t— I can't go with you.” You bite back the sob threatening to spill out. At least for his sake, you could pretend you weren't scared.

“You can and will. I'll be there in five.” He insists.

“Steve, he won't stop. It's better if I go home and act like I don't know anything.” Was it though?

“What?! No, that's bullshit! You're coming home with me.” He rushes out.

“Steve, baby please. Just listen to me. He's going to dinner with my father tonight. We have to act like everything is normal. I trust you. You have to trust me.” You urged, though you didn't believe it yourself.

“Dove.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I trust you.”

You ended the call with more “I love yous” and telling him that everything would be okay. Nik wouldn't possibly be so stupid to do anything to you tonight. Steve finally resigned himself, as his own plan began to form in his mind. He still had the upper hand.

Once he hung up with you, he made another call. He was no longer willing to be separated from you, risking your life was not in the cards for him.

It was time.

You crept through the foyer, hoping the small sound of the door closing wouldn’t rouse anyone in the large house.

Removing your heels from your stocking clad feet, so that you could silently move through the room and quickly check your surroundings, pausing, listening. You were met with nothing but the sound of your heartbeat reverberating in your chest.

You thought you were in the clear, but your false sense of security was quickly shattered, rounding the corner only to be met with your Nik’s steely glare. A cigarette and stiff drink in hand. He was home early. Much too early. It immediately set you on high alert.

He was sitting in front of the large fireplace in the study. When you caught his gaze, he bid you to come forward as he set the drink down. Brining the cigarette to his lips, taking a long inhale before resting it alongside his drink.

Dressed in his usual suit, his jacket left on the chair behind him, leaving him in a white button up with the sleeves rolled up on his forearms revealing an expanse of black ink beneath.

You shuffled forward slowly, crossing your arms behind your back with your heels still dangling from your fingertips.

“Tough day, my love?” he cooed, in a sickly-sweet voice that would almost sound sincere to anyone else. His lips turned up into a cruel smirk as he turned to look at you.

“You know exactly how my day has been.” You hissed, already over his little games.

“Now kitten, a little birdie told me you were seen with him. Though, it doesn't come as a surprise.” A calm tone, in contrast to his wild eyes. He knows. He goddamn knows.

“Nik,” you started, as his palm met your cheek with a sharp smack that echoed in the otherwise quiet space, along with the thud of your heels that fell from your grasp. Your eye instantly welled, unable to control the tears forming from the force of his blow. Pain instantly searing the skin.

You could taste the familiar metallic tang in your mouth, as you reached up trying to soothe the discomfort.

Ever defiant, you raise your head slowly, to meet his cold, indifferent gaze.

He gripped your chin, forcing your face closer to his.

“Now, kitten,” no feeling whatsoever behind those words.

“This kind of behavior just won’t do for my reputation. I can't let you go whoring around with him out in public, making me look like a fool in the process.” He couldn't have seen. You were too careful… unless…

He removed his hand slightly, only to cup your cheek engulfing it with his large palm. It was tender, a stark contrast to the pain he had just inflicted. Raised welts began to form under his touch.

He pushed your face a little harshly, putting some distance between you to take his leave.

“Clean yourself up and get ready for dinner. Your father will be joining us.” He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours, catching the back of your head pressing you closer to his larger frame. You made no attempt to push him away, knowing it would only spur his anger.

He released you, grabbing his jacket and turning back one last time before he spoke.

“And kitten, end it. Or I will.”

He left you standing there wilted and bruised, standing in the warm glow of the lit fireplace contemplating your next move, releasing a shuddering breath. If there was a fate worse than death, this was surely it.

Your hand was pressed to your cheek as you turned, slowly trudging up the stairs with your head held high. He was trying to break you.

Nik was a goddamn idiot. It was painfully obvious he'd hit you. There was only so much you could do to hide the welts. You iced it, hoping it would alleviate some of the pain and swelling enough that your father wouldn't take notice.

It worked mildly. Makeup covered the rest. A red lip to also hide the small laceration he had caused.

You changed into a more modest dress with flats. Something sweet. You were in no mood to play the part of a doting wife, but you would behave in front of your father lest there be consequences for you both. Nik was capable of anything.

Voices drifted from the foyer as you came from your room, alerting you that your guest had already arrived.

Turning the corner, your hand gripped the railing to the stairs so hard your knuckles turned white, suddenly feeling like your heart had stopped.

Oh God no! Anything but this.

It took your brain a moment to truly register what your eyes were seeing. Steve was standing by your father, shaking hands with Nik as you stared on with a look of abject horror. As your mind caught up, you began to descend the stairs holding your breath.

Your father followed Nik into the study without so much as a glance your way, but Steve turned, briefly catching your gaze, nodding slightly before disappearing along with them.

“Fuck,” you hissed under your breath, heading straight into the dining room, promptly pouring yourself a glass of bourbon with shaky hands. You tipped it back, downing it with one large gulp, slamming the glass down against the bar top with a resounding thud. The amber liquid burned, settling in the pit of your stomach doing little to settle your nerves, your mind completely starting to spiral with a thousand different scenarios.

Your father and Nik were supposed to go out. Why was Steve here?!

“Miss?” The voice from one of the kitchen staff drifting from the doorway jars you back to the present and the reality of the situation. “Will we be having another guest for dinner this evening?”

“Um…” You didn't trust your own voice, clearing your throat before replying. “Yes, I think so.”

The young lady nods and heads back into the kitchen, returning quickly with another place setting as you take your usual seat at the table, to the right of Nik. You felt numb, as if your body was on autopilot, staring blankly at the plate in front of you as their voices crossed the threshold.

It was all business as they entered the room, one after the other. Nik, followed by your father and then Steve.

You didn't dare meet his gaze, too afraid of what it might hold but he immediately clocked your unusual demeanor taking a seat beside your father. You were withdrawn, scared, nothing like the woman he knows and loves.

“Hey Kiddo. I've missed you for our Sunday lunches.” Your father spoke up. It had been weeks since you'd properly seen him. The bags under his eyes doing nothing to hide the exhaustion evident in his features.

“I know, daddy.” You reply, with a slight lilt to your voice. “We'll do them again soon.. I've been… busy.”

He smiles over at you with a nod, not pressing any further as the wine was poured for the table.

No one spoke as the salads were served. The tension hangs thick in the air, Nik's eyes darting between you and Steve as you lift your fork to begin your meal.

“So, Steve,” Nik's voice laced with venom, as if saying his name out loud physically pained him. “I heard you were going back to Italy. Leaving Chicago to the big boys.” He smirks.

“Ahh, little Niki, do you believe every rumor you hear?” He replies with a nonchalance, taking a sip of wine to cleanse his palette.

Nik’s jaw visibly clenched. Steve knew exactly how to get under his skin, using his old nickname.

The small talk was left to a minimum, a few mumbles from your father about the Cubs as he tried to steer the conversation to more lighthearted topics as the entrees were finally served.

Braised lamb with a red wine sauce served over a medley of stewed veggies.

The meat was tender but as you chewed, Steve noticed you slightly wince, pausing as your eyelashes fluttered closed a brief moment before continuing.

He regarded you closely, taking in your appearance. His eyes widened a little when he finally noticed your flushed appearance and the makeup trying to cover your cheek, a bruise beginning to form just below your red rimmed eye. It was his turn for his jaw to tighten, his fist clenching beneath the table.

Nik followed Steve's gaze, the flicker of irritation passing his face made him smirk to himself as the silence stretched on. The only sounds were forks and knives lightly clanking against the fine china echoing around the room.

Nik’s hand stretched under the table, suddenly wrapping around your thigh with a bruising grip that caused you to slightly jolt upright. It suddenly takes all the willpower that Steve can muster to not jump over the table and end him.

“Kitten?” He suddenly speaks up, in an overly affectionate voice, as you look over to him. “Go on to bed. I'll be up in a little bit. The men are going to talk now."

“But—,”

“Shh, shh, shh. No buts.” He coos, gripping your leg even tighter leaving no room for arguments.

You nod, scooting your chair back from the table, and standing to take your leave, glancing back at Steve, whose face is now set with a heavy frown. His eyes held immense fiery rage as he stared at Nik.

The tension was now at a boiling point, at least from one end of the table.

Nik grabs your wrist before you get too far, pulling you his way suddenly, gripping the back of your neck with his free hand and pressing his lips to yours. The sudden movement caught you off guard, as your lips parted with a gasp, he took the opportunity to push his tongue forward, an unwanted intrusion but you were powerless to fight his advances.

The few moments seemed to stretch on for eternity as he finally pulled back with a sickly-sweet grin, licking his lips and releasing his hold on you. You straighten up to bid your father and Steve both a farewell.

“Goodnight Daddy. Steve.”

Both men rose from their chairs.

“Night kiddo.” Your father kisses your cheek, pulling you into a small embrace.

Steve swallows around the lump in his throat as you take a step toward him, desperation written all over your features as you gaze up at him with an almost pleading look. Don't. You tried to convey.

"Night, Dove." He whispers, still searching your eyes, as your husband stares daggers at him. He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek as a silent tear escapes you going unnoticed by the other two men in the room as you finally brush past Steve.

He sits back down, his eyes trailing after you long after you disappear up the stairs. Regardless if you and Steve had been having an affair, the way you looked at each other was all the confirmation that Nik needed. He sighs heavily, loosening his tie.

“So, this is how it's going to be. My own father-in-law is conspiring against me.” He paused, eyes cutting over to Steve.

“And you Harrington, how long have you been fucking my wife?” He sneered.

Both men were a little stunned, heads snapping in his direction. Their best laid plans falling apart before their eyes, with the other seemingly knowing enough.

“Nik,” David started but he quickly cut him off.

“That whore is still my wife. Still MY fucking property.” Raising his voice as his fists come down against the table.

“Don't fucking call her that.” Steve hissed, eyes turning dark, trained on Nik. His calm demeanor hides the maelstrom of emotions churning within him.

“Oh Steven, don't pretend if you were in my shoes, you wouldn't feel the exact same way.” He cruelly grins but turns his attention back to your father.

“And David, I think it's time you shut your mouth and do some listening for a change so before any threats start flying around, let me make it abundantly clear. She's not going anywhere, with either of you.” A sickly, sweet smile grew across his face. He knew he had the upper hand.

Steve quickly rose, but David stopped him before he came over the table at Nik, pressing a hand to his chest.

“I swear to God, if you lay a finger on her, I'll fucking kill you.” He spits, gritting his teeth and pointing his finger at the other man. Pure rage was all he saw.

Nik rolls his eyes, as if unamused by the entire situation, making himself more comfortable in his chair.

“I don't think either of you gentlemen are in the position to make any demands at this point.” He finally rose, nodding to his security in the corners of the room. “Now if you'll kindly see yourselves out, I need to have a chat with my lovely wife.”

Steve made an attempt to lunge at Nik, who only laughed when two of the men grabbed either of his arms, halting his movements. Two more men stepped in, escorting your father out along with him.

“I'll fucking kill you! Do you hear me? I will end you!” He yells before being forcefully dragged from the house, his eyes focused up the stairs, where you had retired moments ago, before they slammed the door in his face.

His stomach sank at the thought of leaving you alone with him. His head was screaming at him to get you out of that house.

Unintentionally, this had caused you to be stuck in the middle when he was trying to spare you from all of this. He should have told you the truth. Gotten you away from all of it when he had the chance. This was HIS fault.

Both men stood there in utter shock. Everything was falling apart.

“You know what he's capable of. We can't leave her here.” Steve turned to your father, a sudden desperation to his voice.

“Steve, he's not going to do anything to her. He knows what would happen if he did.” The other man reasons.

“Did you not see the goddamn bruises and welts on her face?” Steve steps forward, his frustration evident, inching into your father's space.

“What bruises?” He asks, brows furrowed.

“She did a good job at covering them, but the way she winced while eating gave it away. Her cheek was slightly swollen. He's already laid his goddamn hands on her, David!”

Your father gaped in silence at the implications as he stared at the younger man.

“Goddamnit!” Steve shouts out into the night, with other option but to leave without you. Nik had entirely too much security on duty to try anything else. He prayed to whomever would listen to keep you safe until he could get you back.

-

You heard the commotion, Steve audibly yelling, as you jumped from the small sofa and ran to the top of the stairs just in time to see the front door being slammed in his face. Your heart sank.

Nik came into view, rounding the corner, tie shed, unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling it up his forearms. You locked eyes as a smirk lit up his face. He enjoyed seeing the sheer terror written on yours.

You turned, your feet carrying you into the bedroom far too slowly as he took the stairs two at a time, slamming your door shut, trying to lock it before he reached it, your fingers fumbling with the knob.

He smashed into it with all the force he had, forcing it open and knocking you down in the process.

Your head flew back, hitting the floor, dazing you for a moment but it was enough for him to rush forward, grabbing the back of your hair forcing you to look at him. His fingers tangled in your locks, making you hiss out at the sudden sting as your eyes met his.

Pure rage. Animalistic, predatory dominance staring back at you. No emotion. No hint of regret to be found. Any semblance of a human being was nowhere to be found.

“So this is how you repay me? After all these years? Scheming and whoring around behind my back?!” He screamed like a madman. “You and your fucking father!”

“Nik—please.” Your eyes well up with tears from the searing pain at the back of your head, hands clawing, trying to pry him away.

“Please?!” He yelled, laughing out. “That's all you have to say for yourself?”

You watched on, unable to do anything as he reared back and smacked you across the face. Searing white hot heat, on an already bruised cheek, has you crying out.

Helpless. Hopeless. No one was coming to your rescue.

Gathering as much strength as you could, you slammed your foot up into his crotch. He let go of you as he doubled over in pain, granting you a small reprieve as you started to crawl away.

“You fucking bitch!” He screamed, grabbing your ankle. Your fingertips dug into the carpet, as he dragged you back toward him, flipping you over as you fought but he easily overpowered you, sitting on your abdomen. His weight pressed you into the carpet and his hands wound around your neck, quickly shutting your air supply off.

He was crazed, eyes black with murderous intent, squeezing a little tighter as you continued to fight to pull his hands away. This was it. You were going to die here. He was going to kill you.

“I would love nothing more to see the light go dim in those pretty, pleading little eyes, taking delight to see your precious Steve become a broken man, but unfortunately I have other plans for the two of you.” He spat.

His grasp relented, air once again filling your lungs with a gasp as he moved off of you. You rolled away, clutching your neck, chest heaving trying to take in as much oxygen as possible laying on your side away from him.

He stood, chuckling to himself. You didn't see him coming toward you until it was too late. Intense pain shot through your back. He was a fucking coward, kicking you while you were already down.

Your ears were ringing, too stunned and shocked to keep fighting. A scream tried to erupt from your chest, but there was no sound that escaped your raw and bruised throat as a steady stream of tears fell from your eyes, your mind suddenly on the brink of unconsciousness.

He was saying something you couldn't make out, sounding as though he was so far away when you felt like you were floating, no longer in your body. You didn't feel him haul you over to the bed, tearing your clothes away from you. Your conscious mind was disassociating and shielding you from the abrupt and painful intrusion between your thighs.

You close your eyes, as he takes what he wants from you, leaving his filthy seed behind. Your body was bruised and battered, a broken, withered husk.

Hope was shattered.

Taglist: @teen--marvel @micheledawn1975 @thecreelhouse @girlwiththerubyslippers @bunnyhargrove @taccobelle @madaboutjoe @hazydespair

[onthepyre]

He's overplayed, but sometimes, Glenn Miller just hits the fucking spot. You hear the song for the first time and maybe you aren't quite sure where it's going, but Mickey's danced to "In The Mood" every weekend for the last year. He's got it down to a science.

The girls come and go. He has favorite partners, that's for sure - ones that let him fling them in the air or send them flying out in light-speed spins, or even the ones who can just really groove. But sometimes they're there and sometimes they aren't, and ultimately, it doesn't make much difference to him. It's not about the girl at the other end of his arm. It's about Mickey and the music. He can feel it - the trombone in his feet, trumpet in his arms and sax in his shoulders, bass and drums thumping in his chest.

His ballroom isn't a popular one. It's a few regular faces and a handful of out-of-towners, passers-through who dance with an accent; on an average Saturday night, though, most of the attendees are the sort that rotate in and out of five or six different floors. It's hard to get them all in one place. But the band is decent, the admission cheap, and the bartenders heavy-handed. So it's Mickey's.

He's making his way off the floor after the night's fourth Miller track, panting, chatting lazily with the brunette who'd stepped on him a minute ago. She's got two left feet, but they exchange niceties - great dance, love that song, all the things Mickey says when he doesn't have anything to talk about. She wanders off when he makes it to the bar and doesn't offer to buy her a drink.

He sits silently, sipping whiskey, listening to the band's approximation of Count Basie. They're doing a shitty job with this one and people are falling off the dance floor left and right, doing whirlygig turns into their seats. There are only six dancers left on the floor by the middle of the song. Two of them are an ancient married couple, barely able to keep up with the inconsistent tempo. There's a pair of teens who keep losing the beat, but the third set are the ones that catch Mickey's eye. The girl is cute in a kiddish sort of way, round rosy cheeks and a big smile. She dances young, too, inexperienced but with flair. The man seems far more seasoned - he hits every accent and anticipates every pause like he's a member of the band. He leads the girl, green as she is, through some pretty complicated shit with ease. They're both ginger. Siblings, probably, Mickey thinks.

Mercifully, the song ends, and the redheads laugh their way out of a dip. The band kicks off another tune, one Mickey doesn't know the name of, and other dancers begin to trickle back onto the floor. He loses sight of the siblings until the man appears next to him and asks the bartender for some frilly cocktail Mickey's never heard of.

"Those were some neat tricks," he says to the man. "That your sister?"

"Yeah," the man answers, "Debbie. I'm Ian."

"Mickey."

"This is one of Deb's first nights out. Our other sister's been teaching her the ropes, but you can only get so far in a kitchen. She's getting way better with real music and real people."

"Band's havin' an off night tonight. I think the usual drummer is out."

"We'll have to come back when they're better equipped," Ian says with a grin. The bartender sets down his drink - he finishes half of it in one swallow.

"You ever tried to follow? Dance the girl's part for a night?" He looks over at Mickey out of the corner of his eyes.

"Hell would I do that for?"

"Makes you a better dancer." Ian shrugs, starts sliding off his stool. Mickey scoffs. "Here, c'mon. Give it a shot."

There's ice in Mickey’s veins. To ask that - and in a public place, no less - risks a lot more than his lindy-hopping skills. But Ian’s hand, open and waiting in front of him, is enticing. So Mickey can't rebuke him completely.

"Lotta moxie, you got."

"Wouldn't be here without it."

He's not sure what Ian means - here on this earth, here in this room, or here asking another man to dance. Mickey can't read his expression; he wears a good-natured, joking grin, but there's something else in his green eyes. Something pleading.

"Promise it won't be weird," Ian says. "I get ya, I swear."

Fuck.

Mickey can't say no, so he doesn't say anything, just drops his hand heavy into Ian's. He lets himself be led out onto the floor, willing them invisible to prying eyes at the bar. Ian drops the handhold and slides his arm around Mickey's back to start marking the beat, exaggerated, almost silly. They're late to the floor, left behind as the other dancers set off and running with the music. Still, within seconds, it's some of best chemistry Mickey's ever felt. Ian's giddiness is contagious and so is his rhythm. When he folds Mickey in so they're face to face, it's like greeting an old friend.

Ian's dancing is an open book, and Mickey can tell he's holding back at the start. He keeps them up to tempo, but only leads the boring shit - the kind of stuff the newcomers pick up first. The way he does it, though, high kicks and full-body pulse, is enough for Mickey to be suppressing a smile. When there's a heavy hit in the music, the kind that would have Mickey tossing a girl over his head, Ian pauses for a split second. It's clearly intentional, like he's waiting for Mickey to do something, but he's got no clue what girls do in moments like these.

He takes control instead - uses the tension in their arms to send Ian sliding across the floor under his legs, and Ian lets him do it. He pops back up as Mickey spins around, and just as the song hits its climax, the roles flip.

Back where he's comfortable, Mickey lets loose. He brings Ian in and sends him back out four times in a row, lightning-fast with the trumpet player's run. It gets Ian laughing, so Mickey's laughing, too, and it feels like his feet are floating an inch above the floor. They move in tight, near-violent circles, narrowly avoiding the other dancers close by.

The end of the song is building up - Mickey can tell in Ian's careful attention to his feet that he's anticipating it, too. The whole band crescendoes, the trombone digs into a slide, and Mickey dips Ian so low his head almost brushes the ground. Ian trusts him with it, kicks his foot up and lets his weight fall, his back arch. They hold there, eyes meeting for the longest few seconds of Mickey's life.

When they pull out of the dip as the band pauses, it feels wrong. To be around Ian, still linked at their hands, and not be dancing with him - Mickey feels uncoordinated, off-balance. But when Ian cracks a smile, Mickey's head is back on his shoulders, his feet back underneath him.

"Not so bad, right?" Ian asks.

"Guess not."

[godihatethiswebsite]

Desert Oasis

✽ Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x f!reader (The Mummy AU)

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

✽ Part 7 - Gearing up for the road ahead

I intended to get this out to you guys much earlier, but my health stole my brain bunnies and then the chapter grew a lot bigger than I'd originally anticipated. I'm actually forcing myself to break it up from the 10k monstrosity it currently is (and I'm not done with yet ><) into this chunk half the size so that you're not waiting another week or so.

The good news is I've got a bunch of the next part already done because of that so hopefully the wait won't be as long :)

i'm not jinxing myself by saying that. what are you talking about >>;

Kyle hadn't let you walk after everything and you were far too drained from the day's events to argue. He'd gotten to his feet and hoisted you up into his arms, cradling you to his chest as you wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your eyes for a bit. His body warmth wasn't a cure-all, but it certainly helped given the fact that you were dressed in a sopping wet short cotton batiste nightgown with only your knickers on underneath. Letting yourself be carried wasn't just because you were tired and shoeless - it was also helping to preserve your modesty. 

Something like that shouldn't really matter at a time like this considering one of your male companions was family and the other had already seen you in the state when he was saving your life (twice now). However, you weren't the only people out here despite not running into anyone else as you three made the trek southward. You didn’t want to be caught so exposed should your paths cross with any of your companions from the wreckage. 

Unlikely, but better to be safe than sorry.

They'd opted to delay settling down for the night and keep traveling for a little bit longer, arguing that they were too wound up from the ‘festivities’ to find much sleep anyways. While you were certain adrenaline must’ve had them on edge, you suspected they were moreover worried about the men in black robes coming back in the middle of the night to finish what they started. That thought weighed heavy in your gut, sending a shiver down your spine easily mistaken for the slight chill of the desert. 

By the time it was decided you were far enough away from the wreckage for their comfort, you had begun to lull off in Kyle’s hold, fighting the pull of slumber from a mixture of pure stubbornness and the lingering paranoia of being snuck up on once again. It was doubtful sleep would come easy to you tonight if it even did at all.

Being so close to the Nile had lush vegetation scattered throughout the area, your cousin finding a small patch of softer earth to place you down upon while Johnny rested his back against a nearby palm. Neither of them had a go at building a fire for warmth, not wanting to risk being spotted and leaving your only light source to be the heavenly planets above. The nearby crop provided cover from wandering eyes which helped ease your anxieties a little at least.

“Who was it that attacked us?” The question from your lips was one that no one had yet to voice aloud, but was on everyone’s minds in one form or another. 

Your cousin plopped down in the grass next to you, scratching a hand over his scalp in a show of obvious frustration parroted by the expression he wore.

“Wish I had an answer for you, dolly. Been rattlin' my brain over that all night and yet still only comin' up empty handed. Could’ve just been as simple as a rogue band of desert dwellers looking for easy pickings and we were the poor bastards who got unlucky.”

“That's a right load and ye know it, Garrick.” Johnny’s voice had a growl to it that gave away his own internal thoughts, rooting around in his rucksack in what you suspect was an effort to check over his few remaining belongings. “If that were true then they’d ‘ave taken somethin’ with ‘em. Ye dunnae sink a ship yer tryin’ ta make coin off of.”

“They were looking for something.” Even with how soft your voice was interjecting into the conversation, both pairs of eyes swiveled towards you immediately, imploring you to continue with your explanation. 

“One of the men… in my room,” your gaze briefly landed on Johnny as you thought back to how he found you being held captive with a dagger to your throat, eyes burning through you in a way you had to mentally shake yourself out of in remembrance, “h-he asked me something… about a key. He was looking for it and got incensed when I told him I didn’t know what he was talking about.”

The two of them shared a look at the details of your brief encounter, trying to piece together a puzzle that was taking more shape but still lacked too many parts.

“Seems like someone on board was hiding something,” came your cousin’s reply, an ominous implication that had you over analyzing the people you’d come in contact with over the course of the day. “Question is: which one was the thief and which one was the conservator?”

Too much blood had been spilt for you to even consider the notion that the men in black were even remotely the good guys, but you couldn’t help the nagging tug in the deep recesses of your brain that was trying to place why some part of you recognized something about the man who threatened you. You’re certain you’d never seen his face before, but there was an element of his appearance that kept itching something you couldn’t seem to scratch. 

Perhaps clarity would find you in the morning when the events that brought you here weren’t so fresh in your mind.

Turning your attention back to Johnny, you brought up the other thought that had been tumbling around upstairs although it was far less pressing of a matter. “That man across the river. Friend of yours?”

You’d been half expecting the displeased snort you received in response based on the short interaction you’d witnessed, but it was Kyle who answered first. 

“Philip Graves. Bit of a mercenary who took up occasional employment with His Majesty’s forces.” There was a sourness to his tone that spoke volumes towards his opinion of the man. “Ran a few with him back in the day. Thought he was actually a good bloke at first, but turns out he’s just another man out only for his own skin, no honor or loyalty to be found.”

“Had a bit o’ a run in with him on the ferry tonight. Certainly put the eejit back in his place, or so ah thought. Damn dog doesnae ken when tae stay down.” 

Your ears perked up in interest at the reveal, a latch clicking in your head as you put two and two together.

The glance over your shoulder. 

That must’ve been why he ushered you back below decks. Hearing the way they spoke about the man had you grateful you’d avoided that particular encounter… though you were intrigued by the conversation that surely followed.

“Oh yeah?” You could certainly tell that lifted Kyle’s spirits a bit to hear. “Have a proper go at him, did ya?”

“Well he ended up takin’ a bit o’ a premature swim if that’s wha’ yer implying.” The smirk on Johnny's face was positively impish, making even the corners of your own lips quirk up in amusement. “But ah did manage tae find out one useful piece o’ information. Turns out he’s the one leadin’ the Americans to Hamunaptra.”

“Bloody hell. You serious?” That wasn’t a reassuring response coming from your cousin.

“‘Fraid so. Bastard was more than happy ta flap his gob about his recent ventures. Americans paid him half upfront, half when he gets ‘em there. Looks like we’re stuck with our ol’ buddy Graves a bit longer than ah’d like.”

“Should I be concerned?” You glanced warily between them, feeling far too on edge tonight as it was without this added headache stacking up on top of things.

Kyle could practically feel the despair in your bones at the prospect of this journey adding even more to your plate than it already had, placing a firm hand on your knee as a small reminder that you weren’t alone in all this. “More of a nuisance than a threat, dolly. Don’t go worrying your head over something so inconsequential.

“‘Sides, there’s only so much mischief he can get up tae with the likes of us ‘round tae keep him in line.”

Coming from a pair of troublemakers, that wasn’t as much of a comfort as they probably thought it was.

By the time the next morning rolled around, you were convinced the only reason you were able to get any sleep at all was due to the sheer amount of fatigue that forced your body to eventually yield to it, having depleted all energy reserves by the time you finally closed your eyes for a proper rest.

Despite getting a full night’s reprieve, the same could not be said for your body. Muscles that hadn’t been exercised in years were howling at you as you rose to consciousness, body protesting the movement as it was even sorer now than it was only hours ago. Combined with the less than ideal sleeping arrangements (despite the decent makeshift pillow your cousin’s lap had made) you were certainly feeling it come sunrise, joints aching and cracking like kettle corn. 

The prospect of doing even more travel on foot did not appeal to you in the slightest.

You were pleasantly surprised to be offered a banana as a substitute for a hearty breakfast, Johnny pointing a little farther inland to a small cluster of trees where the offending fruit dangled from its clutches. You hadn’t noticed them in the darkness when the group first settled down, grateful to not have to continue onward without at least a little something in your belly. As far as water went, so long as you stayed near the Nile the blue waters would provide you with ample hydration. If it wasn’t for the fact you were on a bit of a timetable, you might have argued for the chance at catching a fish to fill you up even more. But they had neither the tools nor patience to effectively do it, leaving you with the fruit you quickly scarfed down.

It didn’t take long for the clothes on your backs to dry once the sun came out, glad to be rid of the uncomfortable damp that had you smelling like mildew. Were it not for the fact that you did not want to expose yourself again with a semi translucent nightgown you would’ve walked a few meters to your left and taken a much needed dip in the cool river.

Alas, you figured you’d learn to live with the stench as the desert heat would no doubt leave you with far less agreeable odors than a bit of moisture. No doubt your fellow companions were accustomed to such a life where bathing was moreso optional than it was required. 

The group followed alongside the Nile as much as possible, hoping to have a run in with others who would potentially have supplies for you to barter from. Johnny had a bit of coin stuffed in one of the pouches of his bag that could get you a decent bit of what you needed; it was just a matter of finding the right buyer to haggle with. Once it started becoming apparent that you were unlikely to encounter what you were looking for near the shore, they charted a course westward into the desert towards where Johnny hoped he remembered seeing an encampment last time he passed through this way.

They’d allowed you to walk as far as you could until the ground became too hot for their liking, having made the mistake of hissing when bare skin met a particularly scorching plot of land now that there was far less greenery to cushion your steps. Kyle hadn’t even asked this time before sweeping you up into his hold, garnering a half-hearted round of complaints from you that were quickly silenced without any real fight. You could’ve tried harder to convince them to let you keep going on your own, but without proper footwear it was genuinely becoming uncomfortable to be on the ground for more than a few moments at a time. You just hoped for your cousin’s sake that he wouldn’t have to bear the extra weight for too terribly long. Just because he was fit didn’t mean his arms didn’t eventually tire.

Conversation was minimal as you trekked through the desert, too focused on their own surroundings to do more than the occasional banter. Must’ve taken a little under an hour before Johnny held up a hand to halt your movements, recognizing a nearby rock formation and turning in that direction. If his memory served right, there was a tribe located at the base of it that was more welcoming to passersby. 

The Bedouin tribes of the Sahara were mainly known for being camel herders as opposed to sheep and cattle - for obvious reasons. They migrate as the seasons change, retreating back into the desert during the rainy winter season and towards cultivated land once the dry summer months returned. If some element of luck had not been on your side and you’d happened here during the wrong time, chances were you’d still be wandering around looking for civilization. 

Once your group got within range of the settlement, a small handful of men flagged you down at your approach, coming out to meet you while Johnny pushed you back to stand behind him. Kyle stepped forward as the men began to converse, speaking a dialect of Arabic that you were mildly familiar with but Kyle was stumbling through. He knew enough basics to get by in Cairo, but some of their words garnered looks of total confusion from him that ultimately was getting the group nowhere. 

You let him keep trying for a bit longer before taking pity on the poor sod and peeping out from behind the bulky figure protecting your modesty. Four pairs of eyes turned towards you in surprise, Johnny’s arm coming back to block you while you relayed your desire for adequate supplies and transport. When you discussed your need for appropriate clothing as well, they were kind enough to call over one of the women of the tribe who came running over holding a blanket ready to wrap around you. 

Kyle gave you a look as she rushed over, something that suggested annoyance in the thin set line of his mouth. “Wanted to watch me make a fool of myself, eh?”

You gave the woman a grateful smile as she concealed your ill-dressed form from their gaze, feeling much more at ease as she placed an arm around your shoulders and led you into camp. The grin you gave him in return spoke of thinly veiled hilarity. “Thought I'd let you try first. Give you a chance to brush up on your Arabic before emasculating you.”

Johnny didn’t even try to hide his amusement at your cousin’s expense, rewarding Kyle with a hearty slap on the back for his efforts and leaning in close to whisper something under his breath that earned him an elbow to the sternum for his words. 

You paid them no heed as you walked with your escort towards the eastern side of the settlement, the locals already conversing about the necessary details as you realized you’d be split up from the boys to leave them to deal with whatever sort of arrangements needed to be made for your travels. Hopefully there was someone more knowledgeable in English that could assist them in your absence.

You didn’t have any other experiences with the Bedouin to form a picture in your head of the size of the encampment compared to others, but it certainly wasn’t a compact setup they had going on here. Family groups living within sizeable elaborate tents fluttered about tending to their household responsibilities while their children and grandchildren darted between the structures with all the playful innocence of untouched youth. Livestock grazed amongst the small bit of foliage, corralled in pens and cages to be fattened up whilst awaiting their inevitable ends. 

The women were covered from head to toe, the men and children less hidden and sporting brighter colors and patterns. Clothing hung out to dry on suspended lines of rope, women carrying braided wicker baskets to and fro while chatting away the hours of hard work under an unforgiving sun. It was a thriving community that even out here in these barren wastelands had carved out a peaceful existence away from the worries of the larger world. 

As exciting as it was to be surrounded by peoples of such an incredibly rich culture, it was also a little nerve wracking to say the least. This tribe seemed used to trade, but there was no denying your group stuck out like a sore thumb.

Easy to feel like a complete outsider when you were one. 

How were you supposed to act out here amongst the rolling desert dunes? You knew it was a patriarchal society and you were the most scantily clad thing here, surrounded by dark veiled modest women and stern appraising eyes of men. There had to be a dozen faux pas you were breaking right now, a realization that set your teeth on edge. 

Just another example of how woefully unprepared you were to deal with anything other than wealthy socialites or bookworms.

Your cousin must have sensed your hesitancy as the woman leading your troop tried to usher you further into the settlement, a different path than the one the men were heading off towards for supplies. Not that you suspected any foul play or deceit on the Bedouins' part, but it was easier to navigate all the unfamiliarity with your much more worldly companions by your side.

“We've got this, dolly. You'll be alright on your own for a bit,” Kyle offered with a comforting grin and a hand on your shoulder, “Go get yourself proper while we take care of negotiations.”

“Jus’ give a holler if anythin’ happens and we'll come runnin’ right tae ya,” piped up Johnny with a lazy grin but a promise in his eyes that he meant every word of it. 

That soothed your nerves more than anything, flashing him a meek grateful smile as you allowed your chaperone to lead you onward with a firm hand between the shoulder blades.

It took almost no time afterwards to arrive at your apparent destination. The woman charged with your care lifted aside a curtain as she bade you enter the abode, finding a younger pair inside that looked up at you upon your arrival. One must have been closer to your age, the other far younger as she sat in the former’s lap and let her comb out her long dark tresses. She introduced them as her two daughters who greeted you warmly with bowed heads. Once they were informed of your situation, you were beckoned closer and instructed to remove your gown, the youngest off to the back to retrieve some items for a quick wash up. 

You were used to the kind of treatment they offered back in your younger years, having had servants that would assist with your bathing and beauty routine that followed. It was a bit different being given such kindness from strangers, having been stripped out of your remaining clothes and cleansed from a bucket. The desert was thoroughly scrubbed from your flesh, scalp lathered in oils that would help protect your skin and hair from the harsh rays of the sun. Even though you knew this small luxury was fleeting, it was nice to not smell like a vagrant for a little while at least.

The older woman stepped away as soon as you dried yourself, huffing under her breath that she had nothing to fit you and disappearing for what you assumed was a mission to remedy that. You were made to kneel on a cushion, towel draped around you whilst the eldest daughter took up position in front of you, a small vial of kohl in her hands to be applied to your eyes.

You were not accustomed to cosmetics being applied to your waterline, the black liner smudged above your lower lashes causing you to blink back tears. Supposedly it was good for your overall eye health, but the jury was still out until the stinging from the foreign substance subsided for you. Meanwhile, the youngest was all smiles and giggles as she settled down behind you, comb in hand that she began to gently tug through your tangles; a comment was made comparing you to one of her beloved dolls before her sister shushed her for saying so.

Their mother returned shortly with a bundle of dark cloth in her arms, ushering you to your feet as she made quick work of slipping the garments up over your head. Your underthings were replaced with similar items, all very plain and practical in contrast to the beautiful thobe they graced you with.

The material itself was made of an airy lightweight fabric and infinitely more breathable than what you left your home in yesterday morning. The black coloring was detailed with elegant hand stitched beading, silver embellishments catching the light and twinkling like little sewn-in constellations. There was a soft melodic chiming with every movement, small polished coins accenting your waist and jingling in a way that almost begged for lively music to be played. The shoes you slipped into were soft but sturdy, fine dark linen adorning your head as the woman gave you brief instructions on how best to wrap it to protect your face from the desert sands if need be. 

Once you finally got a proper look at yourself in the mirror, you were stunned at the difference a change of style and darker makeup could do to your features, a far cry from the latest London fashions shipped down to your estate in Cairo. Despite having lived in the country for most of your life, you’d never before been dressed in the cultural attire worn by some of the natives. Giving a slow twirl at the women’s urgings, you decidedly felt at home in the designs much the same way as you did in your everyday skirts.

Satisfied with your appearance, they accompanied you back out into the encampment to hunt down and rejoin the others. You had to admit that whatever trick the kohl provided, you did find yourself having to squint less under the sun’s brightness. Seeing its effects in action, you were now grateful for the small vial they’d slipped into your hand moments ago so that you could keep reapplying it during your travels.

It didn’t take long to locate Kyle and Johnny near a resting herd of camels, standing around as a group of men readied the beasts for a long trek out into the vast Sahara dunes. Seeing how much equipment was being packed onto the backs of them, you wondered just how much coin Johnny had stashed away in his bag to be able to afford the pretty penny’s worth they had acquired.

They both looked at ease as they chatted amongst themselves, Kyle leaning back against a nearby cart with his arms crossed over his chest, sleeves rolled up to his elbows much the same as his friend. He’d obtained some more gear for his person going by the leather gun holster strapped over his shoulders carrying matching pistols, a dark blue neckerchief tied above his unbuttoned dress shirt left open to reveal the tight wife beater underneath.

Your cousin had always been a bit of a pretty boy, but even with his striking good looks he was the epitome of casual danger. 

Johnny, on the other hand, looked devilishly roguish. He hadn’t altered his outfit much in comparison to Kyle - only adding a tan patterned neckerchief of his own and an extra button undone from the top - but there was a difference in the way he seemed to carry himself now. Something in his air and mannerisms that felt primed to go off at any given moment. 

This was a man in his element; not in the dredges of society, but out here amongst the wild and the unexpected. You’d seen him as a low-life; you’d seen him more refined. Now you were seeing him as he truly was: a fighter — both of them.

His appearance lured you in, his eyes ensnaring you as the pair at last took notice of your approach. Where your cousin offered you one of his signature bright smiles, Johnny’s face became deceptively neutral. Gone was the grin he’d just shared with your cousin, hidden behind something you desperately wanted to claw at. It was as if all the emotion retreated from his expression only to be refocused behind the gaze he swallowed you up with, dark blue sapphires holding you defenselessly captive and burning hot coals in places you’d never reached before. 

It wasn’t until Kyle stepped forward and broke your line of sight with Johnny that you were able to blink away from whatever he’d been subconsciously trying to relay to you.

“There’s our girl.” Kyle took hold of your hand and gave you a spin, eyes raking over your new attire as you blushed from his playful attentions. “Far cry from the frills and stuffy dresses you usually force yourself into every day, huh dolly?”

Pulling your hand from his, you gave him a light shove that he had the decency to fake stumbling back from. “I happen to like those dresses, thank you very much. Nothing wrong with enjoying the finer parts of being a lady. Meanwhile, sir, you seem to have lost your waistcoat.” You couldn’t help but tease him back as you tugged at his open billowy dress shirt. 

“Not much to impress out in the middle of nowhere. Certainly not you lot,” he added, tossing a grin back at your companion.

Johnny had returned to normal by the time your vision swept that way, the previous interaction a mere mirage as he returned the snarky comment with a playful one of his own. “Yer right. Ain’t no damsels in distress ‘round fer ye to showboat fer. Aye, hen?”

The wink he sent your way paired with the subtle compliment left you glowing, something fluttering in your chest that you pushed aside so as not to let it fester.

Your cousin snorted his response, Johnny’s attention pulled to the Bedouin man next to him that had finished securing the group’s new belongings to your transportation. He gave the man a quick smile and a nod as he took hold of the reins, giving the camel a firm pat on its neck. Turning his awareness back to you, Johnny motioned with his head for you to approach. 

“Ever rode a camel, lass?”

“Oh, no. I learned side saddle on horses when we visited Kyle’s family estate during the summers, but beyond that it’s been years since I’ve even been on the back of one.” You reached out to give the animal a scritch on its head behind the ears, the short dense hairs course yet fluffy to the touch. 

“Not much different,” he shrugged, eyes keen on your form. “Jus’ a wee bit taller and bumpier a ride, s’all. Ye’ll have it down in no time.”

Johnny gave a downward tug on the reins; that paired with a clicking noise from his tongue had the camel lowering itself on folded knees to the earth, resting on its legs as he slapped his hand down on the padded blanketed seat. “Best we be gettin’ a move on then.”

You were suddenly aware of the fact that there were three of them in the vicinity, one for each of you to be riding separately. You’d anticipated having to share with one of the others, not quite sure how to logistically navigate this on your own. “How am I meant to sit on that thing? The way it moves I’ll be forced to grip the pommel the whole time so as not to take a tumble off the side.”

“Looks like yer gonna get a taste o’ wha’ it’s like tae be a man, lass.”

That wasn't exactly a welcome response.

“O-one leg on each side?” The notion caught you off guard, wide eyes glancing down at your dress which was admittedly a lot flowier and less constricting than normal. Flashing skin was far less scandalous than it had been when you were born, but it wasn’t something you were used to doing even with some type of pantyhose or stocking underneath. You hadn’t much need for flapper dresses nowadays with the company you kept.

“Go on, dolly.” Kyle was looking far too entertained at your obvious hesitance to break out of your comfort zone, hopping up on his own stead with practiced ease. “You wanted to be an adventurer, yeah? Gotta get over this hump first.”

You pulled at your bottom lip with your teeth, hands fidgeting with some of the small coins belted around your waist in nervousness. Should you scoot onto it from the side and swing your legs over? Do you gather up the material first and then sit down? Why was this so bloody hard when the men made it look easy?

“Right, up ye get.” Apparently not possessing the patience for you to figure out how best to mount the beast in a skirt, you squeaked as Johnny's firm calloused hands suddenly took hold of your waist, hefting you up the short height onto the animal and depositing you in the saddle. With how wide your legs parted to accommodate its size, your thobe rode up past your stockings to reveal your knees and lower thighs, grabbing at the thin material and trying to drag it down as far as it could go to maintain some slight modesty. 

You didn’t have time to be embarrassed as Johnny once again made a clicking sound with his tongue, patting the camel on its haunches as it began to stand from its resting position. You scrambled for the saddle pommel with a vice grip, squealing at the clunky rocking motion that jarred you as it rose to its full height. If your reflexes had been even a moment slower, you would've flown ass over tea kettle off the back and onto the hard ground below.

Settling back down after that brief scare, you were shocked at just how much you towered over everything. You were used to the elevation that came with being on a horse; this creature had well over a foot on your largest thoroughbred.

“Lookit that!” Johnny clapped his hands excitedly with a throaty chuckle. “Yer a proper natural.” With how wide of a grin he was giving you, you nearly missed the way his eyes briefly admired the exposed skin of your lower half before patting your foot from his spot below in supportive praise. 

He left you alone to mosey on over to his own ride, Kyle bringing his camel up alongside yours and flashing you a smile which you found impossibly infectious. Here you were, astride a massive beast in the middle of the Sahara about to undertake a journey that would help change humanity’s understanding of ancient Egyptian society during the New Kingdom forever.

You couldn’t wait to find the long lost City of the Dead and all the excitement it would bring.

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[punkzines]

TFP SOUNDWAVE X READER SHORT

reader just loves aliens.kinda.

a/n: let me just say this has been sitting in my drafts for like months…i might make this into mult. chapters…

In a moment of fear you had tried to escape, free yourself from the tight grasp of a tentacle-like cord that made itself oddly comfortable around your waist. It was mad, the whole situation seemed unreal.

But it was real.

How much you wish it wasn’t.

You couldn’t believe you were planning on doing something so reckless, so foolish. But it had to be done. There were too many rumors, too many sightings— consequences and conspiracies. You needed to do something, find out the truth.

You were a simple being, driven by curiosity and the thirst of knowledge. Knowledge wasn’t something you obtained easily though, as you were a low income student going to a local community college: Jasper, Nervada College. You had limited resources, oftentimes your power or internet ran out. But that was the reason why you went out. And why you are doing what you’re doing.

As of recent years, many people have reported sightings of UFO’s lurking around Jasper, Nevada. At first, you couldn’t consider the possibility. It was absurd, what would aliens want to do with Earth out of all the other planets that are so much better? But then— power outages, numerous reports— videos and photos that couldn’t be explained, and seemed too real to be edited, brought you a certain type of thrill you just simply couldn’t ignore.

So, you did what anyone would do, you’ve spent the last two years researching, and investigating. Looking around sites strangely suddenly closed by the government, staying up late because what alien wouldn’t wander around the night where they couldn’t be spotted? You collected newspapers, anything that would help. You admit, you never really found any evidence. There were times you thought you saw something strange at a car garage, some tall dark figure far away from a cliff, everything was so close yet you never actually got anywhere. Dead ends were becoming so common.

The drought of information made you consider giving up— what was the point? If there really were aliens, what could you hope to ever do with that information? Would you expose them? Profit off of them? You were in debt. But like always, the thoughts holding you back were the ones that brought you a step forward. You don’t know how they did it but they did. You were just magical like that.

For the past 6 months you’ve been contemplating on sneaking into an old, unused military base(you don't recall why it was abandoned, but maybe it was something you could now find out!) It was the dumbest yet smartest thing you’ve thought about doing. You planned on using your skills and gathering any information you could. Anything, who knows, maybe your tech skills would’ve been useful. You were at risk of being found out, jailed, but you were certain the place wasn’t used anymore— you’ve been watching it for some time already after getting off from college and work. You also had nothing to lose.

But of course, life ends up biting you in the ass. The fucking alien had to come to the same place as you did AND at the same time.

The tall metallic soulless creature brings you up rather quickly (giving you a scary view of its entire body) to its head— or what you assume is its head— and simply stares at you. Your head is spinning, things are happening too quick, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Compared to your heavy breathing, you’re not even sure you can sense it breathing.

“Let me go!” The demand practically goes unheard, as the robot creature does not stop its actions, but instead a purple light passes up and down your body, much like a scanner. You can’t let that stop your struggles.

You trashed around the grasp, elbowing, punching, anything to set you free. It was futile- escaping from the grasp, you knew it, yet you still tried. Briefly, you see some type of statistical analysis, if that’s what you could even call it— written in some type of strange code you’ve never seen before until you spot something familiar— your face.

You paused your attempts, body going still stricken with a deep feeling of dread. “What are you doing?” You asked, voice breaking down in fear. Was it information about you? Was it going to send it to someone? What if all this time you’ve been wrong and you’ve just stepped into some military government trap? This couldn’t be…

The screen goes blank. Your heart sinks as you see your reflection on the screen. You two were the only ones in this dark room, but the silence was so strong, it felt as if there was a third presence.

You couldn’t breathe— you were going to die. You really didn’t want to jump into conclusions so quickly, but if this robot was what you’ve been trying to prove was here on Earth… you were certain your death would be coming any second now.

Just as you thought of your goodbyes to the world and anyone who had been remotely kind to you, the cord around your waist starts to make its grasp harder on your waist, knocking out any air. It hurt.

In instinct you suck in your stomach but it does not alleviate the pain. Crying out in pain you try to escape the grasp, however the pain makes it hard to do so. You wanted this to be over— “If you’re going to kill me, at least make it painless-” You choke out, but are cut short when another cord hrabs your face harshly— gripping it tightly.

Your vision is gone, and your senses heightened. Why is this happening to me?You move your hands from the cord on your waist to the one on your face, trying to remove it.

It was getting harder to breathe, you figure from the lack of oxygen you're getting. Punching the cord wasn’t working, it hasn’t been. You were trapped.

Your body betrays you as your heartbeat begins to slow down, your eyes start growing heavy. Your hands fall from the cord connected to your face as you go limp.

[swanmaids]

At night, Turgon still walked with Finrod in dreams. 

In the waking hours he never intended to do it; in fact, he promised himself he would not. Gondolin’s secrecy was the knife edge upon which the whole city lived; he could not risk breaking it, even inadvertently, by opening his mind to one beyond the city walls — even the one who was his dearest friend, and perhaps more than his friend. He had left Finrod, he had made his choice. In the daylight, he kept his mind locked and bolted. 

Still when he slept he never could keep his unguarded mind from wandering, and merging with his cousin’s. 

Finrod’s dreams were sometimes strange, and often very beautiful. Long before Húrin and Huor flew to Gondolin on eagle’s wings, Turgon saw the Secondborn through Finrod’s eyes, and felt the warmth of his love for them. He saw too the dwarves at their work as they delved beneath the earth to build Finrod’s kingdom, and his cousin’s joy as he received his name in their unfamiliar tongue. He walked in halls of crystal that lit up from within, waded in sweltering, steaming underground baths. Sometimes the dreams were more abstract, and he saw rivers that sung with the spirits of the world, and great nests of writhing, many-coloured snakes like moving jewels. 

It had happened on occasion that he met his own form, and Finrod’s, in Finrod’s dreams. Seeing Finrod’s version of himself was a little like looking into a false mirror – and these dreams were always embarrassingly intimate. Turgon would see their dream-selves in all manner of intimate embraces; most of which they had never attempted, as they had only lain together twice and both times in grief and guilt, and wake up flushed all over. 

He fell into Finrod’s nightmares at times too. While his memories of long frigid marches and kin fighting kin were hardly pleasant, and Turgon certainly did not relish the thought of Finrod troubled and afraid, he still preferred them over his own nightmares. Elenwë’s fall. Idril’s anguish. He wondered if Finrod could ever enter his dreams, and hoped that he could not.

A man can become used to almost anything. Over the decades, sharing Finrod’s dreams became something that Turgon expected, even accepted. There was in some ways almost an innocence about it – it made him think of their long-ago boyhood in Tirion, speaking through their minds where no grown-ups could hear them. 

Perhaps it was just as well that he gave up trying to fight their nighttime connection. He did not quite realise how much he would miss Finrod’s dreams in all their guises; before they one day stopped, and never reached him again.

[the-air-nomad]

hi! js wanted to ask would you write like a short fic for yandere-ish yue (based off the one you wrote called when the moon falls inlove) ? when she decides to take reader in the spirit realm?

Time of payment

Your perspective

A long time ago, an unlucky girl from my tribe fell into a spirit's web of lies. The spirit, one of Agni's sons, was banished by his family to earth and forced to live in the cold of the North Pole. Back then, our tribe was not yet a powerful kingdom. Our ancestors lived in isolation in small tribes. When the spirit arrived in the frozen wastes, he felt suffocated by the lack of sunlight and the lack of loyal servants who were more than willing to fulfill his every wish. He began to wander around, and after days, he saw the light of a candle. With an evil grin, he changed his appearance and walked towards the small light source. Reaching a woman holding a small candle, the spirit looked at her with a desperate look. He touched her with a trembling hand and begged her to lend him a helping hand. The woman was scared at first, the person in front of her looked nothing like her peers. He had pale skin and blood-red hair, and his touch was strangely hot for someone who had wandered the icy wastes. Looking into his frightened eyes, the woman doubted and thought that he probably had a fever. She took him into her house, helped him eat and clean himself. And then she invited him to sleep with her. She sat down in the pile of furs and fell asleep. The spirit smiled crookedly at the woman, then left her home and set the whole village on fire. The woman woke up hearing the screams of her friends, left her house and saw the spirit feeding on everyone's souls. She screamed in terror. The spirit looked at her with a strangely sweet grin, bowed its head and said: "No good deed goes unpunished, this is your reward. But don't be afraid, I will take care of you, naive soul".

Where is the irony? Princess Yue told me this story when we were children. I thought she just wanted to scare me, but now I understand that this was her way of warning me. Maybe she wanted to give me a chance to escape. Maybe I deserve my fate because I ignored all the signs until it was too late. Then maybe I would have been able to hide on a ship like a scared mouse. Now no ship will sail at the risk of angering the moon. How comical, or perhaps tragic, a waterbender trying to run away from the moon. And all because I had a good heart and forgave too much. But can you blame me? Who could have realized that the scared little princess would turn into one of the most powerful spirits? Who would have thought that I would end up like a woman from the stories of the elders? Who knows, maybe years from now, the old people will tell my story. And another naive soul will ignore it. Oh, if only I could return to earth. Just two minutes, to warn everyone.

But now it's too late. Yue tricked me. Again. She called me to the edge of the ocean on a starry night, lying that she wanted to apologize by looking into my eyes. She said that if I grant her this favor, I will be free to live my life as I wish. But she was lying, as always. I went to the beach near the ocean. She told me sweet, tearful lies. And then she asked me if I forgive her. I closed my eyes, opened them after some thought and told her I forgive her. She grinned, and in a strangely sweet voice told me she couldn't hear me. Like an idiot, I thought she, the moon itself, couldn't hear me. I spoke louder. And she said again that she couldn't hear me. I started to take steps towards the ocean, each time saying more loudly that I forgive her. Her smile grew with each step and her voice enveloped me like a poisonous mist. I walked forward until my bare feet touched the water, and then I frowned. The water felt as thick as blood, yet as fresh as dewdrops on an Earth Kingdom spring day. I tried to run, to scream, but the water started pulling me like quicksand. I felt like I was drowning in the blood of my ancestors.

When I opened my eyes I could see nothing, but I could see everything at the same time. I couldn't see my body, but I could see the whole world. I could see the ships of the Northern Water Tribe, I could see the volcanoes of the Fire Nation, I could see the Air Nomad disciples, I could see the animals of the Earth Kingdom. But I couldn't see my reflection in the Ocean. Yue had turned me into a star, and forced me to stand in the night sky with her for eternity.

Although I do not own the characters from avatar the last airbender, this work belongs to me! I sincerely hope you liked it. please rate it and leave a comment! follow me to see my next posts! Don’t forget that the request are open💖💖💨

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[stillsolo]

@desiccation moved & cont. from [ x ]

– Teshin does not need to watch Han to notice how restless he is. Hunger gnaws at his stomach too but risking a journey down to the jungle floor was something he would rather avoid. While Teshin was more than capable of defending himself, it was not that which worried him. If the Infested came across him the entire hive-mind controlling them would drag a horde to their location, and not even the tallest branches of the trees would stop them then. – “When the sun rises we must move quickly. If we clear the trees before the Grineer awaken, walking across the plains will be unnecessary.” – How tiring this was for him, and completely unusual. If Han had been any other person from within the system then the chance of Teshin stopping to help him survive were slim. But, Han Solo was something else, for sure. He only hoped that this endeavor would not be for nothing. If there were other worlds out beyond the Sol system then maybe there was hope for the colonies that could not survive under the constant war between factions. – “I recommend trying to sleep, if you can. There is not much time left and you will need your energy.” – Though he does not take his own advice, restlessness is contagious and not even a Dax could be immune. Sitting back on his heels where he kneels, Teshin draws out a single Nikana. His gaze wanders over the blade and looks for the smallest of imperfections across it. Nicks are brought on from cutting through metal and bone alike. Even so, the edge still managed to continue on just fine and serve its purpose. Teshin was almost the same. Sharp and willing to kill, but not without his flaws. – Frowning to himself at the aching reminders of his wrong doings, the weapon is sheathed once more. Stray judgement of himself lead to the conclusion that he is no blade, because unlike the tempered metal, he cannot be mended. – Hearing the distant sound of a departing Eidolon draws Teshin’s attention away from himself and to the land laid out before them. Now there was no time to sleep. Rocking back on his toes Teshin stands up and looks down to Han. Seeing him in a daze and simply staring to the water below makes the Dax wonder if he is going to have to carry him out to the plains. – “It is time to leave.”

             ❝𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴,❞ 𝚂𝙾𝙻𝙾 𝚁𝙴𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙽𝙴𝙳 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙷𝚄𝚂𝙸𝙰𝚂𝙼 𝙾𝙵 𝙰 𝙼𝙰𝙽 who could use several days of uninterrupted sleep.  ❝feels like i’ve been losin’ my mind up here.❞

their descent to the forest floor was as han had predicted: leaden and tedious, more strain than it was worth, really.  by the time his boots hit the parched sod of earth, fresh blood saturated the sleeves of his tunic, blotting up the last of the already faded crème color.  anchored to solid ground, he could feel it now; thick and warm, crimson rivulets streaked down exposed forearms and wet his hands chilled by dawn’s early bite.

SITHFIRE—!  slapdash brushes over the singed fabric of his trousers produced him no favors, as what open wounds that had scabbed over amid the night split anew, dotting red beads over dirtied gashes—a perfect adhesive for dirt and filth.   great.   han wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but if the inhabitants of this backwater planet didn’t land him a snug resting place six feet under, an infection would.        should’ve known better.

although deemed inane in hindsight, han was quick to accuse both hunger and a lack of rest for his disquietude, yet soon found he couldn’t overlook the crash and the injuries sustained upon impact, the blood loss that had driven him to the very brink as he stared down at the dark precipice.  han pushed aside the thought, unwilling to recall balancing atop that razor-thin edge of life and death—a hairsbreadth away from no return—or TRINITY PRIME, and her incomprehensible feat—

   THE ERUPTION OF LIGHT WHICH SWEPT HIS MIND              REBORN, LIKE A PHOENIX, HE’D COME ALIVE AGAIN.

in the wake of stinging pain, crawling self-derision curdled into something borderline venomous.  for the first time since this ordeal began, han longed for the weight of his blaster in his hands, to wrap his fingers around its durasteel grip and welcome the comforting press of security at the back of his mind.

❝don’t suppose your pal could come back ’n patch me up?❞ solo groused as he reared both palms for a quick inspection, flexing flesh torn by the sharp edges of petrified bark.  ❝’been gone an awful long while.❞    they didn’t have much time.    by the look of it, earth’s imminent daybreak was scant minutes away, commencing a forenoon that allowed no sanctuary from the vigilant eyes of THE GRINEER.     first light would bode well for neither of them.

[bltzgore]

Jirra, typically caretaker, a drake shape shifter who appears half drake even in human form clocking in at 6'6, comes back from a job (currently as a hitwoman) too torn up to take care of it herself. Enzo, typically whumpee, a siren type creature standing at 5'10, has to step up when his ex-gladiator-caretaker won't go to medical (like a responsible adult) and almost won't let him touch her.

Tw: gore, wound description, blood, strong languge, (neither of them are human but that doesn't really effect anything), lady whump

Jirra held her head up high as she walked through the compound, and she would let absolutely no one see just how hard that was for her to do.

The edges of her vision were graying significantly, and the floor constantly tried to reach up for her. Jirra just tensed her jaw and kept walking. She didn’t have to worry about being stopped by anyone, no one but North would risk talking with her and she didn’t think he was out wandering the compound this late at night. 

She reached her room and pressed the door open. The force required brought up a spike in pain that almost had control of her voice. Jirra bit down hard on the inside of her mouth, and said nothing. She shoved her way into the room, closed the door behind her to the best of her abilities and almost collapsed. She staggered forward just far enough to reach the adjacent wall, then threw her weight against it before the room spun out from under her feet. 

Jirra wanted to lie down, wanted to sleep beneath the earth like the old gods for the next hundred years, or at least until everything stopped hurting so much. She caught her eyes starting to drift shut and she shook her head trying to cast out the deep and heavy drowsiness that she knew was coming from a dark red place on her torso. 

Jirra needed to clean, and close these wounds before she could sleep. Or she’d get her wish and never wake up. Her healing factor was strong, but it wasn’t strong enough to handle this without some help. So, she looked down at the gear on her chest: jacket, scabbard straps meeting in the middle, armor, then under shirt. Fucking terrific. That didn’t even take into account getting at the bullet wounds on her leg. 

Fuck, everything felt so heavy… 

Jirra snapped her eyes back open, shaking her head again, this time that left the room spinning so much she had to shut her eyes voluntarily and press her head to the wall to keep from collapsing. If she fell she wouldn’t be getting up again, and she didn’t imagine the odds of getting her gun belt and pants off were all that good from the floor. 

Another deep breath stole patches of her vision towards the end as it aggravated cracked ribs, and she decided it wasn’t going to get any easier. Jirra put her weight into her shoulder against the wall and with the other arm reached down for the clasps within range, the one for her gun belt and the scabbard. At least that wasn’t too difficult, the only trouble she faced there was the increasing tremor in her hand. However taking this layer of gear off was another matter altogether. Her jacket had a hole in the back where the straps on her scabbard could pass through, to take the scabbard off she’d have to get her jacket off too. Then there was the gun belt. It wove through the belt loops at her waist and the ladder two clasps were on her legs, too low for her to reach without bending her torso. Something she couldn’t imagine doing just then without blacking out. 

Jirra stopped, leaning into the wall a bit heavier for a moment as her vision blurred of its own accord. She couldn’t do this. She needed to find some easier way to treat this, some temporary solution that she could throw at this mess to buy enough time for her healing factor to kick in. She racked her brain for a quick fix, but there was nothing in her reach, hell, she wasn’t even sure she could reach her own first aid kit. How the hell was she supposed to stitch that shit shut with her vision fucking around?

Her arms bent at the elbow and she fell from holding herself up on her hands to her forearms. Jirra pressed her forehead into the wall, just trying to stop the room from shifting again. It wasn’t working, but there weren’t any other options, if she didn’t dress it she wouldn’t stop bleeding soon enough. 

Jirra shifted back to pressing her side into the wall and felt around for her belt, trying to free it from the loops just enough that she could get free. If she could get the standing stuff out of the way she could sit for the rest, and that would be easier at least. She felt around, trying to pull the gun belt from the loops on her waist. She couldn’t get her muscles to quite cooperate. Jirra felt the buckle catch on one of the loops, her brain was losing traction, she couldn’t quite finagle it properly, and she couldn’t pull it hard enough in her current state to just brute force it. Her brain was about to rush her with another wave of hopelessness when someone said her name from the door. 

“Jirra?”

Enzo? Fuck, she hadn’t heard him come in, not a good sign. Her eyes couldn’t really focus on him, only pick up the vague shape and the smear of colors. What was he doing up? What did he want? Could he see the blood?  

Instead of any of that Jirra managed, “What’re you doin’ ‘ere?” She hadn’t been prepared for how badly her words slurred, even bent downwards into a growl. 

He must have only noticed the growl, because his tone changed rather quickly, “I noticed your door was open a bit and I-I thought you might have gotten back a bit early. I wanted to say hi, but-but if this isn’t a good time I-” He paused, like he had seen something. “Is-is that blood?”

Fuck.

“No.” She managed as clearly as she was able, though she couldn’t tell herself exactly how clear that was. “Fuck off.”

He didn’t.

“Jirra, you’re bleeding.”

Suddenly he had gotten a lot closer. Jirra growled and pissed off her ribs.

“Y-you’re-”

“I said-” she took a break to steady her voice, “Fuck. Off.”

He flinched but only a little, “But you’re hurt. Y-you need to go to the medic.”

“‘Ell no. I deal ‘ith my own shit.” The room was leaning, or maybe she was. Jirra sunk her claws into the wall, to keep from going down. 

Enzo’s breathing picked up as it looked like Jirra was about to fall, then managed to even out a bit as she caught herself. “Well- well, what do you need to do to, you know, fix it?”

Jirra turned back to the wall in an attempt to get her bearings back, “Gotta get the gear ‘ff, ‘n stitch it.” She needed to clean it and cover it too, but explaining that apparently took brain power she didn’t have.

“I could-”

“No.” She was not fucking around this time. She did not let people touch her injuries, not since the ring. Not since she was given a choice. She turned and tugged her claws from the wall, fixing her unfocusing eyes on Enzo and snarling. She meant to tell him to leave again, but half way into turning she lost contact completely. 

When Jirra could see again she was on the floor gasping. Her ribs were on fire, torching any oxygen she managed to get past her mouth. Her leg was ripping itself open with each heartbeat, and then there was the main event. It was burning so bad it was practically numb, but not in a way she couldn’t feel, in a way that was sort of like the pins and needles feeling except with real excruciating pain. Not pins and needles, 3rd degree burns and buckshot. 

Enzo had at some point knelt next to her. He had his hands out like he meant to touch her but he didn’t. “Jirra! Are you-?! Can you hear me?”

She couldn’t quite get her words to work, at least not without some reflexive admissions of pain. So she just nodded. She started shifting one of her arms clumsily arranging it beneath her, looking for a spot to get enough leverage to start climbing off the ground. 

“No! No, stop!”

She looked up again, blinking a few times. 

“Don’t get up, you’ll-you’ll just fall again! Stay there, I’ll get the medical kit, you can tell me what to do.” He stood up and rushed to her dresser, rooting through the second drawer and coming away with the bag. He set it down next to her, and sat back down. 

She was going to fight him on this. She would have. If her arm hadn’t given out the second she had tried to put weight on it. She was stranded, just like she used to be. Back against the wall and too weak to stand, fully at the mercy of the being in front of her. Something about that realization caused her to try and draw on some reserve of energy her instincts thought she still had. She made a movement that was far too fast and sent her nerves reeling and taking her vision with it. 

Jirra snapped back to Enzo panicking and shaking her shoulder. Coming out of that in the state she was in, touch was never welcome, but now it was actively discouraged. Jirra snarled and must have tried to scratch him, because Enzo recoiled with a yelp. That almost put her back under, but she shut her eyes tight and managed to wait it out. 

Opening them this time Enzo was a foot or two away. His body language was still on guard, but his face hadn’t gotten the memo. He looked worried, no, he looked scared. She was scaring him, but not with her claws. 

He reached towards her slowly, “Jirra, you’re really pale.”

She flashed her teeth, growling lowly, but there was nothing left. No fuel left in the furnace. 

So when Enzo’s hand reached her this time, showing her teeth weakly was about all she could do. She closed her eyes, and braced.

Enzo waited a moment, he couldn’t quite detect the tension in her muscles. She just looked unconscious. “Jirra? You’re scaring me. Are you awake?”

She looked back up to him, waiting for what would happen next. 

“O-ok, um I’m going to try and do what you said before, ok?”

When she didn’t answer him he decided to try his luck. He went for her jacket first, and that got a growl, but not a strong one, and no other resistance followed it. So he kept going. Jirra was lying on her side, so he knew he could get one side free, but he wasn’t sure what he was going to do after that. Still, he had to do something. He tried to pull the jacket sleeve off, then went to grab her wrist to help get it free. The second he touched her she flinched violently. Which in turn actually scared him into dropping it. Once he recovered his wits he tried again. But this time Jirra had tucked her arm against her chest to keep it away from him.

“Jirra, I can’t do this alone. I’m trying to help you, but I-I need you to help me too.” 

She let him guide her arm, first away from her chest, then through the sleeve of her jacket. He couldn’t really do much with it past that, so he just kind of let it fall between her back and the wall. 

The body armor was a lot easier, it was just four more clips, two he could reach and two Jirra was lying on, so he left those. As he pulled it to the side the scabbard straps fell away with it. And that just left the undershirt, a black tank top. 

Enzo reached for it and noticed that Jirra’s eyes were open again. She had shut them tight while he’d been pulling the armor and jacket away, as unknown to him he had been jostling her cracked ribs. But she knew what came after the body armor.

Her breathing had picked up, the most defined breathing Enzo had seen from her this entire time. It caused her whole torso to shift, painfully in fact, but she was too on edge to care. Her eyes were shifting between him and his hand, they were so sharp, they looked animal. It was as much threat as it was fear. A warning, if you do this… but there was nothing she could do to stop him like this. Everything hurt, and was far too heavy to move. All she had left was this. 

The first thing Enzo noticed when he touched the shirt, it was wet. He thought it was sweat at first, but then he looked at his fingers. His eyes widened. It was blood. He swallowed and started to peel up the rest of the shirt. As it pulled away from the vaguely coagulating blood Jirra saw white and wretched, making a sound not at all human.

Enzo flinched, stuttering his way through an apology when he finally got to see the extent of the wound on her torso. His breathing sped up, “Oh my God. Oh my God. Jirra-! There’s- there’s so much blood!” 

It was a slash mark, a deep one that started just above the base of her ribcage and traveled down to the left stopping a few short inches above her waist line. He could see the bone of her ribs, and the organs in her stomach. 

“Oh my God!” He clapped a hand over his mouth and looked away. He might be sick.

It might have been seeing it, it might have been seeing Enzo’s response, but something brought sense to the front of Jirra’s very loosely tethered mind. “Stitches ‘n disinfectant.” She muttered through a mouth that felt filled with glue.

That caught Enzo’s attention, and he tried to swallow back his fear, “D-d-disinfectant? W-which one is that?” 

Jirra blinked slowly, trying to clear the fog away, “Clear plastic bottle.”

He picked it up, trying not to notice the blood his fingers left on it, “Ok, I got it. H-how much should I use?”

Jirra’s head was getting heavier, “‘Fuck ton. Jus’ be fast.”

Enzo nodded, shutting his eyes, “Ok, ok, ok.” He had no clue what he was doing. So he took the cap off and just poured it into the slice. 

Jirra hadn’t been ready for that. Her entire body reacted, or tried to. She took a breath on reflex which fired up her ribs. She quickly corrected it, taking shallower ones. The tension in jaw might have cracked a tooth, as she gritted out the only word her mind gave her access to, “Fuck.”

Enzo was so panicked he was almost crying. “I’m sorry! Did I do it wrong?”

Jirra got herself somewhat back under control. “No. Jus’ close it.”

Enzo nodded again, “Stitches, right.” Looking back into the medical kit, he found the thread and the needle. He fumbled with it at first, struggling to thread it. He rubbed the tears from the edge of his eyes then tried to focus. Jirra couldn’t do this on her own, and if he couldn’t- was there time to get North? It didn’t seem like there was. He needed to do this as quickly as he could, then he could get North to fix it or something. Surely he’d know how to fix this. But first he had to close the wound, and stop the blood.

Enzo got a sure grip on the needle, and tried to pick a place to start. He tried to start at the top, but seeing her rib made him a bit nauseous, so he decided to start from the bottom. Sewing flesh was nothing like sewing fabric, something he was quite practiced at. He had to press a bit harder to get the needle all the way through, and the sides of the wound were so far apart that he had to pull them together to make it work, another thing that made him queasy, but he suppressed it after the first few stitches. He wasn’t sure how close to make them. He couldn’t imagine that stitching people was like stitching pillows. Granted he did use a similar stitch to the one he used to use on the pillows. As he pulled it tight and drew the sides together Jirra would groan, and he would immediately fumble apologies and try to be less rough. Then she would slur that she was fine and not to stop. Outside of that, they didn’t speak much. Jirra didn’t seem to want to talk to him, she didn’t even want to look at him, though that could have been the blood loss.

As he finished up he wondered what he was supposed to do next. Disinfecting it again seemed like the right call, so he poured a bit more. Jirra responded, but not much. There was still blood everywhere but he didn’t think cleaning all of that away was immediately life threatening, and possibly a bit more invasive than he felt he should be right then. He figured he was supposed to bandage it, that’s what people did with wounds regardless. He stepped away for a moment to wash his hands then grabbed some gauze and debated between the medical tape and the bandages. When he remembered he couldn’t get Jirra to move enough to actually wrap the bandages he decided on the tape.

He needed more than one square of gauze, and very quickly realized he needed two hands for the medical tape. So he applied the tape to the gauze on one side, then stuck it in approximately the right palace. Once he had the wound covered he went back and secured the gauze properly. 

Jirra had let her eyes close about two stitches in for various reasons, but she hadn’t passed out. As Enzo finished with the bandaging she dragged a few words through her mouth. “Wrap, m’ leg too.”

Enzo looked over to her and nodded, then searched for signs of blood. It was the leg she was laying on. There were two patches of blood on her thigh. That’s why she had gone down on that side. Her leg had given out. 

“I-I’m gonna need you to move to your back. I can’t wrap it like this.”

Jirra nodded, and shut her eyes. Once she managed to shift her weight she crashed rather ungracefully onto her back with a hiss. Enzo made a move to slow it but she was already on the ground by the time he actually reacted. So he turned his attention to her leg, and what he didn’t know were bullet wounds. 

“Can you lift your leg?”

She nodded again, then actually tried. She made it a few inches, then lost steam. But Enzo saw and helped her get it the rest of the way. She set her foot flat against the ground, giving Enzo enough room to get the bandage around her leg. He showered it in disinfectant first, at which Jirra growled, but not at him. Then he placed a few more gauze squares on them and started to wrap it. 

“‘Ake it tight.” She grumbled. 

Enzo paused for a second, “huh?”

Jirra said it again as clear as she could, “Wrap it tight.”

He nodded, “Ok.” And braced against her leg as he pulled it about as tight as he dared, he almost let go when the sudden pain caught Jirra off guard. She grumbled and shifted some of the strain into her shoulders. 

Enzo stopped, “are you ok?”

“‘Es, wrap it- like that.” her voice strained.

Enzo steeled himself, then continued wrapping. He could see her straining against the pain, he tried to speed up, but it didn’t seem to make much of a difference by the time he was done. He sat back, only noticing now how hard he had been breathing, how long had he been shaking? Jirra looked really still to him all of a sudden.

“Jirra?”

Her eyes opened slowly, as she made a low sound of acknowledgement. 

He breathed out, “Ok, good, just checking.” They sat in silence for a few moments until Enzo’s brain reached the inevitable “what’s next?” He looked from Jirra to the bed. Was she going to sleep on the floor? Like this? Half dressed in a pile of blood soaked clothes?

“A-are you going to move to the bed?” 

“Can’t.”

“You can’t sleep down here!”

“Can’t g’t up.”

Well he couldn’t do much to move her on his own. A quick glance at the clock and he decided North was probably sleeping, and Enzo wasn’t sure he was up to waking him. So he glanced towards the bed and decided to improvise. 

He brought Jirra two of her pillows, warning her well in advance before touching the back of her head. Then he dragged over a blanket. He had deliberated for a while over which one to bring. He knew she was particular about her blankets, she liked to keep her nice ones clean. She wouldn’t want blood on them. So he picked the one he found on the ground near the foot of the bed. He draped it very carefully over her, then headed for the door. He looked back and before he turned the lights off he had another one of those moments where she looked too still to be alive, and his heart dropped into his stomach as he scrambled over to check her breathing. It was shallow, but steady. Still he sat against the wall for a bit, just to make sure. He kept telling himself just another five minutes. But five minutes turned into twenty which turned into falling asleep against the wall. 

[knighteclipsed]

engagements.

His attendance of the ball was one that took much deliberation.

On the one hand, the joy of nights like these rarely touched him, and to say he would ever wish to attend one pure of heart would be far too kind to one such as himself.

On the other, he had a feeling he would know at least a few of the faces present—and if such were the case, he would certainly enjoy being a bother.

(This is an occasion to dress nicely; you don’t like going without armor.)

It’s a back and forth of ideas, motivations, determinations to be had, but at last, he decides. He would attend the Ethereal Ball.

A part of him wonders what would’ve occurred if he had stayed, but the ball is not in Garreg Mach—rather it is an open roof affair, with puppeteers watching, not too unlike the dollhouse deed with Kurthnaga. He looks up at the five watching, getting the innate sense that somehow, he was bound to the last of Air, Water, Lightning, Fire, and Earth. His gaze narrows in their direction, before embracing the dance floor as another battlefield where he could not be restrained.

Prompts:

Week 1: ‘Getting Acquainted’: No longer accepting.

Week 2: ‘Schmoovin’ and Groovin’’: No longer accepting.

Week 3: ‘Of Magic’: No longer accepting.

Flowers:

Air: Sigurd, Maria, Anankos

Earth: Kurth

Fire: Freyja, Cadros

Lightning: Altena

Water: Forysth

Valter will mostly be wandering about, not really dwelling in one spot for too long—if he does stay still for a while, it’d likely be to bother someone in particular, or it’d be in a spot far from prying eyes. I won’t say he’s open to interaction, but if someone approached him (and he doesn’t already have an unfavorable opinion of them), he’s not gonna be a huge problem. Probably.

Outfit

Certainly the most extravagant of the three. While normally I lean towards green for his outfits (especially in picrews), I had the sense to give him his purple back for this—he’s an intimidating lad after all! Also, I have a billion ideas about this rolling through my head, so here’s the finer details that are harder to make out/are obscured:

Much of the outfit has wyvern motifs. The pattern on his shirt is of a wyvern mid-flight, with little wavy designs around it to make it look cooler :sparkles:. The pins(? idk what to call them) on his jacket are also designed to look like wyverns, where the claws hold the chains in place.

The red marks on the jacket are meant to imitate claw marks, with a set over his left shoulder and another set on his right cutting into the lower torso. The shoulders of the dress shirt also have similar marks, albeit not as colorful. The back of the dress shirt has a pupil-less eye on it, just for the heck of it.

The jacket is also purposefully over-sized. I initially had the thought to make it properly sized so he could wear it if he wanted to, but that’d look sort of strange with the next detail + over-sized jackets make neat capes y’know?

He’s wearing metal bracers on his forearms. It definitely does not protect his vitals, but it does help if he gets into a fight where his arms would risk being damaged. It’s not likely (<--- false), but it’s always best to be prepared.

Yeah he’s got knives in his shoes. They sit underneath the sole such that he can easily pull them out, but they aren’t too obvious to on-lookers. Shout-out to Oro for giving me the idea months ago! Valter is a boot wearer and that’s how it came out.

Those are about all the details present that aren’t super visible/aren’t shown at all, so yeah! Smth smth rich people smh

[fallen2iren]

𝓑enefits!

🍸🩸⛓️

You are the ultimate forbidden fruit, the one that everyone knows they shouldn't touch, but can't help themselves from craving. Your presence alone is enough to make hearts race and minds wander into dangerous territory. People are drawn to you like moths to a flame, fully aware of the risks, yet unable to resist the pull you have on them. You are the kind of beauty that defies logic, making people forget their morals and boundaries, willing to cross any line just to be closer to you.

They see the warnings, they know the risks, but when it comes to you, red flags and impurities simply don’t exist. You are the exception, the one who makes even the most rational person lose their sense of right and wrong. Your charm is intoxicating, so much so that those around you become obsessed, their thoughts consumed by you day and night. They can’t escape you; your influence is too powerful, too all-encompassing.

Like the Joker to Harley Quinn in Suicide Squad, you are the one who drives others to madness, making them do things they never thought they would. Your beauty and presence are like a drug, something they can’t get enough of, no matter the cost. You are the forbidden desire that everyone craves, the one that makes them throw caution to the wind and lose themselves completely in the obsession that is you.

You make people question everything— their boundaries, their choices, even their sexuality. Your allure is undeniable, so strong that it makes them lose control, leaving them captivated by every aspect of you. They find themselves going further than they ever imagined, just to be near you.

You walk into any room and instantly become the center of attention. Your confidence and allure are undeniable, making everyone around you fall under your spell. It feels as though you have a magical charm that captivates and commands admiration from everyone you encounter.

You have a beauty that stands out and makes a strong statement. It’s the kind of beauty that attracts attention but keeps others at arm’s length. Like Angelina Jolie and Megan Fox, you radiate a powerful charm that demands respect. Your presence is so striking and unforgettable that people can’t help but admire you from a distance.

You possess a feline beauty that makes you look like you were born on the moon (Similar to girls shown here). Your allure is so extraordinary and enchanting that it feels as though you’re too stunning to be from Earth. Your appearance is otherworldly, radiating a grace and elegance that captivates everyone and makes it clear that you belong to a realm beyond the ordinary.

Everyone wonders how you always manage to stay untouched and unaffected, even in situations where others might face criticism or backlash. No matter what happens, you remain immune to being canceled by society. Your poise and status protect you, allowing you to emerge unscathed.

[maskyartist]

Gonna ramble a bit here (pls note this is a joint AU between myself and my lovely wife @rexidot they give me such wonderful Oscar content to go with my Ozpin)

I’d add a read more but I’m on mobile so enjoy a long ass text posr

Ozpin found Oscar as a baby left at the steps of Beacon Academy by his aunt. The day Oscar’s parents died, his aunt instead realized she simply didn’t have the resources to care for the baby. During a trip to Vale, mostly to find a proper orphanage for the boy as Mistral wasn’t known to be too kind to the homeless especially a baby as fragile as Oscar, she decided to hope some kind student or teacher would stumble across the boy.

Instead, he was found by a sleep deprived overworked Headmaster who, without much thought beyond “I wonder if his parents will return…”, took the baby with him as he headed home for the night.

Oscar grew up with Ozpin so naturally he’s been in the know on Huntsmen and all the fairytales, but not so much on the actual threat looming. He can tell his Pops has a lot on his shoulders so he does his best to help!

He’s actually at Beacon during the very beginning, often shadowing his father while he wanders the school, or bringing teachers supplies n such. He’s a happy lil errand boy cause it makes him feel like he’s taking a load off his dads shoulders!

Eventually, though, as the Fall of Beacon approaches and Pyrrha is chosen as the next Fall Maiden, Ozpin tells Oscar everything. Not too much, but enough to count him as one of his inner circle. About Salem, about himself, about the Maidens… It’s a lot to take in, there’s a lot of back and forth

Eventually Ozpin tells Oscar regardless of what he knows, this is not his fight. He wants him to keep himself out of the loop for now.

“Let me keep you safe just a bit longer…” He whispers, holding his sons hands with a furrowed brow. “Please.”

Oscar is trained from a rather young age to defend himself. He even has his own weapon, having gone to Signal like Ruby and crafting it himself. It’s called Forget-me-Not, inspired by Long Memory.

(Weapon details by @rexidot again) Forget-me-Not is normally a cane that can be extended to the length of a bowstaff. When collapsed as a cane, it can be used as a gun as well, specifically firing Dust filled rounds. However, instead of being offensive, it takes a more defensive approach.

Oscar is fragile and as such his fighting style is very defensive, again much like his dad. The Dust is often used for distractions. Smokescreens, small flurries of snow, large roots embedded into the ground or cracking earth to stumble his opponents until he finds a good opening.

Oscar actually fights during the Fall of Beacon, joining his father along with Jaune and Pyrrha into the chamber. The duo fought off Cinder best they could but when the tower began to crumble, Oscar used the time to escape with his father in tow.

Long Memory was forgotten in the rush, and as such, when Qrow arrived…he assumed the worst. Carrying the cane with him as he exited the rubble filled chamber.

After the Fall of Beacon, Ozpin takes Oscar and himself to the only safe place left. Back to his aunt, who Ozpin managed to find and contact years ago. After explaining the situation, she was allowed back into Oscar’s life as a distant relative. She was just glad to have him back and Ozpin was happy not to lose his son.

They lingered for some time, the trio falling into a routine as Ozpin thought through his next plan of attack. There’s no way to contact Qrow as his Scroll was damaged during the fight, and without Long Memory the trek would be tough, even with a temporary cane Oscar’s aunt was able to carve for him. Plus there’s the matter of leaving Oscar here-

Which Oscar himself doesn’t allow. He wants to come with him. He wants to stay. He’s sick of waiting in the wings, he wants adventure. And Ozpin can’t help but oblige. He loves his son, and if he knows the risks, Ozpin will do his best to keep him safe. Even though Oscar can defend himself just fine, it’s never wrong to be safe.

That’s about all we got rn but I will add a few lil notes below for some ✨spice✨

- Ozpin unintentionally faking his own death causes Cinder to spread false info to Salem. When she hears he’s alive from Leonardo by volume 5, she is not happy.

- Leonardo was horrified to see Ozpin enter his office with that kindly smile and that limp of his worse then ever. All Ozpin said was that he was glad the tea set he gifted him was getting put to good use.

- By the time they get to Atlas, it takes a long time for Ozpin to drill into Ironwood’s head that for once! He has no plan! He’s…clueless as to what to do next. He can only fake it for so long.

- Qrow decks the shit outta Oz during the reveal of his past. The whole Brunswick farm has Oscar silently glaring at him while Oz makes himself scarce. He’d prefer less attention as is.

- Yes there’s Cloqwork yes it’s got fluff yes it’s got angst I am here to PROVIDE

That’s all I got thanks :)

lil break doodle before i get back to the commission grind

actively missing Ozpin has me wanting Dadpin Lives content so expect me to be super annoying while i try to figure out a design