#do they expect me to live off of the fucking dust in the air or what

[rivaiin]

.

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 01. IN DREAMS WE REST

a/n: i've been stressed about this fic probably more than any other i've ever written. not because it's logan per se, but because wade wilson makes me want to rip my hair out. i love that bastard, but writing him feels like pulling teeth. i'm in love with this concept solely for the angst, so if you see more throughout and wonder if they will ever get a happy ending, please know i'm dead inside. enjoy!

summary: stuck in another universe and unsure of where he stands, logan expects things to even out as they always did. but when you cross his path and you have no idea who he is, he's in for a rude awakening.

word count: 5.9k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, wade wilson breaking the fourth wall, angst, cussing so much cussing, alcohol consumption, grief, pain, a broken man pretending he's not broken, chance encounters, awkward conversations, hope.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

He can hear it when he sleeps.

Their screams.

The constant ring of agony that chimes out like a bell, an alarm he never set for himself. A joke once told to him in the midst of World War II, as bullets flew by him and soldiers lost their lives each second of each day. There's no escape from hell. No running from the devil that nipped at his heels the faster he went, the longer he tried to navigate a way free.

There's no escape from the memories that ate away in his mind. Multitudes of them, of the faces he once called family, the people he used to love. They were his punishment. The boulder he continued to roll up the hill, day after day after day. Until eventually...he was crushed by his own self-hatred.

"Logan." The voice whispered long enough for him to grasp who it might be, yet never louder than a mere breath of air.

He clung to it some days. Sunk his claws into what little of his past remained good and allowed it to fill him with some amount of peace. At least then he'd be able to bear this weight, this grief he could never quite name.

Something light brushed across his cheek. Tickling the skin enough to send a flare of irritation down his spine, but the dreams held him in their grasp. What came next never surprised him. He expected it at this point—longed for it. The distant pain of losing what once made him whole; the entirety of his life now defined by one single moment he could never change.

"He sleeps so sweetly. I just want to curl up in his arms and have him read me bedtime stories."

"He's not gonna like that when he wakes up."

"Zip it Al. If I wanted an opinion, I'd go see a Hollywood therapist."

A scoff echoed in the background. "No therapist wants you on their couch."

"Not true. I hear Ryan Reynolds has a great one."

"Who?"

"Not the point." The feather dusted across Logan's face again, soft enough to keep him asleep yet annoying enough to bring a smile to Wade's face. "I wonder if he's dreaming about killing bad guys. They say it's good for the soul."

"Who the fuck is they?"

Wade laughed. "Oh you know. Them. The readers. And boy howdy do they love their blood."

Every day he was forced to listen to Wade's voice became another day Logan dragged his claw through a tally mark of his sanity. "Do you ever shut the fuck up," he growled, gripping Wade's wrist until he heard the satisfying crack of bones.

"Only when I swallow."

"I'll tear your fuckin' arm off."

The smile on Wade’s face only added another tally. "Nice kitty. No need for the claws."

Anger washed across his skin in a familiar wave as he released Wade's arm, watching it go limp. Trying to kill the unkillable walking irritation was like trying to swat a fly that never quite died. It still buzzed incessantly. Until eventually madness was the only viable option of dealing with it. In his case, he seemed to be driving head on with no brakes.

Logan wasn't sure he possessed enough sanity left within him to keep dealing with this. Sleeping on the couch didn't help the way his body never rested; always stuck in that permanent fighting mode. He'd give anything to find some peace. A small sliver of it carved off the past that continued to call him—that begged him to come back and try again.

Swinging his legs off the couch, he planted a swift kick to Wade's chest that sent him across the floor. The lack of caffeine in his system left everything hazy and half coherent. If he focused he might have caught the keys thrown at him, but being exhausted and sober didn't make for a good combination with him. An empty whiskey bottle lay discarded on the floor from last night; the memories of how he passed out barely tinged on the edge of his mind.

He could recall stabbing Wade in the leg.

Nothing beyond that.

Dried blood—now an ugly brown—stained his white shirt. He nearly stripped himself of it, prepared to throw it in with whoever was washing next, but his flannel being chucked at his head caught him off guard.

"Fuck off," he snapped, stumbling to the kitchen.

Wade sighed, following him. "Get dressed, peanut. We have to go do human things today."

"Human–”

"Food," Al retorted. "We're out."

Even in a new universe, he couldn't see himself acting normal. For so long he did what had to in order to survive. Yet now...he wasn't so sure. Accompanying Wade Wilson in order to complete household chores left a bad taste in his mouth. But the thought of fresh coffee and an unopened bottle of whiskey sounded like sweet silver bells in his head.

With reluctance, he buttoned up half of the flannel before he became annoyed with the small size of the holes punched into the fabric. There was only so much he could do with the life he had now. And sometimes shit really sucked.

"Don't scratch my fucking car," Al pointed her words towards Wade, thankfully ignoring Logan's existence for a brief moment.

"Is it safe for her to own a car?"

The door shut behind him with a bang, echoing down the vacant hallway. He was surprised people actually lived here given Wade's antics. They could hear the loud mouthed fucker across the street—if the angry notes in the mail were anything to go by. He didn't bother asking if he should be concerned with any of it. Not when he had no say in how the house was run. And choosing to insert himself where he wasn’t needed, rarely went well for him.

"God no. But I give her the benefit of the doubt. She hasn't killed anyone. Yet."

He yanked the keys out of Wade's hand. "Yeah well I don't trust you either Bub."

The car didn't leave room for his legs as he squeezed into the driver's side. His body practically folded in half as he turned it over—the rumble of the engine rattling against metal. How Blind Al managed to pay for this vehicle went beyond even Wade's knowledge, and in all honesty…he was too fucking scared to ask.

Too much seemed to be happening for him to ever catch up. While this Earth felt similar to his, small things were different. And when they began to add up...he began to wonder if he was drowning.

"Turn left to merge onto the asscrack of traffic."

He barely heard the directions as he drove, his mind drifting the further they went. Part of him sensed the grief from earlier begin to claw up the back of his throat. It begged him to fall, to be swallowed whole by the darkness he'd been stuck in before. And he nearly gave in; could feel his body shift into its constant mode of fight or flight.

The steering wheel cracked under his white knuckled grip as Wade's voice became an afterthought to the war he fought in his mind. Terror trapped itself in his throat and he slammed his foot on the brakes a foot away from a parking spot in retaliation. The car lurched forward, his claws descended. A snarl rumbled in his chest the longer he sat there thinking.

"Woah..." For the first time in days, Wade fell silent. "You alright?"

Logan ripped himself free, shoving his body out of the car before he even threw it in park. He gulped in breath after breath and did his best to wait for this fucking feeling to leave his system. The nightmares only came as he slept. A constant familiar horror show after two centuries.

Yet now he was left like this. Leaned up against a car, his eyes closed shut, and heart racing.

All because he couldn't do his fucking job.

"Logan–"

He snapped, shoving past Wade and his pity that choked him with a vengeance. He didn't deserve anyone's pity. He didn't want it. But people couldn't help but hand it over unconsciously. As if they could see the layers of broken pieces beneath his false expression of strength. Logan never pretended to be okay. Why bother with something people could see right through?

He merely wanted others to ignore he was there. Walk past him, look through him, do whatever it took to pretend that him and all his tragedies weren't standing before them. Because one day he would die and fuck how he couldn't wait for that time to come.

A small hole in the wall dive bar sat in the corner of the shopping center. He barely caught sight of it. But the unmistakable scent of alcohol poured out the door as someone stumbled out—their eyes squeezed shut against the harsh brightness of the sun. He could understand them in a way.

His world didn't have sunlight this bright. Or perhaps he never noticed it ‘til now.

Maybe his body wasn't acclimated yet; unsure of what the fuck was still happening. Everything seemed to be turned up to eleven for him, yet no off switch existed.

The dark hazy glow of the interior sent a wave of calm through him as the door swung shut with a soft thud. Four people sat scattered around the place and a bartender with white and graying hair stood cleaning a glass so foggy it was probably better to throw it out. He found himself letting out a breath that'd been trapped in his chest since that morning. Finally some peace before he had to listen to Wade yap about bullshit he didn't in fact give a shit about.

"What'll you have?" the old man asked, his face screwing up in a wince as he limped towards Logan's spot at the end of the bar.

A quick glance down let him see the brace wrapped around the man's knee. "Whiskey on the rocks."

He nodded, slowly heading towards the center of the wall—a lonesome half empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter. Logan shifted, taking the center seat directly behind the man.

"I can't say I've seen you around before son."

He grinned, his finger tracing a random carving that'd been placed in the wood. "I just moved here. Living with a coworker."

"Coworker huh?"

The word didn't sound right to Logan, but he couldn't exactly call Wade his friend. Although they were more than people who fought together, more than men who shared blood during the same battle. That was the thing about Logan though. He'd never be able to put a label on something like that. To him...things weren't one or the other as much as he wanted to pretend they were. There was nuance to his life.

Complications which made living that much harder.

The man turned, surprised to see Logan so close, but didn't make note of it. Logan could see the gratitude in the way his drink was slid carefully to him. The small silent thank you in the bowl of pretzels placed beside it.

"You look lost."

Logan grunted, biting into the salty and dry snack. "Do I?"

"More than some of the others that come around here."

"And who comes around here?"

The man laughed. "No one as of late. You're the first young man I've seen in a while walk through those doors."

He bit back his laugh at the word young. The stories he could tell would leave the man baffled. About wars that no living person had witnessed. About when the world was far different than today—when mutants were freaks of nature and humans were far less forgiving. He could list it all and then some.

But whether or not someone would listen was another thing entirely.

"This place that old?" he inquired, sipping on the amber liquid with a contented sigh.

"Oh you bet." A weary laugh filled the space. "I bought this place in the sixties. When my wife was still my girlfriend. She almost left me because of it."

Logan huffed, his lips curling slightly. "She wasn't a fan?"

The man shook his head, tossing a cloth over his shoulder. "Still isn't. Well she...wasn't." He pressed his thumb to the worn gold band on his left hand. "When she was alive she used to host a book night. Helped bring in the men's wives. Kept them outta trouble."

"Book night huh?"

"She loved to read."

Before he could down the final sips of his drink it was topped off. Logan nodded his head in thanks, his thumb digging into the thumbprint shape of the glass. If he thought about it hard enough, he could almost see himself coming here every night. He pictured a life far different than his own, a past where he might have been happy. With someone who might have even made him smile.

"I'm not much of a reader," he replied, his voice hoarse and eyes fixed on the ice that floated to the surface.

"Ah me too," the man laughed. "I just liked seeing her smile."

A soft remark was on the tip of his tongue before an entirely new image began to take shape. The face of someone lost. Of a smile he'd known better than his own. Hands that once held his face with the tenderness of a lover—a voice that sent the hair rising on the back of his neck. He could see it as clear as he did the man.

You in all your beauty. Lost to a past he could no longer rectify.

He swallowed thickly, beating back every emotion that crawled under his skin. "What's your name?"

"Travis."

Raising his glass, he tipped it towards the man with a tight grin. "Logan." The alcohol went down with a quick and biting burn. A feeling he'd grown familiar with. One he counted on.

"Nice to meet you Logan."

"Yeah you too."

He dug out some cash and tossed it on the bar as he stood with a slight grunt. He may heal quickly but the ache in his bones still existed. As if something resisted against how his body moved with each slow shift.

Fighting meant he could ignore it.

Existing is what made it worse.

The sun practically burned his eyes when he stepped out, the heat of the day encompassing his whole body quicker than he would have liked. For some unknown fucking reason, summer here felt worse than on his Earth. Then again the alcohol didn't help. He stood in the shade of the building next to the bar, searching the parking lot for any sign of Wade.

Going into the store wasn't an option and as much as he wanted to leave the annoyance behind, he didn't want to feel like a piece of shit. That is...even more than he already did.

"Fuck," he hissed, leaning against the brick wall. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

One option would be taking a walk to work off the energy that ran through his veins. At least then he'd be able to sleep at night. And the temptation almost worked. If it weren't for the shop doors that opened to his left, effectively distracting him from the chance of leaving. He could have ignored the person, probably should have given everything he'd been through.

But then his heart dropped to his stomach as you walked out. He'd never seen you in such a soft sundress before, the off white fabric draped off your curves in a way that floored him. As if you were an angel floating by without a care in the world. You were busy shoving a small piece of paper in your purse, your face furrowed in frustration, and Logan smiled. Because he'd traced each line of that face before, he'd kissed those cheeks, your eyelids as you slept.

He'd loved you in ways that would scare a normal human.

And there you were.

"Honey?" he called, unconsciously following you quicker than he intended to. "Honey."

You glanced to the side, completely unaware of the giant lumbering man trailing after you with a soft look on his face and hope in his hands.

That alone tore him in two more than the memories from before.

"Baby, it's me."

The breeze finally went through the air, pushing the skirt of your dress a bit higher on your thighs. Except that's not what he latched onto. Your scent was different. Unlike any he'd encountered before. Honey still sweetly caressed his senses, but flowers overlayed that—peonies if he guessed. Delicious enough to have his mouth watering; his body already aching for you to be closer. To look at him in the way you used to.

He wanted to call out to you—gain your attention properly—but your name wouldn't leave his tongue. Because you were there and you finally caught sight of him and you were looking at him as if nothing bad ever happened between the two of you.

You saw him as a man.

Not a disappointment.

He willed himself to stop and breathe. Take in his surroundings; realize that you weren't who he once knew. You weren't even the same fucking person.

But before he could think straight, he'd already followed you halfway to your car. His eyes were dazed, heart nearly throttling him alive as he stood there dumbly. Waiting for you to finally speak.

"Oh..." Your heart rate spiked quicker than he expected. He couldn't find it in himself to feel bad though. "Hello?"

"Honey," he sighed, the weight on his shoulders lifting ever so slightly.

He caught the way your fingers tightened around your keys, the defense mechanism an instinct by now. And Logan realized what he looked like. A strange man standing too close for your liking. So he took a step back and gave you some space. In the hopes that you wouldn't see him as a threat. That maybe...you'd listen to what he had to say.

"Can I help you?" you asked, eyes darting around the parking lot in case you needed help.

What he wouldn't give for the opportunity to reassure you. To explain that he wasn't here to hurt you. That he'd kill himself before even laying a hand on you. Yet the correct words were lost and all he seemed to get out was an incoherent babble that had him wanting to dig his own claws into his chest.

"You smell different."

You straightened your spine, eyes narrowed into a glare he felt burn across his skin. "Look, I don't know who you are. But fuck off."

Something akin to pride flared in his chest at your tone, your words. But he couldn't show it externally. How would he explain that your fight—your fire—is what drew him to you in the first place? How could he tell you about a version of yourself you'd never know? A person he thought would be with him until his last breath exhaled into the world.

"I'm not here to hurt you." He raised his hands in an attempt to prove his point, but like your variant counterpart you were willing to bite first and ask questions later.

"Yeah. Sure asshole." The shopping bag in your other hand was lifted up, until you had a tighter grip on it in case something happened. You didn't know him. You probably never would.

But Logan had to try. He owed it to you to give it all he had this time around.

Otherwise...what was the point of living?

"My name's–" He made the wrong move stepping forward and knew it the second his boot hit the gravel. With a wince, he watched you stumble back against your car, your arm coming up to protect yourself. "No. Look I'm not gonna do anything–"

"Get the fuck away from me," you spit.

He moved back as if approaching a wounded animal—his body finally on edge in a new way. The fact that you didn't know him wasn't what broke off another chunk of his heart. He could handle that. He'd been through that.

You were afraid of him.

That realization dug in too deep for his body to heal.

That...he couldn't live with.

"WOAH hey!" He'd never appreciated Wade's irritating ass more than in this moment. He jumped between the two of you, the cart of groceries forgotten as he blocked Logan from your sight. "Step away from the nice lady wolf boy." Wade regarded you with a smile. "Hi! Sorry. This is my uncle and well as you can probably tell he's lost eight of his lives. So we're going on little old nine. And well the mind just goes to shit first."

Seconds passed by like minutes and Logan watched you visibly deflate. "Wade," you greeted him, visibly calmer than before. Logan felt his stomach twist violently at the thought. "It's good to see you. How's the job?"

"Oh yup you know. Left that. But I'm really pushing through. I've got an Etsy store where I sell miniature paintings of Michael Angelo's David's penis. So there's that."

Your laughter sent a hole through his chest and Logan bit back the growl that rose up the back of his throat. What the fuck was Wade doing making friends with you? Why were you laughing at his humor?

He couldn't count how many days he'd spent longing to hear your laugh again, the shine in your eyes that always came around when joy flooded your bloodstream. He could smell the honey off your skin, the warmth of what no doubt lay beneath your thin dress. And he wanted to rip Wade to pieces knowing that he was the one making it happen. That you were comfortable with a man who's mouth ran at a mile a minute.

"Did your sister have the baby yet?"

You brightened and Logan felt his heart stutter. "She did! A boy."

"Named Wade I hope."

Another peal of laughter had Logan's claws itching to descend as you ignored he was there. "Theo actually. A cutie."

"Aww." Wade moved closer, head bent to see the small polaroid you pulled out of your wallet. "Wow, he looks like you'd find him in a Gerber's advertisement."

Your eyes drifted up, past Wade's shoulder, until you finally caught Logan's gaze. And he felt like he could breathe. Every ounce of fear was wiped from your face; interest now creeping in as you dragged your eyes down his form. Past the slight peek of chest hair and down to how his jeans hugged his hips. Logan stood taller for your benefit, as if he needed to make a good impression.

He wanted to linger in your mind for days. Until the curiosity ate you alive.

"We're gonna go," Wade announced, after grabbing your bag and placing it in your trunk for you. "Someone has to feed the blind woman in my apartment. She tends to root through everything looking for food." He gripped Logan's arm, shoving him back a good few feet. Even as your eyes still remained glued to his face. "Glad to see the Hyundai is still working. You know you could take the fattest fucking nap in the back of that puppy. Makes you feel like an Egyptian mummy."

"Bye," you said, a dazed look in your eyes as Logan smiled in your direction. At ease with the knowledge that even in a different universe, he could still fluster you with a look.

Dragging himself away from you was hell, but Wade's grip remained unbreakable as they clambered to the car. The groceries stacked in the small backseat.

He could glimpse you driving off and suddenly the nightmare from earlier was the last thing on his mind.

Wade's back hit the wall with a crack before the door could shut properly. The groceries in their hands toppled to the floor. He barely had time to duck before Logan's claws were aiming for his head—a snarl ripping from his throat.

"What the fuck?" Wade shouted, grabbing the paper bag and gently setting it on the table. "Next time just say you need to stay home and find some joy in an empty room and your hand."

"How do you know her?"

Wade smiled, assessing the furious state of chaos Logan was now left in. The tatters of his stability falling to the floor around him. For as much as he held himself together, it certainly remained easy enough to tear him a part.

"Got an eye on someone, do we honey badger?"

Logan grimaced, running a hand down his face. "Would you just fucking tell me?"

"Let me bask in this Logan. I'm about to watch a romcom come to life and need some popcorn." He rummaged through the bag, yanking out some chips. "Salty and sweet. That'll do."

"Wade," he bit out.

"Stick with us girls, we're about to get to the good stuff."

"WADE!"

He tossed the bag to the table, eyeing the way Logan never quite settled. "I'm gonna take a guess and say we know her more than just friendly hellos."

Logan couldn't answer because his grief did it for him. He did what he could to catch his breath, to stop seeing his version of you. The disappointment on your face, the pain in your voice. You'd been so angry with him. To watch the person he loved be reduced to a screaming crying mess wasn't something he wanted to relive, but Wade's question seemed to send an avalanche toppling to the ground.

"She's..." He sucked in a breath. "On my world. I...knew her."

"Knew her? Or knew her."

He reached for the bottle of whiskey Wade threw in with the rest of the groceries and popped it open before he spoke again. "It didn't end well between us. None of it did."

Wade fell silent and Logan found himself loathing the quiet more than the sound of his voice. If he was joking Logan could ignore it. He could pretend nothing happened. That you weren't here, you couldn't be hurt by him again.

You were safe from his destructive tendencies as long as you were in another universe.

"She lives across the street." Logan's head rose and whipped to see the window that faced the building across from them. "The old uncultured shit whistles that keep complaining about WHAM! the greatest thing to happen to music. They're her neighbors. Live right next door."

"Neighbors."

Wade nodded, offering him a chip. "She found their note and angel that she is, she very sweetly threatened to get them evicted. I offered to let her borrow my katanas but was rejected like younger me on prom night. You've really got yourself a catch there buddy."

Logan didn't need Wade to tell him how fucking lucky he was. He knew that the second you walked out of that store. You were everything good in his life at one point, everything he couldn't save. There wasn't much keeping him going on his old Earth, but having you made all the suffering he went through—all the pain he endured—worth it.

If you were waiting for him at the end, he'd do it all over again.

"So you want to take a dip in that honey huh? Taste that rainbow?"

His claws would have sunk into Wade's throat if a knock hadn't sounded at the door. With a huff, he stepped into the kitchen, the bottle clutched tightly in his hand. Whoever decided to give Wade some luck was of no concern to him.

Or so he believed.

"I didn't mean to accidentally take your groceries," you laughed, handing over a overpacked paper bag.

Stuffing the bottle under the sink, he met you halfway to the living room, his eyes drinking in the sight of you still in that dress. Still delicate enough for him to rip if he tugged it right. Heat curled along the base of his spine when your eyes met his, wide and glimmering with your laughter. He felt himself crumple at the sight of your lips parting, the surprise at his size still enough to make you speechless.

"Good to see you again," he greeted you, voice low and soft.

You didn't mean to grow flustered in his presence, but something about the way his gaze devoured you within seconds left you breathless. The swooping sensation in your stomach became too much to handle. Desire and attraction weren't unknown concepts to you. But this felt like more. You could sense him right down to your bones and it scared the shit out of you.

"Oh right!" Wade scooched past you to swing an arm around Logan's shoulders. He did what he could to not stab him in the stomach. "This is Logan. My hunky new roommate."

Logan groaned. "Alright–"

"No, no it's good. You remember when I was declared basically the savior of the universe?"

Your face screwed up in confusion. Logan had never wanted to kiss someone more.

"Marvel...Jesus right?"

"I prefer MJ. Since I've got a Peter." Wade's head whipped to the side. "Suck it Tom Holland." His grip on Logan tightened. "This walking People's Sexiest Magazine helped. We're talking big claws, abs you just want to lick whipped cream off of–"

Logan's elbow slammed into Wade's stomach—crimson slowly tinting the tips of his ears. "That's enough."

"AND the Wolverine."

Surprised etched itself onto your face even further. Until you finally regarded Logan with a look he'd seen once before. Awe. When you first met one another in the halls of the mansion, you stared at him that exact way. As if you couldn't quite believe that iconic figure the X-Men made him out to be actually existed.

He couldn't tell if he liked it. Or if he'd rather you view him as a stranger.

"Logan," he said, offering his hand to you politely. Your skin remained as soft as he remembered.

Warmth bloomed in your body at the feeling of his calloused palm overwhelming yours, the scars across his knuckles old and ancient. Yet you found yourself wanting to trace them over and over, until the sight of them seared in your mind. You fought the urge to press your lips to them, etch your own mark into his skin. Something told you he wouldn’t mind.

Logan could see the intrigue on your face—the distracted gaze he wanted to keep in place. You were still curious. Still willing to learn about him. To pick him a part with soft words and even softer touches.

"Logan," you murmured under your breath, your eyes catching his. He felt his stomach leap at the sound of your voice whispering his name. Memories flooding his mind quicker than he expected. Of mornings spent in bed, your skin pressed against his. Of nights alone in his cabin—your stories lulling him to sleep.

Everything he willed himself to forget, yet could never truly let go of.

"I've got to head back." Disappointment filled your heart at the thought of not getting a chance to talk to him more. He had yet to let go of your hand and you found you liked his touch on your skin. "I'll see you soon Wade."

"Logan will be more than happy to walk you back," Wade replied, waving drastically behind your back. "Can't have you getting hurt now can we? Right peanut?"

You smiled. "I'm just across the street."

"I don't mind," Logan cut in, glaring at Wade to shut the fuck up.

"Okay," your voice was soft. Happy.

Logan would have done anything to keep it that way.

The walk back wasn't long enough for him to explain his actions from earlier, but you seemed to be just as smart as your variant self. Shutting the building's door, you turned to him—your dress fluttering in the breeze. Logan choked on his spit at the slight peek of your ass before you pushed the skirt back down around you.

"Did you know me?" You lead him to the corner, waiting for the traffic to die down. "On your Earth."

He paused, his eyebrows pulling together, and for a moment you wondered if you asked the wrong question. Wade told you bits and pieces of what happened since you last saw him, but Logan's background wasn't a discussion you tried to seek out. All you knew was that Wade acquired a new roommate. Not even a name.

Certainly not that he was Wolverine.

"Yes," Logan muttered, glancing at the change in lights.

You started to walk. "In what way?"

His hands curled into fists—echoes of his past rising to the surface. "We were...friends. You're a professor."

"A professor?" you exclaimed, a smile tugging on your lips. "Am I a mutant?"

He nodded. "You're able to bend time. Or control it." He snorted, following your lead towards your building. "I could never understand it. But Charles did."

The walk up to your apartment was silent, your thoughts filled with the new information he'd given you. And no matter how hard you tried to picture it, you couldn't see yourself as a mutant. A powerful being that held the ability to manipulate time who just so happened to be a professor. Somehow even thinking about it made you wonder why Logan was bothering to entertain this version of you. When the better one existed on his Earth.

"You said were."

Stopping at your door, he nearly knocked into you. "Hm?"

"Were friends. What happened?"

The answer he couldn't give you. The words he wouldn't even admit out loud to himself.

He felt his heart twist as if a knife slowly carved through his spleen. "We uh..." He coughed. "You..."

"I don't have to know." Grasping gently onto his arm, you offered a warm smile he felt down to his toes. A look he hadn't seen in quite some time. Logan could picture the last day you were happy in his head. Laughing with Charles in his office as you shared dinner, working on theories of your powers late into the night.

A week before they came.

"It's good to see you like this," he breathed, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek before stopping midair. "Happy."

Your eyebrows knit together. "I wasn't happy?"

"No." What he wouldn't give to take that information back, but it was out in the open, and as always—he remained too late.

"Why?" you asked, your hand sliding down to his much to his delight.

"I made you a promise." He sucked in a breath, his body begging him to start running. You'd be better off if you never knew. If you never remembered him in the first place. "I couldn't keep it."

I'll always keep you safe.

Words he refused to say again.

How could he promise this version of you that? How could he look you in the eyes and lie again? Breaking his Earth's you would haunt him for the rest of his life. He couldn't fathom doing it all over. It would kill him.

Except you weren't the person in his mind. You weren't the mutant who hated him with every fiber of your being. You were you. A continuous surprise that left his heart stuttering in his chest each time you looked his way. An enigma he found himself wanting to unravel.

"Maybe this time around you can," you said softly, letting him go with a smile as you entered your apartment, effectively opening the wound in his heart so wide there was no saving him.

Although he now knew something he didn’t know before.

He didn’t want to be saved.

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Infernal Shadows 04.

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it, last part was a cliffhanger but here we are surviving :) Some background on Madame and I pray you guys get the reference with the name of the exorcist

A/N: I AM BACK FROM THE DEAD!!!! I finally got this out and I added to it so this is a longer chapter than anticipated. I’m so horribly sorry for taking forever to get this out, I had like so many reports to do for my job and this was just calling to me. I hope you guys didn’t forget this and if you did I totally don’t blame you. Not to fret though, I have big plans coming soon, and I’m pushing for longer chapters to keep you people fed. I love you all so so so much! Happy reading and thank you for being so patient and for all the kind messages I got! As for the taglist, I’m afraid it’s closed as of right now, just because I physically cannot tag anymore people on these posts, so I’ll try to figure something out with that!

Tags: @dollops-of-delusion @nebusokuxp @scrunchss @rosedasy @valluvz @chesstras @pishybowl @iaaeav @forgotten-blues @22carolina08 @roboticsuccubus83 @doflamingadonquixote @froggyferrets @frompeach @absurd-ash @sillysillyxinnabun @urdariingdoll @delectableworm @immahuman @justaproudslytherpuff @local-mr-frog @angeli-fucking-cat @coldsweetsenthusiast @jadekomaeda @coffeethoughtsandanxiety @lunalixya @lemonrolls @asimplikeallyall @only-cherry-blossom @sockgoblin @nxrdamp @1-800-no-users-left @l0ca1ax010t1 @inutheangel @reader-of-worlds @writing-fanics @random-person07 @ghostdoodlen @elaemae @fantasy-angelo @tanjirosworld @patchesofdreams @sunnyslug @reineurynome @scoliobean @arrozyfrijoles23 @kimmikreates @lqmons @amarokofficial @mangobango69

Word count: 5694

Navigation!! // Masterlist!! // Serendipity writes (event)!! // Part three // part five

Charlie had almost jumped out of her seat upon seeing the excorsist by your side. The water spout collapsing quickly, water violently splashing all around. A crowd of ‘ooh’s and ah’s could be heard from the crowd as you finally revealed the exorcist to everyone, allowing the sinners around to get a better look at the pet with you. The exorcist next to you was a woman, who looked fairly young. Her wings were large, white feathers with a sheer hint of gold. Her skin was ghostly white, and her eyes were equally as pale, almost a ghost. she looked around quickly, turning in her spot on the ground next to you, where she was kneeling. Her wrists were bound by chains and she stood quickly, wings flaring out. Yet, amid the spectacle, Charlotte couldn't help but notice a flicker of sorrow in the exorcist's pale eyes.

You stood next to her calmly, playing the violin as she stood, flying off the ground and up the middle of the coliseum, flying as quickly as she good. Her long hair, white with golden streaks, flowing as she flew up. Before she could get out however, a long black chain appeared around her neck, pulling her backward quickly, choking her. Her eyes went wide, hand reaching out to the sky above, a silent reach for heaven, before her angelic body was pulled back into the floor of the coliseum, body hitting the hard ground with a loud thud, the floor cracking beneath her upon the impact. Black chains began to hold onto her legs, her chest and neck as she fought against it, the chains lifting her high enough in the air for the crowd to see, making a mockery out of her, out of the exorcists above.

Charlotte's eyes widened, mirroring the shock and disbelief etched across her face as she witnessed the angelic exorcist's dramatic entrance. Alastor, usually composed, betrayed a subtle flicker of concern, his stoic demeanor momentarily shaken.

As the exorcist's wings unfurled, the sheer beauty of her appearance contrasted sharply with the ominous chains that bound her. The crowd's collective gasp echoed, drowning out the earlier applause.

Alastor's grip on his opera glasses tightened, a silent acknowledgment of the unforeseen depth this performance had taken. The music continued, but now there was an undertone of tension, each note echoing the internal struggle of the exorcist. Just the way you had intended.

The audience's gasps turned into uneasy whispers. Charlotte glanced at Alastor, finding a mix of fascination and unease in his expression. His smile looked almost painful, like a touch to him would have him shatter on the spot. She was not used to seeing him this way. Something was oddly unsettling about having him next to her in this way.

“Should we be watching this?” Velvet leans over to ask Vox, sketch book long discarded. He says nothing, eyes blown wide as he takes in the sight before him. It wasn’t like he hadn’t ever seen an exorcist, but this sight was different in itself. You were basically manhandling an exorcist right in front of everyone. This was holy power you were messing with. Tauntingly, making a fool out of this poor innocent girl. Vox wasn’t sure if he was supposed to run away, tail between his legs, or sit and watch the way you had wanted. To obey or disobey, like a dog.

The song was finally at its peak, the angels wings spread to its full length as she fought to get away, thrashing about as she fought again the chains. Charlotte feels her own throat tighten, her heart feeling heavy.

“I can’t watch.” Charlotte said, standing and moving to take her leave, but a large shadow blocked her path.

“Madame requests that you stay here.” The shadow spoke. Charlotte was silent and though she wanted to argue, decided against it.

Amidst the tension, the atmosphere in the coliseum grew heavier, the ethereal music now echoing a dissonant melody. As the angelic exorcist continued her struggle, a figure emerged from the shadows – a mysterious character, their presence felt more than seen.

This enigmatic figure, shrouded in darkness, approached Charlotte with a whispered urgency. "You hold the key to her liberation," the voice murmured, barely audible over the haunting notes of the violin. "Will you break the chains or become a spectator to her demise?"

Charlotte, conflicted and sensing a greater responsibility, looked at the shadowy figure, determination flickering in her eyes. With a newfound resolve, she turned towards the restrained exorcist, seeking a way to intervene and unravel the unsettling performance that had taken a dark turn. The coliseum, once a mere stage for entertainment, now stood witness to a moral crossroads where choices weighed heavily on the hearts of those present, and it was definitely making Charlotte contemplate her whole reason for being here.

Alastor's sharp warning reverberates through the air, his stern tone emphasizing the gravity of the situation. "Interruption during Madame's performance is ill-advised, my dear. It is best not to meddle in affairs beyond your understanding." he cautions, a hint of a threat underlying his words.

Rosie, with a more nurturing but firm approach, guides Charlotte back to her seat. "It's not the time, hon. Madame's got her ways, and we don't want trouble. Just watch and let it play out," Rosie advises, her gaze mirroring a subtle concern for Charlotte's safety.

As Charlotte reluctantly takes her seat, the tension in the coliseum persists, the haunting music and the struggling exorcist creating an eerie symphony that held everyone in a state of suspense. The shadowy figure lingers, observing the unfolding drama with a watchful gaze, leaving an air of mystery and uncertainty in its wake.

The resounding crash echoes through the coliseum as the angelic exorcist succumbs to the relentless chains, her divine form colliding with the unforgiving ground. The spectators, now silent witnesses to the spectacle's unsettling conclusion, feel the vibrations of the impact reverberate through the arena.

The once-beautiful performance has transformed into a scene of somber defeat, the ethereal music now hauntingly melancholic. The shadows that enshrouded the coliseum seem to deepen, casting an eerie gloom over the aftermath.

The mysterious figure in the shadows maintains a watchful presence, its intentions still unclear as the audience processes the unsettling turn of events. The coliseum, leaving an indelible mark on the collective psyche of those who bore witness. As the ethereal music slowly fades to silence, the chains metamorphose into spectral figures, gracefully carrying the defeated angel away. The abrupt stillness in the coliseum feels eerie, the aftermath of the performance leaving the guests, including Charlotte, in a state of uneasy reflection.

The band, once vivid and lively, dissipates like wisps of smoke, leaving an empty stage behind. Madame, now standing alone in the center of the coliseum, is joined by the largest shadow, a looming presence beside her. The shadowy figure addresses the hushed audience, explaining that they will be escorted back to Madame's home for dinner. "Ladies and gentlemen, the next act awaits within the walls of Madame's mansion. Your journey through her realm has only just begun.”

The guests, still processing the unsettling performance, are ushered towards their tables with a sense of quiet trepidation. The coliseum, now devoid of the vibrant spectacle, transforms into a place of anticipation as the guests prepare for the next act in Madame's enigmatic domain. Charlotte, visibly shaken, moves among the disquieted crowd. Zestial stands out, his calm demeanor contrasting with the collective unease. His eyes reveal a depth of understanding, leaving Charlotte to wonder what he really thought of the performance. As they return to Madame's home, the charged atmosphere persists, leaving everyone to ponder what awaits them in the next act of this mysterious and haunting night.

The shadows lead those seated privately with Madame through a mysterious portal, transporting them to a large, black room. The windows, tinted black from floor to ceiling, create an otherworldly aura. Bowls of floating fire cast dancing shadows around the room, adding an element of mystique. In the center stands an impressive dining table, crafted from black wood with matching black chairs adorned with white cushions.

White plates with a gold lining are meticulously arranged, each bearing a name card. The order mirrors the sequence in which the guests were initially invited: Alastor, Vox, Charlie, Velvet, Zestial, Carmilla, and Rosie. Three empty seats capture attention, the most prominent being the grand and ornate chair at the head of the table – undoubtedly Madame's seat.

However, two other unoccupied chairs add a layer of intrigue. One is positioned across from Madame, and the other is to her right. Vox, leaning casually against the black dining table, raises an eyebrow as he scans the unoccupied chairs. "So, did Madame forget to send out a couple more invites, or did she just not bother finding anyone else worth inviting?" His tone, dripping with casual disdain, prompts an involuntary eye twitch from Alastor and a scoff from Carmilla. The room is momentarily tense as the guests settle into their seats, the air thick with unspoken tension and the promise of an unconventional dining.

The large shadow materializes behind Madame's chair the moment everyone takes their seats. It speaks with a commanding presence,

"Madame will be joining you shortly, ensuring the guests are properly situated in the main dining hall. For now, you may all start with the drink of your choice."

As the shadow's words linger, the room is filled with the appearance of various drinks, each guest's preference seemingly anticipated. The other shadows swiftly deliver the beverages before seamlessly vanishing from view. In their place, a small orchestra emerges from the darkest corners of the room, ready to weave a musical tapestry that will accompany the unfolding feast.

The atmosphere in the black room remains charged with a sense of anticipation, the guests left to wonder about the mysteries that await in Madame's unconventional and enigmatic domain.

The anticipation peaks as the celestial display unfolds outside the tinted windows. Stars twinkle in the vast darkness, and constellations take shape, transforming the black room into a cosmic spectacle. The guests, mesmerized by the celestial scene, exchange awed glances.

”Oh this is so beautiful.” Charlotte says, glancing around at the stars.

In the midst of this ethereal backdrop, Madame makes her grand entrance. A sweeping gust of shadow accompanies her, like a cloak billowing in an unseen breeze. She moves gracefully, her silhouette weaving through the darkness, and steps into the room with an air of an almost royal confidence.

Madame wears an elaborate gown that seems to absorb and reflect the celestial light. Its deep, dark hues shimmer with a glow, adorned with intricate patterns that evoke the mysteries of the night sky, certainly fitting her specticle. Her presence commands attention, and a hushed silence falls over the room as the guests turn their gaze towards her.

A soft, melodic hum emanates from Madame, resonating with the orchestral tunes. The shadows, now at her command, align to form a fleeting silhouette of wings that unfurl and then disappear into the darkness. She takes her seat at the grand table, her eyes gleaming with a haunting form of excitement.

As Madame takes her seat, the celestial display beyond the windows intensifies, casting a glow over the dining room. The shadows, now intricately woven into ethereal patterns, dance along the walls, adding to the surreal atmosphere. With a graceful gesture, Madame signals the waitstaff shadows to present the first course. Exquisite dishes are unveiled, each a culinary masterpiece designed to tantalize the senses. Alastor’s eyes light up as his favorite dish is revealed — Jambalaya. Rich and spicy, it perfectly captures his love for bold and vibrant flavors.

Vox, always one for extravagance, is presented with Sushi. Delicate sushi rolls arranged like musical notes create a visual and auditory delight, harmonizing with each flavorful bite. Meanwhile, Velvet savors the spicy noodles on her plate, a cosmic array of ingredients adorning handmade noodles, reflecting her love for adventurous flavors.

Charlotte’s palate is delighted with the Harmony of Garden Greens, a vibrant salad showcasing fresh and wholesome ingredients. Zestial’s preference for refined flavors is indulged with a nice tender steak. Carmilla indulges in an enchanting dark Chocolate Fondue, a decadent dessert that mirrors her taste for the luxurious. Rosie, captivated by sweetness and charm, enjoys a stellar Strawberry Shortcake, a heavenly creation adorned with edible flowers. Rosie was grateful Madame hadn’t served her limbs this evening, though the craving was very much there.

As the guests savor their feast, Vox, unable to resist his penchant for stirring conversation, attempts to broach the topic of the enigmatic exorcist from Madame's previous performance. "Madame, that exorcist bit was quite the show, don't you think? Who was she, and why the dramatics?" Vox inquires with his signature flair, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Though Alastor would never admit it, he was silently appreciative Vox was the one to voice the question. He knew Madame would have his head if he dared to ask. A large grin is displayed as he awaits Madame’s response. Knowing she is intolerant of being questioned on her decisions.

Madame, however, responds with a stern and unwavering gaze. "Vox, some matters are not for idle chatter. Rest assured, when the time is right, I will provide the explanation that is due." Her tone, though firm, carries a sense of ancient wisdom that tempers Vox's usual audacity. Alastor just grins to himself, happy she did not disappoint.

Carmilla, sensitive to the undercurrents of unease, feels a shiver down her spine. The cryptic response leaves her uneasy, but she keeps her feelings to herself. Madame's words hang in the air, a subtle reminder that there are depths to this realm that remain veiled. She is in control.

The aura intensifies as the orchestra weaves a haunting melody, adding an ethereal backdrop to the exchange. The guests, now caught in the delicate dance of shadows, flavors, and unspoken mysteries, await the unfolding of Madame's narrative. However, to their dismay, she leaves them empty handed.

The small orchestra adapts it’s tunes, complementing the dining room with melodies that resonate with the mysteries of Madame. The music sways between haunting and enchanting, guiding the guests through an experience that transcends the ordinary.

"I hope the food is to everyone's enjoyment," Madame remarks, her plate being set in front of her last. The guests, captivated by the transcendent feast, eagerly dig into their respective dishes. As the flavors unfold on their palates, a chorus of satisfaction fills the room.

“These are quite excellent.” Carmilla comments as she enjoys her meal. Madame only nods in response. Compliments flow freely from the guests to Madame and the shadows, expressions of delight escaping between bites. Alastor, savoring his Jambalaya, commends the bold and vibrant flavors.

The room resonates with the sounds of enjoyment, and Rosie, with the Strawberry Shortcake, receives nods of approval for the delightful sweetness. Madame, her strong composure unwavering, listens to the compliments with a hint of satisfaction. Everyone enjoys being praised.

As the melodies of the cosmos continue to weave through the air, the dining room becomes a mix of flavor and enchantment. The guests, immersed in the extraordinary experience, savor each moment, aware that this transcendent feast is not just a meal but the start to something haunting.

Things could not be peaceful forever though. Madame pushed back a bit and stood, immediately drawing everyone’s attention.

“I would like to thank you all for being such pleasant guests tonight. I do believe a lot has happened since the last extermination. I am aware you overlords, or the ones that had the decency to show up, are aware that we must do something to protect our souls. Which begs the question.” Madame stops, taking her time to look at everyone. “What do you plan to do when the exorcists come down here to kill you all?” She asks bluntly. Carmilla inhales sharply not saying much, which Zestial just sips a cup of tea, his usual. Alastor and Rosie exchange a glance, but before anyone can say anything, Vox interjects.

“Well Madame I think you’ll be pleased to know Vox-tech has been working on protection for the people and-“

“Do you really think a piece of technology will stop this?” Madame asks. Her eyes narrow at him, and Vox silently sinks into his seat. Madame sighs, her shadow pulling her chair farther back so she can walk around the table, to the empty seat across from her. “Since you all clearly have no clue what to do, I presume I’ll share my idea.” Madame says, before she snaps her fingers. In an instant, a large shadow, almost in the shape of a sphere, forms next to her. It’s whispy and hyperactive, almost alive, before it sinks to the ground. Slowly it’s fades away. The guests stand, wanting to get a closer look, before the shadow turns to fog, and falls away. There in it’s place is the exorcist from the coliseum.

“Madame-!” Carmilla says, but is met with a stern look from Madame.

“Something wrong?” She asked. A chain formed around the exorcists neck, one that wrapped around Madame’s hand. She holds it tight, like she’s holding a wild animal back. Velvet wonders if this is because she’s afraid, or excited.

“Go on. Speak.” Madame says to the girl next to her. She looks down at the ground, a bit bruised but shining brightly nevertheless.

“I do not wish-to fight.” The girl says, and Madame just smiles.

“Let her go.” Charlotte says. The overlords look at Charlotte with a surprised expression. Madame says nothing, and instead tilts her head to look at Charlotte.

“Let her go?” Madame repeats, and Charlotte nods.

“Yes. Let her go.” Charlotte says, suddenly feeling nervous. Madame doesn’t appear to be upset, which only confuses and makes Charlotte even more anxious.

“Very well then. Have it your way.” Madame says, dropping the chained leash. Suddenly, the exorcist flies up and lunges at Zestial, attacking him. The overlords all disperse, watching as he throws her off of him.

“No! Wait stop!” Charlotte says, trying to get the situation under control. Alastor’s eyes widen, and he grins, tentacles appearing from the ground quickly, attempting to scare her by attacking her wings. The moment his tentacle touches the feathers on her back, it burns, and Alastor pulls back immediately, seemingly confused. The room erupts in screams and chaos, Rosie attempting to get the exorcist away from her as she tries to kill her.

“My dear, you do realize the mess you’ve made, yes?” Alastor asks as he summons himself next to Madame. She stands by the windows, the starts casting an almost colorful display over her, making her seem ethereal. Madame nods.

“Well then maybe you should get Lilith’s pet under control.” Madame inquires. Alastor just grins, nodding before lifting her hand to kiss the back of it.

“Of course Madame.” He says, before fading into his shadow. Carmilla stands next to a tired Zestial, while Velvet and Vox stand on the dining table, holding onto each other for dear life, while Rosie takes to poking fun at the exorcist, who seems to only want to harm Charlotte at this point.

“You filthy girl-!” The exorcist cries, before she chokes, a black chain wrapping around her neck quickly, and pulling her back.

“Enough Evangeline.” Madame says sharply. At this, the exorcist grows quiet almost immediately. Charlotte is in tears and on the floor, Alastor picking her up by her underarms, setting her straight.

“This is why you be quiet.” Alastor whispered to Charlotte.

“Oh~ that was fun! Let’s do this again.” Rosie says delightfully. Madame just nods to her, an unreadable expression adorning her features.

“Yes, let’s.” Madame says, tugging Evangeline’s chain sharply. Evangeline stands, now looking a bit shorter than Madame, while Madame’s shadows remove Vox and Velvet from the dining table. Quickly, everything is back in order, as Madame ushers the guests to take their seats. Now, Evangeline sits at the head of the table, across from Madame.

“Everyone, this is Evangeline, my sister.”

“Sister?” Vox asks, shying away from the exorcist.

“Didn’t you hear her?” Velvet asks, nudging him with her elbow. He just nods, but says nothing.

“Yes. Sister. I’ve obtained her for one reason and that reason only.” Madame said, before Zestial interjected.

“What reason doth that be?” Zestial asks. Madame just smiles, with a snap of her fingers, Evangeline is turned around, wings sprawled out.

“To send a message of course.” Madame says. Before a paper is presented to all the guests.

“During the extermination I had the pleasure of speaking to Adam.”

”Wait Adam like, first man Adam?” Velvet asked, and Madame nods.

“Yes, him. He believes he can wipe us out fairly quickly. He said he’d be back for me specifically.” Madame said, looking out to the windows, before continuing. “So, I decided it would be best if we sent him a lovely letter. Charlotte,” Madame said, “I know you spoke to him recently. If he wants to come to your hotel, I believe it’s only right we make other areas just as much of a target.” Madame said, before Carmilla frowned.

”Why should we? Won’t that make us all targets?” Carmilla asked. Madame nodded.

“Yes, but with too many locations they’ll spread themselves thin.” Madame said.

“Why are we talking about this in front of her?” Rosie asked, pointing to Evangeline. “Won’t she just tell them what we’re planning?” Rosie asked. Madame shrugged.

”Possibly. I never said she was going back alive.” Madame said. “But this topic can wait. I’m ready for dessert.” She said, and suddenly shadows were back with all kinds of desserts in the middle of the table. Evangeline was now facing the rest of the guests, all who stared at her with a predatory gaze.

Y/n L/n was born in the year 1885, with her sister, Evangeline, arriving in 1887, just two years apart. Y/n was the eldest among her siblings, having two younger sisters and a younger brother. Sadly, the youngest sister passed away at the tender age of twelve, a victim to scarlet fever. Despite this tragedy, Evangeline remained the darling of the town, known for her innocence and beloved by all. Meanwhile, their brother Arthur matured at a quicker pace than Evangeline.

The family's prosperity stemmed from being victims of the Salem witch trials back in the 1600s. This dark history actually served as a catalyst, enabling their ancestors to establish a business that had been passed down through generations, making Y/n the rightful heir. Initially, the business catered to workers and provided scrubs, but Y/n had grander visions.

Under Y/n's leadership, the business transformed from producing simple workwear to crafting exquisite dresses, corsets, feathered hats, and other fashionable garments. These creations were designed to empower young women and elevate their sense of self-esteem, departing from the mundane work attire of the past.

As word spread of the boutique's exceptional offerings, affluent families began flocking to Y/n's establishment, seeking custom dresses and elegant accessories. Evangeline, always cheerful and accommodating, played a pivotal role in welcoming and attending to the guests while Y/n conducted business.

Despite the initial success and harmony, ominous clouds loomed on the horizon, signaling that peace and tranquility might not last forever.

Evangeline's heart fluttered whenever she was around Alexander, a charming and charismatic gentleman who frequented the boutique who was also from a wealthy family. Their budding romance seemed like a fairy tale at first, but little did Evangeline know, Alexander harbored hidden agendas. But Y/n could see it from a mile away. But alas, she let her younger sister be. She did not feel threatened by Alexander. To her, he was simply another walking wallet right into her arms.

As their relationship deepened, Alexander subtly planted seeds of doubt about Y/n in Evangeline's mind. He would gently question Y/n's decisions, pointing out areas where he believed Evangeline could excel if given more freedom.

"My darling Evangeline," Alexander would whisper, his voice dripping with honeyed words, "you're a diamond in the rough, waiting to shine. But Y/n's cautious approach is holding you back. Imagine what you could achieve with your own vision."

Evangeline, enamored and impressionable, began to see Y/n's protective actions as barriers to her dreams rather than safeguards for their family's legacy. Alexander's persuasive arguments fueled Evangeline's desire for independence and recognition.

"You deserve more than being just Y/n's shadow," Alexander would say, his eyes filled with feigned concern. "Don't let fear of failure hold you back. Take risks, Evangeline. Follow your heart."

Unaware of Alexander's ulterior motives, Evangeline started to view Y/n's guidance and decisions with skepticism. She began to prioritize her relationship with Alexander over the family's business, inadvertently straining her bond with Y/n.

As Alexander's influence grew, Evangeline's perception of Y/n shifted, painting Y/n as overly controlling and unsupportive of her aspirations. The once-close sisters found themselves on opposite ends, with Alexander's manipulative tactics driving a wedge between them.

Behind the facade of love and affection, Alexander manipulated Evangeline's emotions and perceptions, using her vulnerability to further his own agenda. The tangled web of romance and manipulation threatened to unravel the familial harmony Y/n had worked so hard to maintain.

One evening, as Evangeline sat in her room at the family estate, Alexander approached her with a concerned expression. "Evangeline, my love," he began, "I've noticed something troubling about Y/n's management of the business. It seems she's keeping you in the dark about important decisions."

Evangeline furrowed her brow, surprised by Alexander's revelation. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Alexander leaned in, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "I've heard whispers among the staff," he confided, "about Y/n making decisions behind your back, as if she doesn't trust you with the business's future. You deserve to have a voice, Evangeline. You shouldn't be kept in the dark."

Doubt crept into Evangeline's mind as she pondered Alexander's words. She had always trusted Y/n implicitly, but Alexander's claims sowed seeds of suspicion and resentment. "But Y/n has always had our family's best interests at heart," Evangeline countered weakly.

"Of course, my dear," Alexander reassured her, his tone soothing. "But perhaps Y/n fears that your ideas and vision might outshine hers. You're more than capable, Evangeline. Don't let anyone keep you from realizing your full potential."

In the following days, Alexander's subtle manipulation and peer pressure intensified. He highlighted instances where Y/n had made decisions without consulting Evangeline, portraying Y/n as controlling and domineering. "You're the future of this business, Evangeline," he would say, planting seeds of ambition and discord.

Fueled by Alexander's influence, Evangeline confronted Y/n during a heated family meeting about the business's direction. "Why are you keeping me in the dark, Y/n?" Evangeline demanded, her voice trembling with emotion. "I deserve to be involved in every decision!"

Y/n, taken aback by Evangeline's sudden hostility, tried to explain. "Evangeline, I've always valued your input, but some decisions require swift action. I never intended to keep you in the dark." Y/n would say sternly, trying to keep her composure.

But Alexander's words echoed in Evangeline's mind, clouding her judgment and fueling her resolve to assert herself in the business. The once-unbreakable bond between the sisters fractured under the weight of manipulation and misunderstandings, orchestrated by Alexander's cunning tactics.

Evangline’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she and Alexander stood before Y/n, their announcement hanging in the air like a storm about to break.

“We’re engaged, Y/n,” Evangeline exclaimed, her voice filled with joy. “And we believe it’s time for me to take over the business. After all, I’ll be married soon and would want to pass it down to our children someday.”

Y/n’s eyes widened in disbelief as Evangeline and Alexander stood before her, their engagement bombshell hanging heavily in the air. The room fell silent as Y/n processed the news, her shock palpable.

“You’re getting engaged without even discussing it with me first?” Y/n’s voice cracked with incredulity, her tone carrying a mix of surprise and hurt.

Evangeline, caught off guard by Y/n’s reaction, tried to explain. “Y/n, we thought you would be happy for us,” she said, her voice tinged with disappointment.

But Y/n’s shock quickly turned into frustration and anger. “Happy for you?” Y/n’s tone sharpened, her words laced with bitterness. “How can I be happy when you’re making decisions that affect our entire family without even consulting me?”

Evangeline’s expression faltered, her eyes filling with tears. “But Y/n, I love Alexander, and we want to build a future together,” she pleaded.

Y/n’s emotions boiled over, her hurt turning into harsh words aimed at Evangeline. “Love blinds you, Evangeline,” Y/n snapped, her voice rising. “You’re being manipulated, and you don’t even see it!”

Evangeline’s tears spilled over as Y/n’s words hit home. “I’m not being manipulated, Y/n,” she protested, her voice trembling.

But Y/n’s frustration didn’t stop there. Her gaze turned to Alexander, her tone dripping with disdain. “And you,” Y/n directed her anger at him, “using Evangeline to get to our family fortune, shamelessly preying on her innocence and trust.”

Alexander’s facade of charm faltered for a moment, his expression betraying a hint of unease. “I assure you, Y/n, my intentions are genuine,” he tried to placate her.

But Y/n wasn’t buying it. “Genuine? You’re nothing but a leech, Alexander,” Y/n’s words cut through the tension, her anger simmering beneath the surface. “I won’t let you manipulate our family for your selfish gain.”

As the tension escalates during the argument, Evangeline turns to Y/n, her eyes filled with confusion and hurt. “What do you mean, Y/n?” she asks, her voice trembling with emotion.

Y/n’s expression hardens, her resolve firm as she faces Evangeline. “The whole family can see it, Evangeline,” Y/n’s tone is resolute, her words cutting through the air. “Alexander is just after our money, and he’s using you to get to it.”

Evangeline’s eyes widen in shock, disbelief evident on her face. “No, that’s not true,” she protests, her voice tinged with desperation.

But Y/n doesn’t back down. “Open your eyes, Evangeline,” Y/n urges, her voice filled with urgency. “He drove Arthur away from you, manipulated him to keep you to himself. He’s tearing our family apart for his own selfish motives.”

The weight of Y/n’s words hangs heavily in the air, the truth of the situation sinking in for Evangeline amidst the chaos of emotions and accusations.

In response to Y/n’s accusations, Alexander turns to Evangeline with a dismissive smirk, his tone dripping with condescension. “Evangeline, Y/n is lying,” he asserts confidently. “She’s never been in love, so she wouldn’t even know what she’s talking about.”

Evangeline, torn between her trust in Alexander and the unsettling doubts planted by Y/n’s words, looks to him for reassurance. “But Alexander, I love you,” she insists, her voice wavering with uncertainty.

Alexander’s charm kicks into full gear as he takes Evangeline’s hand, his gaze filled with faux affection. “And I love you, my dear,” he replies smoothly. “Don’t let Y/n’s jealousy and lies cloud your judgment. We have a future together, away from all this drama.”

As the tension reaches its peak, Y/n’s resolve remains unyielding as she delivers a stark ultimatum to Evangeline. “If you choose to marry him, Evangeline, I will never speak to you again,” Y/n’s voice is firm, her words carrying the weight of finality. “You will be disowned from the family and removed from the business entirely.”

Evangeline’s eyes widen in shock and hurt, her voice barely above a whisper as she asks, “Why are you doing this to me, Y/n?”

Y/n’s expression softens for a moment, but her determination doesn’t waver. “I’m thinking of the family business, Evangeline,” Y/n’s tone is unwavering, her words laced with a mix of sadness and pragmatism. “I’m thinking of what will benefit us, not silly emotions like love that can be manipulated and used against us.”

The gravity of Y/n’s decision hangs heavily in the air, the rift between the sisters widening as Evangeline grapples with the harsh reality of Y/n’s ultimatum.

Evangeline's voice trembles with a mix of defiance and sorrow as she tells Y/n, "I'm going to marry Alexander anyway, Y/n." Her eyes reflect a sense of resignation, knowing the rift her decision will create between her and her sister.

Y/n receives the wedding invitation in the mail, her heart heavy as she reads Evangeline's words inviting them to the wedding. Despite the hurt in Evangeline's voice, Y/n remains steadfast in her decision not to attend, unwilling to condone a union she strongly opposes. This choice further deepens the rift between the sisters, leaving Evangeline feeling the pain of their absence on her special day.

“You don’t need her anyway.” Alexander says to Evangeline when she tells him how hurt she was her sibling did not show up.

In 1901, tragedy strikes as Evangeline dies during childbirth. The funeral is held, and Y/n, Arthur, and Evangeline’s only child, a son, attend. However, Alexander chooses not to attend and sends his son with the nanny instead. Y/n isn’t surprised, but she did debate going to their estate to tell Alexander how much of a horrible husband he was.

In 1915, Y/n tragically dies from poisoning due to alcohol. The family faces yet another loss, marking the end of an era filled with turmoil and strained relationships. Arthur is the last sibling left, the head of the business, and serves out his life fulfilling Y/n’s visions, making her the face of the family name forever.

“You always did only worry about yourself.” Evangeline thought to herself as she began her dessert.

[lostloveletters]

You Can’t Start a Fire Without a Spark (Ron Speirs x Reader)

Summary: Night falls in Bavaria to victorious revelry, and at the goading of your friends, the lust you've been kindling in secret suddenly burns hot and wild to the touch.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used besides the slightest bit of backstory. Inspired by several Bruce Springsteen songs. This is based on the fictional portrayals in the HBO miniseries and not the real individuals. (Also, hi I’m Battie! This is my first Band of Brothers fic despite being a fan of the miniseries since 2016. Let me know what you think🖤) Do not interact if you’re under 18, are a terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Inherent power imbalance. Explicit content involving vaginal fingering and unprotected sex.

You weren’t sure how six of you managed to squeeze into a booth together in the Bavarian bar, elbow-to-elbow as you drank beer and shouted over each other. Sitting squished against Talbert, who was squished against Malarkey, one of your legs wasn’t even in the booth. On the other side of the table, Babe, Perconte, and Luz were in the same situation.

Victory in Europe had just been declared. The celebratory feeling filled your lungs with each breath despite the cloud of cigarette smoke that hung over the bar. With the war in Japan still raging on, the likelihood of those without enough points having to endure another drop remained up in the air. One night of fun wouldn’t hurt anybody. No one could say you hadn’t earned it.

Glancing around at your friends, the guys you lived and would’ve died for—even after the war ended, if you were being honest with yourself. You couldn’t imagine being closer with anyone else. Growing up without much of a family, passed around homes of distant relatives and near strangers until you had enough and ventured out on your own as a teen, you’d never had such strong connections before. The only reason you were even allowed to work so closely with Easy Company, was the absence of any next-of-kin, no one to cause a fuss if something went wrong while you were overseas. You were non-combat detail, of course, typing and running errands as needed, but more often than was likely ideal, you found yourself somewhere on the line with the medic training you’d gotten. 

You hadn’t been at Toccoa with them, only meeting most of the guys just before D-Day. After Operation Market Garden’s failure in Holland, they came around to you upon the return to Aldbourne, least surprising of whom was Talbert, ever so kindly taking you under his wing when he was recovering from being accidentally stabbed by Smith. The two of you became close friends, and though you heard of his exploits with women in just about every city the company passed through, he seemed hellbent on being your wingman, trying to set you up with at least half a dozen members of Easy to little success. 

With the taste of sweet victory and bold German beer on everyone’s lips, declarations of what and who everyone would ideally do to celebrate poured from your friends with little prompting. Knowing you well enough at that point, Tab took the opportunity to get you in on the conversation, the light mood and buzz in your system leaving you more loose-lipped than usual.

“Alright, our company’s eligible bachelorette,” Tab said, conspiratorial mirth in his voice. “Fraternization rules to the dust, which of Easy’s officers would you do your celebrating with?”

Your lips twitched, failing to suppress your smile as your drinking buddies awaited your answer. “Speirs.”

Finishing off the rest of your beer, you stifled your amusement at the clamor that ensued. Undoubtedly the least expected answer, part of Tab’s failure to secure a date for you among his comrades was your infatuation with the legendary captain—closely guarded, until you had a beer or two in you, apparently. 

“Speirs?” Babe repeated incredulously.

“No way,” Malarkey said, shaking his head. “No fucking way.”

“They need to get you to one of those headshrinkers,” Perconte said.

“Hold on a minute,” Tab said with an amused smile, trying to reign in the chaos. “Let’s hear her out.”

“You wanna know why?” you asked.

Ever since Speirs stuck with Easy Company after Bastogne, you worked closely with him as you did the other officers, taking notes and keeping memos for them. Speirs often requisitioned you to type up reports for him, finding it easier to dictate what he wanted written to you than typing them himself. Sometimes you found his attention drifting off when it was a more mundane report, his words trailing away while he looked at you, typically slouched on a chair or couch at the end of a long day. You would let yourself take him in, hoping the perceptive man wouldn’t notice the way your eyes trailed up his long, outstretched legs to his disheveled hair. 

He provided the most attention to battlefield exploits, and at times you couldn’t keep up with how fast he was speaking or would find yourself a bit startled by some of the gruesome details he relayed. You’d heard the rumors about him. Everyone had. But a disgustingly repressed part of you that’d emerged at some point during the war was secretly thrilled by them, almost hoping they were true. 

“Well, you owe us that much,” Luz said.

“I owe you all jack and shit.”

“What if I buy you another drink?”

“I think I’m gonna need another one after hearing this,” Babe muttered.

“Let’s see, why would I sleep with Captain Speirs,” you said, playfully tapping your chin in faux thought. “For starters, he’s fine as hell, which should be reason enough. I like that he’s a no-nonsense kinda guy. He has this intensity that I think is really sexy.”

The cacophony of bewilderment and objection that filled the booth met its slow death when the occupant of the booth behind yours got up. You weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry when you saw it was Speirs.

He made his way out of the pub, your light mood with him. 

“Oh my god,” you groaned. “Do you think he heard?”

“No way he didn’t,” Malarkey said.

“Fuck, I need to do something before I get demoted or transferred or something.”

Tab grinned. “Well, if you’re not walking straight tomorrow, we’ll know you did something.”

“Shut up, jerk!” you hissed. “I’m in this mess because of you.”

He gave you a mocking salute.

You flipped him off as you got up from the table, running after your CO who more than likely overheard you expressing to your buddies that you’d enthusiastically have sex with him. Of course it happened the one time you actually joined in on their vulgarity.

Unlike his silent stride, your boots pounded against the pavement, announcing your approach to him.

He turned around abruptly, and you nearly fell over your own feet as you stopped in your tracks. 

His intense gaze on you felt like being at the end of his rifle’s sight. “Are you drunk, Y/L/N?”

“No—no, sir.”

“Good. I could use your help with a report.”

You stared at him blankly. A report. At ten o’clock at night. “Of course, sir. Anything you need.”

The corners of his lips upturned for a split second. “I’m sure.” Fuck. He’d definitely heard you.

The two of you started off down the street, toward a more residential area wherein officers had requisitioned houses for the US Army’s use for the foreseeable future. Almost dreamily picturesque, tree branches waved at you in the cool night breeze, the surrounding mountains illuminated by the bright fullness of the moon. From the soft glow of street lamps lighting your way, something you’d previously taken for granted, you tried not to stare at him. In the warm glow of that balmy summer evening, however, he looked almost too good to be true. Hair slightly unkempt, the whisper of stubble along his jaw and cheeks, surely his face would feel like heaven between your thighs. 

Soldiers in all states of drunkenness ambled up and down either side of the street, hollering and singing in carefree celebration. Speirs placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you past a group of men who could hardly walk straight. One of them walked right into you, his head nearly colliding with yours.

“Fuck,” the young soldier grumbled under his breath, shooting you a dirty look for being in his way.

Speirs wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you aside to stand in front of you. “Private,” he snapped, staring down the young man who looked like he was about to shit himself. “I advise you get yourself together and watch where you’re going.”

“Yes, sir—Captain Speirs, sir,” he said, turning his attention to you. “Sorry, ma’am.”

You nodded silently, and the private ran off after his buddies. 

Speirs turned to you, his hands on your shoulders as his intense gaze searched your face for any sign of injury.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

In Hagenau, one of the replacements had been pestering you the moment he laid eyes on you. At first, you humored him, supposing he needed a friend, as the men who’d been through Normandy and Bastogne were understandably closed-off and tight knit. Thought the new guys were too green, too eager to do something stupid and get someone killed in pursuit of battlefield glory that was too haunting to exist. 

Then he started getting handsy, not enough to be outright inappropriate, but enough to make you uncomfortable. You weren’t sure what possessed you to mention it to Speirs when he’d asked you how you were doing one afternoon. His brow furrowed, he gave you a silent nod in response. The replacement had been transferred elsewhere the following day.

Though Speirs stared right at you, there was something far away in his eyes as he squeezed your shoulders. 

“I’m fine, sir,” you repeated. “I promise.”

“Hmm? Oh, right,” he said softly. 

He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, not bothering to offer you one. You were in the minority of people who didn’t smoke, allowing you to leverage the packs in your rations to trade amongst the men. As time went on, you’d leave them on top of your finished reports for Speirs, especially if they were Luckys. You watched silently as he lit the cigarette in his mouth, a shining silver lighter in his hand. His eyes drifted from the flame back to you, though you noticed the slightest spark behind them.

The rest of the walk was uneventful until you reached the house. A few stragglers hung around on the street outside, their voices becoming the slightest bit more hushed as they watched you follow Speirs inside. By the time the front door shut, they’d already begun speculating why the two of you were going to his place so late. With the way the men spread gossip, you could hazard a guess as to what the tale would morph into by the morning. You silently bemoaned the prospect of the night hardly being as interesting as whatever they conjured up.

Following him upstairs, the makeshift office seemed especially cramped with the boxes and papers that were haphazardly spread around the place. It’d probably take weeks to sift through it all, especially since a glance at one of the files appeared to be in German. Getting help wouldn’t be the issue, but rather the fact that none of the members of Easy who knew German were particularly inclined toward office work, becoming restless after an hour or so. 

A problem for another time, however. Glancing at the clock, it was nearly half past ten, and you were almost inclined to ask Speirs about coffee, depending on how long he expected the report to take. You sat down at the desk, ready to begin typing the date when you noticed the ink was out.

“Is there any typewriter ribbon around, sir?” you asked.

He nodded. “Should be in one of the drawers.”

You opened the drawer immediately to your right, finding a mess of stationary that had clearly been shoved in carelessly. Or maybe someone had taken something out of it in a hurry. Digging through it, you came up empty, and moved onto the drawer below it. No dice. The one to your left didn’t have typewriter ribbon either, at least, you would have been surprised to find it tucked in with the loot that nearly filled the thing to the brim–shining silverware, glistening jewelry, and trinkets that someone with a keener eye than you had clearly decided were valuable enough to keep. 

His extensive looting was an open secret, but a glimpse of this treasure trove was a shock to the system. So entranced by the contents of the drawer, you didn’t hear him walk up beside you until his shadow fell over the necklaces and rings you silently coveted.  

He gave you a sly smile, wolfish in the dim lighting. “Haven’t had much of a chance to organize those.”

“They’re beautiful,” you whispered in awe, gingerly touching a pearl necklace.

“Try them on.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go ahead.”

You picked up the string of pearls, a nervousness washing over you at holding something so valuable, something of his. Walking over to the window, the nearest reflective surface you could find, you pulled the necklace on, garish against your uniform. You tried shaking off the odd feeling of playing dress-up in front of your commanding officer, a girlish whim he inexplicably allowed you to indulge in. His expression was unreadable when you turned around for him.

“They suit you,” he finally said, brushing his fingers against the pearls, slowly drifting lower to the exposed skin of your decollete. “Keep them.”

It wasn’t uncommon for him to bring you small gifts every now and then—typewriter ribbon, fountain pens, chocolate, trinkets. You knew better than to question where he got them, as he seemed to give them to you at the perfect moment. The stationary supplies when you were running low on them, chocolate and trinkets when you were feeling down. At times they’d be accompanied by notes from him. Usually short, but so sincere you treasured them more than the gifts. Whenever you’d try to thank him, he’d just shrug, almost dismissing the gesture.

This time, feeling bold in the cover of night, you pressed your lips to his cheek, uttering a quiet “thank you.”

He didn’t react. Disappointed, you moved to sit back down at the desk until he grabbed your arm, gently pulling you back to him.

“Were you telling the truth?” he asked, his voice a husky, demanding whisper. “Back at the bar.”

“Yes.”

“So if I said I’ve wanted you in a bad way since Bastogne?”

You kissed him, an explosion of warmth in your chest as you tangled your fingers in his hair. He settled his hands on your hips, squeezing them with a tenderness that betrayed his longing. Parting your lips for him, you allowed him to deepen the kiss, wanting to see how far he’d take it. 

Almost overwhelmed by his gentle intensity, you pulled away from his lips, though his mouth chased yours, capturing yet another kiss from you.

“Show me how you want me,” you pleaded with desperate kisses to his face, trailing down to his throat where you could feel the way he groaned in pleasure at your touch. 

“In my room,” he managed to say. “I wanna lay you on the bed and–”

“Anything, anything you want, Ron.”

His lips slightly blushed from the ferocity of your kiss, he parted his mouth as if to speak, but instead took your hand firmly in his. 

He led you straight down the nondescript hallway that nevertheless left you feeling turned around, dizzied by your desire for him. A door opened, and you were promptly pulled inside the room. The click of the lock behind you sent a slight shiver down your spine. 

Pulled into his arms again, you lost yourself in his fervent kiss, until you reached down, palming his hardening cock through his pants. He moaned into your mouth, the sound only exacerbating the heat between your thighs, the ache inside of you that up until that point had been abated by your fingers, always rushed, never satisfying the urge to be filled–by him, preferably. From the way he felt beneath your hand, he could do all of that and more. 

And after the months of silently, almost guiltily lusting after him like a nun, he wanted you too. The ego boost emboldened you. “Did you ever think about me when you were alone?” you asked, giving his bulge a gentle squeeze.

“Yes–fuck,” he groaned.

“Like what?”

“Besides keeping me warm in that goddamn forest? This–I thought of this,” he murmured against your lips. “But I didn’t let myself think of a future with you. I couldn’t have survived if I did.”

“And now?”

“I want everything you’ll give me, sweetheart.”

“Lucky you, that’s exactly what I wanna give.”

He smiled slightly, his hands hastily working to unbutton your shirt. “Lucky–except you’re wearing too many clothes.”

You reached for the pearls, about to take them off when he caught your wrist in his hand.

“Leave them on.” His voice was steady, authoritative, the closest he sounded to Speirs since he scolded the private who walked into you earlier. 

Weak in the knees, you acquiesced to the one and only order your captain would give you that night. You otherwise undressed, your uniform in a pile at your feet. Your bra and panties were simple, certainly not the sexy lingerie you’d fantasized about seducing Ron in, but his eyes blazed as if your body were hugged by an inviting satin set. A burst of confidence rushed through you, and you held his gaze as you discarded your bra and panties. 

You laid back on the bed as he undressed, watching intently until he was down to nothing more than his underwear, his hard cock straining against the fabric. He pulled them off, and you sucked in a breath at how big he was. Erect, at attention for you, all the more intimidating as he approached, joining you on the bed. His daring in the line of fire sure as hell wasn’t compensating for anything.

He straddled your hips, his eyes taking in your naked form with a primal intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. He reached down, two of his fingers circling your clit, your body trembled beneath his touch. By the way he studied how your face contorted in pleasure as a foreign-sounding moan rose from deep in your chest, you could tell it was payback for your teasing him just minutes before. 

His fingers shifted, slipping inside your wet core with ease. He pumped them in and out at a steady pace that made your stomach tighten and toes curl, but slowly bringing you closer to orgasm. You bucked your hips when he curled his fingers inside of you, blood rushing in your ears so loud that you could hardly hear the obscene sounds coming from your pussy. A lump formed in your throat, one that made you nearly howl in frustration.

“Who got you this worked up, sweetheart?” he asked, nipping the shell of your ear.

A whimper. “You.”

“What was that?”

“You.” Through a haze of lust-soaked desperation, you took his face in your hands. “Don’t make me beg, Sparky. It’s always been you.”

He pulled his hand from between your legs, and you nearly whined until he slid his length inside your pussy, your walls clenching around his cock. You braced yourself on his shoulder blades, your nails doing a number on him as you dug them into his taut skin while he thrust into you. Carefully at first, almost frustratingly so, until you cried, “More.”

He was bigger than you were used to, even before the war, but the slight discomfort was drowned out by the way his steady, deep thrusts filled you. He ducked his head down, taking one of your breasts in his mouth, his hand groping the other. Sucking on your breast, his teeth grazed your nipple, the hint of pain complimenting the pleasure. Your climax was so close you could see it if you closed your eyes, raw and vulnerable.

“Ron, I’m so close,” you moaned. “Don’t stop.”

He lifted his head, nodding. “Where should I–”

“Inside–fuck–I want you to cum inside me.”

And he did, with an erratic thrust that pushed him deeper inside you still. You kissed him as your pussy milked his cock, lifting your hips to grind against him for the slightest bit of friction to your clit. You threw your head back as you came, an obscene moan escaping your lips as pleasure spread across your body, white-hot like a star in supernova.

His name fell from your lips, laced with curses, over and over like a vulgar prayer. He pressed sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along your decollete, his lips brushing the pearls that stuck to your sweat-sheened skin until he shuddered, bottoming out in you. 

He pulled out slowly, his toned chest heaving before he collapsed next to you. Reaching over to the nightstand, he grabbed a pack of cigarettes, silently offering you one. You declined, and he placed one between his lips, using a nearby match to light it before taking you in his arms. You settled comfortably against his chest, closing your eyes for a few moments.

“So, what about that report?” you asked slyly when you’d finally caught your breath.

His quiet laughter rumbled in his chest, and he took a drag from his cigarette, his gaze betraying his adoration as he looked at you. “I might need your help again tomorrow night."

Knowing it was too risky for you to spend the night, he reluctantly let you leave around three in the morning, a slight pout on his face as you took off the pearl necklace and tucked it into your pocket. You left him with a passionate parting kiss, one that he used to nearly convince you to stay just a little bit longer until you quietly promised you’d report to him first thing. 

The streets were mostly deserted except for the men on patrol. You kept your head down, booking it back to where you were quartered, hoping your arrival wouldn’t wake anyone up, or at least raise any questions.

Just your luck, you ran right into Tab, a shit-eating grin on his face at your disheveled appearance. “I knew it."

[frostgears]

We Who Will Not Bow

It had been a difficult night.

"You're not an Academy mage. You're her," the injured guard said, defiant. "Bree the Bodiless. Bree the Banished. Bree the Bloody… go on, then. Kill me. Get it over with."

"And what purpose," she said, frustrated, "would that serve? Gods, they've been telling tales about me in my absence, I see. Hold still, I think I can fix this."

She opened a module drawer on her left arm, pulled out a silvery metal module marked with a quincunx of green jade inlay, snapped it into the socket on her left palm. Thin tentacles ventured out from an aperture, tasting the air, dripping with orange ooze. The guard shrank back against the side of the checkpoint tower.

"What are you going to do to me? What is that— aaaahh!"

Bree clasped her hand over the bolt wound on the injured guard's arm. Tentacles sank into flesh, writhing between her jointed porcelain fingers, probing under skin.

"Don't squirm, that's a burrowing bolt head, we don't want it burrowing any deeper. And these are preserved regeneration glands from a nesting bog kraken. They guard their eggs, did you know that? For up to two months. But the Great Bog is a miserable environment. There's parasites, and fungi, and necrotic plague, and so the damn things evolved these organs to channel mana into their eggs and young, almost like healing spells, to give them a fighting chance. Not against me, though. I killed this one and took its regeneration glands and doomed its clutch, just to get back one more thing I used to be able to do before that fucking archon took everything away from me… okay, wiggle your fingers…"

The guard's fingers moved. Bree took her hand away, satisfied. The tentacles retracted into her palm. She held an evil-looking bit of spiraled and fluted black metal between thumb and forefinger, rotated her wrist with a series of clicks, turning it around to inspect.

"Got it. All of it. Regrowth forced it out."

Her chest plate slid open. A lurid orange glow splashed across the burrowing bolt head, the hand holding it, and the face of the guard. She squeezed the bolt head, and it crumbled, not bending as mundane metal might, but falling to dust. The glow flared brighter.

"Gotta feed the furnace. Saved your arm, paid the cost; let's go, sweetheart, I need all the help I can get. Pick up your crossbow and follow me."

Her chest plate clacked shut.

"I'm not following you anywhere, traitor!"

Bree shrugged, then held out a hand. Her other one. No disembodied organs in the right hand, although anyone who'd actually seen what she could do with the thing built into its palm would no doubt prefer to hold the left.

"The bastards who killed your mates were Crimson Vanguard, the Crimson Pact's commandos. Real dickheads even by Pact standards. Drink to your squad's memory tomorrow that you all gave nearly as good as you got, because they don't normally leave any survivors. Plus, the Vanguard always sends a backup team. So, way I see it, either you come with me, and you might live, or you run and you probably don't, and really, which one of us is the traitor then, right?"

The guard glared at her through narrowed eyes, but took her hand. Bree hauled her to her feet. And then the guard ran for it.

"It's you! You're the traitor!" Bree yelled at the guard's rapidly receding back. "In case it wasn't clear from context!"

Her voice in this body was beautifully clear and melodic, but not particularly loud; it hadn't been built for yelling, and it didn't satisfy. Not that it would stop her from trying.

Something twanged behind her. A projectile of some kind bounced off her back.

"Nice try," she said, spinning around and folding her right hand down to reveal a hand-length metal spike nestled in a cavity in the mechanism of her arm, "my turn now." An internal spring released. The spike shot out, and did what it might be expected to do to a human skull.

She wiped fresh blood off her faceplate, afterward; tasted the crimson spatter with the tip of an intricately jointed porcelain tongue. It didn't taste like anything. It never did. Nothing did.

"You didn't have to come here," she said to the headless Vanguard commando at her feet. "Any other town. Or better yet, stay home, and don't murder anyone, and I could return the favor. But you came here armed, and it lives here, and I have this little compulsion to take care of it, yeah? 'HER TASK FOR THE TIME BEING SHALL BE TO SAFEGUARD AND PROTECT HER MOST RECENT VICTIM, UNTIL AND UNLESS SAID VICTIM MAY RELEASE HER FROM SERVICE, SATISFIED'," she said, in a low, mocking tone. "Lyric's horrified to even look at me, so I doubt satisfaction and release are on the table any time soon, right?"

No answer was forthcoming.

"Well, fuck you too, buddy. Time to go find your friends."

She sped along the main road, each step a leap, her torn and patched Academy cape flapping behind her. Everyone trying to get into the town had fled when the first Vanguard team set fire to the checkpoint, with their wagons if they could, on foot if they had to. She passed several wagons that stood abandoned, stopped briefly at another to shatter a yoke with her fist and free two terrified oxen.

Then she saw what she was looking for: you'd have to be an idiot to keep driving your wagon towards a burning guard tower, unless you were the rest of the second Vanguard team, with a wagon full of bad news.

Bree knelt in a ditch by the side of the road, screened from view by a thicket, and swapped out the regeneration gland module with another set of pickled arcane beast parts in a can, which did another thing she'd been able to do on her own before her body had been taken away.

The wagon was almost to her, close enough that her upgraded senses could clearly see the outline of a crossbow beneath the driver's plain black cloak. She tickled the stolen sun-serpent pyrosis organ with an internal actuator, and flame bloomed in the night again.

They came scrambling out, firing back, the snap of bows audible over the screaming of the horses. Disciplined, she had to give them that. Bolts hit her in the face and chest.

Not to much effect, of course. She'd once been Lyric's twin, an almost peerless servant automaton frame, built by her old business partner to last, but fundamentally also built to serve tea and look good in a maid outfit. It wasn't enough. It wasn't her. She'd made Coda upgrade her again and again, until Coda's own restorative compulsion had hit its limits, and the artificer told her there was nothing more she knew how to do. By then, she was strong. From there, she'd upgraded herself.

Three of them rushed her with swords. Close enough, Bree thought; she raised her right hand, opening the palm shutter, and whispered, "Nis zerat volut, ghran."

Her soulcatcher, the glowing point of twisted light in her right palm, was, in some sense, the reason she was here, stuck in this patchwork body with its almost nil astral presence. It was an instrument of more subtlety than power and it still worked for her when the rest of her magic had died. She'd upgraded it too. Now it didn't need a soul to be loosened from its mortal shell first.

Ghostly purple light streamed over them, and a moment later, they were down. She fed their torn-off souls to her furnace. Apparent time slowed to a crawl, the high ticking of her main escapement dropping to a steady thud, thud, thud. She snapped blades, broke bones, ripped through the remaining commandos with accelerated fury. The details were messy and irrelevant, forgotten as quickly as they came. The last two Vanguard were carrying a box. She took it from them and opened the lid.

The shock broke her concentration; her time sped up again. "Titan voidwasp larvae," she said, almost reverently. They'd been covered at the Academy, briefly, not something anyone was expected to encounter. The shiny purple-black grubs were from somewhere far, far away, and their eventual monstrous metamorphosis drank souls, just like she did now, but on a colossal scale. They were city killers.

"Here's the thing, little guys, even I don't trust myself with shit like you. Sorry. Protect and safeguard, you know how it is."

She fired her spike, retracted its cable, fired again, into each one in turn, until nothing was left but ichor and chitin splinters. Then she teased a last fractional burst out of her pyrosis module, playing a jet of flame across the mess, just in case.

That was it. There didn't seem to be much else to do. She checked for Vanguard survivors. One of them wasn't quite gone.

"Who… what… the fuck… are you?"

"Just somebody's discarded doll," Bree told him. "When the Pact interrogates your ghost, tell them Bree said not to come back." She dispatched him, as cleanly as she could.

For an indefinite time, there was no motion on the bloodied road, except for the dying flames, and the wind teasing her cape and her hair.

Silver radiance kindled beside her.

"Oh no, not you, don't you fucking start with me—"

"JUSTICE."

"—can piss up a rope!"

She ramped up her speed again and tried to strike the figure of a burning haloed skeleton with fire and the soulcatcher, both at once, but hit nothing but empty air. The archon was only as tangible as it wanted to be. She'd find a way to get at it someday, but it seemed today wasn't going to be that day.

"CEASE THIS."

"Get fucked."

"IT MAY INTEREST YOU TO KNOW THAT THE SUMMONING OF THE CHOSEN HERO HAS YET AGAIN FAILED."

"Not my fault the archmages can't get it up."

"THE HERO IS SUMMONED TO SAFEGUARD THE KINGDOM. THAT IS THE PURPOSE OF THE RITUAL. THE INVOCATIONS BESEECH THE DIVINE TO FILL A NEED AND PROVIDE A PROTECTOR IN THE TIME OF CRISIS."

"Okay, I don't care."

"IF A PROTECTOR IS ALREADY INCARNATE, THE DIVINE FEEL THEIR DUTY IS DONE. EVEN IF THE HERO IS UNAWARE OF THEIR ROLE."

"I jacked the Chosen Hero's soul and sold it to Coda and put it in a doll, right, I was there. So what, you're saying they can't do it again because Lyric's already here, even if it's a doll maid and not a hero? Tough shit, I guess. You met it, you know it isn't exactly hero material."

"YOUR ASSESSMENT IS CRUDE BUT CORRECT. IT IS NOT, AND IT WILL NOT BE. IT IS CONTENT TO SERVE AND TO ENJOY ITS NEW FORM. AND YET A HERO EXISTS. SOMEONE PROTECTS THE KINGDOM ALREADY, ALTHOUGH THEY DO NOT THINK OF IT IN SUCH TERMS. THEY DID SO AGAIN, THIS NIGHT."

"Wait."

"YOUR ACTIONS PRODUCED A HERO."

"Oh gods no."

"THE GODS WATCH. THE SKEIN OF DESTINY IS RE-COILED, A TANGLE REMOVED."

"I can't be—"

"JUSTICE MAY YET BE DONE. GOOD LUCK TO YOU."

Bree roundly cursed the archon in her annoyingly pleasant and musical voice, until it disappeared, and then another fifteen minutes for good measure, in case it felt like coming back. When it didn't, she started walking.

She looked back, once, to see the lights of the town. Somewhere back there, Coda and Lyric lived in their little shop. Lyric didn't sleep any more than Bree did. Maybe her once-twin was leaning out the window, one of its cute dresses ruffled by the night breeze. Maybe it was even looking this way.

"Well, let's face it, Bree," she said to herself, resigned. "You wouldn't have been a very good maid." □

---

prev: We Who Serve

next: We Who Are Far From Home, ch. 1: Bree 1

[sugoi-writes]

Scream Machine - Part 3 (An Alastor x Reader fanfic)

A/N: Sorry for the delay on this part! I was really tossed up on whether or not to have smut in this part... I decided no smut on this part. Can't rush to the good part! The next should be VERY very steamy, though! This is a strictly - plot heavy part. Haha

No major warnings! Please enjoy!

True to his word, Alastor had sent help your way. A chaste knock came to your door, and you opened it to a small horde of black and white minions, inky and oblong. The stitches that held their forms together were groteque, hardly holding the poor bastards together as you saw frays and tears... It appeared these were sinners bound to Alastor's whim. And Alastor seems to work them nearly to their second deaths. You shuddered but gave them a courteous smile as you allowed the entities inside. Wordlessly, they started to collect your belongings, you having neatly prepared them.

" I uhh-- I have a cab? I don't know if y'all can understand me, but we can load everything up when it gets here--" You jumped as a static, shrill sound erupted from behind you, followed by a low, monotone hum. The sound reminded you of a lightsaber, making you hopeful that this was something benevolent (silly, maybe, but a sinner could dream). Slowly, you turn towards the sound, only to be met by a gold-rimmed portal. Your eyes were wide with disbelief, as the ominous steps of the Hazbin Hotel looked back at you from the other side.

"Oh-- well, I guess-- I guess this is fine?" You were a little nervous, unsure if this portal was Alastor's doing, or someone else's. The gold immediately made you think of the Morningstars, but you weren't sure if that should be comforting or terrifying. Continuing in silence, Alastor's henchman began heaving your things through the portal. You were relieved, mentally… Had you had all of your belongings from Earth, this process would have taken MUCH longer; especially if you were by yourself. You helped with the little bits that were left over, stepping cautiously through the portal with your final piece of luggage. Once you set yourself on the steps of the hotel, the golden portal closed behind you. You swallowed hoarsely, nerves wavering as you started to ascend. Was this truly a good idea? And was your decision... rushed?

The money? A heavenly perk. A free place to live, with free amenities and services? Excellent! But… the man holding the other end of the chain… Alastor. That was the only catch to this whole arrangement...

How would he treat this situation, based off of your tryst in the alleyway, just hours before? Should you pretend that it never happened? Should you be expecting more of the 'unexpected' from him? Should you have so hastily agreed to come to this place?

Your mind was racing with possibilities and dismay as the doors to the hotel slammed open. You narrowly missed the golden bellhop's cart as it came barreling down the stairs, carrying two riled up passengers. Once at rock bottom, you saw a tall, vivacious spider demon and a petite, spunky cyclops demon. As both dusted themselves off, they laughed breathlessly, wiping tears from their eyes.

"Fuck, you should've-- you should've seen the look on your face, Ange!" came the smaller one, one that you had realized to be upcoming heavy-hitter: Cherry Bomb. Her partner in crime elbowed her playfully, adjusting his clothes and hair," Watch it, sugar tits! Your heart almost fell right outta your ass when we ran over--"

And suddenly, the pair had noticed you, shakily picking yourself up as you groaned. Angel fretted, his hands fanning the air frivolously before coming to your side," Shit-- sorry, sweetheart. Here-- I gotcha." You nodded, taking the help as you were hoisted to your feet. Cherry seemed practically unphased, looking to her nails before back at you," You alright, squirt?"

You felt your face heat up, convinced that you were most likely older than she was," I-I'm fine, thanks… I assume you two are here for me?" Angel laughs, patting you on the back," Yeaaaaaah, sorry 'bout that. We got told by Boss Lady that we had a sudden new recruit. Welcome aboard, toots." Uncharacteristically, the spider demon extends a hand towards you, winking," 'names Angel. I'm assuming you've got one?" You took his hand, a gesture that made your confidence come back, smiling broadly as you shook it. After all you heard about this pornstar, he was… surprisingly courteous? Not that pornstars tended to be assholes, but you hadn't expected to be welcomed to a place in Hell so… normally? Warmly?

Angel repeats the name back to you once you say it, nodding resolutely," The babe back there is my friend, Cherry. We'll help you get your bags upstairs and to your room." You bow your head towards the two, grateful that it wouldn't just be you and the wordless lackies," Thank you. 'Much appreciated. And, good to meet you. I've got to admit, you're the nicest people I've met here so far… This hotel must really be something." Angel cackles, the slap to your back stinging sharply as Cherry laughs right along with him.

" Oh shit-- if you think we're nice, wait until you meet The Pants. She's like-- like THE Disney princess!" Cherry nods hastily, adding," Right? Practically a nut case from how nice she is… But hey: she'll keep a good eye out for ya. I should know." You get the sense that Cherry would have winked, but that would prove difficult for her. You snorted, trying not to laugh at the blatant joke.

"Gotcha, gotcha… good to know that the rumors about her are true…" You followed the pair up the full flight of stairs, a more eager pep in you step as you took in the interior of the lobby. Your eyes blew widely as you took in the extravagant decor, blinking as the lights of the elegant chandelier twinkled in your eyes. So, this would be your new home? It was certainly lavish… something you were a-okay with. You soon took note of the bar, nodding towards it," Y'all have a bar? Nice! I'll have to get a drink soon--"

The anthropomorphic cat demon, the barkeep, made you take pause, causing you to squint," Wait-- Husk? Oh, Husk! You were the Bari-sax, right? I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to thank you for having me in your ensemble tonight!"

You started to make your way over towards the feline demon, his eyes momentarily coming up to look to you. He nodded towards you, tilting his head shortly after," Yeah, you're that kid from the speakeasy, right?" …why must everyone refer to you as a child? You mental strife was cut short by the seemingly nonchalant bartender.

"You' here for this redemption-shenanigans, too?" he drawled, leaning on the countertop as he nursed a half empty bottle of spirits. You winced, eyelid twitching," Actually, uhh… I guess I work here, now? I was hired on for entertainment, so I guess we'll be seeing each other around more." Husk's ears pinned back, eyes widening as his voice dropped impossibly low," …please tell me you were hired by Charlie. Charlie's lady friend?" Before you could speak, a familiar shadow figure appeared to your right.

"Actually, I had scouted this darling jazz player myself!" Your shoulders tensed as Alastor rested a hand there, your face instantly becoming heated from the touch.

" Husker! Surely you've met my new friend here, hmm?" Husk's eyes sharpen, a clear sadness written across his face," Not much yet, nah… I should've guessed you'd've gotten to them first," he nearly spat, disappointment flashing your way. You had little room for rebuttal as Alastor's grin grew larger, leaning in towards the two of you. The Radio Demon was positively teeming with excited, demented energy. For now, he decided to let Husk's tone go, turning his attention back towards you. Husk did not miss the wicked glint in his owner's eyes, warning him gravely about his misstep silently.

"Dear, was your trip over quite alright? Let me tell you, getting the King of Hell to conjure that portal was no easy feat~" Angel Dust and Cherry looked to one another as Alastor rambled, sending you a questioning look before they continued their way down the hall. Presumably, they were heading towards your room. You didn't mind, waving them goodbye silently as they continued. Not wanting to get off to a rocky start, you refocused your attention to the curious Radio Demon.

"It was helpful, thank you. Moving was a piece of cake. Are uhh-- are your little guys alright? That was a lot of stuff to move--" Alastor pulls you into his side, his arm looped around your shoulder. You blinked, and the henchman all vaporized, disappearing," NONSENSE, dear! They've been subjected to much worse horrors than that, I can assure you! Don't worry your pretty little head about such menial things~" You were given an uncharacteristically warm pat on the head… again, like a child. A part of your felt a tinge of disappointment, worried that the alleyway must have really been a one-off situation.

"R-Right… well, thank you, nonetheless. I assume that I should follow those two to find my room? And tour will come once I'm settled in?" Husk rolled his eyes as Alastor laughed, his frequency filled with the delight of a live studio audience," Heavens, no! We must show you around the rest of the hotel first! After all, we wouldn't want you stuck in you room all night with no idea where to go!" You felt Alastor nudge you with his cane, ushering you to walk with him as he began your tour. Husk couldn't help the look of worry he sent your way, as you waved to him apologetically. Surely, you'd have plenty of time to catch up with him later, right? …Right?

---

Twenty minutes had passed, before Charlie and Vaggie came through the front doors, carrying groceries and other items for this evening's dinner," Oh, shit!!! That took so much longer than I thought! They should be here by now!" Charlie panicked, running a pale hand through her long locks.

Vaggie looks towards the bar to the snoozing feline, knocking on the counter aggressively," Hey!! Did you see the new sinner come in recently?" Husk woke up with a start, nearly knocking an empty bottle off the counter," Uhhgh… yeah, I did. You can thank Alastor for the 'grand tour'… he's already makin' off with them down the hall…" Vaggie seemed to become nervous, trudging towards the direction you were last seen. Charlie is quick to stop her, holding her firmly by the shoulders.

"Babe, we need to find the newcomer. There's no telling what sort of bullshit and terror he's showing them right now. What if he tries roping them into some twisted deal--???"

"Relax, Vaggie! This is one of the first times he's taken an interest in helping one-on-one! Plus, he was the one that recruited them! This is a good step in the right direction for him!" Chalie proudly brings a hand to her heart, sighing dreamily as she looks down the hallway," The hotel may finally be growing on him… He hasn't given a tour since Dad came to the Hotel. Surely this is a good thing! We have to trust that Alastor will show and tell them all the nice, important things! And we can always go find them later, when dinner is ready. And be supportive, if they have a lot of questions."

Vaggie, ever a softy for her love, becomes smitten by her positivity. She takes her hand chastely in her own, nodding," Alright… in that case, let's at least be sure that dinner is perfect. Just in case."

Charlie's eyes well up with exaggerated, animated tears, as if she were fresh from a Ghibli film. Soon after, the lovers leave together to tend to the dinner prep, as Husk returns his throbbing head to the countertop.

--

By this point, you had been to most every floor but your own, assuming that Alastor's abode wouldn't be too far behind. You look Alastor's way, scratching the back of your neck," Sooo… This is… This is a really nice place. Thank you for having me here and paying me… and all." Alastor tilts his head, quirking a thin brow your way," Oh, don't thank me just yet! You will still have to earn your keep, after all!" You huff, a bit of the nervous energy rolling off your chest. If it came down to blowing the house down, you were confident you could do that," Of course… wouldn't want it any other way."

As the two of you rounded the corner, you were met with a long, expansive corridor. On either end, there sat two opposing rooms: one door was made from a heavy metal, with an "On Air" sign hovering just above. You assumed this to be Alastor's room. At the other end, you saw a finely carved mahogany door, adorned with ornate flourishes of red and gold. Surely, Lucifer's. You looked back towards Alastor, laughing nervously," Aha… I guess you two must be close, huh? You and the Big-Man-Downstairs…?" Somehow, you thought that the Radio Demon being buddy-buddy with Lucifer would be troubling. Say or do one wrong thing, and you'd have the full wrath of the nine hells down your gullet. Alastor scowls, shaking his head despite his wide, misleading smile.

"Oh, Hells no! We couldn't be more opposed, I'm afraid. However, we agree in one front, and one alone." He looks towards you, a somewhat proud look in his eye," This hotel; his Hazbin Hotel that Ms. Charlie has spawned. Though I believe the path to redemption to be a perilous one, IMPOSSIBLE at best… She has very fascinating ideas. Ideas that keep me entertained, and her father proud... ideas that we can't help but want to make happen." Alastor looks towards his studio," And, one that we all seem to gain from, all the same. So... we have a sort of ceasefire in place, in the meantime." He offers you an arm, brows raising earnestly.

"But, before I get too carried away… shall I show you to your quarters?" You blink in surprise, looking around," Am… am I on this floor, too?" Alastor's grin is telling, mischievous and wide. "You did request to have your room close to mine, did you not?" You felt your heart squeeze at the realization. Maybe he did take you, and what the two of you did earlier, seriously. You decided to take his arm, allowing him to walk you towards his end of the hallway," Well, I appreciate you taking that into account. I hope you didn't have to pull too many strings to make that happen." Alastor chuckles, rolling his eyes.

"Oh hardly; it was easy enough! But I did pull a leg or two. Lucifer's, specifically. You would be surprised how easy it is to trip the King of the Hells down a flight of stairs~" Your eyes widened, your face aghast," I-Is he alright?"

Alastor's laugh nearly makes him double over, free hand clutching his sides," Oh, you sweet, precious thing! Lucifer has wings… he only tumbled down the first 5 steps~" You smiled genuinely as Alastor put himself into stitches at his own childish behavior," Oh, but the goose egg that swelled on his head! Now THAT was priceless! Classic entertainment!"

You wiggled your brows up at him, waving to get his attention," You know, make him fall down an extra 661 steps… and I hear he'd end up in DOUBLE hell…"

The two of you looked at each other silently for a moment, before laughing in unison. Alastor was quick to squeeze you closer to him, making your heart flutter in your chest. You had found yourself clever. Alastor simply found Lucifer's pain and bodily torment hilarious.

"Now see, I KNEW you'd be the PERFECT addition to this hotel! I hadn't known you took up comedy, too!" You feel your cheeks heat up at the compliments and goading, your head feeling light as you both finally appeared before your new room. You tried brushing his comments off, but they made your heart flutter all the same...

Just as you were going to reach for the knob, Alastor released your arm, allowing you to take the initiative. Once you had opened the door, you were surprised to see everything already inside, your room lightly furnished," Wow… Angel and Cherry work fast. Either that, or time flies when you're having fun." You look back towards Alastor again, spinning to face him fully.

"I just-- Thank you again for the opportunity, and the tour. I really appreciate everything you've done to get me here." Alastor's smile seems to soften a touch, eyes lidding," Don't fret, dear. Anyone who is a friend of mine is a friend to this hotel. You would have been welcome here, regardless of our little arrangement." Your eyes widened at that, your head tilting," Despite… our arrangement?" Alastor nods, gesturing towards your door. The word 'friend' was most definitely used, but you had yearned for something more... endearing. Your slight disappointment was cut off as Alastor spoke once more.

"Before I leave you to your bidding… may I enter? I'd like to further discuss what we agreed upon." You felt your heartbeat quicken, your palms becoming sweaty as you hesitated. Oh boy… here comes the business; the transactional part of things. And oddly enough, you felt a familiar heat travel south... the two of you, secluded and alone? This could become interesting for both of you...

"O-Of course… come on in." You stepped away from the door, allowing your newfound patron to enter to your room. You didn't even notice his shadow slinking up the door, locking it from the inside.

[sugarcoatedcigs]

a mini series: enduring you pt.1

summary: your new to jackson, and your first interaction with ellie williams was anything but nice. she was rude and showed no respect. she carried herself like she was some hot shit and you hated it. if you could, you would turn back time and have shown up a little bit later to that party. but you can't. so you learn to endure her as life continues in jackson.

word count: 2k

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, angst?

….

i took a deep breath in as i walked next to my horse into the protected town of jackson. the ground crunched beneath me, it was the last week of february and the town was frozen over. looking around, people were busy and they looked the most content i've seen since all this shit happened.

"you must be y/n." a voice tugged me in the direction of the stables. a beautiful woman stood there, with almost silver hair with sharp blue eyes. "my name's maria. i heard you were headed this way. charlie sent a letter you were coming. it's good to have you." i smiled at that.

"yeah, i'm really happy to finally be here. it was a trek. it's nice to know a name." i reached out my hand and smiled. her hands were soft but they had a firmness to them.

"why don't I show you around? let's get your horse a spot in the stables first." as maria helped unload my belongings off of my horse, she gave me a rundown of life here in jackson. the responsibilities and the duties that are done around here. maria took me through the town, and time passed quickly until the last stop was the apartment in which i would be staying.

"and here she is..." maria swung the door open it was furnished, and my bags were already placed in the middle of the living room. "i'll let you get settled in. there's a town party tonight at the bison at 8, no pressure but I'm sure people would love to meet you." she dug out of her back pocket and gave me the keys.

"thank you and yes i'll definitely stop by." she shut the door leaving me in my apartment alone. it was quaint. small. perfect. the air was heavy with almost a...nostalgia. there were plenty of windows giving me a perfect view of the mountains surrounding us. the sun was starting its descend into the horizon. better get started. i move my bags into my room, unpacked, dusted and managed to get two windows open to invite air in. by the time i was done, the space is mine and it's pleasant. only thing left to do is get ready i guess.

i grab a towel and head to the shower, turning the faucet on. the water wasn't just any water, it was hot. my body was eager and excited. hopping in, i was met with immediate relief. goddamn this feels great. i could've stayed a bit longer but i felt a certain obligation to save this precious water.

….

i dressed in a long sleeve that complimented my color palette and some dark jeans. ready to leave i looked into the mirror to make some final touches to my hair and applied a yummy mint and vanilla rub i made a few months ago. all ready. i put on my jacket and zipped up my boots, then i closed the door behind me.

the air was frigid, i felt my nose get numb and my eyes start to water. after a long and cold 2 minutes, the bison came into view and i could hear the bumping music and sounds of people talking as i approached. i got a sudden wave of excitement. as i wrapped my hand around one of the doors, they busted open. the edge of one of the doors hit the side of my face. "oh fuck!" i grabbed my cheek and i could feel the blood surge to the area.

"jesus. watch where you're going."  i looked up to see a woman with auburn hair and harrowing green eyes. her voice, blunt but sultry. the woman had a freckled face and a scarred eyebrow. what the fuck. you are the one that fucking rammed the door into my face. i opened my mouth to cuss her out but stopped, i dont want to get into a fight on my first night here. adjusting my posture and looking at her i said "excuse me." her face flickered, like she wasnt expecting my response, but she remained silent. i grabbed onto one of the handles again and started walking in but then i felt her grab my wrist, holding me back.

"shit I'm sorry." her voice, one that was originally cold, was now honey-like, "i didn't mean to." ignoring the ache in the side of my cheek, i looked back at her and gave a tight smile, "do you always grab people without asking?" she let go but not without a subtle scoff, "i was just trying to apologize." god it's aggravating that she's so hot and yet, she's the one that busted your face on your first night out. i laughed, "well you sure have an odd way of trying to." i briefly looked down at her pink lips, but maybe not brief enough...because she immediately wetted and then bit down on them. her eyebrows scrunched together and she retorted, "whatever, i was just trying to be nice but someone's clearly got a stick up her ass."

wow. this stranger (attractive or not) is an asshole. i bit down on my lips, stopping whatever bad decision i was going to make. i didn't want to spend another minute wasting my night so i swiftly turned to face the pub and mumbled, "fuck you" under my breath. the doors shut preventing her from getting another word in. i waited a sec, expecting her to burst through the doors and harass me some more, but she didn't. relieved (yet disappointed), i sighed.

despite the night starting out shitty, it developed into lots of fun and new people. i met a really nice girl named dina along with her boyfriend jesse. the two were hilarious and easy to get along with. i also saw maria and she introduced me to a few others, one of them being the manager of the bison and he said the team would be open to hooking me up with a waitress job here.

it's also been a few months since i got a drink in me so safe to say i was a little bit tipsy. nothing too serious but to make sure tomorrow morning wasn't murderous i figured i should get going and turn in for the night.

right before leaving, dina called out to me, "y/n! hey! before you leave i'll give you my info so we can plan something soon. i was thinking about a small get together tomorrow night at my place." dina wrote her address on a napkin along with the time of the party. then she embraced me in a tight hug before i left. with a little bit of liquor in me, the walk back was much warmer.

reaching my door, i fought the keyhole to get the key in. among opening, i immediately ripped off my boots and dressed down into my underwear, leaving a trail of clothes on the ground. i shivered as the frigid air enveloped me but warmth followed as i collapsed on the bed. i closed my eyes and drifted off.

.…

the sunshine was too bright. my eyes scrunched and i felt my head start to pound. no not yet. i tossed myself towards the other side of the bed. just a lil longer. but no. a loud banging on the wall started. what the fuck? then moaning followed.

"ohhhh yes! fuck ellie right there." a yappy voice echoed into the bedroom. you're fucking kidding me. "yes yes yes!" no, no, no. i shut my eyes and yanked my pillow around my head, suffocating the noise out. the moaning continued on for what seemed like forever until finally..."i'm cumming!" then the banging stopped. i whined into my pillow. why me? why me?

taking this as a sign to get up out of bed, i stretched out my limbs and groaned. my head was still pounding but it was manageable. okay things to do today...i'll get ready and then i'll stop by the bison to figure out the job stuff.

i walked into the kitchen hoping to soothe my headache with nice cold glass of water. the water here was better than i imagined, the cold liquid washed down yesterdays grogginess. my tummy grumbled and i realized i hadn't eaten much yesterday. upon opening the fridge, it was near empty, only a few potatoes i found on the way here with the scraps of some jerky. hmm, looks like groceries are on my list today. the bison, groceries and...dina. perfect.

i brushed my teeth and tied my hair back. along with wiggling myself into some jeans, putting on a warm jacket and wrapping a scarf around my neck. i opened my door, closed it and when locking it, the door next to me opened up. auburn hair came into view. the girl wore a jacket on top of her flannel, her hair was tied back into a half up and half down manner. she looked familiar...then i remembered the interaction i had last night. it's her. she's not only my neighbor, but her name must be ellie. her green eyes met mine. they were a gleaming green. then she smirked wide. "oh it's you." i felt blood fill my cheeks. i didn't respond. whatever. no wasting time. i locked up the door and turned away from her, as i walked away she opened her mouth to say something but stopped and watched me walk away.

....

the morning at the bison was quick and easy. everyone kept to themselves which i didn't mind because they were all kind enough. my schedule was working morning shift on saturday and working nights on wednesday and thursday. i left the bison still feeling energized so i made my way to jack who collected milk from goats and cows for the town, and kate, who organized most of the goods here in jackson. she had all sorts of goods, beans, coffee, oats, she tended to the lot of chickens so she also had a lot of eggs.

the sun was higher in the sky now. it was much warmer today compared to yesterday. i couldn't wait for spring to come. i was getting closer to my place with bags in hand, and i felt an ache in my stomach, dreading another possible interaction with ellie. i wonder how she came to be so rude...i wonder what she went through. i approached my door, holding my breath and waiting for the one next to it to open, but a few seconds passed and nothing. my stomach eases.

….

it was the afternoon now, out of boredom i wanted to take a walk. maybe i'll stop by dina's so i can confirm that tonight is still on. i left the apartment again. the walk was longer this time but i enjoyed it as the sun was still out, warm on my skin. i looked at the napkin that dina gave me again, to see if i was in the right spot. should be right. i went up to the house and knocked, no response so i knocked again. then the door opened and dina was there in all her glory. "y/n! i was waiting for you to come by." she grabbed me into a hug. "yeah i wanted to say hi and also see whats going on tonight." then out of the corner of my eye i can spot auburn hair. fuck. my stomach starts to twist. dina sees me look over at ellie and she perks up, "ellie don't be a stranger. this is y/n, the one we've been talking about."

pt. 2 coming soon…

[ant1quarian]

Don't Keep Me Out.

That's Not My Neighbour Utmv: Dust Sans Edition.

CW's: You're going to be confined in a room.

UNLESS THERE IS A MASSIVE CONTENT WARNING, THE REST IS "DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT"

TNMN IS A HORROR GAME; EXPECT THIS TO ENTERTAIN EVERYTHING THAT IT DOES

Life was never perfect.

No, scratch that, life fucking sucked. It was the year 1955 and everything was hell on earth- For you, at least. You were pretty sure the rich bastards in society were loving their lives.

You drummed your fingers absentmindedly on the bedside table before hauling yourself out of your roof-fixated gaze, barely casting glances at the mould long since begun to crawl across your room.

Living in the timeline open to multiversal travel was not a fun time– constantly loud as people clammered around and rushed to their ports several hours across the city to warp to whatever universe they’d been planning their vacations in.

It gave you a headache, honestly.

You shifted over to your dusty, unclean window and peered out at Mt. Ebott, still standing tall despite the weight of hundreds of millions of people scampering about on– and under– it.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

You sighed, rubbing at your face as your hand briefly dragged along the white, painted walls that covered your little apartment- if you could call it that.

Your gaze slowly travelled across the sparsely furnished room before landing on a letter with an indigo seal (which looked almost akin to a biblically accurate angel and the Deltarune combined). You felt your face screw up a bit, dread as heavy as led weighing you down as you wandered over to it.

The paper was rough and carried that indigo shimmer (and vague electrical buzz) all important, government-official things did.

You already knew what was inside– very vaguely, at least. While the public may have glossed over it, you certainly noticed people receiving such a letter and then going missing days later, nothing of them left behind.

But desperation was a crazy thing, and with the date deadlines of your electricity, water and food supply being cut off steadily approaching? You were desperate.

Everyone in the Silverstone apartments were.

With a soft exhale of air, you snapped open the seal, not even blinking at the ambient buzz the letter gave off.

Your gaze flicked over the contents, taking in the beautifully scripted felon’s claw font used, making a quiet, disgruntled hum in the back of your throat.

It went, very vaguely (to your interpretation), like this:

‘We do hope this finds you well.

This is a job being so graciously gifted to you by the assholes ruling this shithole. We need help patrolling the border and you’re going to do this job. There is no choice. We are aware of how much you’re struggling. So prepare your shit and travel over here, we’ll get you suited up.’

With a snort, you folded it up and shoved it into your pocket, scratching at your scalp before looking around. The only thing you dared to grab (aside from your papers, of course) was an old, ornate knife belonging to whatever ancestor had left it to you.

You glanced around your apartment for one final time before turning on your heel and walking out.

Getting to Mt Ebott wasn’t too much of a problem- considering it’s the only way that traffic seemed to be directed towards.

Not that you were driving.

You dodged out of the way of rambunctious children- rabbit monsters, you think?- laughing as they scramble through the crowds with nothing more than a grumble.

Ew, children.

It didn’t take you very long to come upon the highly-secured transportation HQ, either. 

You barely had time to hate all of the pristine richness being flamboyantly displayed everywhere before a commanding voice caught your attention- the intent clearly informing you that they were talking to you, specifically.

“Oi,” You looked over with a faux-cordial smile, practised from years of having to deal with assholes– only to pause when you laid eyes on glimmering pink-to-ocean-cyan scales and vibrant yellow irises staring back at you.

Oh shit they’re pretty-

“Name’s Aunkle. I’m the Warden around here. You’re the newbie, yeah?” At your nod, she displayed dagger-sharp teeth as a grin split her face, “Oh we’re going to have so much fun.”

And that is the story of how you ended up in the box Aunkle sorta just… shoved you into.

First day on the job, no prior information as to what the hell you had to do, nor anyone telling you where you’d be going afterwards. You flinched when the heavy metal door slammed behind you, swiftly followed by the sound of electronic locks sliding into place.

[ You have encountered your first choice. ]

[ Look around? ]

[ Mess with the electronics? ]

I would also like to clarify that the option with the most amount of comments in favor of will be chosen.

It is possible to die.

I may create a separate blog for this specifically.

You can also feel free to vote/comment through anon in my asks, if commenting is something you're not comfortable with.

Providing you don't ask for spoilers, any questions as to why something is the way it is, feel free to ask that as well ( You can also ask about characters, too )

[harley-sunday]

Feels Like Home [07]

Summary: When an unexpected three-week break between Monza and Singapore finds Daniel back on his farm in Perth he’s desperate to use this time to clear his mind, figure out his future in Formula One, and find his way back. He didn’t expect a new neighbour, a sassy two-year old, and three alpacas would make him realise that sometimes, what you’re looking for is right in front of you.

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x reader (unnamed OFC)

Warnings: Language

Word count: 5.2k

AN: The cliffhanger in the last part might have been a bit mean, I agree. BUT. We needed a little drama, babes. It ain’t all fun and games over on the farm. Anyway, hope this makes up for it :) If not, you know where to find me ♥

Masterlist

Granddad knows something is wrong the second you walk back inside and the door slams shut behind you and he points to the couch immediately, "Sit." He waits until you do before he continues, his voice more gentle this time, "Start talking."

There’s no use pretending everything’s fine and so you do as you’re told. You tell him about Blake and the NDA he wants you to sign, but before you get to tell him how upset it's made you, Granddad interrupts you with a chuckle that you feel is terribly out of place and earns him one of your better scowls.

"Sweetheart," he starts, giving the bottom of your foot a soft kick to get you to listen, "we all signed one."

"What?"

"When Danny first moved in he and Blake did a little tour of the neighbourhood and made all of us sign one of those forms. Me, Mrs Mackenzie, Kevin Holmes- Anyone really."

Huh. That's- Something you definitely wished you knew sooner.

"To be honest, I thought you'd already signed one," Granddad says with a kind smile. "You two have been hanging out so much I figured he'd already given you one. That's why I never mentioned it."

Letting your bottom lip roll between your teeth, the anger from before slowly ebbing away, you start to feel as though maybe you overreacted the tiniest bit. You're still mad Blake sprung it on you like this but yeah, ok, it kind of makes sense that he wants you to sign one. Fuck.

It's then you hear a car door slam shut and see Daniel drive off, a trail of dust following his car. All of a sudden it feels as if the air is being sucked from your lungs because he’s leaving tomorrow and what if- You look up at Granddad, "I messed up, didn't I?"

"Nah," Granddad shakes his head. "You got put on the spot and you know as well as I do us Lintons don't like that. He doesn't leave until tomorrow right?" 

You nod.

"See. There you go. Plenty of time to make this right, sweetheart." Granddad leans back in his chair then as if it really is that simple.

Maybe it is.

Ellie walks over to you from where she was playing with her wooden train and holds up her arms to you. When you pull her onto your lap she gently pats your cheek, "Momma sad?"

You shake your head and quickly reassure her, "Momma's ok." You let your chin rest on the top of her head and let out a heavy sigh, "Momma just needs to figure out how to fix things."

"Come with?"

"Yeah." You can't help but laugh. "Yeah bub, I guess you can come with."

***

"I just wish you would have told me." Daniel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose as he paces around his living room. "You put me in a right spot, mate."

"I know," Blake agrees quietly. "Do you want me to call her or go over there to see if-"

"Nah, I'll- I'll figure something out," Daniel tells him, waving his hand around. "I just hope she'll understand."

"She will." He can hear Blake take a deep breath, "Just tell her I was being a right cunt and went rogue."

Daniel can't help but chuckle, "Will do." It’s then the intercom rings and he doesn't want to get his hopes up but he can feel his heart skip a beat because who else could it be? "I gotta go, mate. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"I really am sorry, Dan," Blake tells him. "I owe you one."

Daniel laughs, knowing full well it's usually the other way around, "I'll add it to the list, mate."

As soon as he ends the call he pushes the button in his intercom and waits for the camera to come on and confirm who he hopes is his visitor. He feels a wave of relief wash over him when he sees her now familiar face come into view, "Hi." 

“Hi,” she looks into the camera but before she can say anything else he's already opened the gate and he sees her let out a deep breath before she gets back into her car and heads down the driveway.

He waits for her outside, using one of the meditation exercises Michael always makes him do to help calm his nerves as he tries to figure out what to say to her. All too soon and yet not quick enough her car comes into view and he takes a few deep breaths in a futile attempt to prepare himself for whatever comes next. 

When she pulls up he has to stop himself from rushing over and waits until she’s out of the car before he greets her with a quiet, “Hey.”

“Hi,” she replies, a small, hesitant smile tugging on the corner of her lips. Instead of walking towards him she rounds the car and opens the back door and he’s a little confused but then he hears an excited, “Danny!” coming from the other side of the car and sees Ellie beaming at him.

“Hello Miss Ellie.” Daniel starts to hold out his hands to take her but then realises she might not want him to and so he drops them. To say he’s a little surprised when she hands him Ellie anyway would be an understatement, and somewhere deep inside he hopes that this means things are on the mend for them but he doesn’t want to think it out loud. Doesn’t want to jinx it. 

“Danny home,” Ellie says, patting his cheek with her hand.

Daniel can’t help but laugh, “Yeah. Danny home, sweetheart.” He looks at her then and nods to the house, “Why don’t we go inside?” He leads them to the kitchen, where he sits Ellie down on the countertop, one hand keeping her in place while he reaches for two mugs with the other. “Coffee?”

He hears her clear her throat, “I think we should talk first.”

Shit. She sounds serious but of course he agrees, “Yep. Ok.” 

***

“I overreacted,” you blurt out, wanting to make sure he knows you’re not here to blame him for anything. You hesitate but then put your hand on his arm anyway, “I’m sorry.” 

Daniel furrows his brows and doesn’t say anything and-

“Granddad told me you have everyone sign an NDA and, I mean, it makes sense- You wouldn’t want to have to worry about anyone running to the press or your competitors with inside information, right?” You’re rambling, you know you are but now that you’ve started it’s hard to stop because you need him to understand, “It was a little unexpected, that’s all. It felt like we were about two merge to companies instead of us dating and-”

“Are we?”

“Are we what?” You feign innocence because as soon as you mentioned dating you realised you put a label on something that might not even exist yet. You should have kept it casual, should have just said something about you being friends because now there’s this weight behind it that you’re not sure Daniel wants to carry. You’re a single mum with a kid. He’s a Formula One race car driver. There is no way this could be as serious as you’re making it out to be. 

You’re too lost in thoughts to notice he’s taken a step closer and so when he puts his fingers under your chin to make you look up at him you let out a surprised, “Oh.”

There’s a hint of a smile playing on his face when he asks, “Are we dating?” 

You bite your lip and shrug, trying to play it cool, because you might as well go all in now, “You did take me on a date.”

“I did,” Daniel says, his voice low. 

Next to him Ellie coos and it pulls both of you out of whatever moment you were having. You can’t help but laugh when you see your daughter looking from you to Daniel and back and so you pick her up, “Why don’t we put you on the couch with my phone for a couple of minutes, huh?” You look up at Daniel, “I’ll be right back.” 

“Yep.”

Once Ellie’s seated you find an episode of The Koala Brothers online and press play as you put your phone on her lap. To buy you and Daniel even more time you hand her a fruit pouch, “Here you go, bub.” You tilt her chin up and point to the kitchen, “Momma and Danny are right there ok? We can still see you.”

Ellie nods absentmindedly, not wanting to miss another second of the adventures of Frank and Buster.

You make your way back to the kitchen, where Daniel’s exactly where you left him. You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the herd of butterflies that’s stomping around in your stomach, “Where were we?”

Daniel, bless him, plays his part, “I just confirmed I took you on a date.”

“Right,”

“And after that I was going to apologise.”

You look up at him with furrowed brows, “What? Why?”

“Because I should have talked to you about this-” he says as he runs a hand through his hair, letting it rest at the base of his neck then. “I didn’t know Blake would ambush you like this but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t have at least warned you it was going to happen at some point.” 

“A little heads up would have been nice,” you agree, “but I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I should have just talked to you about it instead of making rash decisions. I feel like such an idiot-”

“Hey. No,” Daniel shakes his head and reaches out to you. “Don’t say that.”

“I just-” You try to smile, deciding to jump straight to the most important question of all, “Are we good?”

“We’re good,” Daniel replies without hesitation. He holds out both his arms to you then and pulls you in for a hug, “All good.” 

You wrap your arms around him and pull him close, “Good.” 

“There is something else I want to talk to you about,” he says as he lets go of you not much later. Daniel takes a step back and leans against the counter and when he takes a deep breath you’re a little worried he’s going to say something you’re not going to like but once again he surprises you, “I hate that I have to leave tomorrow. These past two weeks- Hanging out with you, and Ellie, and Oscar- It was amazing and I’m going to miss you guys like crazy but-” Another deep breath, “I was hoping we could see each other again? After the season is over?”

“I’d like that,” you reply, ignoring the way your heart seems to skip a few beats.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree with a nod.

Daniel smiles, “Good. Because I like you. A lot.” 

Oh.

“I know it’s not fair to ask you to wait two months but-”

“I’ll wait.” It comes out barely above a whisper and so you try again, a little louder and more confident this time, “I’ll wait.” 

Daniel’s entire face lights up at your promise, “You will?” 

“Yeah, I uh-” You take a deep breath and look up at him, a smile tugging on the corners of your lips, “I really like you too.” 

Daniel pushes himself off the counter and takes a step forward, closing the distance between you. He looks from your eyes to your mouth and back, silently asking for permission that you give him by tilting your head back.

You wrap your arms around his neck and stand up on your toes so you can meet him halfway, his lips ghosting over yours then, making you smile into the kiss when he deepens it. There are no fireworks, no orchestra that plays the right song at the right time, but still it feels as though you’re in a movie and you’re being swept off your feet. 

Daniel has put his hands on your lower back and runs his tongue in between your lips as he pulls you closer. When you part your mouth his tongue slips inside and then you taste him and God, you never want this to stop. You can feel yourself getting lost in the kiss, liking the way he makes you work for it, always teasing and a push and pull between you that feels so-

“Momma!”

Both you and Daniel pull back at the same time, panting a little, and you’re sure your embarrassed grin matches the one Daniel’s wearing. You clear your throat, keeping your eyes locked on Daniel’s, “Yes, bub?”

“Momma, done,” Ellie says and there’s really no arguing with that, is there?

“I’m not sure if she means the episode or us,” you laugh quietly, raising your eyebrows at Daniel. You watch Ellie as she slides down the couch and wobbles over to the kitchen, scooping her up in your arms when she’s within reach and blowing a raspberry on her cheek, “Hello little monster.”

Ellie giggles and squirms in your arms, “Momma, no.”

“Momma, yes,” Daniel says then, blowing a raspberry on her other cheek. “Gotcha!”

You and Daniel continue your coordinated attack, making Ellie giggle even louder. When after a minute or so you pull back Ellie looks at you with bright eyes, “Momma, stay here?” 

***

They spend the rest of the afternoon in his garden, Ellie running around and chasing birds and butterflies, while she and Daniel watch the little girl from where they’re sitting on the top step on his back porch, enjoying a cup of coffee and some Michael-approved snacks Daniel found in the fridge. He remembers something then and stands up rather abruptly, making her look up at him with furrowed brows, “Shit. Sorry, I just- I forgot I had something for you guys.” He turns around and heads towards the gate that leads to the courtyard, “Wait here, ok?”

He doesn’t wait for a reply but instead makes his way to where he parked his truck and opens the door, grabbing two packages from the passenger’s seat. He wrapped them himself this morning and so what if he used some leftover Christmas paper? It’s the thought that counts, right? Daniel hurries back to the garden and finds them exactly where he left them two minutes ago, except this time Ellie has sat down in the grass, admiring a bumblebee that’s flying around her.

“Ellie?” He motions for the little girl to come over, “I’ve got something for you, kiddo.” 

It takes some time for Ellie to get up and make her way over, Daniel holding out his hand to her when she reaches the stairs, helping her climb up and sit down in between them. 

“I wanted to give you this yesterday but then I forgot and-” He hands Ellie the smaller of the two packages first, “Here you go.”

“Thank,” Ellie says as she tears into the paper, scrunching her nose in delight when she sees what it is.

“That’s a pretty sweater, bub.”

“It’s from the latest merch release,” Daniel explains as he hands her the larger package, “I got one for you too. Maybe-” He clears his throat, feeling a little embarrassed all of a sudden. “I figured maybe you could wear it when you watch a race? I know Oscar still wears that Red Bull shirt I gave him years ago but I didn’t really wanted you in McLaren merch so I-”

“Thank you,” she says as she helps Ellie put on her sweater, pointing out the lemons on the front as she tugs the fabric down. She unwraps her own package then, smiling when she holds up her sweater and admires the print, “Did you know I love peaches or was that just a lucky guess?”  

“Lucky guess,” he admits with a grin, a happy feeling spreading inside his chest because of all the lucky guesses he’s made so far, this might be the one he’s most proud of. 

He watches her as she stands up and puts it on before she spreads her arms and spins around, “I love it. Thank you.”

“No worries,” he replies with a shrug even though seeing her wearing his merch makes him feel all sorts of things. “It’s nice knowing you got people back home rooting for you.”

She sits back down, a little closer this time, pulling Ellie into her lap, “I can’t believe you have to leave tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly. He nudges her shoulder with his, tries to keep his tone light, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Ellie snuggles into her then and lets out a yawn.

“We should probably head back,” she says but doesn’t move.

“Yeah.” Daniel wishes he could stop time, just stay here, right in this exact moment. He offers the next best thing, “Do you want me to come with you?”

“Oh, no, that’s ok,” she says as she looks up at him. “You’ve got an early flight tomorrow.”

He starts to protest, “It’s not that early-”

“Daniel,” she says, her free hand on his knee, “we’re going to have to say goodbye eventually anyway.”

He lets out a heavy sigh, “I know.” 

She gives him a small smile as she strokes Ellie’s hair, “You’re gonna say goodbye to Danny, bub?”

Ellie looks up at Daniel with a sleepy smile but shakes her head. 

“I have to leave tomorrow,” Daniel explains, holding out his hands to the little girl who climbs onto his lap without hesitating and he pushes the fleeting thought that she might not remember him when he comes back all the way to the back of his mind and presses a kiss to the top of her head instead, “I’ll be back soon, ok?”

“Come with?”

Daniel chuckles softly, “Nah, sweetheart. You can’t come with this time.” 

“Danny come home.” It’s not even a question, Ellie looking up at him with a determined look on her face, as if she wants to let him know that if she can’t come with him, he’s going to have to come home with her.

“I will,” Daniel promises, hugging Ellie tight. “Soon.” 

***

You watch as Daniel leans into the car and kisses Ellie’s forehead. When he whispers a quiet, “See you soon, sweetheart,” you feel your throat tightening and you have to bite your lip to keep the tears at bay. 

Daniel steps back and turns to you then, a sad smile playing on his lips. He holds out his arms and pulls you closer when you step into his embrace, “I’m going to miss you, neighbour.”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly. Wrapping your arms around him you try to blink away the tears that have started to form in your eyes but fail miserably. When you pull back you let your hands rest on his chest and look up at him, “Please be safe.”

“Always,” he says. He kisses the top of your head, “Take care of the girls for me? And Oscar. And Ellie?”

She nods, “Always.”

“Take care of yourself too,” Daniel adds, raising his eyebrows. 

“Yep.”

“Good.” He cups your face then, using his thumb to wipe away a tear that’s inching its way down your cheek, “I’ll be back before you know it. And it’s not like I’m disappearing off of the face of the earth, right? We can call and text and-”

You nod, not trusting your voice right now. When he dips his head and captures your mouth in a kiss you close your eyes and try to savour the moment. Sixty three days, you try to tell yourself. 

Sixty three days until he’s home again.

***

For the first time in maybe forever, Daniel doesn’t want to go back to racing, doesn’t to leave Perth, and it’s- It’s a weird feeling, something he doesn’t quite know how to deal with, doesn’t quite know how to put into words and so he’s in a bit of a mood all throughout their travels on Tuesday. By the time they touchdown in Singapore, he’s over it and he doesn’t really say much during their transfer to the hotel, puts his headphones on instead, trying to ignore the looks Michael and Blake throw him. He feigns a headache and opt outs of dinner that evening, allowing himself to wallow in some self pity instead.

There’s a team briefing early Wednesday morning and Daniel tries to pay attention, really he does, but he finds his mind drifting, wondering how she’s doing and if the girl’s are alright and- Lando kicks his feet under the table then and when Daniel looks up he finds the entire room looking at him, no doubt waiting for an answer to a question he hasn’t heard. Lando, bless him, saves the day and pretends the question was directed towards him and answers for the both of them. 

As soon as the briefing ends, Lando catches up with him. “You alright, mate?” 

“Yeah, just a little tired,” Daniel lies.

“You came in from Perth, mate,” Lando counters with a grin, clapping Daniel’s back, “it’s not like you’re jetlagged, right?” 

Daniel shrugs but doesn’t say anything. 

“You’ll be alright,” Lando says, veering off to his side of the garage. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yep,” Daniel gives his teammate a quick wave and heads over to his team. 

The rest of the day drags on, more meetings, more data to look at, more promises by Tom that this time they might even finish inside the points. Blake rescues him somewhere around six, ushering Daniel back to the hotel with relative ease. Their meeting with Christian isn’t until later that night but Daniel still needs to freshen up and he knows Blake wants to go over some final details before they leave.

When Daniel steps out of the shower not much later, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist while he uses another one to dry his hair, and checks his phone he’s surprised to see there’s a message from her. He opens as he walks out of the bathroom and sees it’s a picture of her and Ellie, wearing the sweaters he gave them last Sunday, telling him good luck for tonight. 

“You’re grinning like an absolute idiot, mate,” Blake teases from where he’s sitting on the couch. “You good?”

“Why are you still here?” Daniel counters without looking up from his phone. 

“We have to leave in twenty minutes, mate.” 

“And?”

“And-” Blake grins and shrugs, “-someone has to make sure you actually get ready and not stare at your phone for another half hour, like some goddamn teenager who’s experiencing his first crush.” He stands up and holds out his hand,  “Give me that.”

Daniel lets out a dramatic sigh but then hands over his phone anyway, knowing Blake has a point.

“Thank you,” Blake tells him with a grin as he sits down again. He nods towards the bathroom, “You’ve got eighteen minutes to get ready, mate. Get going.” 

***

“Momma, help,” Ellie says, holding out her now dirty hands. You’re outside in the vegetable garden to plant some lettuce and green beans, or at least, that’s what you’re doing. Ellie apparently decided it would be more fun to try and dig for gold with her bare hands.

“Come here, you monster,” you tell her, making her clap her hands together to get the worst of it off before you wipe them clean on your sweater. “There you go.”

“Thank.” 

Your phone rings then and when you pull it out of your back pocket and see it’s a video call from Daniel, you can’t help but smile and motion for Ellie to come closer, “It’s Danny, bub.” You sit down on the edge of one of the raised planters and take the call just as you pull Ellie onto your lap, “Hey you.”

“Hi,” Daniel beams back. “Hi Miss Ellie.”

“Danny,” Ellie exclaims, smiling widely.

“How are you doing, ladies?” Daniel seems to be in his hotel room and for a moment you wonder why he isn’t at the track but then you remember it’s still only nine-thirty or so.

“We’re good, right bub?” 

Ellie nods enthusiastically, “‘m going potty!”

You can’t help but laugh, even more so when you see Daniel’s confused face, and so you explain, “Yesterday she told me she doesn’t want to wear diapers anymore so we’re trying to be a big girl and go to the toilet, huh bub?” Ellie nods and you throw Daniel a wink, “I think Isabella not wearing one might have heavily influenced her.”

“That’s good though, right?” Daniel looks at Ellie, “You’ve got this, sweetheart.” 

You smile at him, “How are you?”

“Yeah, good.” He sits up a little, “We leave in ten minutes or so, but I figured I could give you a call first.” 

“How was your meeting yesterday?” 

Daniel narrows his eyes at you but there’s still a hint of a smile somewhere, “Did you send that NDA to Blake yet?”

You let out a laugh, “I did.” 

“Good.” His usual grin is back then, “No, yeah, we’re working on it. They’re doing some final tweaks to the contract on their end and uh- Yeah, we should be ready to sign before the end of the season.”

“So you’re going back?”

Daniel nods slowly, his smile growing even wider, “I am.” 

***

He gets his best result of the season in Singapore, a fifth place that no one was expecting, least of all him. 

Some journos say it’s because he’s finally getting used to the car, while other 'experts' think it’s because a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders now that he’s in the final stages of his McLaren contract but none of them are right. It isn’t because of the car or leaving McLaren or- It’s because he finally knows what his future holds.

He’s going home.

***

“Ellie, wake up, bub,” you gently stroke your daughter’s cheek so as not to scare her as she wakes up from her nap. When she opens her eyes you smile at her, “Hi sleepyhead. It’s time to go watch Danny race, remember?” 

“Danny,” Ellie sighs, pushing herself up and holding out her arms so you can pick her up. 

You last spoke to Daniel on the phone on Tuesday, when he called after landing in Suzuka, but you have been texting pretty much every single day and so you know Suzuka holds both some good and bad memories for him. The Japanese Grand Prix is one of the last races you can watch without having to get up in the middle of the night because of the time difference and so you promised him you’d watch the race together with Granddad and Ellie. 

“You want to wear Danny’s sweater?”

Ellie nods, “Danny go car racing.”

“Yep,” you tell her as you help her into the sweater. “Danny’s going to go super fast, bub.”

Granddad’s already got the TV on by the time you make it downstairs and you hand over Ellie to him so you can warm up her bottle and slice an apple for her. You make it back just when the formation lap starts and so you point out Daniel’s car to Ellie, “There’s Danny.” 

“You remember what number Danny has?” Granddad asks your daughter, laughing then when she  proudly holds up five fingers but says, “Three.” 

“That’s right,” Granddad says, kissing the top of her head. “Clever girl.” 

You take a quick selfie of the three of you and send it to Daniel, because even though he won’t see it until after the race you want him to know you were cheering for him. 

***

Somehow they settle into a rhythm quite easily after Suzuka where they text each other daily and Daniel makes sure to video call at least once a week, usually on Tuesdays when, except for workouts with Michael, he doesn’t have much else planned.

After Suzuka he goes on to Austin, where he has a week off and finds himself hanging out with some of his Stateside mates, who somehow all comment on how much more relaxed he seems. He lets them believe it’s because he’s four races away from leaving McLaren but both Blake and Michael give him a look that tells him they know better.

Austin proves to be a disaster and he even finishes one place lower than where he started. There’s a message from her, after the race, telling him they’re still rooting for him, a picture of her and Ellie attached that makes him realise there are more important things in life than winning a race. 

Daniel’s in Mexico City when he gets a message from her early Thursday morning and not at all at a time she should be awake and so for a moment he’s worried something has happened but then he opens the picture and sees two fluffy newborn alpacas huddled close to their mothers and he hits the call button without thinking twice.

She answers on the first ring, “Hey.”

He’s a little taken aback by how exhausted she sounds but he guesses a double alpaca birth does that to a person, “Hey. Congratulations!” He can’t help but tease her, “So, are you a grandmother now or-”

“Daniel Ricciardo,” she bites back but he can hear the smile in her voice, “take that back.”

He laughs, “I kid, I kid. How are the ladies doing?”

“They’re good. Betsy’s a little unsure of what it means to be a mother but I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

He nods even though she can’t see him, “Who else gave birth? Babs?”

“Yep.” He hears her tell one of the girls to move before she comes back to him, “Blanche shouldn’t be too far behind either.”

“And how are you?”

She scoffs, “Tired. It’s been non stop for the past three days but-”

“How’s Oscar doing?”

She must know what he really wants to ask because she tells him, “He’s good. Walking is much easier now but he’s still a bit unsteady on his feet, you know? And he gets tired rather quickly so I’d rather have him watch Ellie than help me deliver some alpacas.”

Daniel hears what she’s saying but still, “Yeah, but-”

“I know, ok? I know, but it is what it is.” She clears her throat, “The laundry can wait another day or two and so what if the windows aren’t clean? Like I said, Blanche shouldn’t be too far behind and they should be fine on their own after a couple of days anyway so-”

“Gotcha,” he says. He can feel she’s getting annoyed and he doesn’t want her to feel like she needs to defend herself and so he quickly adds, “Well, if you need any help coming up with a name for one of them, let me know. I got a few nice ones up my sleeve.”

“Such as?”

“Reginald if it’s a boy,” he deadpans and he relishes in the laugh it draws from her, “and Mildred if it’s a girl.” 

“Right,” she draws out, still laughing. 

“What?” Daniel feigns innocence, “I think they’re great.” He doesn’t, not really, but at least he’s made her laugh and that’s all that matters. “I should probably let you get back to the girls, huh?”

“I was just about to head home actually.”

“Good, go get some sleep.” He lowers his voice then, “I’ll talk to you soon, ok? You got this.” 

She sighs, “Yeah.”

Once the call is disconnected he turns his phone in his hands over and over again, trying to figure out if there’s anything he can do to help her. 

Maybe there is. 

[krikeymate]

Fictober 2023: Day 5: “You’re the smartest person I know.” - Sam feels stupid. Fandom: Scream Rating: T Warnings: None.

➖

“FUCK!”

Sam throws her phone at the wall.

A much quieter shit follows as it thumps to the floor, drywall cascading down after it.

Not even day three in their new apartment, their new city, and Sam’s already gone and fucked it up.

Always fucking everything up.

How did she think she could do this? When has she ever done anything right?

She should have just stayed in Modesto, let Tara go off to college by herself with the twins. At least she had a job there, she could have supported her from afar. Tara could have come back during the holidays to visit… it’s not like they would have disappeared from one another’s lives, not again. That’s… that’s how normal people live their lives. They go off to college and they see their family occasionally and they just… grow up. Move on. Tara doesn’t need her big sister hovering over her shoulder. She could be in the dorms, getting the good ol’ college experience! …Whatever that is. It’s not like Sam would know.

The thought leaves her feeling hollow.

Sam would never have that.

All she has is her sister.

There’s no college in Sam’s future, she didn’t even finish high school. No fancy degrees, no connections or qualifications.

…No job.

Fuck.

Sam slams her foot into the end of her bed.

The sharp ache that zaps up her leg feels deserved somehow. She deserves this pain. She deserved that rejection. If she wasn’t such a failure-

Her head snaps up as the door creaks open.

She makes a mental note to get some oil, and takes a deep breathe, fixing a smile to her face as she turns around.

“Hey,” Tara greets warily, slipping past the partially open door. “I heard yelling.”

Her sister notices the wall before Sam can think of an excuse. Of course she does, Tara’s always been the smart one. Quick and clever, fast on her feet, able to look at a situation and know. And what is Sam?

Only trouble.

Tara frowns as she bends down to pick up the abandoned phone. “I uh… think you dropped this,” she says, waving it in the air, dutifully ignoring the dust it scatters or the fresh staining on her fingertips.

Something about the act makes Sam break.

She collapses back to sit on the bed and groans into her hands. She feels her sister sit down beside her, but can’t bring herself to look at her. She doesn’t deserve to look at her.

“Hey,” Tara whispers, nudging her shoulder. “What’s going on?”

When she fails to respond, she wraps her hands around Sam’s wrists and pulls them away.

“Sam, talk to me. Please.”

Oh. Tara’s voice is doing that thing it does when she’s trying to hold back tears. Sam finds she’s holding back tears of her own.

“I’m sorry,” she croaks, throat feeling tight. “I just… I got rejected, again. And all I can think about is how are we gonna pay the rent?” Sam shudders through another breath, unable to continue.

Laughter is the last thing she expects from her sister in this situation.

“Didn’t you hear me?” she says, pity making way to frustration. “We have no money and I can’t even manage to get a fucking job.”

Sam yanks her hands out of her sister’s grip, slamming them down into her own lap. The change in mood leaves her feeling dizzy.

“Sam,” Tara sighs, “you’re being overdramatic.”

She bites her cheek to resist the overwhelming urge to snap. To bite and maim, to lash out. Anything to protect herself.

It’s so stupid. She knows it’s stupid.

This is her sister. The one person she never needs to protect herself from.

The one person she would never protect herself from.

Maybe that’s stupid.

But Sam’s always been-

“Look, Sam… You’re the smartest person I know.”

What?

“And I know you’re gonna do whatever it takes to look after us and keep us safe.”

There’s a lump in Sam’s throat and she stares at the ceiling to fight back the tears clawing at her eyes. Tara has no idea the lengths Sam would go to, just what she would do to keep her safe. Housed and warm and fed. There’s nothing she wouldn’t do.

 “You’re going to find a job, I know you will. And when you do, I’m going to get you a cake and balloons and we’re going to celebrate.”

Chancing a look to her sister, Sam finds her smiling up at her, dark eyes staring at her intently. It feels a lot like the sun peeking through the clouds.

“I love you,” she blurts out, unable to stop herself.

Tara’s beams back at her. “I love you too Sam, more than anything in the world.”

The storm inside her breaks.

[appalachianapologies]

Alrighty, how about "another wip don't fucking @ me"?

Okay so for this WIP I had to go through and reread to see what exactly I was getting at because it's years old at this point and could not actually remember what it was for/what I was going for. It looks to me like it was some sort of timeline where Mac and Jack met under different circumstances (I say, knowing full well that that is nearly every single AU that I write lmao) and are in the process of finding each others' footing (ALSO the same thing I rewrite over and over again)

Here are some words from it!

“You know, you really don’t have to follow me everywhere. Just saying.”

“I kinda do.”

“You kinda don’t,” Mac counters, before turning his full attention to the keyhole in the door. After a bit of jiggling, he mutters, “It’d be easier if I just lock picked my way in.”

Even though Mac isn’t looking at Jack, he can almost feel the older man’s eye roll. “Alright, c’mon, give it here. You youngins don’t know how to open doors.”

“Youngins? I-” For his own sake, Mac cuts himself off when Jack’s able to open it on the first try.

Ignoring his smug look, Mac snatches the key back as he walks in the door. The house looks like what Mac expected it to. Same thing in the pictures, including all of the furniture.

Jack whistles behind him. “Good lookin’ stuff here, huh? And all for free?”

“It was grandpa Harry’s,” Mac replies, carefully walking, as if disturbing the dust will somehow ruin the house. “And my dad never had it. Harry was my mom’s dad, so he never offered it to him. He lived in it until he, um, you know, had to take care of me.”

Nodding along, Jack takes in the house. Not the same way as Mac though. It takes a few seconds of ‘overwatch watching’ for Mac to even realize what he’s doing. Hecking the place. Scanning to make sure that there aren’t any decade old assailants who have been biding their time in the shadows.

Mac’s chest flops, and he doesn’t know why.

“So, anyway,” He suddenly announces, feeling far more awkward about the whole ordeal than before, “The place isn’t liveable yet. The plumbing probably needs to be changed, and the house itself might be old enough to still have lead pipes, which, you know, isn’t really ideal. And it’s a toss-up on whether or not the hvac system works, but I don’t really like those odds.”

“And you’re gonna fix it up?”

Mac sends him a look. “Yeah? Who else?”

“Professionals, maybe? You know, the guys who do this all the time?”

Shrugging, Mac replies, “It’ll be a good challenge. Besides, it’s not like I have anything else going on.”

“School?”

The single worded question hangs in the air for a few moments, before Mac turns his back. It’s been assumed, sure, but he hasn’t actually told anyone yet. “I’m not going to graduate.”

[kierewrites]

The Supers

navi - masterlist

Dabi x Reader

Mood Song: lost in the fire

Summary: Somehow the world's most feared super villain and the world's most loved super model found their ways into each others lives. And somehow, you were both perfect for each other.

Warnings: mentions of violence, dirty talk, manhandling, choking, degrading, brat taming, pretty much dabi being an asshole lol

Dabi let out a frustrated sigh as he waited for the elevator doors of your apartment building to open. Your snoopy front desk guard was on duty tonight, and honestly that was the last thing he wanted to deal with right now.

He promised you he would be home early today to celebrate some shitty event you had going on. Normally he would remember such an event that had your eyes practically glowing in excitement, but his corpse of a boss had been hounding him about a particular job he needed to get done.

Just as expected, his target made the task much harder than it needed to be. He spent nearly two days tracking the fuck down, and when he found him. Oh, did he make him pay.

“Dabi p..please! I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

The villain’s eyes narrowed to slits as the man tried to back impossibly closer to the brick wall behind him, cornered by Dabi at last.

“Too late for that I’m afraid.” Dabi spoke cooly, growing annoyed by the man’s incessant sobs.

“No! No, I can give Shigaraki all he needs I promise!” The man cried, his knees beginning to give out in fear as he shrunk to the floor in terror.

The villain felt his hands tingle with rage as the pathetic man cried for mercy. After all this searching and trouble he had to go through, this man should be begging for Dabi to end his life quickly and easily.

“You know you wasted forty eight hours of my time, right?” Dabi hissed, shuffling towards the man with his hands shoved in his pocket.

The man let out a shriek when Dabi leaned down towards him in a quick movement, a crazed smile on his lips as he let the steaming heat radiate off his body.

“Told my doll I would be home a whole day ago, but I couldn’t do that, could I?” Dabi questioned rhetorically, bending down now on the heels of his feet so he could level with the man, “You know how many hours she’s been waiting because I’ve had to chase scum like you?”

Once again, a rhetorical question. But the man didn’t seem to notice.

“T..Twenty four-”

The sound of his quivering voice pissed Dabi off beyond his already thin patience. Letting out a growl he grabbed the man’s face harshly, his palm beginning to heat up and sear against his flesh.

“Thanks for proving to me that you know how to count,” Dabi growled, slamming the man’s head against the wall causing him to cough up blood all over his jacket.

“Fucking hell, you’re a damn mess.” Dabi snarled, knowing you weren’t going to like seeing the crimson liquid.

“You know I was just going to ignite your sorry ass to dust and call it a night,” Dabi spoke, wiping the greasy sweat from the man’s face on his already ruined jacket before glaring back down to his victim, “But I don’t think you deserve that.”

The man’s eyes now shot up to Dabi, almost a bit of hope glimmering in them at his words, until he noticed the downright sinister look in the villain’s eyes. He wasn’t about to show any mercy.

Dabi glanced up at the stone ledge above the two of them and quickly shot his hand up to ignite a burst of fire towards it, effectively severing it from the building to fall directly into the lap of the victim.

His shrill screams of pain echoed throughout the air, surely waking anyone nearby. The sound made Dabi’s heart beat with sadistic excitement, finally feeling justice was served for his previous days wasted.

“Now I hope you bleed out for fourty eight fucking hours, so you’ll know exactly how my doll felt.” Dabi barked with a grin, sending one last stream of flames towards the man to ensure his demise before finally concluding this headache of a job.

The thought alone of the pathetic man made Dabi grit his teeth; between that and the guard obviously staring at him, he was wanting to turn the whole building to ash.

All he wanted to do was crawl into bed and pull you close into his chest and make up for two days worth of sleep. Two days starved of your soft touch.

The elevator ride felt incredibly longer than usual, each step he took towards your apartment only felt like he was moving farther away from it. He almost couldn’t believe it when he found the familiar numbers of your place before him.

The sound of the door creaking throughout the living room made Dabi cringe, though he would never tell you that. Typically when you whined to him about waking you up, he just laughed or simply told you he didn’t care.

He knew that was a lie, but you didn’t need to know that.

Dabi’s ‘profession’ wasn’t made known to you quite yet, for obvious reasons: you were a supermodel.

Your life was broadcasted to millions of people, and though he trusted you enough to know you wouldn’t blabber his secrets to the world, he also knew all eyes were on you, and accidents happen. A life of his own couldn’t afford accidents.

He had a feeling you had a small idea that what he did was illegal, catching hints of blood or ash on his clothes often. The fact that most of his “shifts” ended in the early hours of the morning also seemed strange to you, but you never questioned any of it.

Just the way he liked.

Surveying the empty living room, Dabi came to the conclusion that you were fast asleep, not a sliver of light in sight. Never a surprise to the raven haired man, as you tended to fall asleep on him as early as ten o’clock, to which he would always call you his little baby.

When you were awake in the early hours during his return home, he knew something was wrong, but luckily tonight wasn’t the case.

Though his muscles screamed at him with every quiet move he made, Dabi still made an effort to strip his boots off as quietly as possible. Today’s job was a rather messy one, and the last thing he needed were those adorable cheeks puffed at him when you found a bunch of ‘dirt’ all over the floor.

Stripping his jacket off, he shoved it in a nearby hamper so you wouldn’t see the work he had done all day, deciding he would wash it in the morning.

Your apartment was cute, honestly rather luxurious for someone so young. Luckily your job paid more than enough bills, which initially shocked Dabi since he claimed you were just “posing for a camera”, to which always earned a slap from you.

As much as he hated to admit it, each time he saw the skyline view of Musutafu from your floor to ceiling windows he was amazed. It’s so easy to see the beauty and charm of such a large city when you live at the top, blissfully able to ignore the real chaos that happens down below.

Though he normally hated places like this, he also knew you didn’t have the luxury to live in just any regular apartment anymore. People were always tracking your every move, cameras and lights becoming a part of your lifestyle. Stunning apartments like this always had high security so you could have a somewhat normal lifestyle at home.

With that in mind, Dabi wasn’t quite thrilled with your so-called ‘security’. Since he wasn’t able to waltz into the doors, he usually had to come in with a disguise or through the back entrance. Not once did he ever have any issues. Hell he could break into your place to murder you and they probably wouldn’t find out for months.

He claimed that’s why he stayed with you as often as he did, because your ‘bimbo ass’ needed protection from your freaky fans. And though he wasn’t lying, you and him both knew that’s not the only reason why he stayed with you.

Letting out a sigh, Dabi gave the sparkling city one last glance before rubbing at his neck and shuffling to your bedroom.

He had every intention of showering, honestly, especially because he knew you would freak if he dirtied your freshly cleaned satin sheets. But his plans came to an abrupt halt when his eyes finally fell on your body.

Though a beauty to look at, you were a train wreck of a sleeper. Your body typically flailed every direction once you hit a deep slumber. Sure enough, your arms were beneath your pillow while one of your legs haphazardly stuck out from beneath the satin sheets.

Normally Dabi would’ve chuckled, maybe even snapped a picture for blackmail before continuing on with his night, but thanks to your sloppy position, he was able to drink in in what you were wearing.

Either you were trying to surprise him, or you were trying to tease him: either way his reaction was the same.

Your silky skin was wrapped up like a perfect sinful present for him, your chest and waste was adorned with the most luxurious lingerie he had ever seen. The red fabric just barely hid what was necessary, a slight shimmer in every detail that only accentuated your beautiful curves.

The sight made him groan as he felt his grimey pants tighten at the sight. He almost didn’t even want to touch you, didn’t want to ruin such a beautiful sight before him, but that’s what phones were for. Snapping a photo quickly, the raven haired boy quickly ripped his shirt from over his head and crawled into bed towards you.

He knew you were in a deep sleep since you didn’t even twitch as the bed dipped beneath you. A part of him couldn’t help but admire each adorable huff that slipped from your parted lips.

As much as he wanted to pull you close and fall asleep, the sinful painting before him was sabotaging any hopes of that. If you wanted to be a little tease, he would have to treat you like one.

Warming his hand up a bit, he grabbed a handful of your ass cheek, squeezing at the plush skin before laying a playful slap against it.

Surprisingly the initial grab didn’t seem to fully wake you up, but the harsh slap certainly did. Your eyes shot open, immediately looking around for whoever made your ass begin to sting until you were met with mischievous cerulean eyes.

Your once shocked expression melted into one of frustration, your brows knitting together and your lips pinching into a pout as you shoved him away with folded arms.

“You’re an asshole Dabi, you know that?” You say, though you can’t fight the grin that’s forming in the corner of your lips as he begins to crawl towards you again and hover over you, “Nearly scared me to death.”

Dabi simply smirked down to you, chuckling as your still tired eyes struggled to remain angry with him as he ran his warm hand up your thighs.

“C’mon that’s not very fair, is it doll?” Dabi questioned as his eyes began to drink in your attire once more before smirking up to you, “I fucking told you what happens when you tease me like this.”

You had to fight the mewl that threatened to spill from your lips, your hand grabbing his wrist before it made contact with your surely dripping underwear. His glowing cerulean eyes glared up at you through the dark, but you held your ground as you huffed at him.

“This wasn’t for you.”

At this Dabi raised a brow, a mix of anger and confusion bubbling in his chest as if to wonder who this was all for then.

“Okay well it was kind of for you,” You corrected, sitting up a bit so you could be more level with the man, “But I only had it on because of my show today.”

Dabi’s eyes widened in realization, understanding why you all of a sudden had a brand new lingerie set. This must’ve been what your big event was, how he had forgotten about a lingerie show of all events was beyond him.

“I wore it home, thinking I would surprise my boyfriend with it,” You hissed, the sound making Dabi wince internally as he struggled to meet your gaze, “But sure enough he wasn’t even there for it.”

Dabi let out a growl, his hand squeezing at your thigh before tugging you a bit closer to him as he looked at you with mildly apologetic eyes, “Work got a bit complicated.”

Looking him up and down, you felt your eyes soften just a bit as you took in his exhausted features. You had no doubt that he was telling the truth, you just wish he would tell you more about what his work entailed.

“Wait a fucking minute, does that mean a whole crowd saw you like this?”

The familiar possessive growl made your eyes roll, the sight making Dabi seethe with anger at your bratty response. Clearly two days was long enough for your little attitude to come back.

Beyond that, the fact that possibly hundreds of people were able to see what was his, all wrapped up pretty in this lingerie made him even angrier. Probably a bunch of pervs and rich old people.

Maybe he should’ve made his victim suffer even more for missing out on this.

Before he could advance forward, your foot landed firmly on his chest stopping any movements. An unimpressed brow was raised as you gave him a knowing look.

“Ah ah ah handsome,” You purred, the sound literally making the man before you growl as you smirked at him, “If I can’t get mad about your job, then you can’t get mad about mine. Remember?”

His own words escaping your lips made him huff in frustration. You were right, but that didn’t make it any better. Your smugness also wasn’t helping your case either.

Grabbing at your ankle, he yanked your foot away and dragged you beneath him roughly, causing a quick giggle to escape your lips as he glared down at you.

“Sorry I couldn’t make it to your show dollface.” Dabi spat, trying his best to mean the apology when all he wanted to do was fuck that snarky little brain dumb.

You saw the fire in his eyes, but you wanted to torment him just a bit longer before he lost it. Although you knew the consequences of whatever this secret job was, you were still mad he was away from you for so long.

“S’okay, I know you couldn’t have come anyway.” You mumbled, your gaze breaking away from his own.

Your words stung in his chest, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. He knew there was no venom in your words, but regardless he knew how much it hurt you that he could never come to support you in person due to his secret profession.

“Don’t be like that, you know I want to.” Dabi says sternly, grabbing your cheeks to force you to look at him once more.

Though your lips were already squished together between his fingers, he could still see the pout forming on your lips when you stared up into his cerulean eyes.

“It would make me feel better if you just told me what you did.” You said softly, your confession making his heart melt though he refused to show it. Even if he wanted to, there’s no way he could tell you.

It would ruin your career. It could possibly ruin your relationship. It could even ruin his career. Those were all risks he couldn’t take.

“Doll.” Dabi growled threateningly, giving you a glare of warning at your persistence, “We talked about this.”

Much to his surprise, you dared to roll your eyes at him for the second time in one night. After the hell of a two days he’s had, he was going to enjoy shutting up that smart mouth.

“I’m sorry did you forget your manners the whole two fucking days I’ve been gone?” Dabi growled, releasing your cheeks as he looked down to you incredulously.

Though you felt your heart flutter at the change in his tone, you tried to hold out for as long as possible, “You were the one that left me for two days-”

Before you could finish your sentence, his warm hand was now around your neck, squeezing just enough to make you gasp as he looked down to you with sinister eyes.

“And just like that, you’ve lost your talking privileges!” Dabi snarled with a grin, the sight making your eyes widen as you felt your legs begin to press together, a sight that didn’t go unnoticed by Dabi.

A rough knee forced your legs apart before rubbing against your warm core, causing a warbled mewl to escape your lips as he laughed down to you.

“This is why I hate that flashy fucking job of yours, it goes all to your damn head,” Dabi sneered, flicking at your forehead, “But that’s okay, each and every time you forget your manners I’ll happily fuck them right back into you, yeah?”

The feeling of his fingers now ghosting over your warmth had you bucking your hips up, a whimper escaping your lips when he somehow squeezed tighter around your throat.

“Dabi.” You whined, plump lips parted as his fingers continued their soft torture along your folds. He couldn’t hold out for much longer, and you both knew that. “You gonna talk back to me dollface?”

You looked into his eyes and quickly shook your head, giving him a pleading look through those glossy lashes that went straight to his cock.

“That’s my good girl,” Dabi spoke, releasing your throat as you began to cough and gasp for air. He might have been rougher than he should, but he had a tough few days.

“D..Don’t leave marks you dick, I have a shoot tomorrow-” You hissed now that you were able to breathe, but your words were cut short once again as he shoved three of his fingers down your throat.

“Like I give a fuck, I hope all those fucks see who the hell owns this slutty little throat,” Dabi growled, shoving his fingers deeper till he nearly felt the back of your throat, “Clearly you still haven’t learned your lesson.”

Tears danced down your cheeks now at the uncomfortable feeling, a cry of pleasure escaping your lips when you felt his fingers plunge into you without much of a warning.

“Knew you were being a brat on purpose,” Dabi hissed, smirking down to you as your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, “You’re fucking sopping down there, all because I choked you, huh? Slutty girl.”

His crude words made your face feel like it was on fire, your moans being muffled by his fingers as his pace began to speed up, rubbing at your clit roughly.

“Shit, are you about to cum already?” Dabi questioned, a mocking laugh filling the air before he narrowed his eyes down to you, “Poor baby, probably tried to get off with those tiny fingers of yours while I was gone, didn’t you?”

As soon as you tried to nod he barked out more laughter, speeding up his minstrations causing you to squirm beneath his touch. Just before he could threaten your release, he felt you tighten around his fingers as your body began to convulse beneath him. “Did you just fucking cum?”

Even when he removed his fingers you just mewled at his questions, trying to rub your thighs together as you twitched down from your high.

“You selfish little brat, you really did miss me didn’t you?” Dabi sneered with a smirk, forcing your lazy head to look up at him.

When you could barely respond he let out a groan, moving quickly to undo his belt as your eyes lazily watched him.

“Did I fuck you dumb with my fingers alone? You’re so adorable doll.” Dabi cooed in a condescending tone, his finger grabbing your face once again to keep you focused, “Unfortunately for you, I’m just getting started.”

The morning air stung at your raw skin before your eyes could say good morning to the warm sun trying to seep through your curtains.

Memories of last night’s events had you shivering, your body processing the new feeling of an arm tightly wrapped around your waist.

Moving your head slightly to the side, you felt your heart warm at the sight of your boyfriend’s drooling face beside you. You loved watching him sleep. It was one of the few rare moments you had to see his face soft, void of any emotion. No anger, smugness, lust, sadness: just his soft two toned skin finally at rest.

Moving to sit up a bit, you let out a groan when a sharp pain shot to your hips. Glancing beneath the sheets, your eyes widened at the sight of purple bruises now adorning your normally flawless skin.

Jutting your lip out, you glared back to your peaceful boyfriend.

“You’re such an asshole.” You whispered more to yourself, but the smile on your lips betrayed your words.

Normally moving out of bed would elicit a growl from your lover, his arms moving you impossibly closer to him so you couldn’t escape his hold, but he genuinely seemed exhausted from whatever job he returned from.

Taking advantage of this, you gently wrapped his arm around your pillow before sliding out of bed and shuffling to your bathroom.

The cold marble of your floor made you hiss, always the worst type of wake up call, but it was soon replaced with a moan when you reached the heated floors of your bathroom.

Upon your presence, the lights of the bathroom turned on to put your naked figure on full display. Your jaw dropped to see more colors of the rainbow adorning your skin, all the way up to your jawline.

“Damn you Dabi.” You hissed, a bite to your words this time as you ran your fingers along your raw skin. Of course, you deserved every bit of it knowing you were testing his already thin patience last night, but you knew your agent was going to kill you.

He was always going on about how you needed to find a new boyfriend, but he never quite understood the masochist in you loved this sort of treatment.

The thrill of knowing Dabi would protect you with his life, but also treats you like his play thing thrilled you. The two of you were somehow more compatible then you should be,

Honestly your only problem with Dabi was this second life he seemed to hide from you. It’s not that you didn’t trust him, as he’s never once tried to lie or hold secrets from you. It’s just that you could tell it was inadvertently hurting him. You knew the jealousy he felt each time you left for work.

Though you weren’t a huge fan yourself, a large part of the job was being observed by millions. Touched by millions, intimate with millions, seen by millions. And though you’ve gotten used to the unfortunate treatment of the modeling industry, Dabi has not.

You know he would never tell you to quit, whether that be for your sake or for his ego’s sake, but you know so badly how he wants to be there with you. To be your menacing guard dog and make sure you were being treated nothing short of royalty.

But for some reason, he had to stay out of the public eye.

By the looks of it, whatever his profession was seemed a bit shady. You tried many times to tell him that the press wouldn’t care, and that there were many shady people in your line of work too, but he just kept saying it wasn’t the same.

Letting out a sigh, you finished your morning skincare routine, deciding you would cover up your happy little accidents from last night later.

Just as you had expected, his clothes were sprawled all over the ground. He clearly had little patience last night.

Shuffling over to your closet, you snatched one of his clean shirts and shoved it over your head, glancing at him to make sure he wasn’t awake before moving towards the living room.

A small chuckle escaped your lips when you noticed his boots and coat haphazardly thrown near the hamper. How you didn’t hear his surely loud entrance, you weren’t sure.

As you began to warm up a tea kettle, you moved towards his boots to place them on the clean shoe rack you begged him to use, to which he usually would drop his shoes right next to just to see your cute face scrunch up in frustration.

Next you grabbed his coat, moving across your cold floors to the laundry room to place the dirty article in the washing machine along with your own dirty fabrics.

The minute you pressed start, you froze when you saw red splotches covering where you once pressed the start button. Glancing down to your hand you let out a not-so-quiet gasp when you saw crimson adorning your fingertips.

Immediately you paused the washing machine, yanking out Dabi’s jacket before biting at your lip at the sight. How had you not seen the thick gooey blood dried all over the front of his jacket? A small part of you grew anxious wondering whose blood it was, his or someone else’s?

“Are you always this invasive with my shit, doll?”

The scream that escaped your lips when you felt his warm hands grab at your stomach made him chuckle, your body whipping around to see him already smirking down to you.

He loved the face you always made when he scared you like this, as if he had caught a child stealing from the cookie jar.

Looking into the scene before him further, his eyes darkened when he saw his coat in your hands, your soft fingertips coated with that filthy rat’s blood from last night.

“What did I tell you about touching my stuff Y/n?” Dabi husked, snatching the coat from your hands before shoving it back in the washing machine and slamming the start button.

Though your lips twitched, wanting to ask him a million questions, you instead let him spin you around before pinning your hips against the counter, his own hips digging into your own as he turned the sink on and aggressively washed both of your hands.

The sight of that man’s blood on your delicate little hands... his delicate little hands.

“Don’t ever fucking do that again.” Dabi whispered coldly into your ear, both his words and the feeling of his warm breath against the shell of your ear causing you to shiver while he dried both of your hands off.

Nodding against his chest, you slowly turned around to look at him, your glossy eyes peering up at him through your lashes which made his jaw stiffen at the sight.

“That.. that wasn’t your blood… right?”

The minute those soft words were whispered from your lips, Dabi felt his body tense as he looked down at you. Of course you weren’t worried about him being mad at you. You were just worried about him. Like you always were. Always putting his shitty needs before your own.

“Course not, princess.” Dabi said softly, his stern features melting into lazy kind ones as his hands pressed against the small of your back into his chest, an invitation for you to wrap your arms around him.

He knew you wanted to press further. Ask him what it was, what he was doing, if he was putting himself in any danger. But instead you just held him close, allowing yourself to trust in him and know he would never put you or himself in that situation. Knowing you should listen to him like he always tells you to do; never question him.

Just like his sweet angel should.

“You’re too pretty to worry dollface,” Dabi cooed, his fingers now digging into your hips which caused you to hiss as he lifted you up on the cool counter, “Aw, are you sore?”

Though still glossy, your eyes narrowed into a glare as the shit eating smirk appeared on his lips, referring to the fresh bruises along your hips.

“You know my agent is going to kill me, right? I told you I have a shoot today! It’s my last for a full week, you couldn’t have waited a day?”

Dabi only chuckled down to you, voice dripping in smugness as his fingers gently gripped at your chin, “Maybe you shouldn’t have dressed up all pretty for me like a slut last night baby.”

Though he wasn’t wrong, you also were planning on him coming home much sooner so you could lay out some ground rules. He definitely took advantage of your sleepy state.

The minute you attempted to roll your eyes his fingers moved from your chin to your cheeks as he squished them harshly, snarl at the tip of his lips.

“Did our little lesson about manners not click in that dumb head of yours?” Dabi growled, forcing your hips closer to his chest as he grinned wickedly down to you, “Because I’ll gladly review it again for you.”

You hated how your body reacted before your brain could, a whimper softly falling from your lips when his warm hand traveled up your thigh beneath his shirt, but luckily you were able to snap out of it now that you were much better rested.

“I’ll have to take a raincheck on that sir,” You chirped, grinning at his wide eyes at the little nickname, “I have tea on the kettle, and I need to be at that shoot in a few hours!”

Somehow you were able to slip from his hold, most likely thanks to his small period of shock before his grin began to twitch, footsteps following after you causing shrieks of giggles to escape your lips as you ran from his grasp.

You were definitely going to be late.

Exhaustion havoced through your bones, but it wasn’t even close to the excitement you felt surging through you.

After a far too eventful fashion week, your agency granted you a full week to be off and take time for yourself. Though, it was well deserved, especially after today’s shoot.

“Y/n F/n, are you fucking kidding me?!”

The sound of your name being hissed venomously from your agent’s tongue made you cringe. 

Luckily you were able to cover up most of the marks on your neck and chin, but the makeup on your torso must have rubbed off on the walk to the testing site.

“I promise it’s not as bad as it looks, Charles.” You said with a sweet smile as you pulled him in for a professional hug, “Makeup will easily cover it up.”

From behind you, the makeup team confirmed this as they began setting up their spray foundation station, their reassurance making you smile as you looked back to your fuming agent.

You knew it was unprofessional, you really did. And you tried your best for this to not happen often, as your body unfortunately was your entire career. But what annoyed you the most is that your agent seemed to care less about the marks, and more about your partner.

“Same scumbag boyfriend, huh?”

Every part of you wanted to scream at him and storm out, but you really liked this client and knew you could never turn away a holiday shoot like this.

“Charles, you're ever so chipper this morning.” You spoke, offering him the warmest smile you could muster before being dragged off by the makeup team.

The rest of the afternoon went fine. Luckily the hair and makeup teams were just as excited to talk with you, so it helped speed things along. You told them all about your trip with your boyfriend to the mountains, as this would be your first official ‘vacation’ with him.

Little did you know, your agent kept a close ear to your small conversations with each division of the shoot, devising a small plan of his own. 

In the best interest of you, his client, of course.

“Are you all packed Dabi?”

Your cheerful voice sent waves of warmth through Dabi’s chest, his lazy eyes falling on you as you bounced before your tall doorway.

He knew it was cold outside, but you went a bit overboard. Almost every article of clothing you had on consisted of fluffy fabrics, from your earmuffs and beanie, down to your cozy brown boots.

“Probably not as well as you, snow bunny.” Dabi chuckled, the nickname causing you to pout as he flicked at the small fluffy ball on top of your head.

“Don’t be like that, it’s going to be cold up there!” You whined, happily letting him grab your Louis Voution duffles before you opened the door for the two of you.

“I just think it would be smarter for you to wear less, so I damage less of your prissy little outfits.” Dabi sneered with a grin, your head whipping to him with narrowed eyes as you locked your door behind you with the keycard.

“You will not be ruining this outfit, asshole. You can learn to unbutton things like a normal person.”

Dabi only hummed, confirming he certainly would not be doing that before you both made your way down the stairs. Normally you would take the elevator, but Dabi didn’t feel like putting on an entire disguise so you asked for your car to be ready behind your building.

Going down fifteen flights of stairs was never fun, but for Dabi it was worth it. Plus you couldn’t complain much since he decided to hold both of your luggage, not that he had much anyways.

“We’re taking the Tesla?” Dabi questioned, noticing the key card you were fiddling with in your hands, when you nodded warmly he only smirked, snatching it from you with a whistle, “I’m definitely driving then.”

A sharp whine escaped your lips as you tried to take the card from his hands, but even with his hand full with three bags, he managed to escape your swinging arms.

“You drive like a lunatic Dabi! You better not speed in my baby.”

He simply smirked down to you smugly, the sight making you groan before you finally made it to the final floor.

“Your car is ready outback Miss Y/n.” A familiar voice spoke, the sound startling Dabi as he quickly shoved his hood up and jerked his head the opposite direction, “But I must warn you-”

Before he could finish, Dabi shoved all the bags in the bellhop’s arms causing the man to slightly stumble over, “Make yourself useful, will you?”

A small giggle bubbled out of your lips, shooting a playful glare to Dabi’s mischievous eyes, reminding yourself you needed to tip that poor boy extra when you both returned.

As you made your way to the doors, you thought you heard strange noises from outside, but as the bellhop tried to stutter something out, Dabi simply placed his palm on the small of your back and ushered you outside.

Sure enough, those strange noises were your worst nightmare.

A crowd of people suddenly turned to the sound of you and Dabi exiting the building, there was a moment of silence before shouts and cameras began flashing towards both of your directions.

“Y/n! Is this your boyfriend?” “Y/n, is it true that you’re scared to leave your boyfriend?” “Y/n, show us the bruises! Speak your truth!”

The rapid questions caused your head to spin, the quick flashing of cameras making you back up, your boyfriend quickly wrapping a protective arm around you.

“W..What bruises?” You questioned, eyes narrowed until you saw a screen being held up amongst the crowd, your entire body growing rigid as the familiar sight of your skin littered with warm bruises was held up amongst the crowd.

“How did you…” You whispered, eyes wide and horrified until you noticed the familiar outfit in the corner of the photo. That was from today’s shoot…

“Charles.” You growled, the sound of your agent’s name making Dabi’s fists heat with anger. He knew that damn agent of yours was trouble.

Quickly spinning around, you stood before Dabi to try and deflect any view of him from the crowd as you looked at him apologetically, “I’m so sorry Dabi, I think my agent called the press on me. Let’s just go through the front-”

Your words were only half processed by Dabi. He could tell by your tone you were genuinely sorry, this wasn’t your fault. He wasn’t mad at you in the slightest. What he couldn’t ignore though, was the one pair of eyes out of the entire crowd that had been staring at him since he walked out those doors. 

The eyes were wide, trembling. They were filled with fear. Dabi knew exactly what was about to happen.

“That’s Dabi! From The League of Villains!”

The sound of the crowd gasping had your head whipping back, your mouth agape before you glanced back at your boyfriend whose jaw was locked tight.

“L..League of Villains?” You whispered, his eyes finally falling on you for the first time throughout this entire event.

Everything was over. This perfect little life he got too comfortable in. This domestic, sickly sweet lavish life you swaddled him in until he almost forgot who he really was. What he really was.

He wanted to leave you there. Do what he knew was right and make an easy escape to never see you again, but he was in too deep now. He dragged you into this and now this was both of your problem’s. The new onslaught of questions only confirmed this.

“Has Dabi from The League of Villains been holding you hostage, Y/n?” “Are those burn marks in this picture Y/n?” “Someone call the heroes!”

All he really wanted to do was drown. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he was about to lose everything he’s ever lived for.

And then your hand wrapped in his own. Your eyes held so much emotion. Confusion, anger, sadness, worry. But one thing he didn’t see was fear. And your words only confirmed that.

“I’m not scared of you Dabi.” You whispered, two tears dancing along your cheeks as your lips quivered, trying to keep a brave face as he looked down at you.

Dabi could feel his own tear ducts growing warm, but that’s not what he needed right now. He needed to get both of you out of here.

With the raise of his arm, flames grew from the tip of his fingertips down to his elbow as he glared at the crowd with sinister eyes.

“Move.”

Screams echoed throughout the crowd, everyone running in opposite directions while still trying to film the two of you as Dabi led you towards your car. He didn’t need to say a word for you to obediently run to the passenger side, Dabi already climbing in the driver’s seat before he sped off, pushing the limits of your car as he sped down the street.

He knew exactly where he was going. The only place he knew that was close enough to reach before those damned heroes showed up.

Every few minutes he glanced at you, and though your breath’s were uneven and your body was slightly trembling, you made no moves to betray him. You didn’t reach for your phone to call the police, you didn’t try to attack him, you just sat and looked forward, your teeth digging harshly into your lip.

He couldn’t imagine how terrified you must have been. Nearly three years of trust flushed away, with possibly the worst kind of betrayal yet. A villain, of all secrets to hide. Of course he wanted to do anything to still keep you in his life, but he knew that wasn’t his choice to make.

Slamming on his breaks, your eyes widened as you looked around, wondering what he was stopping for before your name was growled from his lips.

Looking at him, his cerulean eyes were already on you. The look on his face was one you’ve never seen before. Maybe it was the real monster in him he’s been hiding this entire time. Those cold blue eyes were deathly serious, not a hint of mischief in them.

“We’re not going to the mountains Y/n.”

The words dawned on you, realizing what this was about. This was your final opportunity to exit. To leave the villain before you, and try to operate what damage control you could to get back to the life you’ve always known.

This was your last chance.

You swallowed thickly, feeling your mouth go dry at what this decision meant, and how it would change the trajectory of your entire life. Inhaling sharply, he was surprised to see your head whip up, eyes leveling the seriousness of his own as you nodded.

“Okay.”

Dabi searched. He searched hard, almost hoping he would find any glimmer of doubt in those beautiful eyes of yours, but he found nothing but acceptance.

Looking back forward, Dabi nodded wordlessly and sped off towards the one place he dreaded most.

Home.

[merc-with-a-mouth-69]

*there's the pop and fizzle of a green portal opening up, followed by Pyxis dropping out of it and hitting the ground with a thud*

Thank ya, Mister Scraps!

*a hand pops through the portal and flips off the alien before pulling back in as the portal closes*

*Pyxis dusts themselves off as their white and brown spotted rabbit ears perk up and their tail starts wagging*

Hiya there! Sorry fer droppin in rather than using tha door! Thanks fer inviting me out, Mister WW69!!

Wade had been obnoxious today, more so than normal if that were even possible. Something about the crisp air and the changing of the leaves on the trees had him going feral, something comparable to the Hulk transforming, except it was Wade molting into a basic white bitch.

Donning his worst fall sweater, the merc had spent the day making the house look like Tim Burton had thrown up in it. Luckily for him, Al wouldn’t be able to complain about how it looked, but she may very well get annoyed when she runs into the fake cobwebs he’d strung about the doorways. Whatever. Deal with that when it comes to it.

He’d been expecting his guest, but not the way they’d popped in. He had been focusing on sticking some black bat window clings to the kitchen window when a portal was suddenly opening in the living room. Wade jumped, dropping one of the bats in the process.

“Fuck me in the face! What the hell-“

Splat

Oh right. His guest.

Setting aside his current project, he chuckled lightly at the rabbit alien thing. “Certainly a way to make an entrance, but I do like that extra shit.”

Wade excitedly clapped his hands together, looking like a kid in a candy store. “I am so fucking ready to fuck this shit up!”

[handspunyarns]

You Were Marked: Day Six.

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C  

word count: 2.4K 

chapter summary: Marathel sees the beginning of her end. 

warnings: (18+, MDNI), rape, violence, physical abuse, allusion to child abuse and SA, allusion to death and drowning, Mando'a and English cursing 

You Were Marked: Masterlist  

<- You Were Marked: Previous Chapter 

Marathel sat on her steps in the sun, waiting.  The Bounty Hunter had promised he would come back, he promised.  She knew the Bounty Hunter to be a man of his word; she had seen his character and believed him to be a good man since she had stood before him on these very steps and invited him into her home.  She had not expected him to move into her heart as he had, but she was willing to let him take up residence there, so long as he came back to her. 

He would, he would.  He promised. 

She did not know how long she had been waiting; time didn’t seem to matter much to her anymore.  But she was willing to remain here in the sun, in her gown of blue, until she saw him heading back to her.   

And there, coming through the tall grass, she could see his helmet of beskar glinting in the sun.  The grass seemed to part itself as he came through with long purposeful strides that brought him closer to her with every step.  And now here he was, walking across the yard towards her, all gleaming beskar, his ragged cape billowing behind him, the dust puffing up with every heavy footfall, and she, smiling at his return, standing to greet him, failed to notice his large, gloved hands curled into fists as he came up to the hut. 

“Fucking WHORE!” 

His first words to her slammed into her gut harder than she had ever been hit when she lived in the Hold.  He followed his words with a swinging backhand that was more punch than slap, and it sent her sprawling against the steps. 

“Brazen CUNT!” 

He grabbed her by the neckline of her blue gown, pulling her up until her face was even with the visor of his helmet, and her eyes were already leaking tears and her nose was bleeding, and she was bewildered, why, why, are you hurting me? 

“You couldn’t keep your legs closed, could you?” 

He slammed her back down to the floor, keeping his hand wrapped around her throat. He squeezed hard enough that she couldn’t get any air, and she scrabbled at his hand, trying to pull his hand off her throat, only succeeding at scratching her own face. I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe!  But no words came from her; only a raspy gurgle as he began beating her head against the floor with every horrible word he uttered to her. 

“I’ll teach you to treat me like shit!  Abandoning me, running away!   Spreading out your pussy to some criminal when you were supposed to be mine!” 

He threw her head down one last time with a resounding thud, but it meant that he had released his grip on her throat and she could finally breathe again, and she rolled to her side, gasping, trying to crawl away from this beskar-clad monster who had so gently stroked her body to ecstasy just so recently, but when, she could no longer remember. 

“Where do you think you’re going, you stupid fat bitch?” 

He grabbed her by her ankle, then her blue gown, pulling her by the garment back to where she had just been, right back onto her back, and he ripped away the front of the blue gown, exposing her breasts. 

“You want to be a Belwhyn so bad, you bitch, you cunt, you whore?  I’ll make you a Belwhyn when I’m done with you!” 

He put his knee in her gut to hold her down, knocking her breath out of her, and ripped the rest of her blue gown away.  He grabbed her ankle and pushed her leg up to her chest, holding it there as he forced a gloved finger inside her vagina, but she still could not scream.

“You’re ready for him, you were waiting for his cock, but you ran away from me?  I’m not waiting for you any longer, pretty girl.  You were mine from the moment you were born.” 

He undid his breeches as he said this, and all she could do was whimper soundlessly and try to roll over into a protective position, but he pulled her back and forced her legs wide with his own and drove himself into her. 

And now she could scream.  

She screamed, she fought with ineffectual blows against someone so much stronger, she begged him why?  WHY? over and over as he defiled her, tears streaming down her temples, his beskar armor bruising her skin as he grunted over her, crushing her with his armored weight. 

“You’ll fuck a bounty hunter before you’ll fuck me, pretty girl?  You’re being a good girl now though, right, good girl?  You think I made you do horrible things before, baby girl, just wait until I cram that Dilimgau into your thieving, whoring cunt.” 

Why, why, are you doing this to me, Bounty Hunter? 

“I AM NOT YOUR BOUNTY HUNTER, whore.” 

She opened her eyes, and he removed his helmet, and his face was the face of The Bishop, and she knew then the Bounty Hunter had been lying to her, he had deceived her, he had betrayed her. 

He had lied to her about the color of his eyes — not brown, but the grey of dead flesh — lied to her about coming from somewhere else — there were no other places called planets, just here, just the Hold — lied to her about his religion, his Creed — it was all a ruse to deceive her and retake possession of her. 

She felt her heart not break, so much as it dissolved away to nothing, and she fell silent.  There was no point in screaming. 

She surrendered to his bestial ministrations, willing herself to be immobile, to not react as she lay there as he filled her with his horrible poison seed.  There was no point in fighting. 

“No, no, baby girl, you can’t get away with laying there like mud, I’ll make you scream and fight like the good girl you’re supposed to be.” 

He withdrew from her and flipped her over, dragging her hips up and forcing her into a kneeling position, and her face scraped against the floor as he drove himself, still hard and searing hot, into her rear entrance. 

She began to scream anew. 

Din was floating in blackness.  He had the sensation that he was slowly sinking into an abyss where there was no light.  No light above, no light below, only darkness.  Was he in space?  Was he in water?  He could only feel coldness and dread, but he let the darkness take him down, down further.   

Far below him, a pale figure came into view, floating in the dark.  A pale female figure, with long silver hair floating about her head, wrapped in long lengths of woven pale blue fabric like a shroud that twisted in undulating waves around her.  He made his way down to her, knowing that it was Marathel.  She was still, not moving, her eyes closed, her face slack, but still so beautiful as she lay suspended in nothing. 

He reached out to touch her, and as his hand touched her exposed skin, it split open in a thin line, her blood seeping out in a cloud around her, and her mouth opened in a silent scream.   Panicking, he tried to take her hand, but the lines on her palm slowly ruptured, adding to the blood already floating around her.  She began to writhe, her shrouds floating away from her as she continued to sink into the darkness.  He began to hear her screaming, but the sound did not come directly from her mouth, but somewhere far away, muffled, reverberating.  As she twisted and struggled, the light blue shrouds took on the color red as blood continued to flow from her splitting skin, filling the abyss with red. 

He struggled downward, still trying to reach her before she disappeared.  Stretching as far out as he could with both hands, he was startled to find that his hands were not his own.  He knew his own hands, of course he did.  His hands were broad in the palm and thicker through the fingers; sometimes well-fitting gloves were hard to find.  These hands were long, thin, with spindly fingers and knobby knuckles, skin as pale as dead flesh.  Still, he reached out to take hold of her, to take her back with him to the surface, to take her away from wherever this was.  He just barely grazed her shoulders with the hands that were not his, and her skin split right down her spine, flaying itself into two wings that spread out from her shoulders, and she emitted the most soul-chilling shriek that continued unabated as she disappeared into the abyss. 

He cried out, reaching for her, but as she continued down, it seemed that he was being pulled up by some unseen force, and something was pummeling him as he went, ineffectual blows against his body, and his arms went up to block the blows.  Then he had the sensation of being hit very hard against his thigh, reminding him that he was not wearing his armor, and he reached out to stop his unseen assailant, wondering why he could not see, when he could hear thrashing, cries, and shrieks.   

“Marathel … what the …”. He knew it was her crying out, but he was still only half-awake, trying to shake off the remnants of his own dream, when he remembered that he had switched off the low light vision capabilities of his helmet, and he managed to get hold of one of her flailing hands as he turned the vision back on.  Marathel came into view, thrashing wildly, pulling on his grasp upon her.  He took hold of her shoulders, giving her a shake, shouting, “Marathel!  Wake up!  You’re dreaming!” 

She continued to shriek, pulling away from him, managing to fall out of the bed tick, and scrambling away from him, screaming, “NO!  Don’t touch me!  NEVER TOUCH ME AGAIN!” 

Din crawled after her, fending off her thrashing hands, wrapping his arms around her to capture her fists against his chest as she continued to wail.  “Marathel, wake up, no one is hurting you!  It’s just a dream, mesh’la!” 

Marathel screamed, “NOOOOOOO!” and got in a good punch right into Din’s throat.  She escaped his grasp and cowered next to the table.  “You lied to me; you betrayed me …” She buried her face in her hands and wept. 

Din held his throat, coughing.  He took a moment to catch his breath before moving closer to her.  “Marathel … mesh’la … you were dreaming.  No one is hurting you.” 

“You were hurting me,” she sobbed, still trembling, still not quite fully awake.  “You struck me, strangled me, and you removed your helmet, and you were the Bishop!” 

Din reached out to touch her arm, and she shrunk away against the table.  “I’m not the Bishop, Marathel, you know who I am.” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“Mesh’la …” He knew the easiest way to assuage her fear was to remove his helmet, but he couldn’t, he just couldn’t, he was barely holding on to his own sanity on this nowhere planet of hers.  He rarely dreamed, at least dreams he could remember — beyond the typical vague chase/be chased and the fuck/be fucked variety — and right now he wasn’t even sure if he was awake or not.  “I put my — the Bishop put his hands on you in your dream?”  She nodded, still wrapping herself tightly with her arms, hiding her face.  Din pulled off his gloves and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows.  “You know the Bishop’s hands, you’ve seen his hands …” He held his hands before her.  “These are not his hands, are they?  These are my hands, right?  Marathel?”   

There was such a plaintive and unstable tone in his voice that Marathel looked towards him.  Tentatively, she reached out towards his outstretched hands. 

“Please, please, mesh’la, my ma’mwsh ha’laa, tell me these are my hands, and not the Bishop’s.” 

Marathel’s shaking hands reached his, trembling as well, and as their fingers interlaced, she knew now it was only a dream, a horrible dream, the Bounty Hunter would no more hurt her than she would ever willingly wear a gown of blue. She slid on her knees over to him and wrapped her arms tightly around him, feeling his rapid heartbeat against her chest.  “You dreamed, too, Bounty Hunter?”  He nodded against her shoulder. 

“What kind of horrible place is that Hold, Marathel?” 

She sobbed, “It is … just the Hold.” 

Din pulled away from her, still somewhat panicked, pushing up her sleeves, inspecting her arms, her hands. “You’re all right though, right? You’re not bleeding?” 

“No, no …" His strange agitation was upsetting to her. “No, I’m not …" 

“Mahr? Patu?” 

Both Din and Marathel spun around to see Grogu standing there, rocking back and forth on his feet, crying pitifully. 

“Oh, ad’ika …” 

“Cwriad …” 

Din swept up the boy in his arms, and Marathel wrapped them both in hers, crooning, “My little Godynferth, did we frighten you?  We had bad dreams, my baby, nothing more.” 

“Gar morut'yc, ad’ika, gar morut'yc, you’re safe, we’re all okay,” whispered Din to Grogu as he stroked the boy’s ear.  To Marathel he said, “I think he had a nightmare, too.” 

“Oh, cwriad,” she said, gently wiping the tears from Grogu’s face.  “We are all safe.” For now. “We are all tired, and we should rest.  Come with us, we will snuggle together against bad dreams.”  Marathel stood and supported Din as he got up with Grogu wrapped tightly in his arms.  All three went back to Marathel’s bed and resettled, Din and Marathel lying on their sides facing each other, creating a barrier with Grogu in between.  Marathel stroked Grogu’s back, Din continued to stroke the boy’s ear, and the exhausted little boy fell asleep almost immediately.  “Okay?” she whispered to Din. 

“Yes.”  He pressed his shins against hers, desperate just to hold on to some part of her.  “You?” 

“Better.” 

“Good.”  He cupped her jaw and pressed his helmet to her forehead, kissing her in his way, for that would have to be enough for him.  “Gar morut’yc, mesh’la.” 

“What does that mean?” she whispered. 

“‘You’re safe.’  What does cwriad mean?” 

“‘Beloved’.” 

“I should have guessed.  It sounds very much like cyar’e.” He sounded as exhausted as he felt. “Sleep now; mhi morut’yc.” 

Marathel felt his hand relax on her face as he fell asleep again.  She was the furthest thing from safe; she would never be safe again, not after tomorrow.  Day Seven of her knowing the Bounty Hunter would be her last, and he would leave, while she would never leave this world alive. 

But she allowed herself a few tears of pure joy; her once impossible dream had come true. 

She had her own family. For now. 

You Were Marked: Next Chapter

[loudsnapdragon]

thank you to @dreamwatch for tagging me a in a little WIP Wednesday!🧡

some angsty Eddie pov, from a possible b-side to my Juno fic here.

His mama always sends him a handknitted toboggan for his birthday, or close abouts. It was November by the time it arrived this year, only two months late, wrapped up in brown paper and twine. Wayne called it handsome when Eddie pulled it over his head, the blue wool a little harsh against his dark hair but still charming in its way. He remembers her always being nimble with her fingers, whether it was knitting needles or the fine papers of rollie or the strings of that little old guitar painted silly colors.

It was a pretty thing, that guitar. A Rickenbacker acoustic with pink and blue daisies around the pick guard. It got her into a lot of trouble, that guitar.

There’s this old boozer off Main St. It’s where the plant workers go; Wayne and his buddies. Eddie only set foot inside once, twelve years old and fucking terrified cos’ he’d lost his keys, and the frozen trailer door wasn’t budging like it usually did when he shimmied the handle. Dragging his feet through the snow and biting his lip blue. Expecting the complete stranger he’d only recently been informed was his uncle, and the only living relative fit to care for him, to slap him backwards for losing the keys to the trailer Eddie’d no doubt already tarnished with his mere presence.

He remembers the shock of warmth when he walked out the cold of his first Hawkins’ winter and into the red carpeted bar. The way the glowing neons behind the counter were blocked out by the bartender towering over him, asking if he knew where he was. Eddie wasn’t one for biting his tongue, never has been, but he didn’t answer. Too distracted by the guitarist in the corner, twanging strings waving under his fat fingers. Odd music, not quite like home. Wherever that was. But it got the liquored up oldies at the bar waving their beers, cheerily mumbling along to the too-fast words.

Wayne spotted him soon enough. And cos’ he’s an old sweetheart, he barely bat an eyelid at his night ending early. Walked Eddie home and showed him the spare hidden in a knot in the punk wood under the doormat. Eddie sat up on the kitchen counter, cos’ he was small enough to do that back then, chewing on a fresh grilled cheese as Wayne pottered around the stove, making himself a black coffee to sober up before bed. With a decisive swing of his feet against the cabinets, Eddie decided the curiosity beat out the constant low-lying fear that he was impeding on Wayne’s everything, and asked after the music. It sounded like mama’s songs, he said. Back when she still played.

And Wayne sighed like a tire wheezing out the last of its air, the car crashing into the side of the highway. Made Eddie freeze his short legs, hanging perpendicular off the counter.

'Sorry,' he said.

'It’s alright,' Wayne said, putting down his coffee and helping Eddie jump down. ;Get to bed, and I’ll tell ya.'

He’d never had his own bed before. Always slept in his mama’s bed back in Virginia, and then, when he was with Teddy, it was the loveseat under the apartment window. Never any curtains, so the streetlights would bother him all night, morning sun waking him up early enough so he could dust down the living room, make Teddy a coffee, and then go about pretending he didn't exist. As was best to do when he was staying there.

But Wayne gave up the bedroom when Eddie moved in, telling Eddie to make it his own. He hasn’t got much décor to show for it; a snapshot of his mama above the bedside lamp; some rocks he’d found in the creek back home; the leather jacket Teddy had given him as way of an apology, too big for a child and falling apart at the seams.

Wayne pulled up the rickety chair to sit by the bed, like he’d be telling Eddie a fairy tale. But Wayne’s never been that fanciful, who’s got time for that, so it was a real story. More truth than Eddie had ever heard before.

A very pretty lady came rolling down the mountains to stay with her auntie and get her high school diploma. Hawkins’ High didn’t know how to comprehend her, this skinny girl with straw hair and strange words and a face that got Ted Wheeler nearly giving it all up just to take her to Prom. But Ted didn’t win her hand, cos’ the pretty lady had her eyes set on a life beyond the better-to-do suburbs. She wanted to travel to the real city, see the big wide world and where she fit into it. Poor as pieces she was, made ends meet with a job cleaning at the luxury motel off the highway, and on occasion singing a tune around town. Wayne always wondered after her, how safe she was playing her silly guitar in those smoky bars. He was ought to be graduating the same year as her, couldn’t deny he’d blush when she smiled so earnest in the hallways, like she’d never learnt the high-mindedness that Karen Childress got her kicks from. But where Wayne kept his distance, his big brother crept forwards.

Edward Munson has four years over Wayne, four years more than Eliza too.

When he’s older, Eddie will hear the odd story about Teddy around town. How he was a charmer, a crook, a cheat, but more often than not, how he was the handsomest man his dear mama ever saw. He found her playing guitar in that old boozer, watched her intently as he sipped on a whiskey he didn’t pay for, tipped her mighty with cash he won fair and square in a pool game against Lonnie Byers, or so he claimed. Teddy told that girl she had a voice made for the West, how her yellow hair would light up like golden sand under the sun.

Three months later and she was expecting, one month more and they were married, and she’d dropped out of high school. Another month after, and Teddy ran off solo to the coast, leaving Eliza on the Munson’s family’s doorstep, begging her mother-in-law to lend a helping hand. Wayne put in a good word for he, he swore he did. Told his mom that Eliza was a good girl who been screwed over by the slimiest Munson there was. But his mom had a soft spot for her eldest, and the besotted kindness didn’t extend to the witch who’d stolen him away.

So, Eliza went hitchhiking back to Virginia, her aunt having lost her wits and screeching that there was no hope for her left in Hawkins, and Edward Munson Jr. was born by a woodstove on the brick floor of his nana’s house in the mountains.

[dontmindifidontt]

EARLY MORNINGS AND OVERTIME | Nanami Kento x Reader JJK fanfic | Chapter 14: At Last (FINAL CHAPTER)

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Reader (fem, first person pov) Word count: 5347 Fic Summary: A smutty fic in which Nanami Kento brightens up the mundane, flour-dusted life a college dropout working in a bakery.   Chapter Summary: After seemingly walking into a trap, our baker must find a way to get herself free. No smut warnings this chapter.

Read on AO3. Masterlist. | Previous Chapter  |

This isn’t good. This isn’t fucking good. I look around frantically, searching for the source of the noise but there’s nothing to be seen. Even with the help of my glasses I quickly threw on, I still can’t see whatever is steadily closing in on me.

How could I have led myself into a trap like this? I ended up doing the exact thing I was afraid of… I ended things with Nanami because I didn’t want this exact scenario to happen.

Then again, if he’s not here to witness what happens next, I guess I succeeded in at least part of my goal in separating myself from him. He may never know what happened to me but hopefully he’ll assume I just ghosted him and lived the rest of my life in safety - not that I met whatever terrible end I’m about to meet.

He can’t ever know I ended up like this… the thought of him being devastated brings me to the brink of sobs. I clutch my hand to my mouth instinctively, holding back tears or vomit or screams - at this point I could hardly tell.

But I have to focus if I want even the slimmest chance of walking out of here. Ever since I spent a week of training at the cabin with Nanami I’ve been keeping a small slicing knife from work sheathed on my leg. I’d normally use it for cutting precise layers of cake to carefully stack atop each other. Now, I can only hope it’ll be enough to thwart whatever intelligent cursed spirit has been stalking me in this alley. I know I need to exorcise it to make this cat-and-mouse game end once and for all, but I don’t know if I’m even capable of that right now. And without Nanami in the picture to help me learn… I try not to think about what that means for my likely short future.

Something crashes against a dumpster across the alley again, snapping me out of my daze. Three rodents quickly scurry out from underneath the heap of trash as if they’ve been spooked.

I need to remember every single piece of training Nanami taught me. We never made it to close combat, but hopefully I can prevent the curse from getting close enough to try.

Pulling the short but sharp slicing knife from its sheath with shaky hands, I raise it up chest-height in a protective stance. Elbow bent straight ahead, forearm parallel with my chest, palm facing down… I grip the hilt of it as hard as I can while my eyes desperately scan the street for a clear view of the circling cursed spirit.

I slowly turn in a tight circle, subconsciously stepping off the sidewalk and into the empty road. I’d rather be in an open road than stand too close to the nearby building and risk having my back to the wall without means to escape. I already feel vulnerable enough as it is, I don’t need to make myself an easier target.

A snuffling, gasping sound snaps my attention to another narrow alley down the desolate road. I’m officially not alone.

My eyes widen as I attempt to make out the figure peeking out from around the side of the building. The first thing I notice are the claw-tipped dark green hands covered in spores and scratch marks. The skin covering this being is scaly yet blemished with golf ball-sized lumps as if it’s filled with air bubbles vying to break the surface.

Just the upper half of its head is peeking out, but I can see all I need to see in order to know I should be very, very afraid. There are no recognizable features in any place you would expect them to be on a person’s head. Three rounded eyes dot its face in a triangle-shaped pattern: two spread apart on each side and one at the top. Each eye’s pupil is spinning in a different direction, yet I can somehow feel all of its attention on me. Even from this front-facing view I can see its neck protruding from its head. Instead of being located at the base, it sprouts upward from the back of its head. It seems to curve downward towards the rest of its body, as if the head and body are connected by a bent straw. There is no mouth or nose to be seen, but I don’t doubt there are terrifying rows of sharp teeth lining its gums.

A flicker of light catches my eye, and I quickly shoot my glance back to the space in front of me. I began shaking so much that the thin streak of sunlight peeking through the clouds reflected off my knife like a mirror. I give a half sigh of relief to know I caused the flicker myself and swiftly bring my eyes back to the alley to focus on the threat at hand.

It’s empty. There’s no hands, no glimpse of a head. No curse to be seen at the edge of the alley anymore.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit. How could I take my eyes off it for even a second?! Now I nee-

Pure panic takes over every cell of my body. In the brief second since I looked away, the curse quickly advanced in my direction and is now blocking my entire field of view. It’s so close I can smell the rancid odor leaking from its skin - a mixture of garbage and spoiled milk.

If I didn’t already know I was being hunted by a curse I would have never believed that this horrifying-looking creature is the same type of being as the flyhead. There are absolutely no similarities between the borderline innocent-looking flyheads and what appears before me.

I was right about the teeth: they’re razor-sharp and there’s rows upon rows of them. But I was wrong to expect they’d be found on its head. Instead, there’s a grinning, teeth-filled mouth on each long limb: towards the end of each forearm and ankle. They’re positioned as if made for kicking or striking its victim while simultaneously biting down on its flesh. It’s a design of nightmares.

Before I can gulp down my sheer terror, a shrill, cackling laugh begins to bubble up out of all four mouths of the cursed spirit. It’s ear-piercing and nearly causes me to drop my knife while reaching for my ears. I’m gripping the sides of my head when the laugh turns into a scream that unexpectedly launches me backward, as if blown by an invisible wind.

I hit the ground in an instant, landing with a backwards somersault. I thankfully avoid an injury to my head due to my hands still being tightly gripped to the sides of it. I shuffle backwards hastily, scuttling my palms and feet on the hard pavement.

After collecting my bearings, I reposition the knife in my hand into a throwing position - there’s no way this will do me any good up close. If I want to have any chance of making it out of here, it seems I’ll need to rely on my good aim to hit at least one eye on the terrifying creature and run.

Steadying my breathing, I rise up on my feet and lift my arm above my head, ready to launch the knife that’s already become slick with sweat in my palm.

The curse hasn’t even moved from the same spot in the road, although that terrifying and haunting cackle has begun to bubble up out of its mouths again.

I train my eyes to the mouth on its left ankle… it seems like the target I’m most likely to hit.

With a deep inhale, I remember the hours of practice I spent aiming my throwing knives at the cabin with Nanami. How he made me hit the same target on a far away tree trunk over and over again. Until I learned how to still hit my target even with distractions. With the way he distracted me.How he took his time slowly lifting his hand up my thigh until he cupped me aching between my legs.

The maniacal cackle of the curse snaps me out of my memory of Nanami. If this throw doesn’t work, if it doesn’t give me a chance to run and get away safely, I’m at least glad I got to spend just a second in my mind with a fond memory of Nanami. I don’t want to die without at least the briefest moment of peace that only he can bring me.

Flexing the muscles of my arm, I grip the knife even tighter and throw. It sails through the air faster than any practice throw I’ve done, and looks to be exactly on track to hit the ankle-mouth I aimed for. I ready myself to run once I see it hit its mark.

Still soaring, the knife is just inches away from the now eerily-silent curse when it suddenly darts away in a flash to dodge the weapon. Without warning the curse once again materializes beside me in an instant, this time on my left. Again, I see each of its mouths open wide and scream, blasting me off my feet in the process. I fly through the air for barely a second before hitting the wall of the building I previously stepped away from. The force knocks the air out of me and snaps my head to the side hard enough to see stars. I’m unable to break my fall to the ground and cry out at the pain of my legs folding as I hit the pavement.

Every fiber of my being feels unbearable with pain and shock, but I can’t let myself stay down and vulnerable to attack. I attempt to scramble back up to my feet as fast as possible so I can reorient myself and decide what to do next. Panting, my eyes dart around in search for the curse but it’s nowhere to be found.

If I was panicking before I’m absolutely frozen in fear now. The curse is nowhere to be seen and I’m now weapon-less. Shaking, my eyes continue to scan every inch of the road in front of me desperate to s-

Without warning I hear the third shriek and feel the blasting wind of the curse knocking me completely off my feet - this time landing further down the road. There’s no doubt in my mind I must have broken or at least dislocated one of my arms now. The pain is past the point of ignoring and tears are silently filling and falling out the corners of my eyes. I instinctively wipe one away and realize why the curse took me completely off guard - my glasses are gone.

Disoriented and confused, I look back to where I was first thrown against the hard exterior of the building. There on the ground, shattered and bent, are the one thing that allowed me to see curses and have a fighting chance out of getting here alive: my glasses.

A sob tears out of me at the sight of them completely destroyed and unusable. I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms over the top of my head in a panicked fetal position. I’m done for. Absolutely done for. And I didn’t even stand a chance. Or save Nanami any of the heartbreak - I’ll still getting killed by this goddamn curse even after all the terrible things I said to break up with him. I should have known this plan would have never worked.

I hear the guttural cackling of the curse return and realize this must be the end for me. If this is how I go, I can’t do it cowering on the ground. Using my one good arm, I press my palm to the pavement and slowly begin to rise to my feet so I can at least prove to myself I’m still strong enough to die standing.

Each vertebrae in my back feels battered and bruised as I extend it to stand. Before I reach my full height, I’m nearly knocked back down for another reason. The curse hasn’t attacked, but it must have been aiming to, because before I can even hear a shriek I see the familiar, strong body I’ve come to love so goddamn much dive in front of me. Nanami found me. He came back to me. Even after all I said.

He shouts at me to run while winding up his arm to deal a strong blow to the now invisible curse with his weapon. I can hear the impact despite not having my glasses on to see the actual strike to the curse. I’m thankful to hear a horrific yelp from the curse after Nanami’s weapon makes contact, but Nanami doesn’t seem to be relieved or at ease from the looks of his body language. He’s immediately readying his weapon again, running to the side at an impossibly fast pace to strike his weapon again. This time, it looks to have been a defensive hit, as though the curse was already recovered from whatever damage his first hit did.

“I said RUN!” Nanami barks breathlessly without looking in my direction. I realize I’ve remained wide-eyed where I once stood, though now I’m back to a seated position since getting knocked over by Nanami’s defensive dive in front of me. The short but strong burst of energy that coursed through me to stand up earlier is now gone, and I’m afraid I don’t even have it in me to run at this point.

Just as I debate crawling in a desperate attempt to find cover, I see Nanami get thrown aside as if the curse just picked him up by the shoulder and tossed him like a doll. He’s able to land on his feet in crouch much more deftly than I did, but it’s still obvious he’s hurt.

I must have gasped aloud in the process because Nanami once again shouts at me to get out of here, this time barely getting the words out without a sputtering cough. I can tell he’s hurt - probably worse than he’s even letting show.

I’m in no condition to help him though, am I? No weapon, no strength, not to mention zero ability to even see the enemy we’re up against. All I have is myself. But I can’t fail him again today.

If this curse truly has the upper hand and I’m not able to escape my fate afterall, I have to at least use the last tool I have left: myself. I can distract this curse with myself. This way, I’m not failing Nanami by lying to him about wanting to break up or worse, by dying in a way he thinks is his fault. I can choose to get up and walk back towards Nanami and this invisible curse blindly, meeting my fate and showing Nanami its not his fault. Then, he’ll have the chance to use this distraction as opportunity to get away and save himself.

It doesn’t take me long to decide on what I have to do. If I’m being honest with myself, I’m not really distraught at the fact I’m willing to sacrifice myself to a horrendous monster. Not the possible pain, or suffering. Rather, the only thing that’s upsetting me is knowing that this means my time with Nanami is really over for good.

I take a deep breath to muster the courage to stand just as Nanami is knocked to the ground again. He’s been striking the curse time and time again, and yet it isn’t preventing him from being overpowered.

He still hasn’t gotten up yet… I know it’s time for me to do what I have to do. And hopefully spare his life in the process. I hope he can forgive me.

“Here, over here!” I shout the words as loud as I can despite the cramped feeling in my lungs. I’m pushing myself off the ground and onto my feet as quickly as I can, though it feels like it takes me an entirety to get upright. As I stand at my full height, I raise my one good arm and flail it aimlessly - unsure where the curse is located but drawing attention to myself nonetheless.

I have to take one last look at Nanami, to tell him what he needs to do.

Swallowing air and fighting back tears, I turn my head to his direction and force out the words in one quick sentence: “I didn’t mean what I said.. You have the chance to get away now.. I’m sorry-”

Just as Nanami’s eyes widen and jaw drops in understanding, I feel a giant, scaly body tackle mine to the ground and everything goes black.

…….......................................………

The afterworld, or heaven, or wherever I am right now feels nice. Calm. It feels… serene. I’m not scared or nursing any broken bones back to health. I’m not even sad about leaving Nanami - because he’s here.

By “here” I mean the nondescript Parisian bakery Nanami was referring to when describing our imagined proposal story. I’m living out that day, here in the bakery and the park with him. The bread we pick out tastes more delicious than anything I’ve ever had, and the champagne he pops for us once I say yes and slip on the ring tastes like stars in a glass. All of my senses are heightened here in the most pleasurable way. And everything looks more beautiful - including Nanami. He looks happier than I’ve ever seen him, and so carefree. I’ve never seen him this at ease. Maybe it’s be-

The sense that my body is rolling uncontrollably is confusing at first but quickly shocks me with alertness. My ears are ringing, my clothes are tattered, and my lungs are burning from a lack of oxygen. I’m alive…? At least barely it seems.

Getting tackled by the cursed spirit must have knocked me out. I’ve never experienced any type of dream state like that before. I can’t waste time dwelling on it though since I’m now back in the fray. I expect to hear scuffling feet and heavy breathing and clashing of weapons, but there’s none of that. It’s totally silent.

I’m finally able to fully open my eyes and reorient myself to my surroundings. I’m still here on the same road since I was tackled, but that doesn’t help the confusion.

I’m on high alert in case the curse pounces on me once again, but I don’t hear its cackling laugh or pointed claws or anything. I don’t hear anything. Even Nanami…

A new level of fear sinks in as I spot Nanami. My voice is so hoarse that the shocked cry I involuntarily make doesn’t quite come out. I lurch forward on all four aching limbs, desperately trying to propel myself closer and get to the collapsed, non-moving body across the narrow roadway.

My brain and body barely feel connected or functional - all I can think and see and do and feel is try to get to him. In what feels like days I’m able to drag myself over to him and throw myself on top of him. He’s on his side with his back to me, so I have to drape myself over his shoulder to see his face and check to see if he’s breathing or conscious.

His eyes are open, his chest is repeatedly rising with shaky breaths, and he’s… alive. I garble out another cry at the relief and shock. He’s alive and yet he’s still here unmoving and probably gravely injured.

I lick my lips to attempt to speak, but before I can utter a word he slowly drags his eyes to the side and turns his head towards me. He looks almost catatonic without expression, but the moment he turns enough to see my face he’s overcome with a look of sheer relief and sadness.

“I thought… I thought…” the words are barely coming out, but I know exactly what Nanami means when he says it.

“I’m alright, I’m here,” I respond - trying to convince both him and myself I’m still alive. There’s so many things I need to tell him… but first, I need to know if we’re still in danger. I have no idea if the curse is still around or if he managed to exorcise it. Clearly he didn’t run away as I had planned. “Is… did you exorcise it?” I’m practically shaking with nerves at the prospect of having to continue facing this thing.

Nanami still can’t quite form any words, but I know things are going to be okay when I see him nod slowly. I practically collapse against him, wrapping him in my arms once again and sobbing into his chest to hear that we’re not being hunted anymore. I can tell he’s crying too because I feel the shake of his chest.

We continue to hold each other, exhausted, in this heap for a moment until all the words I need to say to him come flooding back.

“I’m sorry,” I start to spurt out while slowly raising myself to a seated position. “I’m sorry for everything. I thought I could fix things and save you by telling you we were done and then when that failed I thought I could save you by buying you time and sacrificing myself in the process and that didn’t-” I’m cut off when Nanami manages to pull himself up as well and promptly leans in to kiss me mid sentence. He envelops my mouth and slowly works his tongue past my lips and it feels like he’s kissing me like its the last time. It really almost was.

He only pulls back to say, “I didn’t mean what I said either. About not being able to picture us together for the long term. I can picture it, clear as day… and that’s why I was so scared. I said I couldn’t promise a lifelong commitment because I was scared a situation like this would interrupt that commitment. And it almost did-”

“Stop,” I cut him off, tears still brimming in my eyes as I hold his face. “It didn’t. I tried to do the same thing and predict the future but it didn’t work. Of course my plan didn’t work. I thought that whatever curse was threatening you with taunts to hurt me would see us break up and wouldn’t be able to use me as a pawn anymore. But of course that wouldn’t work. Abruptly breaking up doesn’t change the fact that you would still be devastated if I got hurt… The curse would still get its revenge against you, breakup or not…” How could I have been so clueless? I start to beat myself up but realize I did the same thing as Nanami - the fear prevented me from thinking clearly. Also, part of me starts to feel an overwhelming surge of heartbreaking love for Nanami. He still cares so deeply for me no matter what, even after all I said. I thought I could release him from the trap of my fate, but now I realize those fears weren’t my fate - no one else decides my fate but me. I’m strong enough, (I’ve been taught well,) and risks don’t scare me anymore.

“We can’t predict the future,” I continue on, “and I won’t let you sacrifice your own happiness for the sake of my perceived safety. And I won’t let myself do it either. We owe that to each other and ourselves. I didn’t mean it when I said I didn’t want to be with you because your life and work is so risky - I only said that because I foolishly thought I’d be saving you the heartbreak.” If the situation wasn’t so dire I might even laugh at the irony of how we’ve nearly killed one another in our clueless attempts to save each other.

‘If you can’t promise me a future that has you safe in it, then I never want to see you again.’ My past words haunts me. How I thought hearing this would be easier on him than taking our chances getting hurt in the future is now a mystery to me. Now, I don’t care about a promised future, I just want to start my future with him at my side.

“We can’t control what dangerous, shitty situations are going to come our way whether we’re together or not - so why deny ourselves the chance to at least be happy in the meantime?”

Nanami looks at me with such genuine, emotional longing that I nearly start crying all over again. I can tell he has a million words to get out as well but is still so shocked by my near-death that it’s difficult to speak. “We… we can move away from here. Leave the city where cursed energy is higher and go further out of town.”

“Yes!” I completely agree without question. I can tell he never wants to experience this scenario again, and I don’t blame him. And, I want him to be safe. I want to see him be carefree and at ease the way I did in my dream. “What about the cabin? We can go there as soon as we get healed and figure it out from there. I’ll go anywhere with you.”

His eyes seem to spark back to life a bit at the suggestion. He starts to smile and nods in agreement before kissing me again. It feels impossible to pull myself away again, but making sure he’s physically okay is more important right now. I start to scan over his body, looking for broken bones or bloodstains. Apart from the same road rash I’m sporting, he doesn’t seem to be in as bad of shape as I thought. Still, we both will need help to heal. “We need to get to a hospital-”

He raises his hand to stop me and explain that he has a colleague who can help us. He’s able to reach for his phone and call them right away.

We continue to sit side by side, waiting for one of his jujutsu peers to pick us up so we can be healed. I’m not sure what that entails but I trust him.

Just as a black sedan begins to pull up to the curb, Nanami turns to me again before standing. “Seeing you hurt like that… and thinking you were gone, I…” he chokes up, unable to finish the sentence. He gulps and inhales before starting again, “I need to know I’m doing all I can to protect you and prevent that from happening ever again.” Another inhale. “I’ve always hated jujutsu sorcery, and now more so than ever. It can’t… it won’t be a part of my life again.”

I stare, confused, at his face. He looks determined and decided.

“I have the ability to see and sense curses still, that’s not going to change… but I’m choosing to distance myself from jujutsu.” We’re both standing now as the car pulls up, and he looks deep into my eyes as he reaches to open the door for me and says, “What’s important to me now is making a commitment to truly enjoy a restful life… with you.”

My response comes as easily as loving him does, “I like the sound of that.”

………….......................................................……….

Two Months Later

Packing up all our belongings from the cabin is an odd feeling. Not odd in a bad way, but odd in a too good way. Nanami and I have spent the time to heal our wounds physically and emotionally. Seeing me collapse took a toll on Nanami that was hard to shake. Thankfully, stepping away from the city and its overflow of cursed energy was the right move.

Now, we can spend the warm afternoons drinking tea on the small table in the backyard, and spend the chilly evenings snuggling in bed with the windows cracked. This is the first time we’ve really felt peaceful together.

The only reason we’re packing to leave is because Nanami bought us a place of our own! It’s even further out of town and on a bigger piece of land, so we really get the chance to tuck ourselves away in our own little world. I cannot wait to finish packing the car and making the drive over there this afternoon. I plan to surprise Nanami by growing a garden in the yard with all sorts of different herbs and veggies. That way I can experiment with cooking new types of savory breads and pastries for him to try.

With the last of my small bags in hand (Nanami wouldn’t let me carry out any of the heavier ones,) I pull the front door of the cabin shut behind me and walk out to the car. Nanami is there loading up the open trunk with the larger boxes, and smiles as soon as he catches sight of me.

I give him a quick kiss as soon as I step up close to him, and he puts his hand on my back before quickly moving it under the bag’s strap on my shoulder. He swiftly lifts the bag off my shoulder and places it gently in the trunk. I can’t help but smile at the simple kindness he shows me every day without even thinking twice about it.

“We’re just about ready to go,” he lets me know while shifting some of the boxes in the trunk to make room for the remainders. “I just need to move one more thing back here - can you hand me that container to your right?”

I look to the stack of boxes he’s referring to and grab the small open container from the top of the stack. There’s an envelope peeking out addressed to me. Holding it between my fingers, I turn back to Nanami and ask what it’s for.

“Open and take a look,” he replies with a sly yet innocent smile.

Curious, I pull open the envelope and reach inside for its contents: two small pieces of paper. I hold them in my hand and keep reading them over and over again, unable to believe my eyes.

Inside the envelope are two tickets for a flight to Paris.

....

After much deliberation I decided on making this a happily ever after afterall <3333 our fave worker bees deserve it fr :’( THNK U all for coming along this journey with me - it’s the first fic i’ve ever published and there were times i never thought i’d be able to finish it. writers block gets so real. but its my love for these characters and stories that motivates me to stay creative and i love them for that:)

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