#ash leaving was like. whatever. it felt like they had ran out of steam with him by the end of journeys but idrc if he stayed or left either

[moonscape]

really do think it says a lot that my mutuals who haven't watched every episode of the pokemon anime are like yeah team rocket were great i loved them as a kid ^_^ meanwhile people like me emery and zactoshi who have seen every single episode have our fucking faces melting off because of team rocket overexposure

[warrenwitches3]

Chapter one

The maiden fair and wise opened her eyes to be greeted by an old looking mirror, holding flame of green like wild trees.

Ah, my dear esteemed benefactor…

‘Huh, who’s speaking?’

My proud, beautiful flower of evil.

‘Is it..the mirror’

You are truly the fairest one of all.

‘Where am I, is this one of Barons tricks?’

O magic mirror, thy wisdom I entreat…

Reveal unto me the visage I seek…

‘It sounds like it’s casting a spell

You, whose image the dark mirror did beckon forth…

If you heart buds it, take the hand of the one reflected in the mirror.

A hand reached out from the reflective surface willing the swan to hold it dearly

‘I have a desire to hold this hand’ and hold it she did, the two hands male and female grasped each other in an embrace of strangeness and curiosity. The mirror flickered.

As flame refuses even the stars to ash.

It showed a fire, burning of destruction and comfort.

As ice seals away even time itself.

Ice that holds a memory of fear and desperation.

As great trees swallow even the sky.

Earth swaying with beauty.

Fear not the power of darkness.

The hand held her tighter and her skin seemed to ache.

Common now, show me your power.

‘I have none but this curse I’m afraid’ all her words became trapped in her mind as her voice would not bare to interrupt the stranger.

We only have a little bit of time left.

All started to fade.

At all costs, do not let go of that hand.

She gripped it tighter fearing for if she lets go she would fall into a place much worse then now.

The soft fabric of the cramped space gave the girl a small amount of comfort, the thing she was in was very small not giving her room to extend her arms nor twist her body.

‘Whats going on.. where am I?’ She tried to push forward on the enclosure that was trapping her but nothing moved, not even allowing a crack of light to enter her space.

“I better hurry up and find that uniform before someone spots me...” a voice spoke from outside of her imprisonment, a squeaky voice.

“A, child..?” She let out a murmur her, voice coming of a bit starchy from not using it and squawking.

“Urgggh... This lid weighs a ton! Try this on for size! Mya-ha!” Suddenly hot steaming blue fire, one she’s only seen the dark sorcerer Baron use, had blown the lid of her confinement. She stumbled out with the flames only slowing their heat to touch her for a moment, leaving no traces it was ever there apart from the smoking lid.

“Fire!? Dark magic fire!” She panicked but all she saw was a weasel cat like creature.

“Now to grab the good- HEY! You ain’t supposed to be awake!” It yelled at her from its place on the ground. The thing had a grey coat of fur and white fluff in the middle with blue flames emitting from the ears, and a tail that looked like a pitchfork.

“The weasel talks..” she stated to no one but herself, her confusion, shock and a small amount of fear all mixing together to make an unnamed emotion settle in her.

‘Why am I shocked..? I turn into a swan when dawn makes her presence’

“How... How DARE YOU! I am no WEASEL! I'm Grim, sorcerer extraordinaire! Tch. Whatever. You...human! Just gimme your uniform, and be quick about it!”

‘And it wants to undress me as-well.. does this thing have no manners?!’

“If ya don’t your gonna regret it” he seemed to be ready to strike her down, even if she made no offensive moves towards him.

“You don’t even know if I have any under clothes on and you ask me to undress?!, how impolite” her tone held words used only to defend herself yet this animal went in for a strike of flames, and that’s when she realised that maybe being rude to another dark sorcerer while already being cursed isn’t a good idea so she ran.

Running hasn’t left her breathless in along time so she arrived to what appeared to be a library holding and ever continuing amount of books, like actually ever continuing, some books just kept coming through with no one there to restock them.

“More magic..” she felt dread in her. ‘What if I’m in a sorcerers lair? What if that animal back there was a henchman of Baron, what’s going on??’ The poor girl was left confused until said animal burst through the doors after her and her clothing.

“Foolish human! Did you really think you could slip away from ME?” the little beast had found her and cornered her inside the library. “Now, unless you wanna get burned to a crisp, take off that—“

Something suddenly wrapped itself around the cats neck halting it from further aggression.

“YEOW! That hurt! What gives!” It started strangling around in its capture wanting its previous sense of freedom.

“Consider it tough love.” A man with a crow like mask that covered half his face appeared reprimanding the beast.

‘Now he definitely seems like a dark sorcerer’ everything thing in past experiences was telling her to run but she couldn’t move, especially not when the man set his eyes on her.

“Ah, I've found you at last. Splendid. I trust you're one of this year's new students?” ‘New student..? I’m not a student, is this an academy?’

“My, were you ever eager to make your debut. And bringing a poorly trained familiar with you? That is a clear violation of the school's rules.” He tugged at the rope that bound Grim the creature, who seemed aggravated by being called a familiar.

“Oh sir, he’s not mine I don’t-“

“As if I'd serve some lowly human! Now lemme go!” Grim struggled uselessly against his restraints once again not changing the fact that he was captured.

“Yes, yes. Rebellious familiars always say that. Do be quiet for a bit, won't you?” The crow man did not seem to be very pleased when he turned to the girl with a tired look.

“Dear me. Of all the students I've dealt with, you're the first with temerity enough to open their own gate and step out of it.Does the very notion of patience elude you?No matter. Your orientation has already begun. Let us return to the Mirror Chamber.”

The girl was now experiencing only one emotion in the moment, confusion. “Gate..?”.

“You awakened in a room full of gates, did you not?” If he meant the floating coffins then she nodded.

“All of the students here at the campus arrived by passing through such gates. Although typically the students have restraint enough to wait until I open them before waking up.”

“So the floating coffins are the gateways..?”

“The design is intended to symbolize a parting with your former world, and a rebirth into a new one.”

‘Rebirth into a new life..is my curse really still untaxed then, it’s only night so I really can’t tell, but..’ how she hoped it was true.

“But now is not the time for such prattle. You've a student orientation to attend! Go on, now. Make haste.” He turned away from her to walk before she spoke again.

“First can you tell me where I am?” She knew it was risky asking a sorcerer such type of question but she would like to know.

“Hm? Have you not fully regained consciousness?The timespace teleportation must have addled your memories...” he trailed off “Well, these things happen, I suppose. I shall explain it to you while we walk. Truly, my graciousness is boundless”

‘He makes it sound like he’s the king of the world’ the maiden gave a subtle roll of her eyes and walked forward with the man.

“This is Night Raven College.” ‘College?’ “It is an institution for students the world over who demonstrate a rare aptitude for magic.” ‘So I was right this is something of great sorcery’

“It is the most prestigious academy of its sort in all of Twisted Wonderland. And I am Dire Crowley. Having been entrusted with its care by the chairman, I serve as headmage.”

“An academy of magic..?” Her face was drowned in confusion and she kept swimming down the river called fear.

“Only those who the Dark Mirror perceives as having a talent for magic are admitted to the college. Those who are selected are summoned to the campus through those "gates," which can appear anywhere. A black carriage bearing one such gate should have come to meet you.” Headmaster Crowley answered her.

“I do remember a phantom carriage with no rider and only horrific horses..” she still remembered the splash of water when she hit the ground, or the door opening with no one to greet her but a coffin.

“That black carriage serves to receive a student chosen by the Dark Mirror. It too bears a gate that connects to this campus. And as you know, sending a carriage to meet someone on a special day is a time-honored tradition.” Grim started to talk in a muffled sense although drowned out by his restraints.

“But I bare no magical talent headmaster Crowley-“ he seemed to not hear her and went in his way.

“Now then, let us attend you orientation” and off they all went, in a silence that left unattended questions in the air.

NOTE: yay! Finished chapter one so I hope it’s to people’s liking this is not like edited as I’m doing this all my self and I’m confident it makes sense. I’ve also decided with the help of someone that Malleus will be the final love interest as I does make more sense. I don’t really have an update plan as I sometimes lose motivation for things but I’ll try to attest have one chapter a week it’s not a promise though, I’m quite exited to write yuu in her swan form, I think I’m still gonna make her a student so imagine a swan showing up to a potions class trying to learn. I think it’ll be funny, also gonna have to get someone like silver to translate for her since he’s good at talking to animals, anyway I don’t wanna spoil much but have a nice day everyone!!

[mondayrobot]

120-Day Fanfiction List (M)

A collection of my recommended Eren/Mikasa fanfictions for the first one-hundred and twenty days of the year.

Warning: The contents contain adult themes.

Rating: Mature

A Prompt for a Romp by Timid Mew

A bunch of short stories compressed together in one big pile. All of which are EreMika and AruAni.

Across Realities by BladeOfRain

Eren stands on Paradis Island as its saviour. Yet he could not help but question if the sacrifices he had made were worth it. They were free, but his demons still haunted him. He was ready to let go, but a second chance sparked hope inside him, hope that he had not felt for a long time. In this new reality, he strives to protect those he had lost and protect the future of Paradis.

After It's All Done by somecatastrophe

In another life, there was no one waiting on the other side of the sea. Thus Eren Jaeger and Mikasa Ackerman get to live the peaceful and domestic life they always wanted.

Came Out Swinging by fevversinherhair

Nine months ago, Eren Jaeger and Mikasa Ackerman fought for the first time. Eren pursues his MMA career, Mikasa goes off to college. When his first big amateur match brings them back together, old memories and new feelings muddle the issue.

Encounters by rainycliff213

Mikasa had not expected to find a creature like him, supposedly extinct for millennia, wandering in the same woods as her. The monsters had for centuries terrorized humanity, and it seemed she was the next victim.

Yet, after her escape, it seemed that neither the princess nor the monster could shake their encounter.

fide et amor by hellsiren @zoldyckvevo

drabbles. Eren, Mikasa, and a different kind of love.

Four Years by Kaekiro @kaekiro

A collection of drabbles that center around Eren and Mikasa's life after running away together.

Hearts afire by Sharinganblossoms

Collection of eremika snippets exploring the spectrum from canonverse to AU.

In another life by Sharinganblossoms

In a world without walls and burden and dreadful fate their paths collide once again.

Matrimony by waddlestreet

A marriage of convenience between Azumabito Princess, Mikasa Ackerman and General of Eldian army, Eren Jaeger.

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore by ygrittewildthing @ackermanstyle

Historia Reiss could not have approached Mikasa Ackerman with the idea of joining a band at a better time. After a falling out with Armin Arlert and Eren Jaeger, Mikasa decides to take her up on her offer joining alongside Ymir Langnar (bassist), Sasha Blouse (drummer), and Annie Leonhart (guitarist). With their new keyboard player and lyricist, they set off on a journey that takes them away from their hometown. After winning the battle of the bands, they scored a record deal. As they set out to record their first album, their past begins to catch up to them.

my most beloved by misswongs

Within the false reality he's created, in a cabin that encompasses all of the selfish desires he'll never have, Eren makes sure Mikasa is happy. She’s here, and for a quiet, fleeting eternity, she’s his.

Mysterium by dialectus @dialectus

She sees him change, he sees her grow. After discovering a piece of the world to call their own, two troubled souls find solace in each other

Never again by iliankasmoulinka91 @ili-akkaman

On the verge of death, they both regret what could have been but was never. But there is always an afterlife.

Oath by StormyInk

She didn't want to leave Eren but her past had caught up with her and she refused to let those shadowy fingers reach him, refusing to keep putting him in danger, even if it meant tearing herself out of his life. "Are you coming?" Levi asked her & she looked away from the boy who'd saved her life all those years ago. It was time to keep the oath she'd made. "Yes. I am."

On a Beautiful Mountainside, I Love You by sentimentalblue @isayamasideblog

How easy it was to run. Runaways. That’s what they are.

Sight Beyond Sight by Timid Mew

Mikasa ponders over the loss of her sight, making her feel isolated and detached. Eren, however, quickly shows her that even though she's lost the use of her eyes, she still has him.

Somewhere Impossible and Lovely by rainycliff213

Could they escape it all, if they ran away? Would a life in peace be worth it?

Stress Relief by Pepin-Bones

Soldiers lead stressful lives, which means they need ways to unwind and cope with the stress of what they see and what they do - sometimes in unconventional ways. But Eren thinks it's ridiculous, or at least he did...

Teenagers by theothardus

In a world of no Titans, they would be normal, and normal teenagers might snuggle up, and Mikasa might be the one to make the first move.

The Journey by adieemus

Running away to the edge of the world with her lover, makes a soldier wonder how to get back living in her own body, after holding another in her arms for one night.

The Life I Wished For You by Timid Mew

Eren never expected to find a woman tucked away in the dark depths of a deep cave when finding shelter from the rain. He also never expected her to be a mythical creature only depicted in books.

the way home by bacondestiny @@inbothourhandsgloria

Eren crosses the ocean on the backs of his Colossals.

They can swim; he cannot. This body is too huge, too dense. He has arms but they’re useless. He has legs but they drag after him. He scuttles along the ground on his hundreds of protruding ribs. He feels them puncture the soil, the sand. Rocks scrape against the exposed bone, and when he stands on the blisteringly hot exposed muscle of his Titans, the water steaming up around, it would be enough to char if it weren’t for his healing. He’s kept on the brink of burning, unable to let the heat kill his nerves.

It hurts.

But it only lasts a few hours.

And while the steam still burns, while the pressure on the points of his ribs is odd and painful, now, it is time for others to hurt —

—“Mikasa,” Eren says, shaking her awake. “Mikasa, wake up.”

this love we share by MintToy @minttoy

She loves him and he loves her back. On the surface, it seems easy, but she knows in some dark crevice of her mind, that even though love is selfish – escaping to these mountains was selfish – it is also good.

Her source of strength. The root of his humanity.

Time will come when it will teach her to grow, too.

Through Thick and Thin by Moonstars (Flamingo27)

Eren is a university student with a bright future ahead in the field of medicine, very much like his father. At the same time, Mikasa is a student in the same university, specifically in the nursing school. Just like the green-eyed boy, she is very much considered a genius in her department. When the two met, they fell in love and it was widely known in the university for both of the students had a promising future in their respective fields.

However, a sudden revelation had shattered both of their future plans: Mikasa’s unexpected pregnancy.

Till Death Do Us Apart by misswongs

Through the confined expansions of the wood that it's made of, through the grass, the trees, the birds soaring in the skies, they feel each other. They exist for one another, holding on to whatever is left of their fragmented bodies and withered souls—for everyone will be bone and ashes soon but they're still here, still flesh and blood, still alive.

Still alive.

And for now, just for now, it's enough.

we'll never be those kids again (but we can try) by rilakkuma5 @uhhstar

She had hoped this would happen differently. In an ideal world, it would have. They’d have been blushing and fumbling. Awkward laughter. Unsure hands. Soft kisses. All of it. In an ideal world, this would have played out like her fantasies—tender and loving.

But the world is ending. For the umpteenth time. She’s lost count.

What Ifs by qeen124

"I love you, Eren."

She gasped as soon as the words came out of her mouth. There was a sense of relief, followed by a wave of panic. She kept her eyes fixed on the ground. Suddenly, she saw his shoes step closer to hers, and felt his fingers lift her chin up, allowing her dark eyes to settle into his.

He didn't speak a word but what he did next was more than enough as a response.

Your one and only Dark Knight by kuchenackerman @kuchenackerman

In the daytime I’m Eren. Just a normal boy with a normal boring life. But there’s something about me that no one knows yet. Emphasis on yet. ‘Cause I have a secret. No, but seriously, can I at least tell her? It's so unfair...

You can also check out: 2020 Eremika Fanfiction Masterlist

[spoiler1001]

🥺 widomauk

It starts, as all bad things do, with counting. Molly could do that much. He counted many things. Molly counted his money. He counted heartbeats. Counting shouldn’t be that hard to do.

But when his eyes are filled with tears and words and screams are trapped in his throat.

Red daisy petals fell from his lips.

In this world, there were many flower curses. One flower kind for each kind of curse. Pink roses for heartbreak, violet chrysanthemums for betrayals, Black roses for grief, and red Daisies for guilt. Apparently, the Wildmother did not care too much for strong emotions, or she cared too much and it brought out her magic.

Red daisy petals fell from his mouth, suggesting a pang of deep guilt. Molly had no idea what he would be guilty of. Sure, he did many bad things, hurt way too many people.

This train of thought lead Molly to sit down and just start counting his sins. The first few… dozen were easy to get to, then a name came up. Caleb Widogast. Then it came up again and again. It pulled more and more petals from him, mixing with tears.

The world of gods and miracles were supposed to be a wondrous thing, but molly saw what it did to Yasha. She had her own curse of the black petals. Hers was not as devastating as his was. Yasha’s curse only flared up under stress and faded as she took frequent breaks. It came in waves for her, but Molly felt like he was underwater. The last time he had felt like that, he had pulled himself from his own grave.

The wizard tried to help. Molly knew that Caleb noticed that something was wrong. He tried to talk to Molly but there…

Molly had started pulling away from the group when he had found the first petal. Things got real to him after that. It had started as just an emotion that clawed at him. The flowers just made it something he couldn’t run away from. He knew that he had guilt about betraying-

Caleb did not give his love freely. Caleb’s love and trust were something that had to be nurtured and developed. Molly was pulling away and hurting that trust. It was just adding to the guilt feeding the flowers in his soul. If Molly kept going he might hurt the wizard in ways that would not heal. With that thought, molly could feel the flower grow stronger. The curse was so visceral, and it seemed to number his days.

Molly, for all of his virtues, was never one to apologize. So he decided to start packing a bag to try to wait this out, no matter how this ended. It was good that he had managed to convince the group to let him have his own room.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door.

“Hello,” Molly yelled through the door from across the room.

“Mr. Mollymauk, we have something we need to discuss.” A heartbreakingly familiar voice answered through the door. Dammit. The wizard that haunted his thoughts.

Molly swallowed through the flower and walked to the door, opening it slowly.

Caleb looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.

Of course, molly was sure that he did not look much better.

“What do you think we should discuss, love?” Molly cleared his throat and tried to smile through the exhaustion. It was almost painful to look Caleb in the eye but it was the least he could do.

Caleb did something that Molly hadn’t expected.

“What is poisoning you?” Caleb asked, his tone soft and understanding. Caleb’s hand was raised to cup Molly’s face. Molly leaned into the touch and his purring was muffled. A few seconds passed before Molly pulled away, desperate to not answer the question.

Unfortunately, Molly did not have a choice in the matter. He coughed and a whole daisy came up and fell onto the floor. Molly hoped that Caleb hadn’t noticed. Of course, that was almost insulting, because it’s Caleb.

Caleb picked it up, careful as to not break it like it was a delicate piece of glass. He ran his finger over the petals, and the magic of the flower seemed to grip onto his thumb.

“Guilt.” Caleb almost whispered. It was the loudest thing that Molly ever heard.

“...Yes.” Molly nodded. Caleb let magic build up in his fingers, burning the flower away.

“How long?” Caleb let his eyes wander from the ash of the flower to Molly.

Molly just shrugged. It was a question that had a lot of answers.

Quiet took over the moment.

“I forgive you,” Caleb whispered, breaking the silence. Molly was confused and shocked. All he could do is blink.

“Whatever you did, I forgive you.” (‘Even if I know what is literally eating you alive’ was left unsaid.) Caleb gave him a sad smile.

“I hope that stays true.” Molly looked away.

“You have done nothing that doesn’t deserve forgiveness.”

“I hurt a lot of people I care about. I failed them.” petals upon petals fell from his mouth in clumps, clearing his throat as he was confronting the source of his guilt.

“All of us have, Mollymauk,” Caleb responded. There were barely hidden tears in his eyes. “You are the only person that blames you, Mollymauk.”

Molly took a deep break, coughing up more of the flower, with tears streaming down his face, the tears steaming in the cool air.

“I can’t let go of what happened. You want to know what is poisoning me? It’s your blood on my hands.” Molly wiped the tears away.

“None of that is on you.” Caleb walked towards Molly.

“I forgive you for leaving the group, and if it will help, I will forgive you for Lucien.” Caleb cupped Molly’s face. “I can forgive you. Forgive yourself.”

“I don’t want to die, Caleb,” Molly whispered, his voice was raspy and had more air than anything.

“I know. Just let me in, forgive yourself. Stay.”

“Don’t leave.”

“Never.”

[rugbypolycule]

what more could you do

pairing: arisu ryouhei x karube daikichi

characters: karube daikichi, arisu ryouhei

rating: general audiences, no warnings apply

words: 1788

summary: freshly dropped out of university and knee-deep in depression, arisu ryouhei breaks up with karube daikichi with no explanation. months later, unable to deal with the fallout, arisu goes to his apartment. wounds that have yet to fully scab over reopen.

ao3 link

Karube didn’t need Arisu. In spite of his poignant absence, the sun still rose every empty morning and set at frigid night. The cold still crept through the cramped apartment, through the creaking floorboards and in-between cracks in not quite sealed windows. The earth turned, it turned, and it turned without Arisu. In this, there was no argument.

So, Karube didn’t need Arisu. If the suffocating world outside his slowly encroaching walls continued its screaming persistence, then Karube too would refuse to bow out. He would grit his teeth, hunch his shoulders in his too-thin jacket, desperately not recalling an exasperatedly fond voice that would nag him to dress warmer. He would curse as he woke up to flecks of snow on his window pane and wrestle with his useless heater. He would not ache for the childlike wonder of someone who was no longer there.

Eventually, the snow would melt. The man who had left would take the rent money with him, and Karube would have to figure out where else he could take up space. Karube would go to work in a run-down bar in the sticky heat of the coming summer, cicadas filling the silence in his mind where a plan for the rest of his life should sit. Karube Daikichi would be, in all senses of the word, alive.

Even so, his chest was empty – so he filled it with tar. Karube was never particularly interested in smoking before the hole in his life abruptly dug itself. Now, the nicotine numbed the disquiet in his head, and his throat burned, and for a brilliant moment nothing felt real. For mere seconds, he could shed the sense of loss that hung around him like a bad smell. He tried his best to heave his heavy hurt out with every exhale, to no avail. He kept smoking, kept treading the smouldering ashes into the concrete beneath his boots outside his apartment building. Kept telling himself this was the last one, that this would be the last time he allowed himself to feel like this.

Eventually, the pack emptied. His hands trembled with it, fingers clenched around cool air. Pressure blossomed in the centres of his upturned palms, stomach knotted, the spaces between his ribs drawn tight.

He shoved his frostbitten fists in his pockets, steeled himself to face a space that was not his home. But as his eyes followed his cloud of exhale, they caught on a figure on the other side of the empty street.

Karube Daikichi realised he did not need a heart.

What was the point of a muscle which tore so easily? Which couldn’t regulate its sole function when it was confronted with such devastating eyes? His heart, this useless lead pump in his chest, that supplied blood to his forsaken limbs. To the legs that would halt for nothing tangible on this earth as they made their way towards Arisu. Like a pitiful asteroid in its hapless orbit around a star, Karube fell into place in front of the man who had left him.

‘Daikichi,’ was all it took to break him. To snap the thin wire that ran from head to heart, built to forbear embarrassment in times like these.

‘Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that anymore.’ His voice was abrasion in the quiet evening air. Arisu, tensed and taught, raised his hands in cautious surrender.

‘Sorry. Karube, then. Karube.’

There was always something wounding in the way Arisu said either of his names. As if it was something precious. As if he hadn’t swirled the taste of it in his mouth and resolutely spat it out at Karube’s feet. It made him feel untethered, strings cut all at once and without warning.

‘You kept paying the rent. You left, without telling why, and you never stopped paying the rent. Do you think I need your pity, Arisu? Do you think I need your father’s money?’

Part of Karube wanted to spit more poison at Arisu. To ask if living as a constant disappointment to his father was really so much better than living with Karube. To ask if he really did hate him that much, that he would run to someone who had never tried to understand him, who never tried to love him. Karube had given him so much love. Why did he throw it away?

‘It’s not pity. I would never pity you.’ Arisu’s speech was often soft and hesitant, but in this statement there was an unmistakable firmness.

‘So then fucking explain! You left, Arisu.’

‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’

‘Why do you keep apologising? If you’re really that sorry then just…’

‘Just what?’ And his eyes. Glassy with unshed tears and rimmed with red from many previous. Arisu was a man exhausted. That his spine was curled forward, that his shoulders almost grazed his ears made him seem smaller and more fragile than Karube had ever known him to be.

The useless muscle in his chest constricted itself again. Karube’s veins throbbed with it. Had he ever really known Arisu? Had he ever meant anything to him? He bit his tongue to stifle the pathetic question he so miserably needed to ask. But brittle eyeteeth could only do so much against a brain on fire.

‘It’s not fair. None of this is… is fucking fair, Arisu,’ and he makes a fist around the urge to reach out, to touch his frost-reddened cheek, to gentle a thumb at the thin skin of his eyelids. He buried such bile once again in the pockets of his worn jeans, glared at the pavement like it would fix any of this. And he had to clench his diaphragm, swallow once, twice, to kill the sob that clawed its way up his throat. He could feel Arisu’s stare itching at his scalp.

‘I’m sorry. I’m- fuck I’m so sorry, Karube. Please,’ and the waver in his words stuck like needles in his skin, ‘you have to know that I’m sorry. It’s all my fault.’

And all too suddenly, a hand cupped his cheek. It was the cruellest thing in the world, the warmth of it. How Karube’s neck arched towards its softness, how Arisu’s palm was moulded to fit his jaw like they were fired in the same kiln, forged in the same fire. Who was Karube to stop it, when the seam of his lips smoothed ever so slowly against the length of Arisu’s thumb? How could he have halted the splintered shudder that parted his lips against the tendon of an unfurled fist?

Small, like the first patter of rain on a cloudy day, Arisu begged.

‘Won’t you look at me?’

Could he have? Was it possible stare bare-faced and guileless into the sun without burning? Karube was willing to go blind with it, if it was Arisu asking.

Some of Arisu’s tears had spilt, shimmering rivulets grazing his cold-stung features. Karube’s treacherous thumb carved its home in the hollow of Arisu’s cheekbone. Ridiculous. Both men, all fragile lungs and wounded eyes, stood holding onto one another as if he couldn’t quite believe he was real. As if the other would stay for as long as he was held.

Like breathing, like the most natural thing in the world, Arisu closed what little distance remained between them.

He kissed him, a whimper leaking from between the searing heat of their mouths. It was torturous, and roiling up the arched column of Karube’s throat came a smouldering ire. Arisu always did this, always dealt the blow while looking like the most injured person in the room. It made Karube want to hurt. Thus the kiss became more teeth than lips, a grab for purchase on whatever chilled skin was exposed to him. Karube kissed to mark, kissed to plea, kissed to hollow out a space for himself that had long since closed.

The inside of Arisu’s mouth was hot, and Karube was a man starved for warmth. His other hand settled, curling against Arisu’s jaw, and all at once Karube was cradling Arisu’s face. He crushed their mouths together again and again, lips stinging and teeth too blunt to cut deep enough to make it right. Karube’s rage rose like steam out of him in the slick kiss, leaving a gentle simmer deep down in his belly.

Arisu cradled Karube’s jaw like one would hold a baby bird. His fingers gentled against his jugular, feeling the searing jackrabbit pulse of his blood under the goose-fleshed skin of his throat. His chapped fingers ran feather-light up and down, ever-so-slightly grazing the beginnings of karube’s hairline. In days gone by, Karube’s favourite thing to do was let Arisu run his fingers over his scalp, working through the tangles in his long hair until he was satisfied. This caress now was more of an echo, ringing hollow in Karube’s chest. His lungs burned with it as he gasped for air into Arisu’s mouth, gasped for what he no longer had.

It was like being crushed.

Pulling away was like pulling glass shards out of Karube’s tongue. His lips stung and his eyes burned and his heart hurt.

‘Why are you punishing me for loving you,’ he choked out, mouth filled with sawdust, ‘why can’t I have you?’

The moment shattered, red string of fate slashed to pieces. Arisu recoiled and almost snapped back, spine ramrod, eyes red-rimmed and wild. The spell broke as Arisu remembered what he came here for.

‘I’m just here to drop off my key,’ he said, voice broken but tone flat as he could muster. Arisu was a different man with the same face, a crude impression of the object of Karube’s tragic affection. Nothing felt right in the cold street, not in Karube’s palm where the cruel metal of Arisu’s key was pressed, fingers moulded over it into a fist by Arisu’s pitiless hand.

‘Just like that.’ It wasn’t a question anymore. The air that had so violently filled Karube’s chest as they kissed had seeped out and then some, leaving him deflated and exhausted. What little hope he had left had been dying a slow death since Arisu turned the corner onto his street.

‘I’m sorry, Karube,’ and Karube didn’t doubt that he was in the slightest, no matter how much it made his ears burn and his pulse ache.

He replied, ‘thanks,’ as devoid of emotion as he could muster. Karube didn’t need Arisu. Not his hands nor his kiss nor his apology. Crossing the street and unlocking the door to the apartment he resolved to move out of as quickly as possible was as easy as breathing glass without choking. Karube didn’t need Arisu.

He didn’t look back.

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

of ash and flames

A/N: some friends and I were chatting about the concept of phoenix!philza and I had to write something for it... then some angel imagery snuck in as well and here we are. enjoy!

Warnings: temporary character death (sorta), injury, mild violence, fire, temporary amnesia, past character death (wilbur), crying, sleepy & platonic cuddling, teasing/banter

Summary: Philza Minecraft, the Angel of Death, is not all as he seems. Ranboo finds out the hard way that the "angel" part of his moniker has more truth to it than he thought- but that's not all he learns about the winged man.

-

Ranboo knew that Phil had wings. He just didn’t know the true nature of those wings, what they really were beneath the ash-gray feathers… well, the “ash” color should have been an indication of what they really were- what Phil really was. And the only reason Ranboo discovered Phil’s true nature was because he died. Well… sort of. Maybe he should start from the beginning.

They were standing outside Phil’s new house, Phil rambling about his ideas for decoration and expansion as Ranboo listened with rapt attention. But perhaps Ranboo should have been a little more focused on the surroundings than Phil, because night had fallen quicker than he thought. And the only reason Ranboo realized night had fallen at all was the whistle of an arrow through the air, a pained shout from Phil quickly following it. Phil fell to the ground and then- well, Ranboo wasn’t exactly sure what happened next. All he knew was that one minute he was staring in horror at the arrow sticking out from between Phil’s wings, and the next he was standing at the destroyed remains of a stray. His sword was in his hands, although Ranboo didn’t remember drawing it, and he was quite a ways away from where Phil was still lying on the ground.

“PHIL!” Ranboo cried out, darting over to the winged man as quick as he could. He put a hand on Phil’s arm, which was strangely warm to the touch, and let out a sigh of relief when Phil stirred at the touch. He weakly pushed himself up with his forearms- but was overcome with a bout of coughing. Ranboo watched, bewildered and concerned when Phil coughed up ash.

“Shit- Ranboo, you gotta go, I-” whatever Phil was going to say was cut off by another coughing fit.

“Go?! Phil, what do you mean go, you’ve got an arrow in your back and you’re coughing up ash, I’m not gonna leave you!” he protested, trying to help Phil up- but let out a yelp and drew back his hands when Phil’s skin was even hotter than before.

“Trust me Ranboo, you don’t want to be anywhere near me when this happens,” Phil got out with a pained grimace, and it was then that Ranboo noticed that the snow was beginning to melt in a radius around Phil.

“When what happens?!” Ranboo cried, unable to keep the panic from his voice.

“GO!” Phil shouted, his voice somehow leagues louder than Ranboo had ever heard it, the sound echoing throughout the frozen landscape and sending a chill down Ranboo’s spine. Phil looked up and locked eyes with Ranboo, and it was then he knew that there was something otherworldly about Phil. His eyes were like molten magma with rivulets of lava trailing down his face like tears, and while eye contact usually made Ranboo uncomfortable, something about Phil’s burned- and not just in the “literally-on-fire” sense. Ranboo looked into Phil’s eyes and saw a being who had seen the rise and fall of countless nations and empires, who had explored every corner of the known universe and then went beyond that, and who had seen enough life and death to last several lifetimes. He looked into the eyes of Philza Minecraft and saw power and fire- and so much knowledge that Ranboo would surely burn up from the inside out at just a simple taste of it.

Ranboo didn’t realize he was stumbling back until he ran into something- or rather, someone behind him. Strong hands grabbed his arms to steady him, and it was then that Ranboo had realized he was shaking. He finally managed to break eye contact with Phil to look behind him, and saw Technoblade with a grim but knowing expression on his face.

“T-Techno, what’s- what’s- Phil, he’s-” Ranboo rambled, voice coming out a little hoarse.

“You’ll see. We gotta give him space though,” Technoblade rumbled, yet his voice was still soothing to Ranboo.

“Wha-”

“It’s easier to show than to explain. Just watch- and don’t look him in the eyes again. He can’t control them when he’s like this,” he explained, and although that only gave Ranboo more questions, he figured he should do what Techno said and just watch. He turned his gaze back to Phil, careful not to look him in the eyes, and saw that he was now on his feet with his whole body was beginning to glow much like his eyes had. Well it was more than just glowing- he was on fire. His wings and hair blazed with white-hot fire, while flames licked at his arms and legs. The fire kept burning hotter and brighter, and soon Ranboo felt like he was trying to stare at the sun and had to avert his gaze. Technoblade suddenly moved to shield Ranboo, and with a fwoosh sound he felt a wave of heat wash over them. Techno stepped away from Ranboo, and with a choked gasp he saw that there was only a mound of ashes where Phil once stood.

“What?! Where did he-”

“Have some patience, Ranboo. You’ll see,” Technoblade said, grabbing Ranboo’s arm before he could run to the ashes. He ended up being glad that Techno held him back, because the pile of ashes stirred once, twice- before fire burst up from it. Or rather, Phil burst up from the ashes, wings and hair ablaze, skin steaming, and eyes still like molten lava. He was no longer burning quite as bright as he had before, but he still hurt to look at, even though Ranboo was careful not to look Phil in the eyes. For brief moments, it seemed as though Phil had multiple sets of wings, but then Ranboo would blink and there was only one pair of wings there. Then Ranboo could have sworn Phil was holding a sword made of fire, but when he tried to look directly at it, Phil was suddenly unarmed again.

Ranboo didn’t have to worry about the headache trying to look at Phil was giving him for too long, because he became a lot clearer to see when he touched back down to the ground gracefully. Phil’s strange magma-like eyes swept over the world around him, as if he was taking in everything for the first time. His gaze landed on Ranboo and Techno, and while there was a brief flicker of familiarity, he looked at them like he did not know them, head cocking to the side in confusion. It was actually kind of amusing, seeing the powerful being Phil had become looking so adorably baffled. Ranboo opened his mouth to say something to Phil, but was stopped by Technoblade gently squeezing his arm and shaking his head.

“He has a little trouble remembering things in this state. He might burn you on accident- stay put,” Techno said, squeezing Ranboo’s arm one last time before letting go and cautiously walking towards Phil. The fiery winged man looked confused for a few moments, until his expression lit up with a warm smile, and the flames dimmed to something cozier.

“Technoblade?” he asked, voice still loud and echoing, sending shivers down Ranboo’s spine- but now it was somehow radiating gentle kindness and familiarity as well. Techno let out a fond chuckle, walking towards Phil with a bit more confidence.

“You never cease to remember me, Philza. Another friend of ours is here too- do you remember Ranboo?” Techno asked softly, gesturing back to where Ranboo was standing. Ranboo felt something warm and fuzzy bloom in his chest when Techno called him a friend, but put that aside to focus on the present moment. Phil was looking at him like he was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out, and Ranboo fidgeted a bit under the intense gaze.

“You have seen much hardship, halfling child of Ender,” Phil finally settled on, expression twisting with sympathy. Ranboo’s resulting surprised expression must have been pretty hilarious, because Techno let out a bark of amused laughter.

“I asked if you remembered him Phil, not if you could psychoanalyze him,” Techno said through laughs. Phil laughed as well, and if Ranboo thought that Phil’s voice was unsettling, his laugh was ten times worse. It was lilting and musical, but had a note of danger and destruction to it. Ranboo didn’t know how he knew, but he got the feeling that many had fallen with the last thing they heard being that laugh.

“Sorry. He does seem familiar, but I can’t remember why,” Phil said with a frown.

“That’s alright, I didn’t think you would right away. Once you get a little rest, your memories should come back,” Techno reassured him. Phil hummed in acknowledgement, looking at the area around him once more.

“Are we still in the Antarctic Empire?” Phil asked. Techno winced a bit and grimaced.

“We uh- don’t exactly do the empire thing anymore. We’ve turned to a life of anarchy, actually,” Techno replied. Phil blinked in mild confusion, then looked around him again. Then he turned to look back at his wings and frowned. It was then that Ranboo noticed that one wing didn’t burn quite as brightly as the other- in fact, it was the same wing that had been damaged in Wilbur’s destruction of L’Manburg.

“We’re in the Dream SMP,” Phil said, voice sounding small and human again. The flames dimmed a bit more, and he looked to Techno with an expression mixed with fatigue and anguish.

“Yup. You look tired, you wanna get inside and rest?” Techno offered. Phil looked to the stairs with what seemed like centuries of exhaustion weighing down on his shoulders.

“Yeah...“ he trailed off uncertainly.

“I’ll help you get inside, don’t worry,” Techno soothed.

“Okay,” Phil said, eyes fluttering as his fire finally simmered out, and he pitched forward. Techno cursed under his breath, quickly scrambling forward to catch Phil. He grumbled a bit at the ash and soot that Phil got on him, but couldn’t keep the fond smile off of his face.

“That wasn’t supposed to be a cue for you to pass out on me, but alright,” Techno chuckled.

“Do you need help?” Ranboo asked, taking a hesitant step forward.

“Nah, I got him. Besides, I think he’s a little hot still. I can’t really tell, being piglin and all,” Techno replied, shifting to scoop Phil up completely into his arms.

“Oh. Okay, cool. Or… not cool, I guess. Cause Phil is a fire being apparently,” Ranboo said with a nervous chuckle. Techno let out a snort of laughter.

“Yeah… something like that. Tell you what- grab the blankets from my bed and lay them down by the fireplace- getting Phil up a ladder would be a hassle anyway- and then I’ll explain Phil’s deal. You’ve definitely earned that,” Techno said. Ranboo nodded eagerly, happy to be of help, and all but ran into the house, Techno following at a slower pace after him.

-

Once they got Phil settled by the fire, a bit of an awkward silence settled over Ranboo and Technoblade. Ranboo wasn’t sure if he was supposed to prompt Techno to explain or not, so instead he watched Phil sleep peacefully. It was as if he had never been fatally shot and burst into flames- although one thing still bothered Ranboo a bit. Phil had been flying earlier, when he had both a dizzying amount of wings and only a single pair, but when Ranboo looked at his once again ash-gray wings, they were just as damaged as they had been before.

“So… what is Phil?” Ranboo blurted as he turned to Techno, unable to keep his curiosity buried down any longer.

“That’s… not an easy answer. He’s part phoenix, that’s for sure,” Techno started.

“And part human?” Ranboo asked. Techno looked at Ranboo with a raised eyebrow.

“You looked into his eyes, you tell me,” Techno said pointedly. Ranboo glanced back at Phil, gears slowly turning in his head. He had an idea… but it seemed too impossible. And yet…

“‘Angel of Death’ isn’t just a moniker, is it?” Ranboo asked, turning back towards Techno again.

“No. It’s not- but to Phil, it might as well be,” Techno said with a sigh. Ranboo tilted his head to the side in confusion.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“You’re not the only one with memory problems here, Ranboo. Phil has probably seen centuries’ worth of knowledge, and choosing to live among mortals means he has to be a little mortal too. And mortal minds can’t handle that much knowledge, so unless it’s in situations of extreme duress, he doesn’t exactly remember what he is. Sure, he knows deep down that he isn’t mortal, and he knows that he’s a phoenix, but thinking too much about it gives him a headache. Or at least, that’s how he explained it to me,” Techno explained. Part of Ranboo was warmed at the fact that he and Phil had something in common, while the rest of him was awed at Phil’s true nature. Looking back on it, Ranboo should have known there was something otherworldly about Phil. Like when Eret had tried to come to Technoblade’s lands and Phil told the king to leave. His voice wasn’t anywhere near the echoing timbre it had been earlier, but it had definitely had a similar resonance. Ranboo looked to Phil again, and frowned at the sight of his wings. If Phil was such a powerful being, then why were his wings still damaged?

“What’s the deal with his wings?” Ranboo asked with a brow furrowed in concern. Technoblade sighed.

“That’s not for me to tell. It’s up for Phil to decide if he wants to go into that,” Techno said, protectiveness edging into his voice. Ranboo winced, a little embarrassed at the fact that he had just blurted that out loud.

“Right, sorry. That was insensitive of me to ask,” Ranboo said sheepishly.

“It’s alright, you were curious, I get it. I think I’ve covered everything about Phil- we should let him rest now,” Techno said. Ranboo nodded, but neither one of them moved, unwilling to let Phil out of their sight for even a moment.

-

Ranboo woke up some number of hours later. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed- he didn’t even remember falling asleep in the first place. At some point, he and Technoblade must have moved to sit on the floor beside Phil, because now Ranboo was leaning against a slumbering Techno. Ranboo sheepishly but cautiously moved away from Techno. He glanced over and jolted a little when he made eye contact with Phil, who was apparently awake now. Luckily Phil’s eyes were back to normal, so it was only mildly uncomfortable for Ranboo.

“Hey mate,” Phil said with a smile, glancing to Techno before looking back at Ranboo with an amused twinkle in his eyes.

“I see you remember me now,” Ranboo grumbled, a little embarrassed. Phil let out a soft laugh, and Ranboo involuntarily shivered at the sound, even though it was far from the laugh he had heard from Phil earlier.

“Yeah, I do. And while I don’t remember everything of what happened before waking up here… I’m guessing I went supernova on you, huh?” Phil asked.

“That’s one way to put it,” Ranboo said with a nervous laugh. Phil laughed again, and it was a little better to hear the second time around.

“Did Techno explain at all?” Phil asked.

“Yeah. So… you’re a phoenix, huh?” Ranboo asked with a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

“Among other things,” Phil said, glancing back sadly at his damaged wings. Silence settled between them, the only sounds being the crackling of the fire and the wind outside.

“Can I ask about your wings?” Ranboo asked, breaking the silence.

“About why they’re still fucked up?” Phil asked bitterly. Ranboo winced at Phil’s voice, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Ranboo said hurriedly. Phil waved him off, shaking his head with a sigh.

“It’s alright. It’s just that I don’t completely know myself. I think it’s an… angel…. thing. My wings are a central part to who I am… and so are the people I care about, the people I’ve sworn to protect- whether I’m conscious of that oath or not. And killing Wilbur… I think the cost of breaking that oath was my wings,” Phil explained, voice as fragile as glass.

“Phil…” Ranboo trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“Y’know, a part of me thought- hoped- that Will was like me when I killed him. I held him, hoping that at any minute he’d burst into flames and everything would be fine- but he never did,” Phil said, voice thick with emotion. Ranboo’s expression twisted with sympathy, and he scrambled over to sit beside Phil and put a comforting hand on his arm. Phil wiped at his eyes with his free hand, letting out a shaky sigh.

“You can cry if you need to,” Ranboo said softly. Phil shook his head stubbornly, taking another shaky breath.

“I’ll be fine. Emotions are always fucked when I uh… come back,” Phil insisted.

“If you say so… you look pretty tired still anyway. Should probably get some more sleep,” Ranboo said pointedly. Phil huffed out a laugh.

“Where do you come off bossing me around, Ender-child?” Phil teased. Ranboo squinted suspiciously at how similar “Ender-child” was to Phil’s earlier remark of him being a “halfling child of Ender,” but brushed it aside to instead shake his head fondly.

“Get some sleep, oh fiery Angel of Death,” Ranboo said in a mock-reverent tone.

“Watch your tone, I’ll fuck you up,” Phil said, although the threat was lost as he yawned halfway through his sentence.

“You both need to get some sleep,” Techno’s voice grumbled across from them. They looked over to Techno, who was rubbing at his eyes and yawning.

“Aw, did we interrupt the Blood God’s beauty sleep?” Phil teased.

“Shut up,” Techno huffed, crawling over to sit on Phil’s other side, grabbing the blankets on the floor as he went. He slumped against Phil’s shoulder, throwing the blankets over the three of them. Phil chuckled, a wing wrapping around Techno while the other cocooned Ranboo and pulled him closer.

“Okay boys, you were right. Sleepy time,” Phil said with a yawn, resting his head on top of Techno’s. Ranboo smiled, and snuggled in next to Philza Minecraft- phoenix, angel, and friend- before drifting off to sleep.

[noonmutter]

Bloodied

Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 5: Music/Savage

((TW for blood, gore, and some body horror))

so so you think you can tell

Clawed, furry hands tore through meat and brutally shattered bone, ichor spattering his snarling face as he thundered forward to silence the screaming body at the end of the now ruined arm

heaven from hell blue skies from pain

He felt the skull crack and burst out the sides of his teeth as he clamped down, and the shrieking abruptly stopped, leaving blissful silence and a steaming corpse instead

can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail

Licking his bloodstained chops, he shoveled fistfuls of nigh-unidentifiable gore into his mouth, desperate to slake the ravenous hunger left behind before his own bones tore themselves loose to snap and rearrange themselves again

a smile from a veil do you think you can tell

When he finally collapsed, he was human, and whole, and his belly was full, and that only lasted a few moments before he rolled himself onto his side and vomited on the jagged rock, unwilling or unable (both?) to stomach meat that had talked even at the edge of starvation

did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts

The next attack came and the wolf refused to answer, leaving him to fend them off with bare hands, weak from thirst, hunger, and burning muscles that glowed like neon under the unreal sun

Hot ashes for trees Hot air for a cool breeze

Throwing sand in the eyes never got old, and sometimes it actually worked, and Terry, not the wolf, was able to bite out a grey-skinned throat before the others could pin him down

cold comfort for change did you exchange

Another made the crucial mistake of baring his sneering face to claim victory and fell from a brutal headbutt that drove his nose into his brain, not dead but stunned and crying for whatever anima was

a walk-on part in the war for a leading role in a cage

White-hot pain exploded in his eyes as his back slammed against cold steel bars, feeling like they'd been deliberately sharpened to edges just to punish the prisoner a little more

His brain felt like it was throbbing, too big for his skull, but still managing to rattle around in spite of it, and as he lay there, bleeding, from another disastrous attempt at escape, he closed his eyes and thought of home

Of his family Of his wife Of his children Of the man he'd been before, instead of the slavering beast he was becoming

Barely more than a whisper, but he was able to find his voice, raw and ragged from roaring and stomach acid gone the wrong direction and choking down viscera, and he curled in on himself as he more sighed than sang:

"...runnin' over th' same old ground... what 'ave we found? th' same old fears... wish you were 'ere..."

When he ran out of music he was left with the distant wailing of his fellow prisoners and the dull hiss of metal constantly heating up and cooling down, feeling it in his bones and no longer devoting the energy to care.

The wolf was wearing down, too, and that meant rationing himself. He needed all he could get for the next fight.

( @daily-writing-challenge​ )

[stellarstarwarsimagines]

I Come Alive With You

Pairing - Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Summary - Anakin Request: Banished from the Jedi Order, the only thing getting you through the days is the thought that soon Anakin would join you. However, when you feel the death of your old Master and Anakin’s Force presence disappear, you discover his rejoining you is going to be much more complicated than you imagined. 

Word Count - 2,699

Warnings - Nothing other than a brief moment of canon violence.

Getting your life uprooted and turned upside down wasn’t as easy to recover from as you had hoped it would be. Every day was monotonous. You woke up, went to the Farmer’s market and worked, lifting box after box in the excruciating heat and praying for a scrap to fall from someone’s cart that you could snatch up and save for later. 

You knew your life could be so much easier. Every minute you could feel the Force calling out to you, reminding you how you could lift those boxes with no effort, use a mind trick to get whatever you needed . . . but you were sure the moment you did, your Former Master would feel it, and you would have to run or face an even worse punishment. 

It had been a far fall from a Jedi General of the Republic to a simple farmer. 

Through all of this, all the dreariness of living, you had one simple thought to cling to. Even if every other Jedi had abandoned you, Anakin wouldn’t. Once he came back from his mission saving the Chancellor, he would find you, and be with you. That was the thought that helped you make it through every lonely day by yourself. 

It was how you survived, even if it was painful. 

However, that pain was nothing compared to what you felt that night. 

It had started as an uneasy feeling in your stomach. You had been traveling home from work, loaded down with a backpack and wincing from the soreness in your muscles. Then it hit like a bantha running at you full speed. 

“Master Plo,” you gasped out, clutching your chest as a vision swam before your eyes, flying above a city you couldn’t name, and then fire, so much fire . . . it felt like it was burning your whole body, then a building swam into your field of vision, and you reached out as if you could grab a hold of the controls yourself, “No!” 

But it was too late. Your vision returned to normal and you found yourself on your knees, feeling like a piece of you had been ripped out of your soul. Without even being there, you knew. 

Your old Master was dead. 

There was no time for recovery though, because within moments, a Force presence you had been so accustomed to feeling you almost forgot it was there blinked out of existence. 

No, no it couldn’t be. Not after all this. 

“Anakin . . .” You whimpered, grief washing over you like a tidal wave. 

You collapsed to the ground, overwhelmed and devastated. 

____________________

The next couple of days were a blur. You didn’t work, you didn’t eat, you didn’t sleep. You existed. You watched the sun come up, go down, and that was the extent of your day. 

If you thought your days were monotonous before, it was worse now. In your darkest moments, when grief and anger wracked your body with sobs, you wished the Council had killed you instead of banished you. Life without Anakin Skywalker was not worth living. 

The sun was setting once more on the barren planet you had been deserted on when there was a knock on your door. You ignored it for a moment, hoping whoever it was would go away, but it persisted, getting louder and louder until it began to annoy you. You reached out with your hand, tapping into the Force and swung it open so hard it crashed against the outside wall. You didn’t even look to see who it was, in fact, you hoped it was one of the Council members. Maybe if they saw you using the Force they would kill you where you stood, and you could be with him again. 

When that familiar voice spoke your name, you still didn’t turn. “If you’re here to tell me about Master Plo or Anakin I already know. So you can leave me to my grief.” 

“You already know?” Obi-Wan repeated, and you heard him take a couple of more steps inside. 

You turned to him then, your words sharp as a knife. “Of course I know! I felt every second of it! When Master Plo got shot down, and when Anakin’s Force signature disappeared . . .” You noticed the flicker of pain in Obi-Wan’s eyes, but kept going. “Their deaths haunt me every second of the day.” 

Obi-Wan said your name again, sitting by your side and reaching for your hand. “Anakin’s not dead.” 

For a moment, your heart stopped beating. Your eyes widened in disbelief. “That’s impossible.” You said snatching your hand out of his grip, “and cruel, Obi-Wan. You know we loved each other, and to say something like that -”

“I’m not lying to you.” Obi-Wan insisted. “Anakin is not dead.” 

“Then why did his Force signature disappear?” You asked, because you could think of no other explanation for that other than his death, and you didn’t know why Obi-Wan was hurting you so by insisting he was alive. 

“Because,” Obi-Wan let out a sigh, and you could tell that the words pained him to say. “Anakin has turned to the dark side.” 

“I - what?” You said, your brow furrowed as you looked at Obi-Wan. “Why . . . Why would Anakin do that?” 

When Obi-Wan looked at you then, the knowing look in his eyes told you everything. “I can think of one reason.” 

It couldn’t be true. Anakin was the best person you knew. Even for you, you couldn’t imagine him turning to the dark side even though Obi-Wan believed he had. “So is that why you’re here? Did the Council order you to use me as bait? To lure Anakin into a trap and - and kill him?” You stood up, anger and tension in your bones as your eyes narrowed at him. “I won’t do it. If the Council hadn’t been too strung up in their old ways, this never would have happened -”

“The Council is no longer. They were all murdered by the Clones or Chancellor Palpatine.” Obi-Wan interrupted. “It’s a long story, but I’m willing to tell it if you will listen.” 

The Chancellor? Your head was spinning with all this new information, and part of you wanted to say to hell with the story and run to find Anakin, but you knew you needed to know. So you nodded, and sat down, waiting for him to begin. 

It was an elaborate tale, and you were shocked and mesmerized by all the details and strings that Palpatine had been pulling for longer than you knew. His relationship with Anakin even played a part. 

You wondered if your relationship with him did.

“So you want me to go with you to try and convince him that the Chancellor is evil, and return him to the light side.” You said after Obi-Wan had finished his story. 

“You’re the only person who I think could do it.” He said. “I know where he’s going. I can take you to him.” 

That was all you needed to hear. 

____________________

Mustafar was not a beautiful planet to behold. There was no greenery, no calming waters, no lush trees. Instead it was a planet of reds and oranges, fire and lava with what seemed to be nothing but droids. Buildings, metallic and dark littered the skyline, and instead of rain there was ash and steam. You settled down on the planet, looking around for any sign of Anakin. “I think you should go talk to him first.” Obi-Wan said from behind you. “He might be upset if he sees me.” 

You nodded, not paying attention to what he was saying anyway. Your heart was pounding so heavy in your chest that it hurt, just aching, longing for the sight of him. Part of you was still struggling to believe that he was alive. Knowing that Obi-Wan wouldn’t be that cruel to you, but still unable to believe that he was living and breathing until you saw him. 

Then you did. 

He was standing on a walkway for a building. He was in his dark robes, and too far away to make out any features, but you knew that it was him. You would know him from miles away. You knew that he could tell it was you as well, because as soon as you noticed him, he started running towards your ship. 

You let down the ramp, barely acknowledging Obi-Wan as he told you to be careful. Your mind was on one thing now, and everything else was irrelevant. As soon as the ramp hit the ground you ran down, straight into Anakin’s waiting arms. 

He crushed you to him, hugging you so hard your feet left the ground, but you couldn’t care less. It was as if a huge weight was lifted off your chest, and relief flooded your body at his embrace. Because to hell with everything else, the Jedi, the Council, the Republic, this was where you belonged, wrapped in Anakin Skywalker’s arms. “I saw your ship . . . How did you find me?” 

“Obi-Wan told me,” You murmured into his chest as you felt him press kisses to the top of your head. “Ani, I thought you were dead.” You said, tightening your arms around him, afraid to let any distance form between the two of you. 

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin repeated, his voice a touch more tense than it was moments ago. 

“He found me.” You replied, tilting your chin up so you could look at him, your vision blurring with tears. “I thought you were dead because I couldn’t feel you anymore . . . He told me you were still alive, and that you had turned to the darkside. Anakin, I’m so confused.” You said. 

Anakin reached up and brushed your tears away with his thumbs before pressing a kiss to your forehead, lingering there and sending warmth throughout your body. “I promise I’m going to explain everything. I was going to come find you as soon as I finished taking care of the Separatists. When I heard what the Council had done to you -”

The anger in his voice sent chills down your spine. “Ani, it’s okay. We’re together now, right?” You asked, your hands running up and down his back, trying to calm him down. 

“Forever,” he said in a soft and tender voice, the promise in it unmistakable. His hand ran through your hair as he held you against his chest once more, and you sighed in relief. 

“Anakin!” A voice interrupted the two of you, and you turned to find Obi-Wan exiting the ship, looking determined. 

Immediately you could sense a change in Anakin, his whole body tensed, and he tugged you behind his back, away from Obi-Wan. “You tried to turn her against me!” Anakin yelled. 

Obi-Wan looked at you as you clung to Anakin’s arm as if it was your lifeline. “You have done that yourself when you turned to the darkside.” He replied. 

“You will not take her from me!” Anakin said back to him. 

“He won’t, Anakin.” You tried to reassure him, tugging at his arm to try and gain his attention. 

“Tell her what you’ve done. Tell her what you did in the Temple. Say it to her in your own words!” Obi-Wan shouted. 

Of course you already knew. Obi-Wan had told you everything that happened, and you believed him. But you also knew that Anakin had to have a reason. A misguided reason, yes, but you were sure he never would have done anything like that without cause. 

“The Jedi needed to die! Their lies and customs have poisoned everything! They tried to take everything from me! The Chancellor has taken me under his wing, and I do not fear the dark side anymore as you do.” Anakin said. “It’s the answer to everything!” 

You let go of his arm, stepping away from him. Oh Anakin . . . it all made sense. Obi-Wan had been right. He had destroyed the Jedi so that he could be with you. You knew his love for you ran deep, you just hadn’t realized how deep. You stumbled away towards Obi-Wan, shaking your head. “Oh, Anakin . . .” You mumbled, trying to take in this new information. 

“Don’t you see what you’ve done? It’s not too late, Anakin. You can return to the light!” Obi-Wan told him, putting his hands on your shoulders, trying to comfort you. 

But Anakin was paying him no mind. His eyes were focused on you. “Don’t you see? We can be together this way. We don’t have to run away anymore. If you join me, we can be married, have children, like we always dreamed of. Please . . .” Anakin said, and his hand reached out towards you. 

Obi-Wan called out your name and you tore your gaze from Anakin to look at him. “You know this isn’t right. It’s not the Jedi way. You know it’s not what Master Plo would have wanted.” 

Something inside of you snapped at his words. As much as you had loved your old Master and grieved his death, the fact remained that he, along with the rest of the Jedi, had denied you the one thing you had ever asked from them. After spending your whole life serving them and the Republic, they tossed you out like garbage because you did something as terrible as falling in love. 

It wasn’t right. 

You pulled away from Obi-Wan, shaking your head. “Master Plo abandoned me. The whole council abandoned me. Like they abandoned Ahsoka and other Jedi before her.” You glanced back at Anakin, his eyes watching every move you made with his hand still extended towards you. “The only person who’s never abandoned me is standing right there.” 

He shook his head. “Don’t do this.” He pleaded, his blue eyes begging, his voice distressed, squeezing your shoulders. 

It hurt you to hear him like this. You had known Obi-Wan for so long. As long as you could remember. You knew what this must be doing to him. You were about to become another person on the list of people that life had taken from him. It was another thing that wasn’t right, but you knew that he would never be able to see it the way you did. 

No matter what happened . . . Anakin was always going to be your choice. Your everything. 

Tears streamed down your face as you looked at him. “We wanted to be married, Obi-Wan. That’s all I asked the Council for. Permission to marry the love of my life, and they tossed me aside like I hadn’t spent my whole life following them.” Before he could stop you, you placed a hand to his head and pushed with the Force. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. 

He collapsed to the ground. 

You buried your face in your hands and turned away, unable to look at your fallen friend and found yourself pulled into Anakin’s strong arms. He held you close and tucked you under his chin, rubbing your back in soothing motions as you clung to him. He was all you had now, but you knew that would be enough. “He’s going to come after us.” Anakin whispered in your ear. 

You knew that he was right, but you couldn’t bring yourself to kill him, and you weren’t going to let Anakin do it either. “We’ll worry about that when the time comes. Right now, I want to get out of here, and I want you to teach me everything you know.” 

Anakin pulled away so he could look at you, confusion on his face as he stroked your hair. 

“I’m not going to be under anyone’s thumb anymore.” You said, determination in your voice. “No one’s going to tell me what we can and can’t do. Even Palpatine.” You grabbed a hold of his robes and clenched them in your fists. “If you’re going to the dark side . . . I’m going with you.” 

Anakin didn’t even hesitate. “We’ll overthrow him. Together.” 

“Together,” You repeated. 

Did you care about ruling the galaxy? Not particularly, but you weren’t going to let anyone stand in the way of Anakin and you again, and you had a feeling Chancellor Palpatine was going to attempt to do just that. 

It would be his biggest mistake.

[albino-whumpee]

The hatchling

@brutal-nemesis  Welp, here you have the super late little drabble for Plant day. Somehow could finish it today :)

It´s actually part of my larger, older project Power Doesn´t Make You Immortal (renamed Tears of Ash from now on! :3) and it´s actual lore. There´s an illustration at the end too! ^^

CW// body horror, scifi whump, loss of autonomy, mind control, alien, nonhuman whumper and whumpee, whumping of a minor, death, used as a nutrient, horror, alien whump. honestly idk how to tag this alksjdflkj

They hadn’t known the rift surrounding Zone 0, the closest to the meteor crater, had changed its flora and fauna that drastically.

The little one who had slipped through the contention center’s bars and ran all the way to Zone 0 with the stolen food in their arms had sighed in relief when the soldiers stopped behind the wire fence. Not willing to adventure further than that to chase them.

They had thought themself lucky. They would run back home later, right after they discovered what type of plant walked on its vines over the water.

After the crash, everything stopped. So of course, schools had stopped teaching, there were many like them that only knew to follow orders someone who could read would yell for the general population. They didn’t know the signs at the fence stated very clearly why the soldiers had walked away. Why the place was filled with plants that didn’t belong to this world. Yet, for a kid that had never known outside, it was just the same level of unknown.

They didn’t know how wrong it was to follow the bioluminescence on the ground, lighting up each of their steps as they jumped, it was too much fun, and they felt so light suddenly.

They spinned and fell made a giggling mess right next to the walking vine.

Both stopped moving, staring at each other. It was then, the boy noticed the vine had eyes.

They wanted to run away when the vine changed their course and began inching their green roots towards them. In vain, they tried to lift themself up. How could they know Zone 0´s air was composed almost entirely of carbon dioxide?

Their limbs failed to lift them to safety and they could only take shallow breaths as the vine´s eyes drilled them to the ground in fear.

Looking closely, the vine didn´t look like it was a plant at all, its eyes didn´t look like actual eyes either. They were more like a net of threads that moved like a hyperfast congested highway. It was only when the vine lifted one of it´s leafed threads to their forehead, that the little boy knew its touch burnt.

The sudden freezing numbness was quickly replaced with the agony of being burnt. The boy began crying, but the scream trapped on his chest wouldn´t come out.

He was completely silent when the vine forced them to stand on stiff, shaky legs that made his tears roll down even harder despite their ten thousand yards stare.

At each step, blisters popped up on the boy´s forehead and the blood went down in rivulets, tainting red the glowing flora that lit up below their feet. Lighting the way down a cave.

The boy´s mind was beyond the pain now, completely entranced in the agony of the sensation of fire running through their veins. With their mind and senses gone, they couldn´t see the chamber filled with hardened cocoons. Couldn´t hear the steps of something crawling near by, watching the vine walk the unfortunate boy to an empty cocoon, opening it´s fleshy threads as if arms opened for a hug.

As they stepped forward, all veins in their body popped out and chocking in their own drool, the cocoon enclosed them, fine wires wrapped their body as they stood inside the sealing cocoon and when they tigtened, all their bones crushed.

The light of their eyes vanished as the cocoon began to fill with a thick liquid. From outside, the remaining air and poisoned gas was exhaled from the orifice in the top, where the vine had climbed to and then dropped into the pool of goo with the boy before a large tube connected the cocoon to another, sealing it away.

The chamber was silent once again. The fumes dissipating into the air the creature repting swooshed with their tail. It would take days, a few weeks, before it fed completely the third chamber, a one similar to the one they had been born from.

But it wouldn´t worry about their loneliness. Not yet. Its sprouts walked the entirety of the Zone 0´s 8 kilometers, waiting for another pair of biped creature to wander inside their territory.

A few weeks later, when the two coccons had lost all color and some recovering ones laid open and wethered, steam was expulsed ferociously. The vines threading the cocoon began to untie themselves to slowly reveal the creature waking to existance.

It´s yellow eyes with black scleras opened to an unknown world with a gasp for air. Sensation began to flood into them. Breathing was suffocating, painful and they couldn´t manage to keep it inside with their frenetic gaping. Noise drilled into their pointy ears which quickly glued to their skull in an effort to muffle it, they pressed the heels of their hands to their eyes splashing everywhere with the burning black goo.

In the desperation to run from the overwhelming sensations of the new world, they stepped outside their cocoon and fell into soft arms. They struggled for a second, but a pressure going up and down their back soothed them into the crook of their neck, long matted hair hid their eyes from the annoying buzzying light as the instinct to curl and hide away made their tail coil around the being rubbing their back.

They didn´t know how to speak. They didn´t have vocal cords either, as they didn´t need them.

They could hear the soothing voice of the sibling that held them in their arms inside their head, silencing the terrifying world that expanded beyond their comprehension.

After they had calmed down, the other exorted them to open their eyes, to look up at them.

With a low whine, they obeyed and lifted their face to look with wide doe eyes at the hairy creature that wasn´t bothered by the goo dripping on their skin. A set of yellow eyes locked with the wide of almost orange ones as they bared their teeth.

They tried to paddle away, but their sibling held them tight, preventing them from escaping.

“That´s called a smile. Humans don´t consider a threat” they told them as they slowly untightened their jaw.

A low rumble from their lower abdomen, made another smile appear on their pale face.

“Right, you must be so, so hungry” They lifted them up in their arms with ease, despite their size being barely half of that of the hatchling. “Usually, we just eat whatever we come across at first” they explained them as they took them to another part of the chamber, away of the cocoons. They walked for a while, leaving a track of blue lights on their wake.

That was until slowly and carefully, the other let down the hatchling. Who clinged an arm to the soft fabric that covered their body from the sudden freezing temperature.

Their tail straightened up as they threw a low snarl and began rubbing their clawed hands against their arms. Their sibling let out a short wheeze. It amused the hatchling that such a sound could be so beautiful. Nothing like the buzzying that surrounded them still.

The hatchling threw their gaze over the scattered  lumps on the ground. They didn´t have much time to wonder what was below them as their sibling uncovored it to find a variety of faces. The creatures looked similar to how their sibling looked like and some were sprinkled with blood, or what they assumed was that red goo

“But in this planet, there´s plenty to take from” they said as they invited them to get closer on shaking legs “Go ahead and choose”

The hatchling took a long look at the variety of options, unable to decide until their eyes trained on a little freckled boy with half lidded black eyes. They reached towards their face and their claws with only five fingers, spreaded naturally to double the number. They gripped their jaw and turned it as gently as they new born status allowed them to.

Their sibling watched from afar and didn´t even twitch when the recipient´s neck cracked with the force and they told the hatchling to be gentler.

“Stop rubbing it all over, there´s still many that may choose them”

“I want them” they replied, remembering the words and threading them as their brain learnt how to from the previous conversations.

The other hummed suprised and simply waved their hand and walked away.

“Walk outside when you´re finished. We have a mission to fulfill”

As their steps melted into the silence, the hatchling towered above the human boy´s stiff body. They looked at the boy´s face as their claws uncovered them fully.

The creature tilted their head in surprised amusement at not finding the corners that marked their mouth on the boy´s chest. As they opened their real mouth, the one that ran down their torso and opened up like a flower to a multitude of teeth, they concluded this so called “humans” had an strange way of feeding if they only had their fake mouths on their faces.

Once they swallowed the boy´s body, they would learn how they feeded themselves.

But for starters, the creature wailed as their tail retracted back into their spine and they began to burn their spotty skin to become the pale smooth type humans had. They stumbled and fell on their side with a cry as their horns fell off, burnt into nothing but a fume and replaced for the same shade of black the boy´s hair was.

With a pained crack, the shifter took the shape of the boy and fell dryly on the ground.

After a while, they stood up on their two legs. Their head bobbed to a side before they settled their small hands on either side of their head and cracked the bones on their neck back on place with a cry.

With only a few minutes from birth, the creature that took the boy´s body, walked outside to fulfill the mission they had been born for.

[conaionaru]

The Drowned girl

No fear

Synopsis: Siggy leaves Kattegat for the first time, setting out on a journey of a lifetime. But of course danger follows as well

Warnings: violence, shit parenting (Bjorn), child abandonment, language, canon divergence

Tags:

@pieces-by-me​

I don’t own the gifs.

Siggy stood at the side of the ship, holding onto a rope for stability. The wind ruffled her neatly braided hair and her new cloak. Floki stood proudly at the head of the boat, watching all his ships sail to Kattegat's docks so everyone else can come aboard as well.

Never before did she feel so light; all those times she leaped off high places was nothing compared to this. She felt like soaring in the sky, leaving behind Kattegat and all its shadows.

The people on the docks looked so small from up here, just spots that would soon be left behind. With a grin, she ran past the other sailors and Floki. "Siggy!" Warned Helga while the girl sprinted up the dragon's head and jumped onto the docks, giggling like a madwoman.

The docks were packed with people saying goodbye to their families. She could see Bjorn and his family, as well. How she loathed them all, looking happy and like a proper family. Someone nudged her shoulder.

Floki wiggled his eyebrows at her and jerked his head towards the Ragnarssons and Aslaug. "Say goodbye to Sigurd. We will not wait for you forever." Siggy rolled her eyes at him and skipped over to Sigurd.

The snake-eyed prince grinned at her and waited for her to reach him finally. "Don't die stupidly." He whispered into her ear in the middle of their tight hug. Siggy nodded against his neck and gripped his tunic tighter.

"You won't survive a day without me, Uncle Sigurd." He hit her over the head and glared at the title he hated so much.

"Go. The sight of you disgusts me."

"At least I don't look like a flock of raven's attacked my hair."

Sigurd touched his hair and glared at her remark. His hair was a touchy subject for him. Truth be told, it wouldn't be so touchy if he used a comb once in a while. But Siggy hates that torture device as well, so she won't judge too much.

"Be safe, Little Sig."

"You too, Sig."

She turned on her head and walked back to the boat, shouldering past Bjorn, who watched her with dark eyes. He always observed her, especially when she was happy. It seemed to offend him to some extent. But that was his problem.

Siggy watched the world pass by, the gentle breeze like a lover's touch against her face - adventures first caress. "Off to Rome, we go." Helga chuckled at her side and ruffled her hair affectionately, joining Floki and Bjorn at the brow. Hvitserk threw an apple at her head, snickering when it hit her in the ear.

"And here I thought I could suffer you for longer," Siggy complained and stormed after him, twirling around the mast and people as Bjorn barked at them to calm down. He must be regretting taking them with him.

The blonde run-up to the mast and climbed up using a rope as support. Taking a deep breath, Siggy closer her eyes, and enjoyed the more windy place. She could hear Helga warning her to be careful and Floki giggling as she stood on top of the sail.

Slowly she opened her eyes and grinned at the beautiful sight before her. The clear water with loads of boats on it seemed like the perfect place to be. She was meant to be here all along. Sailing the world and proving to the gods that she deserved to live. "Try to strike me down now..."

For all the love for traveling, Siggy felt, sailing there just took too long. Frankia was just within reach, and she had no desire to see Rollo. Floki talked of him sometimes - the traitor to his kind. What good would the man be? Raiding the towns and murdering those who attacked would be easier than striking a deal.

"Are you going to try and contact uncle Rollo?"

The silence that followed Hvitserk question sent shivers down Siggy's spine. Bjorn made his decision long ago, and no matter how everyone disapproved, he won't change it.

The Frankish boats met them head-on, warning bells tolling in Paris to announce their coming. When they docked, Bjorn chose men to go with him to meet with Rollo. To her great annoyance, Siggy was left behind because she can't "behave," whatever that's supposed to mean.

"If we get attacked, we will need all the fighters we can," Helga whispered to her, trying to brighten up her mood.

"And if they attack the envoys? What then?" Siggy seethed, watching the enemy soldiers lead everyone to the palace.

"Then Floki will fight his way out. You have not seen them fight. They will be alright." The young volva sighed and walked to the boat, and take out her arrows to sharpen them. It was a lie; Siggy had seen Floki fight. And Bjorn too.

Whenever Bjorn came over to visit Floki and Helga, Siggy sneaked off to spend some time alone. But the sun was already setting, and she felt lonely. Sigurd was sick, so he was home with Aslaug and Ivar. Floki was busy with the plans for the boats.

She wanted to train to become a great shieldmaiden. If she was meant to travel the world, as Floki said, she had to become the best fighter out there. Not cook or collect herbs with Helga.

Her destiny was laid out on the water and foreign lands, not in the forests of Kattegat. But at least the knowledge of herbs was useful for something. Making a sacrifice to the gods, for instance.

With a small skinny knife, she cut off bark from an oak and brought it to her little pyre made of twigs and dry grass. She lit the fire using two stones and blew into the flames, hoping the fire would grow.

When the flame was big enough, she stopped blowing and stepped back, looking at her gathered ingredients. "Oak for strength, Edelwise for courage, Sage for wisdom, and Dill to protect me from evil." One by one, she threw the items in.

The fire would bring the offerings to the gods, and they would protect her from now on. They have been cruel to her until now - abandoning her just like her parents, nearly letting her die. All because she was never acknowledged by her father - a bastard in everyone's eyes.

But that would change the moment she became famous; she would be like Ragnar. Then no one could call her a freak, failure, or insult her. They would all cheer for her, praise her and talk stories of her to their children. She wouldn't be Crazy Siggy or Siggy the Drowned girl. Instead, she could be Siggy the Great or Siggy Mighty.

The gods would accept her sacrifice and protect her from then on. She was a descendant of Odin, just like Ragnar. The gods should be on her side as well; she was a Völva and never turned her back on them! With a swift cut, Siggy cut open her palm and dripped the blood onto the fire.

"Hail All-father, Wise Warrior,

One-eyed wanderer, Come sit at my fire.

Tell me of your wisdom stories,

The scenes your missing eye sees. You who chooses the slain,

Look on my deeds and when my time comes

To run the sky with you,

Let my end be worthy of song.

In the meantime, let me feel

Excitement and poetry and fury and joy,

Let me understand sacrifice,

Think long, Remember well, And Journey Far.

Odin, Witness this."

The fire sizzled as Siggy watched it burn to the last amber, ignoring the world around her. She could feel herself grow lightheaded, and her ears grow deaf as she slowly faded. Her now milky white eyes watched the fire turn to ashes.

The scenery changed to a great ship out on the water, all alone as the water seemed to boil around it. Steam concealed everything around the vessel as thunder boomed above. On the boat stood a man made of light bound with chains sailing towards his doom.

Laughter broke her away from her vision as hands tugged at her neckline. Siggy startled and tried to break away from the dirty hands; three men stood around her. The one that was pulling on her tunic grinned, showing his rotten black teeth to her.

Siggy did her best to wretch away from him or stab him with the blade, but another man stepped on her hand. A crunch and a stab of pain made her cry out and pull her hand with two broken fingers to herself. The last one laughed at her panic and hit her own over her head to make her stop resisting.

When they were about to rip her tunic off an axe, hit him in the back of his head. Siggy shrieked in fright, and as he fell on top of her, blood seeping from his mortal wound. The two remaining men drew their weapons but were cut down as easily as their friend.

To her surprise, Bjorn beheaded the last man as Floki pulled the corpse off her. She shook on her spot and looked at the frantic man with tearful eyes. "What were you thinking wandering so far away? We told you there were berserkers in the woods."

She choked on her words and clung to him, rocking from side to side. He wiped the blood from her face with his thumbs, shushing her crying. Bjorn glared at her and stomped in front of her.

"Are you completely stupid?! Do you have any idea what they could have done to you? Your stupid fire attracted them here!"

"Quiet, Bjorn!" Floki snapped and made Siggy look at him.

Tears streamed down her face, her lips trembling in the aftershock. She leaned closer and whispered so the Ragnarsson wouldn't hear. "I made a sacrifice to the gods. I just wanted them to help me. So I could be a great traveler like you said I would."

Floki tutted at her and pulled her closer, hiding her face in his chest. Bjorn fumed behind them and gathered the men's weapons so no one else would find them. "I had a vision. I am sorry."

The boatbuilder pulled her back and shook her head slightly to make her pay attention. "There is nothing wrong with your visions. They are gifts from the gods, no matter how heavy of a burden they might seem. But never wander off so far without telling us. Do you hear me, Siggy?"

She nodded and let him pick her up like she was weightless. For such a skinny twig, Floki was strong from all the heavy work. She rested her chin on his shoulder, watching the dead bodies on the grass. Never before did she see someone fight like Bjorn. His fighting style was nothing like Floki's. It disgusted her how it intrigued her - how much she wanted to fight like him.

Siggy was growing antsy. The envoys have been gone for too long for her liking. So when she could hear footsteps from her spot on a tree, she notched her arrow and waited for the intruder to arrive. "Don't even try it, Little Menace."

She jumped from the tree and landed in front of Floki, grinning. Her eyes drifted to the tall stranger that joined them. He looked ridiculous in his orange tunic. "Who is the princeling?"

"My name is Rollo, Duke of Normandy."

Siggy looked at Floki with her head tilted to the side in confusion. "He is joining us. Now be quiet." Bjorn commanded and walked past her, not sparing her a glance. 

"I hope the traitor slits your throat first!" She spun around and hit her chest with her fist, glaring at his retreating back. Helga took her by the shoulders and asked her how she has been, complimenting the yellow tunic that she changed into.

Of course, Helga didn't need to know that she only had to change because her old tunic was covered in mud from faceplanting into it. No one had to know that, in fact. 

When the boats set sail again, Siggy watched the brother of Ragnar with wary eyes. He looked laughable in his clothes. So when Bjorn gave an order to drown him, she actually giggled in glee.

They pulled in the oars and tied up his hands and feet. Everyone watched as he was thrown in. Siggy enjoyed the view from the ship's head, Floki right under her. They pulled at both sides of the rope, trapping him under the boat, and halted at Bjorn's signal. 

Siggy felt giddy at the thought of death so near her, even if there was not gonna be any blood. She will take what she gets and enjoy it too. 

"Pull him up!"

Damn it, Bjorn! Siggy groaned and pouted at the boatbuilder, who looked as let down as her. When they pulled the traitor back up, he laid still before retching up the water that entered his lungs. Siggy pouted harder and jumped over his body as Bjorn gave the order to row. She could hear Rollo laughing but paid him no mind. Using Hvitserk's shoulder as support, she climbed back up the mast and watched the sixty ships sail away from the castle. 

They dressed him in leather as if he didn't cause the deaths of many Vikings and betray his own blood. When it was time to eat, Siggy climbed from her seat and sat down next to Helga and Floki. She watched his back as he stood next to Bjorn. She didn't know who she hated more. Floki always spoke of Rollo as scum that deserved to die. And she saw Bjorn the same way.

Maybe it was a blood thing? Rollow betrayed Ragnar and the Vikings, Ragnar betrayed the Vikings, and Bjorn betrayed her. Hopefully, Aslaug gave the other Ragnarssons some sense.

Passing by Hvitserk munching on an apple, she jumped on the edge of the boat and balanced over it. "Be careful. You don't know how to swim."

Rollo turned around and watched her dance on top of the wooden edge, dipping her toes in happily. "You don't know how to swim?"

"And you don't know how to be loyal. We all have our faults, Rollo." The man chuckled and observed her. She was a mystery to him; by her age, she couldn't be Floki's and Helga's daughter. Angrboða died as a child, and this one was too old to have been born after her. And the way she beat her chest when angry seemed so familiar to him. 

She nearly tipped over into the water but steadied herself and strode on fearlessly. "It would be fun if I drowned. Like the original Siggy."

The blood in his veins grew cold at that. He hadn't heard the name; the last time he did, Bjorn's daughter was born. This annoying little madwoman couldn't be Bjorn's Siggy. 

The blonde teenager twirled around on her toes and gripped a rope in her hands. She wrapped it around her throat and gasped mockingly. "Or maybe I could hang myself instead. Be original and spice it up."

"Stop fooling around!" Bjorn's voice boomed from behind them, and Siggy's features darkened. Now that she was angry, they looked so much alike. "For once in your life, be responsible and act your age!"

Jumping off the edge, she glared at him, fists clenched tightly by her sides. Helga ran to her and tried to calm down, but it was to no vain. When she spoke, her voice was icy and colder than the first frost in Kattegat used to be. "I am acting my age, your Highness. I am fifteen, as you would know if you cared enough. I always wondered why my mother left."

Bjorn pushed his shoulders back to scare her into shutting up. But it didn't work one bit; all it did was make her talk louder for all to hear. "Maybe I was an ugly baby or cried too much. But I am sure the problem wasn't me. I mean... How could she ever suffer to be near you? You are angry, unloyal, neglectful, and stupid. No wonder she left! I would have done the same!"

"That is enough! You will treat me with respect!"

"I will do no such thing, you fucking oaf!"

"You little-" 

Floki cut in between them and smiled uneasily. "Don't do something you might regret, Bjorn. Friend or not, you will not touch Siggy." It always amazed Rollo how menacing someone as skinny as Floki can look. It must be the wild look in his eyes and the deranged mind.

With a huff, Bjorn turned away and stalked towards the head of the ship, his back turned to the still fuming blonde. Siggy stood there glaring at him; face stuck between anger and sadness. Everyone stared at her as Helga tried to calm her down, but nothing helped.

That is until Floki turned to her and cupped her cheek, patting her on it while tutting at her. "You will scare off all the men like this. How are we ever meant to get rid of you then, huh? And here I was hoping to get a castle for you."

Siggy turned her brooding blue eyes at his, shining the say way Ragnar's used to do. "Floki!" She scoffed and hit him over the side of the head, feigning to be insulted. "What man would be stupid enough to want me?"

"There are lots of deranged men out there." Floki joked, giggling.

"Speaking from experience, are you, Old man?"

The boatbuilder snickered again and took her by the shoulders, leading her back to their sleeping place. "Who are you calling old, huh? I am younger than I have ever been."

"Keep telling yourself that."

Hvitserk came to her later, eating like always. He ate from her share of food while she repainted the markings on her face. She had taken up to the art after she wanted to impress Floki. A child really, probably twelve or so. Back then, it looked bad, but with some practice, she got better. Now she can do it, still half asleep with her eyes closed.

"Didn't think you were a flower kind of girl." Glaring at him, she tried to grasp what he meant but then sighed. In her lap laid the flower Sigurd gave her as a parting gift.

"Bay flower means glory. It was a wish for me to wet my blade with blood and gain the people's respect."

"Aaah, so it's from Sigurd."

"No, Hvitserk. It's from your latest conquest. She cried when she gave it to me. Said I was far better than you ever were."

Hvitserk chuckled and leaned closer to her. "Why? Is your cock bigger than mine?"

"As long and thick as the mast behind you." She teased back, smirking, putting away her paint to steal back her food from him. He laughed at her boldness, patting her on the head as one might do to a dog.

Hvitserk left her to sit by Bjorn and Rollo, who tried to make sense of where they were. So Siggy made her way to her parents, who were having an argument.

"No, Helga."

"Yes. I need something more from this life."

"But not a child. Don't you remember?"

"Of course, I remember. How would I not remember?"

"There won't be a "this time." I have set my face against it. I do not want another child. Siggy is enough."

Floki stalked off, and Siggy watched Helga sob with sad eyes. It tore at her heart to see her sad. "Are you alright, Helga?"

The woman looked at her and sniffled before opening her blanket and waving her to herself. Siggy settled against her chest, her head tucked under her chin. "I am sorry."

"'Tis, alright. I have you. My pretty little warrior." The blonde gave a timid smile and hugged her mother closer. If her presence could give her some solace, Siggy would gladly look like a child in need of its mother to the other warriors. If anyone voiced it, well, they would die, of course.

[mermaidcashton]

if i knew you were comin’

author: claire (@mermaidcashton) ship/AU: ashton irwin/reader, baker AU  prompt: “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do.”  wordcount: 3344 warnings: swearing a/n: • written for @maluminspace & @h0tsos ‘s 5sos fic writers collab (in which we all chose from a list of AU’s and had the above prompt quote to include - check out the masterlist linked to see everyone elses!) • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘if i knew you were comin' i'd've baked a cake’ by eileen barton  if i knew you were comin’ ***

It would have been a real cliché had it been pouring with rain, the first time you saw him. If an unexpected thunderstorm in June had sent you into the little hipster bakery by necessity, a beacon of shelter in the form of a black & white sign that said ‘Dagger & Snake Bakehouse’. As it was, you were simply hungry in the rich sunshine, miles from home, and a sucker for bagels. That wasn’t very rom-com, really. 

The cliché came in when you saw him for the first time; laugh bright on his face, flour in his pillar box red hair. You felt every love-at-first-sight trope possible in that moment; brass band playing, lightning striking, arrows piercing. 

But it was raining now - slowly but with determination from the grey September sky - and you felt it, still.

***

The old fashioned bell above the heavy door rang out as you pushed your way into the bakery, immediately feeling enveloped in warmth. You shook off the excess water pooling on your umbrella out of the open door before you let it close as gently as possible behind you, spinning back around to assess the scene before you.

The shop was an assault on the senses every time you visited; the smell of 50 different baked goods intermingling and somehow achieving a harmony in your nose, the sound of the eclectic playlist they kept adding to filling the shop, and the assault on the eyes came in the form of bright hanging lights, extensive art on the walls, and the staff themselves.  

“Hello, you! Get in here; it’s horrible out there!”

You smiled widely, genuinely, at the greeting. “Hey, Calum! How are you?” You replied, stepping up to the counter. Calum ran his hand over his very short blonde hair with a smile that you were sure accounted for at least 25% of their sales. Not that you’d know; only one of the co-owners kept you spending more than you could really afford on focaccia bread, and he was nowhere to be seen.

“Can’t complain, real-well, actually, I can,” Calum changed his mind mid-sentence, face growing indignant. “Ash went to drop the banking off at Natwest 30 minutes ago, and Luke was due 5 minutes before you walked in, and I’m dying for a piss, and I-” The bell above the door shook like a hurricane had just come through the door, and in the form of a 6’2” blonde streak of limbs, it kind of had. “Sorry, sorry, I’m he-woah!” Luke skidded across the shiny white floor on his damp black Converse, windmilling his long arms until he caught one of only three tables in the place, and brought himself to a jolting stop. 

Calum rolled his eyes. “This fucken’ guy.” He muttered, but you could see the fondness painted all over his golden brown face. “Luke, I need to pee; look after our best customer for me!” Calum bolted out from behind the counter, showing off his black tank top and pinstriped trousers as he pulled his black branded apron off on his way to the door marked ‘STAFF ONLY’ across the shop. You could hear his Doc Martens squeaking on the tiles as he disappeared through the door and Luke took his place behind the counter, chucking his backpack through the archway that attached the shop to the bakery’s kitchen.  “Ooh, Ashton won’t like finding your backpack in his kitchen when he gets back!” You tease, leaning onto the ledge that separates you from Luke. The absent baker was very particular about his immaculate commercial kitchen and everything in it, and you knew something would definitely be said about the fact that Luke’s wet backpack was now lying on the floor by the ovens. Calum had once told you about a time he had simply moved Ashton’s sourdough starter across the kitchen, and the incident that had followed (and lasted for three days). “Ooh, won’t he!” Luke cooed, tying his own D&S Bakehouse apron with a messy bow on his stomach. “You’d know, being our resident Ashton expert and all.” You felt the flush begin to bloom on your cheeks before you saw it reflected in Luke’s stupid stainless steel coffee machine. You stuck your chin out as defiantly as possible. “I don’t know what that means, and I also don’t care. I’d like a Flat White, please, barista!”  Luke clutched his chest with a large hand, gasping dramatically. “So harsh! My own job title! You missed ‘Retail Assistant’ and ‘Shop Hunk’, but I’ll forgive you because I know you’re having Ashton withdrawals right now. Haven’t seen you since last week, kiddo!” Opting to ignore his needling about the Ashton situation, you set your own backpack on the floor as you let out a sigh. “Yeah, it’s been a bit chaotic this week. But I said I’d try and come by today, and I can’t live without Calum’s doughnuts much longer, so here I am.” “Yeah, that’s definitely what you can’t live without.” Luke snorted, filling the portafilter with coffee grounds. The staff door swung open before you could respond, Calum sailing back into the bakery. “Does he come with an off switch?” You groaned, shaking your head at the bottle blonde as he laughed and groaned with you. “God, if he did, I’d use it so often he’d never be ‘on’.” “You love me, they love me, everybody loves me!” Luke sang at volume as the coffee machine began to grind and whir. Calum rolled his eyes as he shut the door to the counter. “The girls from the high school down the street love you, I’ll give you that, but that’s about it.”   “The boys, too.” Luke wiggled his eyebrows at you ridiculously, tapping the used coffee grounds into the bin with a flourish. You couldn’t help but giggle; you’d grown so fond of Luke and Calum in the three months you’d been visiting the bakery that you considered them friends. And as you started examining the case in front of you, filled with the most delicious looking cakes, pastries and doughnuts you’d ever seen, you thought that surely friends with access to coffee and baked goods were the best friends to have. “What are you thinking, love?” Calum asked, watching your eyes flick between peanut butter brownies and cinnamon rolls.  “I don’t know; everything always looks so good!” You whined. “I think I’m definitely in the mood for something sweet, though.” “I’m right here, baby!” Luke trilled as he placed a steaming cup on the counter, looking very pleased with himself. “Do I need to tell Michael about this flirty behaviour, Luke?” Calum teased. Luke shrugged, completely nonplussed. “If you want. He’s so hot when he gets jealous.” Calum rolled his eyes again as he made his way into the kitchen. “Luke, move your backpack before Ash gets back unless you want to get bollocked!” He called over his shoulder. “Uh oh, too late.” Luke groaned, looking past you through the glass of the shop front, moments before the shop bell sounded out for a third time. You would definitely play it cool and not turn around if it was anyone but Ashton; you swear, this man is actually magnetic. The Hall & Oates’ song coming from the speakers seems to slow down as he comes into your line of sight, like in every movie you’ve ever seen with a leading man half as gorgeous as this one. Ashton was wearing his signature black boots and ripped jeans, with a white tank top and the leather jacket that you were sure would smell just like him; flour, grapefruit, sandalwood and whatever he used to put his hair into any of the styles that drove you so crazy. Today he had that one styled curl falling onto his face, and right now it was soaked and sending a trail of water down to drop from his chiseled jaw.  “You took your time, bread boy.” Calum called from the kitchen, doing Luke a solid of hiding his backpack underneath the furthermost kitchen counter as he did. Ashton huffed out half a laugh, running both hands through his wet hair and bending forward to shake it off as much as he could. “I don’t even only bake bread! Why do you insist on calling me that? Especially in front of my favourite customer.”  Despite knowing that you were currently the only customer in the bakery, your brain immediately began questioning whether or not he was referring to you. Then, he straightened up with his arms high, hands slicking his red hair back, and looked straight at you with unwavering eye contact. “Hey.”  That one word, combined with those eyes and him looking like he was in 2020’s answer to a Whitesnake video dragged your heart straight into your throat.  “Hey.” You echoed, hoping you were imagining the slightly breathless quality to your voice. Ashton’s serious-supermodel face broke into his brightest smile - seemingly just for you - before he began to stride past you to head behind the counter, shrugging his wet jacket off as he went. “I see you’re sorted with a drink; what have you chosen to eat? Or is this a flying visit?” “I was just doing my usual, actually.” You replied, dragging your eyes away from the tattoos on his arms to glance back down at the many glass cases of treats. “Struggling to decide?” Ashton teased lightly, tying his apron strings into a bow at his waist. You giggled, feeling inordinately pleased that he knew exactly what you meant. “Well, my lattices should be cool by now. Cal?” Ashton called into the kitchen, where the sound of stand mixers could now be heard. You hadn’t even noticed Calum leaving the shop to bake in the back. As you realised Luke was also nowhere to be seen, the assistants’ head appeared from the side of the archway. “Calum says he is a very busy man and he thought you had things under control out here.” You frowned slightly, not understanding the inflection the blonde had put on ‘under control’. Must be a private joke; one that made Ashton steadily flush down his neck. “Shut up, Luke! I just want the top tray on the cooling rack by the main pantry, please.” Luke tapped his head with two fingers in an ‘aye aye, Captain’ gesture and momentarily vanished from view. Ashton cleared his throat, directing his words back to you. “I thought you said you were going to try and come by today. I made Cherry & Custard Lattices earlier; you love cherry, right?” You didn’t know what to say, so opted to just stare back at Ashton in surprise until you saw doubt in his eyes. “Yes! I did, say that, and I do - love cherry. You remembered that?” The smile on your face felt like it was spread impossibly wide, over your cheeks and beyond.  “Of course! I’m glad you’re here, actually…” “Here you go!” Luke said, sounding almost gleeful as he put the tray of pastries on the worktop behind Ashton. Normally, you would expect Luke to arrange them in a space in one of the cabinets and carefully handwrite a little sign for them, but not today, apparently. He was already taking strides back to the kitchen to help Calum, throwing you both a look over his shoulder that was definitely cheeky. “Go get ‘em, tiger!” Ashton went so unbelievably red that it made his flush from before look like his natural skin tone. For lack of something to do with yourself in a confusing, slightly awkward situation that you didn’t fully understand, you picked up the coffee Luke had made for you and took a small sip. Ashton took a breath and seemed to steel himself for something. “I’ve got something to ask you.” He cocked his head slightly to one side before taking a slightly wistful tone. “Do you remember the day we met?” *** You looked up at the stark sign above the world’s most appetising window display. ‘Dagger & Snake Bakehouse’. It was a little after your usual lunchtime and you were starving. You’d never been to this place before, but you could see slices of puff pastry topped with everything you could imagine; asparagus, pesto, goats cheese, tomatoes, bacon, mushrooms - all topped with melted cheese, so that was that. You made your way through the glossy black door into the bakery, and were struck by how cool it looked inside. The main walls were exposed brick painted white, covered with a broad range of paintings, posters, sketches, photographs and signs. Black boards covered in white chalk writing detailing baked goods and hot drinks, opening hours and little doodles. Shelves with all manner of trinkets and decorations adorned any parts of the walls that there wasn’t something else. Sleek white tiles covered the floor, counters and the walls leading off to the restrooms and a door marked ‘STAFF ONLY’. There were ferns and succulents dotted around the place, and recycled glass bottles on a few black cafe tables with a single red rose in each. There were cases and displays of every kind of baked good you could imagine at the counter, running along the windows, and high above the worktops behind the counter. Stevie Wonder segued into Fleetwood Mac over the speakers in the corners,audible above the babble of noise of the customers already in the bakery.  A couple at the farthest table were tucking into big slices of two of the most incredible looking cakes you had ever seen in your life. At the till, a girl with a high ponytail and tiny denim shorts was taking a branded pastry box from a tall, skinny-but-somehow-broad guy. Another man with a black hat pulled low on his head brushed his fluffy blonde hair out of his eyes where he sat at one of the tables opposite the counter. He shot the staff member a beaming smile and a thumbs up, then returned his attention to the laptop open on his table. You eagerly made your way forward as the girl with the ponytail began to exit the shop. “Hi! I’m Luke, welcome to Dagger & Snake Bakehouse. What can I get for you?” The worker - Luke - greeted you enthusiastically with a toothy smile. His smile faltered slightly when you asked for an iced coffee to go with your lunch, but before you could think about it, he sprang into action as a second man appeared from an archway beside him, mid laugh. You divert your attention to the newcomer and your heart skips way more than a beat. He was, without question, the most beautiful human you had ever seen in your life. He was tall - though not as tall as Luke, but twice as broad. The muscles in his arms bulged through his t-shirt, and you could see tattoos on his arms and wrists. His hair was in a perfect quiff, and the brightest shade of red you could imagine. You noticed what appeared to be flour speckled across the top of it, and melted slightly more. His face was a set of perfect, sharp angles contrasting with the soft dimples in his cheeks as he laughed. You had never been so aware of every molecule of your own body. You felt tingly and numb and on high alert all at once. The urge to lick your lips was suddenly overwhelming. “How are you getting on, Luke? Did I hear an iced coffee order over Calum’s shenanigans back there?” His voice was like hearing a song on the radio that you haven’t heard in ages but always loved. Luke shook his head and played it cool, whilst the love of your life turned to you with a warm smile. “It’s Luke’s first day! Go easy on him. How is he doing?”  “Ashton! I know exactly what I am doing!” Luke sniffed, opening a cabinet door that turns out to be a freezer drawer and scooping ice with confidence. Ashton giggled again and held his hands up in surrender, shooting you another smile before heading around Luke and out onto the bakery floor. You unconsciously followed him with your eyes, across the room to the window cabinets where he began making adjustments to the display. He had to bend and lean to reach the very front, and after allowing yourself a few seconds to stare at his ass in tight, black jeans, you came to your senses and reluctantly diverted your eyes back to the counter. Luke leant conspiratorially towards the counter and you unconsciously mirrored his movement before he began to whisper to you. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing.” He laughed as he straightened back up and steadied the coffee cup in his hand before continuing in an airy, cheerful voice. “I almost never do!” “I’m sure it’ll be great, don’t worry!” You reassured, casting an eye over the blender Luke was working with now. You were sure it would be. Probably. Your eyes traced the white printed branding that adorned the apron on Luke’s chest; a traditional tattoo style dagger and snake.  “Why Dagger & Snake?” “Oh, that’s a question for one of the bossmen! Ashton!” Luke called across the shop. “Yeah?” You jumped at the voice that came from right behind you, spinning around and coming face to face with Ashton wiping his hands on his apron. “Sorry!” Ashton apologised. “I didn’t mean to scare you!” A soft, genuine smile played on his lips as you took in just how hazel his eyes were. You felt like you’d just walked up a flight of 200 stairs. “The lady would like to know why you and Cal named this place Dagger & Snake Bakehouse. Oh, balls.” Something hit the floor behind you, but you paid it no mind as Ashton’s face lit up. “They go together, to mean a bunch of stuff, right? Kept seeing them at tattoo shops, together. They can symbolise healing, the Roman god of luck, good vs evil; loads of cool stuff. But always together; that’s me and Cal - Calum, my best friend, we own this place, 50/50. He got the dagger, I got the snake. Brothers, forever.” Ashton talked with such conviction, and pulled his t-shirt sleeve with enthusiasm as he held his arm out to you, showing you a stark black tattoo of a snake. “That’s so sweet.” You breathed out, without really thinking about it. He looked at you like he hadn’t expected that adjective, but like he was turning it over in his mind. “And cool!” you added, nodding slightly. “You think so?” Ashton smiled, pulling his sleeve back down, looking quietly pleased. You let a few seconds tick by in silence, looking into his eyes to see what you could see. It looked like the whole world. “Yeah, I do.”

***

“Um...I think so, yes.” You thought you were just about straddling the line between casual and so-nervous-you-could-honestly-throw-up-a-little. “I wanted to ask you this that day, but I thought I’d sound so creepy, and unprofessional, and I didn’t want you to think I was a freak, or that I did this all the time, but-” Unless you were projecting, Ashton looked as nervous as you felt. “Ashton, point! Get there!” Luke yelled gleefully from the kitchen, followed immediately by a sound that you were fairly certain was Calum smacking him upside the head. The yelp of ‘Ow!’ that followed it seemed to confirm your suspicions.  Ashton faltered slightly, looking embarrassed and mumbling something about ‘idiot’ and ‘fired’. “Ashton.” You reached out your hand and placed it on his where he was nervously drumming on the counter again before you even thought about it. You weren’t sure which of you was more surprised at your involuntary action.  Ashton raised his eyes back to you, peering at you with hope in his hazel eyes.“You think I could get your number? Take you out sometime?” You allowed yourself to smile, widely, genuinely, as you knew just how to answer. “Yeah, I do.” *** masterlist for the 5sos ficwriters collab  • my masterlist

[orthogonals]

生不如死| torture worse than death

Rating: M Fandom: 二哈和他的白猫师尊 - 肉包不吃肉 | The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Meatbun Doesn't Eat Meat Word Count: 1608 Pairing: Chu Wanning/Mo Ran | Taxian-Jun Summary: Chu Wanning lay sprawled haphazardly on the floor, strands of black hair fanning behind his head in a halo. Pale veins decorated the light pink of his closed eyelids, two haitang petals set against the paper white of his skin. His breaths, slow with unconsciousness, came softly through parted lips, the rise and fall of his chest almost imperceptible. --- OR: Set directly after MR's flashback in Ch. 89. What happened after 0.5 Mo Ran and Chu Wanning's first time?

[read on ao3]

Chu Wanning lay sprawled haphazardly on the floor, strands of black hair fanning behind his head in a halo. Pale veins decorated the light pink of his closed eyelids, two haitang petals set against the paper white of his skin. His breaths, slow with unconsciousness, came softly through parted lips, the rise and fall of his chest almost imperceptible.

Taxian-jun adjusted the last few ties of his robes and stood back to admire his work, gazing almost pensively at Chu Wanning’s prone figure. All of Chu Wanning’s clothing had long since been feverishly torn away, and garments cluttered the room sporadically, thrown atop furniture or heaped in piles on the floor. Some unfortunate articles lay tattered and useless, ripped apart in Taxian-jun’s cruel haste to access the intoxicating warmth of his Shizun’s body.

His eyes raked across the smooth canvas of skin offered by Chu Wanning, pausing at each bruise, each crimson mark interrupting the pale expanse of flesh. Chu Wanning had slipped into exhaustive slumber on his back, with his arms and legs splayed as if to present the evidence of his degradation. Dried bits of fluid, tinged pink with blood, had tracked streaks down Chu Wanning’s inner thighs, a watercolor of debauchment painted between his legs. Taxian-jun’s irises darkened, a vicious expression frightfully twisting his handsome features. Hunger, malice, and perverse satisfaction flickered across Taxian-jun’s face in turns.

Suddenly, as if struck by a memory or the onset of a nightmare, Chu Wanning’s long lashes trembled against his cheek, and a soft murmur escaped from his lips. His sharp brows scrunched, forming a wrinkle that creased his forehead. His face stayed like that momentarily, troubled even in sleep, before gradually smoothing out once more.

Unbidden, a sharp wave of pity rose within Taxian-jun. To see his Shizun, Yuheng of the Night Sky, the Beidou Immortal, reduced to this, nothing more than a whore writhing beneath the prowess of the First Emperor of the Cultivation World— Taxian-jun almost felt sympathetic. Of course, so thoroughly humiliating Chu Wanning had brought him a grim sense of sadistic pleasure, but his gratification still seemed to fall short somewhere, like an arrow that had missed bullseye by a few marks. This faint unease churned within him along with the pity, leaving Taxian-jun feeling strangely out of sorts, as if he were a lost traveler who had somehow stumbled his way into Wushan Palance, stumbled into standing over the naked body of his ruined Shizun.

Taxian-jun shook his head to dispel the filmy wisps of his thoughts. He had originally planned to call an attendant to drag Chu Wanning, naked and debased, away to some corner of the Palace. Physical conquest wasn’t enough to slake his animalistic thirst for vengeance; he wanted to irrevocably tarnish Chu Wanning, to incinerate his pristine, austere image into wisps of ash. Taxian-jun had even imagined Chu Wanning’s reaction upon awakening to four unfamiliar walls, picturing with a sort of vicious glee how his Shizun’s face would blanch white upon finding himself so unceremoniously carried away and dumped aside.

But now, just considering the idea of someone else having the privilege to lay eyes on Chu Wanning like this, so completely fucked out, ignited a possessive rage that burned like forest brush up his esophagus. Mine, he thought. Chu Wanning belongs to me.

Letting out a puff of a sigh, he stooped down to pick up Chu Wanning, maneuvering Chu Wanning’s head to rest on his shoulder. Chu Wanning’s lashes flickered; he seemed to make a grumble of protest, but he eventually burrowed closer into Taxian-jun’s chest, an unconscious effort to seek warmth, like a sunflower tilting to catch rays of light on its petals. His hair splayed down in rivulets and framed the elegant lines of his face. The strands reflected the dim candlelight in a dull luster, like shimmering black pearls.

Before he was even aware of the impulse, Taxian-jun dipped down to catch Chu Wanning’s petal-soft lips in a chaste kiss. The faint taste of dew permeated his mouth and melted like candy on his tongue.

A servant, shakily bowing, brought a tub of warm water and some linen towels to the room. Taxian-jun shot him a glare in dismissal and turned back to face the bed, scarlet-gold curtains drawn closed around the mattress. Steam licked upwards from the water and filled the room with a smoky, intangible haze.

The curtains swished open under Taxian-jun’s hand, revealing the figure of a man still sleeping, wrapped up in an animal pelt.

Taxian-jun extricated Chu Wanning from the covers, hoisting his pliant body into his embrace and bringing him to the tub. When the warm water submerged Chu Wanning’s listless limbs, his eyes blearily cracked open. He affixed a distant, cloudy gaze towards Taxian-jun, dazed and unaware.

“Mo Ran?” He asked, leaning against the wood of the tub.

“Go back to sleep.” Taxian-jun responded roughly. His voice rang hoarse and gravelly in the still air.

Perhaps Chu Wanning had truly suffered beyond his limit, or perhaps, in the realm between sleep and clarity, he had forgotten his current situation. For rather than his usual intransigence, Chu Wanning instead obediently closed his eyes and drifted back into unconsciousness.

Taxian-jun felt as if something blunt had cleaved a groove into his chest, heart raw with wound and spurting fresh blood. He reached out as if to touch Chu Wanning, to stroke his hair, but then abruptly retracted his arm and fisted his hand at his side.

Taxian-jun genuinely never knew how to regard this Shizun of his. The gulf that bridged them spanned vast and had only grown throughout the years. Its gaping maw stretched wide, a welter of contempt, loathing, and pain brought to boil in its abysmal depths. His entire being ached to see Chu Wanning completely and utterly subjugated, yet a small part of him still felt fourteen, like he would pick down the stars in the sky just so Chu Wanning would direct him with a hint of a smile.

The wood beneath Taxian-jun’s grip creaked. What a pitiable disciple, what a despicable teacher. Chu Wanning had whipped him bloody, and a piece of Mo Ran still wanted to turn like a docile lamb and present his other cheek.

“You’re a bastard, Chu Wanning.” Taxian-jun spat at Chu Wanning’s unperceptive figure. As expected, Chu Wanning remained silent in the onslaught. He had soaked for so long that the tips of his fingers had pruned. Yet unmoving and unaware, with lurid marks littered across his body, he still managed to radiate an ethereal sort of beauty.

Taxian-jun’s anger receded as fast as it had surged, leaving him oddly deflated. He bit his lip and finally picked up a linen, wiping away at Chu Wanning with all the care of a collector cleaning his most prized figurine.

Somehow, Taxian-jun ended up spending the night with Chu Wanning. They were in his personal bedroom, after all, and though Taxian-jun didn’t want someone to take Chu Wanning away, he also couldn’t very well let Chu Wanning oust him from his own room. So, after drying Chu Wanning from the bath, Taxian-jun, a bit begrudgingly, laid him down again on the bed.

The night had deepened to an inky obsidian, and fatigue blearily lapped at Taxian-jun’s consciousness. Chu Wanning, that selfish ingrate, had blissfully slept for the better part of a shichen while This Venerable One assiduously waited on him on hand and foot!

Even so, when Taxian-jun slipped beneath the covers, he curled himself around Chu Wanning possessively, holding him tight against his chest. Like this, the crisp haitang scent that lingered on Chu Wanning overwhelmed his senses, heady and soporific. He nuzzled into Chu Wanning’s neck, pressing kisses atop the bite marks he had left earlier, sighing with something close to contentment.

Eyelids growing heavy, Taxian-jun allowed himself a final kiss on Chu Wanning’s parted lips, tongue gently grazing across the pink mouth, tasting his delicate flavor. He pulled Chu Wanning’s soft body even closer into his embrace, and the First Emperor gradually stilled to the steady rhythm of Chu Wanning’s heartbeat.

Chu Wanning woke up subsumed in an oppressive heat. He scrunched his nose and opened his eyes, registering the hard muscle pressed against his back, the arms wound around his waist. Like a bucket of cold water, sharp clarity drenched him in an instant, and he shot up in a rage, pushing Mo Ran off his body.

With his cultivation gone, though, Chu Wanning’s violent shove barely registered in Taxian-jun’s sleep, and he only mumbled a bit, turning around and kicking the sheets off the bed.

Chu Wanning stared down at himself in a daze, the cruel events from the night before slicing him open like thousands of blades. He wasn’t familiar with how Taxian-jun had rearranged Wushan Palace, so slipping away now would chance his intrusion into unwelcome spaces. Still, Chu Wanning thought he would rather die than meet Taxian-jun’s gaze when he woke up, so he salvaged whatever pieces of his clothing he could, hurriedly arranging himself to appear somewhat presentable and striding to the door.

Yet before he left, with a hand still hovering over the doorknob, Chu Wanning turned back to look at Mo Ran’s form on the bed for a long, long time.

Taxian-jun awoke to an empty bed, the sheets wrapped firmly around him.

He didn’t truly think about the way he had been so carefully swaddled, the top edge of the covering folded down two inches and tucked around his body, until he was thirty-two, as pear blossom white burned a searing trail of bitterness down his throat.

[tran5rightsos]

My Hourglass Is In Your Hands

Summary: A day of fishing in the lagoon with Luke is cancelled when his and Ashton's skiff springs a leak. What will they do with their surprise day off?

Genre: Steampunk

Relationships: Lashton

Word count: 1881

Warnings: blood and injury

Leave Kudos?

Ashton leaned out the window to reach the small pail hanging from the awning, gritting his cigarette holder tight between his teeth to leave both hands free so that he could pour the water collected last night into his window box. The little white flowers were just opening up in the morning sunlight, like snowflakes peppering the green shrubs.

Leaning on the windowsill, he took a puff of his cigarette and gazed out at the city clinging to the cliffs around the lagoon. Generally, all was quiet since most people were still in bed, but as he listened to the approaching whir of propellers, a dinghy descended in front of him. He gave the pilot a wave, watching them sink towards the Great Eye, where other airboats buzzed to and from its surface like dragonflies. Early morning was always a busy time down there.

The timer on Ashton’s oven dinged and he put out the stub of his cigarette before heading back in. The blueberry muffins were golden on top and when he cut one open, a puff of steam rising into the cool morning air, he found that it was soft and springy inside.

The rhythmic squeak of the pulley outside the window alerted him to the bucket coming down from Luke’s house. He hurried out to grab the rope and help pull it down to his sill. The bucket felt heavier than usual and when he opened the lid he found a jar of jam with the note.

skiff sprung a leak. wont make it to the eye today, was the message Luke had sent, with a sad face and the morning weather report written out underneath. The jam had a tag labelled strawberry with a smiley face underneath tied beneath the lid.

Ashton watched another airboat rise past the window, contemplating his suddenly empty schedule. He had plenty of weed and knew a good spot for watching the clouds and losing track of time. He took down the notebook and pencil hanging next to the window.

rolling cigarettes, meet me at the market in an hour? he wrote.  

He wrapped a muffin for Luke in cloth and sent it up with the note, smiling when he felt Luke start pulling the rope with him.  

He went back to the stove, nibbling on his muffin as he wrapped the other two. They wouldn’t be seeing Michael and Calum today, but the snacks would be welcome after a few shared cigarettes. He made the usual sandwiches for him and Luke, then got the weed jar down and started rolling cigarettes, wondering if it would be worth restocking the jar while he was out.  

Luke’s reply to his suggestion was an ok with another smiley face.  

Once his lunchbox was packed, Ashton deliberated in the bathroom mirror. He’d better change into something more presentable than his fishing jumpsuit and singlet. A waistcoat and button-up, to start with. Was his nice jacket too nice for a day out in the cliffs with a friend? Even if that friend was Luke?  

He settled on his trenchcoat, to play it safe. He wouldn’t mind it getting covered in ash, he reasoned, and he wouldn’t feel overdressed if they dropped into a pub at some point. It looked good with his semi-nice trousers and boots anyway.  

As Ashton gave himself a final once-over, he heard a roll of thunder outside and frowned. Luke’s weather report hadn’t predicted anything but sun all day. He turned and spotted the underside of a massive airship outside the window in time to feel the room shudder so violently he had to grip a bedpost to stay standing. Outside, tiny pieces of debris rained down and his and Luke’s bucket fell past, followed by the wooden beam Luke’s end of the pulley was attached to and a huge hunk of burned metal. Ashton’s end ripped out with a splintering snap and above him someone screamed.  

Ashton stared at the ceiling. Luke.  

Abandoning the lunchbox, Ashton ran to the door, hands shaking as he pulled the handle and wrenched it open. A few neighbours were out in the hallway, but he ignored their questioning looks as he raced to the ladder at the end, climbing the rungs two at a time to reach Luke’s floor.  

Ashton didn’t think about how he’d get in until he reached the door, feeling both relieved that it was ajar and anxious that Luke wasn’t out in the hallway. He pushed it open and froze.  

The lagoon-facing wall was gone aside from what had been blown into the room, the view of the sinking airship outside and the smoking hole in its hull only slightly obscured by metal beams twisting downwards from the roof. The room itself was a wreck of plaster, shattered glass and splintered floorboards bashed in by burned metal chunks.    

Shaken out of his trance by a cry, Ashton searched the room for the source to find Luke on the floor next to his radio, a warped piece of thin pipe running through his thigh and blood streaming through his hair. Ashton rushed to his side, eyes fixing first on the side of his head. The tip of his ear was hanging by a sliver of skin, a long but thankfully shallow wound marking where a piece of metal had nearly taken out his eye as well.

Ashton took out his handkerchief and pressed it to the head wound.  

“Ash,” Luke gasped.  

“I’m here,” Ashton assured him, glancing around the room again. Outside, a sheet of corrugated roofing fell past. “We gotta go. Hold the handkerchief there.” They weren’t in immediate danger, but he didn’t want to take risks with whatever damage the structures above them had taken.  

He went to Luke’s bathroom, half of the bath itself probably at the bottom of the Eye by now and a piece of sky now visible above the airship, and searched the cupboard for medical supplies. There was gauze and a length of bandage, but nothing like the emergency kit they kept on the skiff. He grabbed the bandage and hurried back out to Luke.  

“Keep holding that,” he reminded him, pressing the now soaked handkerchief back to the wound, “Can you lift your leg? I need to bandage it.”  

Luke groaned, his foot shifting a little. Ashton helped him pull his knee up just enough to reach underneath. He could feel the tip of the pipe through his blood-wettened trousers, twisted and sharp.  

“I gotta cut your trousers open. Knife?”

“Knife?” Luke questioned breathlessly.

“Where are your knives?”

“Oh.” Luke took a shuddering breath and pointed to his bed. “Toolbelt.”

Ashton spotted the toolbelt hanging from a bedpost and grabbed it, first finding Luke’s large fishing knife, then a multitool with a relatively sturdy pair of scissors. He picked the multitool, not wanting to risk further injury to Luke’s leg with his shaky hands. After cutting a wide hole around the end of the pipe, Ashton carefully set loops of bandage around both ends and started winding it around his leg.

“I was about to go,” Luke told him, voice straining, “I was about to turn off the radio when I heard their distress call. The window shattered.”

“They aren’t falling too fast,” Ashton noted with a glance at the top of the airship outside, “Must’ve just been a couple of cells.”

Now that Luke had drawn his attention to it, Ashton could hear the announcer on the radio requesting aid for the airship and the areas hit by debris. He tuned it out again to focus on Luke.

“Sit up for me?”

Luke clutched Ashton’s arm tightly as he helped him up, groaning.

“Can you walk?”

Breathing deeply, Luke nodded. He tensed as Ashton secured his grip on him, breaths coming out shorter and faster as if to ready himself. Ashton lifted him slowly, but Luke still cried out as his leg shifted.

“I don’t think I can move it,” he whimpered.

“That’s okay, just lean on me.” Ashton took a small step to the door, Luke lurching with him. “That’s it, come on.”

The hardest part was getting over the doorstep. Ashton went first and Luke dragged his foot over it sideways, going pale as he bit his lip hard. Luke’s neighbours seemed to have fared better, though Ashton supposed that any injured worse than Luke would likely still be trapped in their homes.

“Medic?” Ashton asked someone hurrying between the people in the hallway, a red medical kit in hand.

They looked at the pipe. “Shit. Uh… Take him to the atrium, someone’ll be there soon, I gotta...”

Ashton nodded understandingly.

Luke’s floor opened onto a balcony stretching along the cliff wall, the bottom of the atrium a couple of floors below them. The whole area was shielded from the weather by a wall with a large, domed window, now cracked by a piece of wreckage, though that didn’t stop onlookers from staring at the airship outside.

Ashton laid Luke down on a nearby bench, feet on the floor and the pipe clear of the edge to keep it from getting jostled, and went to the railing, searching for a medic in the crowd below them but finding his gaze drawn to the airship. A few tugboats had attached lines to it, slowing its descent. The airship clearly wasn’t designed for water landings and Ashton wondered how many tugboats it would take to lift it over the cliffs to safety. Maybe they’d just rescue the people aboard and let the deep blue of the Eye take it.

“Ash.”

Ashton hurried back to Luke’s side, pressing the handkerchief to his head. “What’s wrong?”

Luke gripped his hand. “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

Luke nodded weakly, sweat dripping down the sides of his face. “Stay.”

There probably wasn’t much point to running in circles and screaming anyway. Ashton settled on the floor next to Luke, gently rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb as he kept pressure on the head wound with his other hand.

From here, Ashton couldn’t see the Eye, but he saw a fire boat whizz past, firefighters manning the water cannons on the side.

“Are you hurt?” Luke asked weakly.

Ashton looked at him and shook his head. “My house didn’t get hit.”

At least, not while Ashton had been there. He considered the debris he’d seen falling outside Luke’s and wondered what state his own home would be in when he returned.

Ashton frowned. When would he return? Emergency services might block off the hallways to the areas that had been hit with debris while they got the situation under control, which could take all night. The areas below would probably be blocked off while debris was cleared away and that could take days. The hit buildings would have to be repaired. In Luke’s case, probably completely rebuilt. Ashton hoped they’d give him a chance to grab his personal belongings first.

“We might have to stay with Cal and Mike,” Ashton suggested to Luke.

“Sleepover,” Luke mumbled in reply.

Ashton chuckled. “Yeah. A sleepover.”

“We can all sleep in the bed together.”

“All of us?” Ashton laughed, “Might be a bit of a squeeze.”

“Cozy.”

“Cozy,” Ashton repeated, giving Luke’s hand a squeeze.

[honestsycrets]

Wretched Little Angels: Aethelwulf’s Choice

❛ pairing | ragnarssons x reader

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | ivar takes over the reins, and everyone else is just along for the ride. 

❛  warnings | dark!fic, graphic non-con and violence, ivar being a dick, ivar planning, hostage situation, heavy angst. do not read if any of those will trigger you

They already knew what the possibility was.

“It’s possible that she may not even be alive,” Alfred spoke from the table.

It was a cold night, and his scarf was fixed around his neck, staring between his brother and his father. Aethelwulf paced from one side of the room to the other before coming to the table where they sat with full plates that neither had eaten.

“What if she is?” Aethelred returns. “She is a woman. They could be hurting her.”

By hurting her, all the men in the room knew what he meant.

“It is likely,” Alfred answers.

The question seems to really be what price they were willing to pay. For Aethelwulf, this was one in a line of disrespectful actions. It was the top of his list, no doubt, but it was not something he could so easily let go. Aethelwulf sets his hands on the chair, squaring his shoulders back.

“I’ll call him.”

“At what cost?”

The cost, he knows better than his sons. Aethelwulf runs his hands through his short black hair. His fist beats down on the table, effectively silencing his youngest son with his shrill that caused Alfred to scoot back in his seat.

“I want my daughter back.”

You should have stabbed Ubbe with that knife.

But you didn’t.

Hvitserk left you feeling burning raw and now, Ivar-- Ivar was something else entirely. His arm is thrown over your shoulder, dragging his nails over your empty stomach up toward your breasts. Your chest heaves under his fingertips. Your father is heavy on your mind. He is the sort of man to think he knows best and go through with it. Unless it was the words of grandfather, that was. He could always… do best.

Now that Aethelwulf was the one to deal with, well, there was no telling what he would do. You were sure of one thing. It would be reckless. When you glance over to Ivar, you know that this boy-- is more than he can handle.

“What are you going to do to them?”

“To your father?” he slides a lock of your hair from your ear. “That depends on him.”

“Please don’t kill them.”

This man, the Boneless, runs a chill down your back. You don’t know why. You only know that when he looks at you, he sees something little more then the daughter of a police chief. Ivar seizes your nape with his large hand.

“Oh? Well, I don’t really want you, so I don’t even need you,” Ivar whispers corroded words. A jangle of his belt reflects that he is loosening his pants. You don’t have to guess by now what he is about to do. “So let’s get down to business.”

It was fine. You’ve been put through worse. Ubbe was worse. Ivar less so. The grip on your neck tightens into bruised the size of the pads of his fingers. When you take him into his mouth, Ivar settles into petting your hair— almost like a good dog.

“Where is she?”

A warm voice asks, bursting with hot energy and frayed at the edges with his concern. You seize up under his hand, tightening your fist around his floppy cock. Ivar bucks his hips, and his cock responds in turn, swelling under your fingers.

“Nothing to worry about,” Ivar insists in a mouthy groan. “I am taking good care of her.”

You, as well as your father, know how much of a lie that is.

“If you lay a hand on my“--

“My brothers have done more than that,” Ivar answers, reaching down to stroke your hair. So close, but so far away, Ivar almost muses. “But if you want her back, you know what to do.”

With a click, Ivar drops the phone, cock throbbing and pulsing in your hand. A threat of moisture spurts from his tip and you take it with heavy-lidded eyes pressed together tightly that you refuse to let yourself cry. Whatever it was, you think, it wasn’t going to end well.

“You are going to hurt him, aren’t you?” Your voice teams with tension and fear.

“Well, he makes a shitty puppet.” Ivar laughs, tugging you up by a fistful of your hair. The burn of the cool air causes you to release his cock, which bobs excitedly when you whimper face to face with him. “But maybe you can level with me. Sit on my dick.”

You’re tired of it. The constant wear and tear of Ragnar’s sons tearing into your body. You let your knees fall apart under his prodding hand. Ivar’s lip twitches, somewhere between appreciation and annoyance that you could not follow a simple order.

“It’s not that hard to listen,” Ivar reprimands. He brings your hips down to him, slipping his hand underneath to guide his way into the hole that his brothers had all had. Pleasure thrums through him when he actually does slip in, and he shifts his hands around to grasp your shoulders to force you down onto him.

“You’re all used up,” Ivar says. “You don’t even have it in you to fight me.”

A succession of quick and shallow lines are pricked by one slow, deep one that Ivar made sure to know you felt. You know he tells the truth. Being used by the Ragnarssons almost becomes routine. If you ran, like with Ubbe, they would only make it worse.

“I suppose I’ll have to settle with this to send to your soft brother,” Ivar grasps a fist full of your hair again, dragging you against his chest. Ivar’s teeth catch your neck, rocked by a stuttering thrust of his hips. It’s no more than a hike in his breathing that marks that Ivar is cumming, deep when he drags you down against his hips.

His warm breath against your neck marks the release of his hot breath from your neck. He throws you off of his dick onto the leather seat of the truck. You catch the siding of the truck to stop you from knocking your head. But maybe it would be preferable if you didn’t have to be with these fuckers and knocked yourself out.

“You should sleep.” It’s almost with care that he says it. Though, from the events before, you question how a man like him could ever care about anything. “It might be a better option than being awake.”

The car door slams behind him. You jolt up minutes later when the coast is clear darting to the car door. The handle is locked when you try to open it. But of course, it could not be that easy. Sitting there, you find a certain green-eyed boy. “You’re like one’a them pastries,” Hvitserk says. “Always fuckin’ cream-filled.”

It would have been less painful to be with Ivar.

Your eyes relax from their wide, clear surprise at his presence. With another chance gone, you settle back down, pulling the small throw over your cold body and settling into a flat pillow that had seen better days. “Why are you here?”

Hvitserk holds up his gun, twisting it at you. “Sure as hell ain’t here for the pussy.”

You sit up, eyes rimmed by exhaustion, tugging your feet to your chest. It’s hard to sleep when someone like Hvitserk is there, teasing you outright for something that he knew you had no way of getting out of. Before long, the tears are spilling down your cheeks and you hate that-- that moment of desperation and overflowing emotion that leaves you a physical damsel in distress. Hvitserk stops, slipping the gun back on his belt and turning over the front of the truck to you.

“Why are you--”

“Why do you think?!” you lurch over, punching the head of his chair. You wish that you had hit him, but as quick as the mouseish thing was, Hvitserk moved to the side. “I hate you! I hate you and your stupid brothers!”

Hvitserk leans over the middle of the truck seats, letting a punch land on his jaw. He massages the area after the fact, not at all unfamiliar with the feeling of you spitting on him. It’s probably something he did deserve if he were to be honest, and he doesn’t hold it against you. If he were a woman…

“I’m not that bad,” Hvitserk says-- sounding if he’s trying to convince himself of that bit of knowledge. Your eyes well up with tears all over again when you come back to that pillow, squeezing it for emphasis.

“You’re the worst one!”

“Worst? Fuck man,” Hvitserk begins. “I’ve been nice! I didn’ do any of the shit my brother did, remember?”

“You were the first one. Time after time!” you state. An accusation, a sobbing accusation of that first time he caught you, mocked you with helping your father. Yeah, he remembers that. Hvitserk doesn’t know why he feels a flash of pity-- but when he feels it, he feels soft. He crawls over the seat.

“Hey,”

You scoot to the most impossible edge of that seat.

“Okay, except the wax.” He recounts wanting breakfast. That was a damn good breakfast after all that he did. You bring your blanket high to avoid looking at him. He debates reaching out, to peel the blanket down like he stubbornly would.

Except, this time, something holds him back.

“Thank you for your service!” says the barista. She hands him a steaming hot coffee which he takes, thwapping a packet of sugar against the cup. His phone begins to trill, and Bjorn shifts to his leather black belt.

Chief Aethelwulf, his work phone says.

“Hey chief,” Bjorn grins, pushing open the door for an older woman. She bobs in as he continues down the way to his car. Aethelwulf’s voice booms, shrilling about some fucker, ie. Ivar, with his daughter. “You found her? With the Ragnarssons?”

“A video? Never would’ve thought…”

He sets his cup down on the roof of his car and pops open the door. Ivar, what would he ever do with his baby brother, who regularly got himself into this sort of trouble. He would probably have a much easier time in negotiations. But no, of course not, things could not go so easily.

“Of course I’ll go with you.”

@tephi101​ @alicedopey​​ @supernaturalvikingwhore​ @tootie-fruity​ @titty-teetee​ @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla​ @ethereallysimple​ @deathbyarabbit​ @deathbyarabbit​ @readsalot73​ @natalie-rdr​ @lol-haha-joke​​ @lisinfleur​​ @hissouthernprincess​ @marvelousse​ @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol​ @vikingsmania​ @wish-i-was-a-mermaid​ @lif3snotouttogetyou​ @gruffle1​ @cris101071​ @gold-dragon-slayer​ @babypink224221​ @wonderwoman292​ @naaladareia​ @beyond-the-ashes​ @generic-fangirl​ @chinduda​ @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope​ @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117​ @unassumingviking​ @ladyofsoa, @inforapound​ @winchesterwife27​ @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys​  @bluearchersstuff​ @affectionrabbitt​ @whatamood13​ @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou​ @unacceptabletatertots​ @ivarandersen​ @stra-vage​

[nightofnyx8]

I’d Still Choose You (Part 2)

Well, in honor of the new Titans trailer coming out today, I finally added another part to this story. And remember how I said the first part was going to be the longest? Well, I lied. Also, I’m not sure if this will have just three parts, or four. Sometimes when I write the story takes a life of its own! But here you, Part 2! I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think!

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

The perks of being the adopted son of a billionaire? You could get whatever kind of international coffee you wanted, as long as it was 99% caffeine.

As much as Dick appreciated Rachel's herbal tea, he had been asking for Arabic black coffee every time he came over to Wayne Manor. Alfred would usually protest against this, but lately he only had to look at the dark circles under Dick's eyes to know it was probably for the better.

"Master Dick, you are sleeping, are you not?"

Dick drunk deeply from the steaming hot mug. "Yes. Maybe just, not the amount of hours I'd prefer."

Alfred sighed as he took back the cup. "I do worry, that is all."

"I'll be alright, Alfred."

The older gentlemen gave him a pointed look until he finally relented to the question in Dick's eyes.

"Miss Kory is already waiting for you out in the gardens."

"Thanks Alfred."

Dick had been coming out to Wayne Manor every day for the past two weeks. He spent most of his time with Kory, taking her on walks to get her out of the house while simultaneously answering all of her many questions. This morning was no exception, as an hour later they found themselves strolling along the harbor in the brisk autumn wind. Today's topic was none other than Batman himself, as Kory had seen Bruce leave the manor many times in the later hours of the evening.

"So…the Batman is Bruce Wayne." She stated emphatically.

"Yes."

"And you also participate in the saving of others in a costume and mask."

"Yup."

"And…I do this as well?"

Dick laughed. "Yes, you too. Let's just say that Earth has…problems. And when there's bad people who are too big for the law, that's where we come in."

"So, we are as a league of protection?"

"Something like that."

Kory smiled and shook her head. "What a strange life."

She leaned over the edge of the dock railing to see the ocean better, letting Dick rest his head on her shoulder. She seemed to be becoming more comfortable with Dick's presence these days. To the very least, she had gotten used to the idea that she was special to him.

Dick closed his eyes, enjoying her silent company before finally summoning up the courage to ask her the question that had been on his mind all morning.

"Kory?"

"Yes?"

"How would you feel if we um, stayed out a little later tonight? You and me?"

She gazed curiously at him. "What are you implying?"

"I would like to take you on a date."

"A date?" She questioned skeptically.

"Yes. Would you, Princess Koriand'r, do me the honor of accompanying me this evening?"

Kory sighed and bowed her head, staring at the rotting wood below them. Dick knew she was still wary of the fact that she was married to a man she didn't know anymore. After all, who wouldn't be in her situation? Maybe he was moving too fast, and maybe he should have been backing off right now.

But every moment he wasn't with her, he felt something ache terribly inside of him. He missed her laugh, the way her face lit up when she saw him. He missed her gentle kisses and tight embraces, and just how free she made him feel.

You don't just give that up.

Kory had resolved to playing with the tips of her hair. "I don't know, Dick."

"Come on, Kory. Just to get out and have a little fun."

She glanced over at him suspiciously. "Fun?'

Dick put up his hands in mock surrender. "I promise I'll be a good boy and behave. I'll even get you home before midnight so Alfred doesn't ground you and come after me with a shotgun."

She laughed. "That is not why, I promise. It is only that…"

She trailed off, her unspoken words building up under her pained expression—an expression that Dick recognized. The very same one she wore in that cave long ago, when she had asked him how she was to know how he felt about her. Obviously, she didn't remember that conversation. But he did.

"Hey." He took one of her hands and squeezed it gently. "I know this is hard. But you've always taught me it's okay to take some chances, even if we might get hurt along the way."

"I did?"

"The Kory I knew was never one to be hesitant." He said reassuringly. "Maybe, maybe it'll help your memory a bit. But for tonight, let's just try to get to know one another again."

She smiled softly at him, the sunlight shimmering off the curls of her hair. "Alright, Dick. I can take a chance."

"That's my girl."

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

He drove up to the entrance of Wayne Manor around eight. (How ironic it was to be picking up his own wife for a date from the very house he grew up in). He tugged restlessly at the open collar of his leather windbreaker. Why was he so nervous?

But all of that melted away when he was greeted with the sight of his wife as she opened the door. He had brought over a bag of her clothes a few days ago, along with some other personal belongings she might have needed. For tonight she had opted for a simple white blouse with jeans, her long red hair tied back in a high ponytail.

"You look beautiful." He said simply.

A red tinge appeared on her cheeks, and she looked down with a small smile.

"Thank you. You, um, you too."

"You trying to tell me I look beautiful?"

She looked up mortified and started to protest, but Dick just laughed and took her hand.

"Come on,"

"Where are we going?

"You'll see."

He led her down the driveway, revealing a sleek, blue motorcycle parked near the edge. He positioned himself in the seat and looked to see Kory standing awkwardly near the side.

"Well, jump on." He chimed.

"Is it safe?"

He laughed again, extending his arm towards her. "Quite."

She climbed onto the back cautiously, wrapping her arms around his waist for support.

"Hold on tight."

"Do I have a choice?" She managed to squeak out before he hit the accelerator to maximum speed.

Gotham was an excellent place to ride a motorcycle. Dick rounded the corners quickly, weaving effortlessly between the crawling traffic. He really didn't need to take the long way there, but he loved hearing her small gasps of surprise whenever they took a sharp turn. She laughed with delight as they sped alongside the water, bringing a smile to his face.

At last they stopped along the edge of the pier, the water reflecting the Ferris wheel lights along the surface.

"Where are we?"

"See for yourself." He replied, helping her off the motorcycle.

She looked around, the carnival buzzing with activity. Children chased each other with neon glowsticks while booth keepers encouraged loudly for families to try their luck at the games. The air smelled of buttered popcorn and smoky ash as colorful fireworks burst into the air above them.

Kory turned to smile at him, but instead found him offering her a cone of bright pink cotton candy. She took a bite cautiously, letting out a small laugh as she savored the taste.

"It's wonderful!"

Dick grinned. "Come on, I want to show you something."

It took a little bit of convincing, but he finally got her to join him on the old, rickety booth that glided slowly upward until they reached the top of the Ferris wheel. They had a perfect view of Gotham City, the skylights gleaming in the distance. Kory leaned forward and stared curiously at the scene in front of them.

Dick, meanwhile, had stretched out his arms behind him. "You loved being here." He said casually. "I'd always take you here every time the carnival came into town."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. It was at a carnival like this one where we actually talked to each other for the first time."

He gazed off into the distance, lost in the memory until he heard Kory clear her throat tentatively.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked with a nervous timbre.

He looked back at her. "Yeah, anything."

She took a deep breath and bit the inside of her cheek. "How did we meet?"

"Oh." Dick leaned forward in the booth and tried to think. Where to begin? "Well, when the Gordanians took you from Tameran, eventually you escaped, and the first planet you came to was Earth."

He looked over at her. She was listening silently, staring intently at him.

"And then well, the Gordanians started attacking Earth since they were looking for you, and you kind of ran into us."

"Us?"

"The Titans. You remember Rachel and Garfield from the manor, right? They were in Jump City as well. And there was also Victor, you know, that cyborg who visited you last week and brought you that music box."

"Ah, yes." She mused, as if recalling the soft Tamaranean lullaby Victor had installed within the trinket.

"Well, you ran into us, since you were um, destroying the city. But we finally got you to talk to us and I uh…introduced you to the language."

He glanced over at her to see if she reacted. She said nothing, so he continued.

"You became part of the team, and you and I got closer over time."

"Closer." She repeated carefully.

"Mmm, I would say it took me forever at least. Not that great at talking about how I feel. But, one thing led to another, and after a few bumps in the road, we finally got married."

Of course, there was a lot more than that to the story. Different teams, different costumes, and even different planets accompanied a tale of two lovers who seemed to take forever to make up their minds about each other. There were so many midnight flights and dancing on rooftops that made him fall deeper in love with her every time. And obviously, there had been fights and misunderstandings as well. His stubborn and secluded disposition would ignite her fiery temper and their fights only ended much later when he played the piano to call her down the stairs, the notes speaking the apology much better than his own words (well, that and the kisses that always came after). How could you possibly "sum up" a relationship that had extended over ten years?

Kory seemed to have closed up all her words, and Dick allowed a comfortable silence fall over them as they sat there, watching the fireworks bloom above them in red and gold sparks. He placed his hand over hers on the wooden bench between them, and she allowed it to stay there. Small victories.

"How would you feel if I took you out again next Friday?" He asked, breaking the silence.

"You mean, on another date?"

"Yeah." He smiled. "I mean, still lots to learn about this Boy Wonder, right?"

She pursed her lips, but her eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter. She considered the idea for a minute before finally relenting.

"Alright. As long as you buy more of the vanishing cloud candy."

Small victories indeed.

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

Kory was already regretting her decision. She couldn't believe Dick had talked her into this. Gear up in her Tamaranean attire, sure; shoot some starbolts, why not? But to take down criminals as part of Bludhaven's vigilante superhero team? What had she gotten herself into?

"I am not certain that I am exactly comfortable with this." She stated, picking nervously at the hem of her skirt.

Dick shot her a sideways smile. She had not anticipated his uniform in the slightest when he had emerged on the roof half an hour earlier. He was clad in a jet-black bodysuit that made him almost as black as the night itself. Electric blue stripes cut through his chest and down to his fingertips, the color matching the dangerous electricity that sparked from two iron sticks sheathed onto his back. "Come on, Kory. You do this all the time with me."

"Do I?" Kory looked over the skyline, letting the cool night air tingle her bare arms. It wasn't fear that rushed through her veins. No, she was used to defending her planet from unwanted invaders. But this was something different altogether. She felt her emotions swirl inside of her. Uncertainty, restlessness, and…excitement? Her heart raced with anticipation and her body tensed, as though jumping off a twenty-story building was just a normal, nightly routine.

She caught Dick watching her carefully. His blue eyes were now hidden by the inky mask he had donned, making him look more sinister as he turned up the corners of his lips.

"You look…different in a mask." She decided.

"Well I certainly hope so. Kind of the point of a secret identity."

Right. No one else knew Nightwing was really Dick Grayson, just as no one else knew that Starfire, the name she was apparently known by on Earth, was really Kory Anders (her other, other name). She shook her head in disbelief. Starfire, Kory Anders, Koriand'r: no one wonder she ended up with a headache whenever she tried to remember her past. She couldn't even get her own name right.

Dick was filling in Rachel and Garfield (sorry, Raven and Beast Boy) on the patrol positions. Both had volunteered to help look after Bludhaven for a little while, as recent events had somewhat interrupted Nightwing's usual routine.

"Alright, the night's not getting any younger. Raven, stake out on the right side of 8th Avenue with Beast Boy. Two weeks without any supervision and this city is making Gotham's criminals look like harmless angels."

Beast Boy spoke up. "Does that mean Joker's been demoted? Because I think Batman's out of a job then."

Dick scowled. "Just get the job done. And no arcade stops this time."

Beast Boy stuck out his tongue. "Killjoy." But he complied with Raven's huffs of exasperation and transformed into a crow before they both sailed out into the city.

Dick turned to Kory. "Starfire, you and I will take the left flank of the city. We'll set up watch from the news tower until trouble arrives."

She nodded, resisting the urge to bolt right past him and straight back to Wayne Manor.

He must have noticed her hesitation, because he took her hand and squeezed it with assurance. "Don't worry. Just be yourself. You're a natural at this, I promise."

She smiled slightly and allowed him to lead her towards the edge of the building. Dick prepared to release what looked like some sort of zip line when he stopped, receiving a line of communication in his earpiece.

He looked annoyed as he answered. The words he chose were not exactly kind, so Kory assumed he was talking to Bruce. After a few minutes of banter, he looked towards her and gestured towards the tower. His message was clear: I'll meet you there.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. At least flying was nothing new to her.

One. Two. Three.

Kory took off into the night sky, letting go of all the fear and confusion that had built up from the past two weeks. The wind rushed through her hair as it billowed all around her. Climbing higher and higher into the sky, she laughed in delight. Oh, how she had missed this! Allowing herself to fall for a few moments, she closed her eyes and let time stop, pure happiness welling up inside her like a balloon. Glowing, bursting happiness! Moments before reaching the roof of a particular tall hotel, she stopped and landed gently.

She had overstepped their meeting place. The broadcasting tower stood tall and dark in the distance. She prepared herself to launch again when she caught sight of the night sky above her.

The void was inky black, glittering with thousands of twinkling stars. Her Tamaran was up there somewhere, and oh how she longed to see it again.

"Enjoying the view, are we?"

She jumped, turning to see the owner of the voice, but saw nothing.

"Nightwing?"

The voice laughed, sending chills up Kory's spine. The voice was smooth, like velvet, but held a sinister tone as though it were enjoying watching something die slowly.

"Who are you?"

"Really my dear, I would have thought that by now we would have known each other quite well."

Realizing too late, a bulging figure materialized behind her, holding her in an iron grip. Fear clenched her heart, her strength leaving her in a moment of weakness.

"Let-let me go!"

"Oh dear, you're trembling." She flinched as he crooned in her ear. "Not too good for you. Fear and confusion do tend to block certain abilities of yours, now don't they? But there's no need to be quite so scared, Starfire. I come only with a message."

She tried to gain control of her pounding heartbeat. "W-what do you want?"

"You seem to be having some memory issues. I can help you with that."

"And why would I need anything from you?" She protested defiantly. "My friends are already helping me."

"Are they your friends, my darling? How do you know you can trust them? After all, you don't remember them anymore better than you remember me."

"You don't know anything about me."

She recoiled to the sound of his ragged laugh. "I know all that I need to, sweetheart. As for your friends, do you really think they're all so innocent, so good? Even after all this time, you're still so incredibly naïve."

"You're wrong!" A hot pull burned at the pit of her stomach as her alien strength returned. She wrenched herself out of his grip and charged a starbolt to face the monster before her.

The greenish glow of her energy orb revealed a man who stood over six feet tall, his whole body clad in heavy armor. The white eye slit in his orange and black mask was the only opening, giving off a cruel aura in every way imaginable.

But the figure only laughed. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of fighting you alone, Princess. But my offer still stands. And if you ever want to have your memories back, you will meet me here in one month, the exact same time."

"Never!"

"Well then, I suggest you get used to being entirely, hopelessly clueless for the rest of your life."

"SLADE!" A defiant voice yelled. Both turned to see Nightwing standing on top of the water tower, his iron pipes charged to the maximum. Raven and Beast Boy flanked his sides, both tensed and ready to attack. Kory had never seen Dick look so angry.

"Leave her alone!"

"Oh my, such an improper greeting. I would have thought, old friend, that you would have had better manners by now."

"I said, leave her alone!"

"Relax, Robin." He said calmly as Nightwing flinched. "We were just saying hello, weren't we, my dear?"

Kory said nothing, her starbolt still crackling in the night air.

She couldn't see his face, but she could have sworn she saw him grin under the mask.

"Well, until later, dear Princess." He said as he disappeared into the darkness, but she thought she could still feel his eerie presence watching her every move.

Nightwing jumped down from the water tower and took her gently by the shoulders. "Kory, are you okay?" He brushed her hair out of her eyes, taking her face in his hands.

Kory nodded. "I am unharmed."

"Did he say anything to you?"

You think they're all so innocent, so good? How can you possibly trust them?

"No." she replied shakily. "Just…introducing himself."

Dick cursed under his breath. "Come on, let's get you back to Wayne Manor." He was breathing heavily, his hands shaking as he sheathed his escrima sticks. Raven and Beast Boy didn't look any less relaxed.

"Dick?" She stated tentatively.

"What is it?"

"Who was that?"

He stared straight at her, his mask hiding whatever emotion he conveyed in his eyes. For a moment, they stood there in silence, letting the night air suffocate the distance between them before an answer finally detached from his lips.

"No one, Star. No one you need to remember."

[ghost-nabbers-imagines]

Safe here Larry x fem reader Part 1

I know this is a sensitive topic but it's close to my heart and I’ve been trying to write something involving the topic for a while now using these characters it just fell together. TW:Sexual abuse by a family member. Yes I know this can happen to men too I just wrote this one specifically towards a female for reasons. I really like how this turned out. I’m debating turning it into a series/ book and posting it somewhere but I’m not sure. Anyways enjoy

      I stared at the ceiling above me my body still shaking. How could someone I love do something so awful to me? I rolled over to see my alarm clock read 6:30 AM. I had been laying here for hours already. Right now the only thing I wanted to do was to go see my boyfriend Larry, but there's no way he's up.

      I decided to distract myself by getting in the shower but the moment  the water started to hit my bare skin my breath sped up and I could feel a panic attack coming. This had happened too many times. I curled up in a ball in my shower sobbing into my knees. I felt so unclean like I wanted to burn every inch of my skin. Luckily my family was gone for the day and wouldn't be able to hear my loud sobs. I just sat there feeling the water cool as I broke down. By the time I was able to settle down the water was ice cold but I didn't care I just needed to get out of here.

       I jumped from the shower pulling on my shorts and a shirt. I barely even bothered to dry off so my skin and hair were both soaking wet. I didn't even think twice I ran out of the house into the cold air. Luckily the apartments weren't too far away.

         When I got to the basement Lisa was sitting on the couch sipping coffee while reading the newspaper. "Oh hi sweetie I didn't know you were coming over so early." She smiled turning to look at me fully. Her smile faded seeing my appearance. I probably looked like I was straight out of a cheesy drama movie scene. She looked me over worriedly placing her cup and the paper on the table. "(Y/n) dear your soaking wet and shivering. And have you been crying? What's wrong?" She asked coming over to hug me.

      I wrapped my arms around her feeling the tears start to form again. I wanted to tell Lisa since she's like a mom to me but I had to talk to Larry first. "I-I just need to talk to Larry." I sniffled. "Ok sweetie I'm sure the boys are still sleeping but you can go in and wake them." She informed me.

      Sal must've slept over last night meaning he'd be here to help me calm Larry down after. "Thank you Lisa." I weakly smiled. She released me from the hug giving my hands a squeeze. “I’m here if you need it you know.” I nodded thanking her before quietly entering the room. Sal was already up and was dressed in just a pair of pajama pants with his hair down and without his prosthetic. Luckily Sal trusted me enough to not particularly care that I saw him without it. "Hey (y/n) I didn't know you were coming over today." He said with a small yawn.

       "I wasn’t supposed to I just- I'm sorry to intrude on your guys time but I really needed to talk to Larry about something." I explained. "What's wrong?" He questioned concerned by my appearance. "I just really need to tell him something. And I'm scared if I don't it'll keep happening." I said my eyes welling up, I quickly covered my mouth with my hand to conceal a sob. Clearly seeing the pain I was in he immediately jumped to my side pulling me into a hug.

       "Dude why are you being so fucking loud this early?" Grumbled Larry who was waking up. His blankets were wrapped around him messily partially falling off the bed. He had slept in a pair of boxers and his long hair was all over the place."Sorry baby I didn't mean to wake you." I sniffled. Hearing my voice he sat up rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Larry, (y/n)'s here and she really needs to talk to you." Sal spoke softly leaving his hand on my shoulder. Larry seeing my presence was real jumped up stumbling over his sheets. "Hey babe what're you doing here?" He asked.

       Sal kindly excused himself to go get breakfast grabbing his mask on the way out. “What did you want to tell me angel?” He asked placing his hands on my arms. "Baby you're freezing here put this on." He said grabbing his red hoodie and handing it to me. I pulled it on gratefully before latching myself onto him. "What's wrong?" He whispered kissing the top of my head softly.

       He carefully sat down on his bed pulling me into his lap. While I explained he ran a comforting hand through my hair using the other to hold me close. I just let everything out spilling every gruesome detail. By the time I was done Larry's hand had stopped moving through my hair and was clenched into a fist by his side.. I'm stunned staring at how angry he is. Sure I’ve seen him mad at Travis before but I’ve never seen him like this. His face is deep red, eyebrows furrowed, steam practically spilling from his ears, jaw clenched tightly, he had his fists clenched so hard I thought he'd break his skin. He was absolutely enraged and I not think a bull could have taken him down at that moment.

"I'm gonna kill em." He growls sitting me next to him on the bed before jumping up and storming towards the door. "Larry wait!" I called as he threw the door open and began stomping through the basement. I followed after him Lisa immediately turning towards us confused. "Larry don't do anything stupid please!" I begged holding his arm trying to hold him back. The tears were cascading down my cheeks as I urged my boyfriend to stop. Lisa ran over grabbing his other arm in attempt to hold him back. “Larry calm down I’m sure there’s a calm way to handle whatever’s going on.” Lisa tried to soothe her son while still not knowing the situation. "And let that scum bag get away with touching my girl like that? No! No fucking way!" He growled pulling out of our grasp.     

       Before he could get out the door Sal came in. "Sal stop him please!" I pleaded. Sal turned towards Larry. "Come on Sal we're gonna go kick her (your type of relative)'s fucking ass."  He growled. Sal looked at me probably putting two and two together. I can't even imagine the face he was making under his mask. "Larry settle down going over there and killing them isn't gonna solve anything it'll just get you into trouble." Sal said standing in front of his tall angry friend. "Plus you're still in your boxers." He pointed out. Larry looked down a small blush covering his angry face. "Lar bear why don't you go get changed and calm down while (y/n) and I talk." Lisa spoke softly placing a hand on her son's shoulder. He turned towards me kissing my head before going back to his room slamming the door.

      "(Y/n) sweetheart lets go and sit on the couch, we can talk about this."  She spoke softly while brushing my hair back. I just nodded following her and Sal to the couch. Sal and I took a seat while Lisa began making us some drinks. Sal sat right next to me with a comforting hand rubbing my back.  While my tears had stopped now I was still a bit shaky and his comforting touch helped a small bit.

       "Sal after he's had a few minutes to calm down will you please talk to him?" I asked looking up to meet his icy blue eyes. He nodded understandingly so I wrapped my arms around him. "He's not mad at you ya know. Just mad at himself. He um. He told me about the time you guys were fooling around and you freaked out and left. There was like an hour where he convinced himself you were cheating that that's what made you freak out. Not that he doesn't trust you but you know how he thinks he's cursed. He's probably pissed at himself for not seeing what was really going on. More pissed at himself for not seeing how much you were hurting." Sal explained.

I nodded understanding before pulling away. "And for the record if you want Larry Ash, Maple, Chug, and I will go after this person. Show em what for." He winked making punching motions. "I mean I'd gladly get my ass kicked for you." He laughed. I laughed at the blue haired boy sitting in front of me. It honestly made me so happy to see how many wonderful people Larry had brought into my life. Lisa came back in setting two coffee cups down on the coffee table while Sal went to check on Larry.

~Larry's pov~

      I aggressively pulled on some jeans and began searching for a clean shirt. I was more angry than I had been in my entire life. How could someone do that to (y/n)? How could anyone want to hurt someone so sweet and loving. I couldn’t wipe the image from my mind and it made my blood boil. Letting out an angry growl I threw one of my shirts across the room. A soft knocking at the door caused me to turn around to see Sal standing there awkwardly fiddling with his hands.

       "Hey Larry Face. Feeling any better?" He asked coming in and sitting on a beanbag chair. I flopped myself down onto the other across from him. "No. She's been going through this shit and I fucking accuse her of cheating? I'm such an asshole!" I scolded myself. "Larry you didn't actually accuse her you just thought it once. And we just talked about that she didn't seem bothered." He explained. But I still felt like shit. How could this all be going on and I had no idea?

        "I think right now she's was slightly worried about you being angry she didn't tell you sooner." Sal continued in a soft voice. "Shit, I know I've got to learn to handle my anger better. But I hate that they did that to her. I want them to pay ya know? That asshole deserved to fucking pay for what he put her through. And how could her family just let this happen?" I ranted finally pulling on my Sanity's Fall shirt. "I don't want her going back man. I can't let that happen. I won't." I told him as I struggled to hold back tears. The pain of realizing what she had been feeling and holding back was really starting to get to me. I hated that she had to go through that alone. "That's something to talk about with her." He responded pointing to the doorway where (y/n) stood.

       "Hey babe! How are you feeling?" I asked jumping up and walking over to her. She wrapped her arms around me resting her head against my chest. "I'm sorry to just intrude on your day with Sal and probably ruin your Saturday." She mumbled into my shirt. I pulled her a few feet away from me to meet her eyes. "You have no reason to apologize none of this is your fault. You definitely haven't ruined anything." I told her sternly. "Yeah (Y/n) your safety is much more important than us playing music or video games all day." Sal added. She gave us a weak smile that just shattered my heart.

I sat down on the beanbag chair again pulling her into my lap. I burried my face in her shoulder. I was almost definitely holding her tighter than I should have been but I wanted to hold her in my arms and protect her from anymore pain. Without even realizing it I had started crying. The thought of what had happened burned in my mind forcing me to let it all spill out. The tears just kept falling I couldn't control it. "Larry I'll be ok I promise." She whispered her hands finding their way into my hair. I pulled her even closer. She shouldn’t be the one comforting me right now I knew hag but here she was trying to anyways. "You can't go back there. Please don't go back there. Please." I begged her not moving my head from her shoulder.

"I can stay here tonight but I'll eventually have to go back there babe." She responded. "You can stay here for as long as you want love. But if you insist on going back can I go with you? At least the first night you're there?" I asked. There was no way in hell they were getting away with this. Definitely not a chance in hell she would keep living there. She pulled away just enough to give me a kiss.

"Your mom wants me to go to the cops. Will you and Sal come too?" She asked. I nodded as did Sal. "We're here for you (y/n)." He pointed out. "Thanks guys. I don't know what I'd do without you." She smiled wiping her eyes. "You'll never have to find out." Sal said making me nod in agreement. "You should stay here for at least a month." I told her only half joking. She smiled slightly shaking her head. "I didn't bring any of my clothes Lar." She pointed out. "You know I fucking love it when you wear my clothes so that's not a problem. And we'll go over to your place together to pick up your stuff." I suggested really hoping she'd just give in and stay here. Hell she could always move in. Maybe I'll run that by mom later.

*Time skip to later that day*

        My mom, Sal, (y/n), and I exited the police station after what can only be described as a few stressful hours of them taking (Y/n)'s statement. Sal and (Y/n) we're walking upfront talking about something. My mom and I walked a bit behind.

"I'm proud of you Larry."

"Why what did I do?"

"You've just grown up a lot. You've got a girlfriend you clearly love a lot. And being with her through something like this? That shows how responsible you've become."

"Mom you're not gonna get all emotional on me are you?"

"Joke all you want Lar Bear but I'm proud of the young man you're becoming" (that just gave me ptsd to even type)

"About (Y/n), I was uh wondering if she could stay us? For a while at least?"

"Of course she's staying with us! There's no way she's going back to that place."

"Thanks mom. You're fucking awesome you know."

"Watch your mouth Lar. And yes I know. But you have to promise me that there will be no funny business if I let her move in with you otherwise you’ll be sleeping In the treehouse every night."

I couldn't help but smile at my moms laughter towards her own joke. It had become such a warm and comforting sound. "Of course mom. Thank you so much." I promised pulling her into a hug. We caught up to Sal and (Y/n) who were discussing something in class.

So there’s part one possibly. Let me know if you think I should turn it into a series on something like Archive or Wattpad.

~Lex💛