#double wide basking spot now to cover full body

[fbwzoo]

New year, new viv!

Finally got the 4x2x2 viv set up for Ed yesterday! I want to get some more bigger branches and rocks for it, but I suppose this is a decent start. He seems to like his new basking box so far! I didn't get to watch, but he did manage to get down to his salad & back up on it, so hopefully that was done without falling. 😅 His mobility is so much better, but I'm still anxious.

[shiyorin]

Hope I’m not late! Could be any primarch/space marine either before or after corruption.May I ask about the raping of some serf that had fallen asleep near the chambers? And due to loneliness and being fucking pent up they grope her and after some quite while suddenly are balls deep, with her still asleep. Cut to the a year later, ship’s full of rumours. Well, serfs giving birth isn’t exatcly something weird. The child just becomes like their mother later on...but this child is just weird and growing abnormaly. The fate of them both is also yours to decide...to be either unrealistic taking the serf in due to regretable night or more plausable execution of a newborn due to them being a mutant❤️

#Why did I choose TS? I don't know, random.org said so.

#Unnamed Thousand Sons x F!Reader

#Rape, noncon, NSFW, somnophilia, there is a description of pregnancy,...

#I'm bad with summary so I won't do anything with it.

You won't wake up soon.

The sorcerer stares down at your sleeping form. His mind trick has you trapped in a deep slumber, completely at his mercy. 

He's not sure why he did it, casting that subtle hypnosis when he spotted you drifting off alone in this dusty hab-room. Maybe it was the warp's dark desires, twisting his thoughts to sinister temptation. Or maybe it was just the primal, feral urges every Astartes struggles to contain.

All he knows is seeing your exhausted body sprawled out there, so soft and vulnerable, awakened something... wrong inside him. Something that made his double-hearts feel way too confining.

This was wrong. Profane, even. You were just a lowly serf, an insignificant mortal whose only purpose was servitude. But those thoughts couldn't stop the Astartes from reaching out with his gauntlets and roughly gathering you into his embrace.

He wraps his huge arms around you, pulling you into his embrace effortlessly. Your body feels so tiny and delicate compared to his towering transhuman bulk. Just a fragile little mortal sack of flesh and bone, a helpless mortal compared to his might.

You were so light, so fragile in his arms. Your head lolled back, mouth parting slightly as you remained trapped in that unnatural slumber. He nuzzled his face against the warm, soft skin of your throat and inhaled deeply. Your warmth and sweet scent quickly enflames his senses with fresh desire.

Holding you tightly against his huge chest, he slowly ran his tongue along the delicate seam of your lips. No resistance, not even a flutter of awakening as your breath was stolen away. He tasted you greedily, feeling your chest rise and fall with panicked panting, but you didn't wake. How deliciously helpless you were in this state...

His massive hands slide down to squeeze and palm your tender, yielding curves as he grinds his hips against you forcefully.

"Such a little mortal" he growls in a deep tone. He could crush you without even trying... but why he should do that?

As the sorcerer pulls your limp, sleeping form against the throbbing heat of his crotch. He basks in the psionic feedback of your peacefully dreaming mind, aroused by its blissful innocence even as he feeds his corrupting taint into your subconscious.

His long tongue slithers out of his fanged maw, coiling between your parted lips to plunder the sweet recesses of your mouth. Deeper and deeper it plunges as he steals your breath away. What little air remains gets crushed from your lungs as he smashes his body against yours in an embrace.

But despite all of that, the mind-trick holds your consciousness fast. You remain completely unaware, slumbering on as a helpless dreamer in this waking nightmare.

"Exquisite..." The sorcerer's graveled whispers drip with heady arousal as he drags his rough calloused palms over every inch of your exposed skin.

With one overpowered tug, he rips away the flimsy rags covering your body. Now you lay nude and exposed, your most intimate places to his gaze. He feasts upon the glorious, forbidden vista with  eyes wide and shimmering with unholy ecstasy.

You're perfect. Every sumptuous curve and swell crafted with such artful elegance. Those ripe breasts, those sculpted feminine ridges and valleys, all brought into sharp relief by the Astartes' deeply lurid perception.

He trails his rough, calloused finger-pads over each exquisite inch of your prone flesh, drunk on the maddening sensory feedback. The texture, the warmth, the softness… like spun silk and liquid fire all at once.

His fanged maw gapes open in a silent moan as his grip grows more forceful and possessive. You remain dead to the world, locked away in his psychic trance.

A burning ache blossomed in his loins as he imagined all the things he could do. He could take his cock out and rut against your limp body right here, smearing your pretty face and tattered robes with ropy strands of hot semen. He could spread your thighs and shove himself into your vulnerable, unmapped entrance while you slept on, blissfully unaware.  

The thought made him shudder with blasphemous, warp-spawned ecstasy. He could defile you completely, utterly take possession of your mortal body for his own cravings. And you wouldn't remember a thing when the spell was lifted. Unless... he wanted you to.

Spurred on by this lack of resistance, the sorcerer's remaining inhibitions start to crumble like papyrus in a bonfire. His hands grow ever bolder and more rapacious, groping and mauling with shameless entitlement now. He sneers with sadistic glee as pale blue-purple bruises begin blossoming across your skin under his crushing grip.

You shift in his crushing grip, legs parting unconsciously as the psyker starts grinding his growing erection against your hips.

Your limp head lolls bonelessly, eyes closed and mouth slightly parted in a way that makes his cock throb. Groaning, he pulls your face against the sweaty cables of his neck and just breathes you in. Hands roaming, groping at the soft flesh of your rear and inner thighs. He hooks his fingers into the waistline of your skirt and briefs, tugging them down with a single, impatient yank.

Feverishly, he undoes his undercarriage, letting his huge, throbbing erection spring free in all its purplish, vein-laced glory. He groaned as his calloused palm wrapped around the swollen shaft, working the sensitive tip in slow, teasing strokes. Ropes of clear pre-seed immediately wept from his slit, painting your bare thigh in sticky trails. You didn't even flinch, totally enslaved in your sleep.

The psyker aimed his bloated cockhead at your exposed slit. He roughly shoving two fingers into your silken depths. You were drenched but still incredibly tight, an irresistible combination that made his cock jump needily.

With a feral grunt, he lined up the broad tip of his manhood and started pushing forward. Inch by deliciously snug inch, you were forced to accommodate his girth. Your body stretched around the invading member, your petals straining wide yet somehow accepting every last vein-ridged inch within.

The sorcerer gasped as your molten sheath swallowed him to the hilt.... you're so wet, so tight. He'd never experienced anything like the heavenly friction clenching down on his cock.

Unable to restrain himself a second longer, he pulled back until just his flared tip remained, then slammed home again. And again. His massive hips quickly worked up to a merciless piston, tramming his full length inside you over and over with a force.

All you could do was weakly squirm and whimper, mouth gaping in a silent scream as your womb was ruthlessly battered. But in your mind, you were drifting through shifting dreamscapes completely unaware of the blessed rapture rocking your mortal body.

So small, so damnably fragile... But taking every vein-slathered inch of a psyker's cock like it was nothing. He moaning, slamming you with each powerful thrust. His hands burned blistered prints into your delicate skin from how tightly he gripped your thighs.

The pistoning echoed loudly in the vaulted chamber. The sorcerer's amplified endurance and stamina meant he could have taken you for hours on end before feeling the need to peak. But the sleek, molten friction on his cock and the view of your helpless body quickly proved too much.

His growling breaths grew more labored as he chased his climax. His balls drew up tight, swollen with a massive backup of pent-up seed just waiting for release.

With a few more strokes, the psyker growl as he reached his limit. His jaw strained wide open in blissful torment as his cock spasmed violently, erupting thick ropes of burning issue straight into your waiting womb.

He hilted balls deep, trapped there in ecstasy as his cock throbbed and pulsed, absolutely flooding your depths with endless waves. It pumped into you in such massive quantities that his seed had nowhere to go, squirting back around his buried shaft in a hot, sticky rush.

The torrent of seed utterly stuffed your belly, rounding it into an obscene bulge until excess streamed down your thighs in ropy trails. He groaned gutturally, never having unleashed such a ferocious explosion of relief before.

Eventually, the last few weak spurts oozed from his tip. But still he didn't withdraw, hips remaining flush so his cock could marinate in that sloppy mess of frothing nectar and cream. He cradled you close, uncaring for the sticky mess as you laid bonelessly against his.

Your bruised, cum-stuffed body draped so perfectly over his own. Your soft, shallow breaths tickling his cheek as he nuzzled into the crook of your throat. He nipped at the sweat-pearled flesh there affectionately, fangs grazing without breaking skin as his hands roamed over your pleasantly rounded curves in reverent strokes.

What was this emotion settling over him? It wasn't lust or hunger driving him to use you l anymore. Those intense urges had been scratched, at least for the time being. No, this felt... more?

Like he wanted to do more for you. He wanted to protect you, care for you in a deeper sense. Keep you close by his side. He wanted you to feel comfort and pleasure, not just to provide your own.

Is this what being a "lover" felt like? Of course, he knew the definition of "lover" by heart. But....

Some profound emotional bond he may have sacrificed the ability to feel when he gave himself wholly to his new life. But looking at your marked, debased body somehow made him almost... wistful. As if he once knew something warm and beautiful that had been shorn away, leaving only this raw desire behind.

Maybe if it was him in the past, he could understand. He could not recall that ghost of his former self, no matter how his battered soul scraped those old wounds... but the longing remained all the same.

With a shuddery sigh, the psyker merely pulled you tighter against his. His corrupted flesh could no longer feel such superficial things like warmth or softness, yet he still clung to you with desperate fierceness. He would sate his lusts over and over again on your lush form until the next battle urged his abilities forth once more.

And until then... just maybe he could pretend, for a few fleeting moments at least, you were something more than that. Maybe you are his 'lover'

Just wait until you wake up…

****

The halls of the Immaterium were a formless void of madness and eternity. A place outside the constraints of linear time where even the most stalwart minds could be swallowed whole by the hellish tides of Chaos.

How long had he been adrift within that nightmarish un-reality? He'd lost all sense of self, allowing his immortal essence to fray and fragment amidst frenzies of eldritch horrors. Just another hollowed husk withering amongst the psychic howls echoing from distant, unknown dimensions.

Until... he felt it. A familiar spark amidst the madness, drawing his frenzied consciousness like a beacon in the abyssal murk.  

A soul - small, achingly mortal, yet blazing with the warm light of life he'd all but forgotten existed beyond the immortal pollution of the Immaterium. He instinctively anchored himself there, clawing his way back into the corporeal plane to coalesce around that guttering ember of temporal existence.

Reality bled back into shrieking focus all at once. The sorcerer gasped, feeling the first touch of atmosphere scorching his lungs after an endless sojourn breathing naught but howling insanity. His eyes snapped open, revealing a blasted cityscape that stank of death and plasmic fire.

Wails of anguish echoed all around him as refugees fled the ruins in panicked droves. Overhead, the roar of engines and explosions painted the smog-choked skyline in crimson and gold. He stood in the middle of a ruined crossroads, his armor thrumming with barely-leashed arcane might.

And there... huddled in the bombed-out remains of what may have been a domicile, he saw you. His anchor, his tether to sanity in this mortal realm. Clutching a tiny, frail thing to your breast and shaking with terror that etched lines of exhaustion into your face.

A child. Your child, he realized through the haze of recognition clouding his enhanced mind. So young, its life newly-kindled... but somehow already stamped with his brand. Intrinsically linked to his.

He remember it...

He came back for you.

He extended one taloned gauntlet, feeling ethereal tendrils of energy reaching out to the two terrified souls before him...

[shipmistress9]

Trust

Fandom: HTTYD

Rating: E

Pairing: Hiccup/Astrid

Tags: #Fairy AU #Explicit Sexual Content #BDMS #Bondage #Oral #Edging #Dirty Talk #Praise Kink #Ropes #subcup #Domstrid #Vaginal Sex #Soulmates #wing stimulation #Orgasm Delay            

Summary: Hiccup and Astrid have been together for a long while. When Hiccup asks for a certain scene for their love life, Astrid is overwhelmed by his trust in her. But she's also determined to live up to his trust.

AN: The prompt for this short comes from the Kinktober Prompt list 2020. It was "Fairies + Ropes". I know I'm pretty late for the party, but well... at least it's done now. I had a lot of fun with this, and I hope some of you will enjoy it, too :)

Read on AO3

A little insecurely, Astrid glanced down at the rope in her hands. It was the softest rope anyone could find – woven of soft sunlight and smooth moonlight –, but that was only a token effort and not enough to soothe her nervousness.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked as she fluttered over to where Hiccup waited for her.

“Yes, I am,” he replied in a sure but soft voice. He reached for her and gently pulled her against him, his hands on her waist. “You know me, know how far you can go. And I trust you.” He paused for a moment, his eyes dropping to her hands still holding the rope. “I’m ready. I want this. So let’s do it… as long as you’re okay with it?”

Laughing weakly, Astrid nodded. “I am.” Then she tilted her head to press her lips to his. As always, kissing him was wonderful, so distracting that she nearly forgot about their plan. One of her hands landed on his bare chest, pressing against warm skin as his fingers dug into her flesh, his groan rumbling against her mouth.

Oh, yes, it was so easy to get carried away. Her hand wandered lower, caressed along his stomach which drew a shudder from deep within him, and sneaked between the vines and leaves that covered his groin. Hiccup gasped when her hand wrapped around his cock, stroking him slowly. His head dropped to her neck, her shoulder, his mouth hungrily pushing aside her dress of woven sunlight.

Chuckling ruefully, Astrid made a step backwards. Her lips twitched into a smirk at his needy whine but he didn't follow her, only watched her through darkened eyes. Hiccup had wanted to play, so they would play.

"Hands up," she ordered.

Hiccup complied without a moment's hesitation, stretching his arms in her direction with hand in loose fists and his wrists crossed.

"Good boy."

Hiccup nearly glowed with the praise, his chest swelling. Sometimes, he was just too sweet to be real. But she wouldn’t let herself get distracted.

Meticulously, Astrid looped the rope around his wrists, making sure that it didn't sit so tight that it would make his fingers go numb but tight enough that he wouldn't easily slip out of his bonds. Once she was satisfied, she took another step back before pushing herself off the ground.

"Follow me," she said, then turned to fly up past the different living areas along the walls.

Hiccup flew behind her as if in a trance. His hands were still bound by the rope in her hand, his eyes transfixed on her wings and the way the light broke in their million facets. Shimmering golden like those of all sun fairies, Astrid’s wings were laced with a pattern of blue streaks that turned parts of the reflected flecks of light into a wide array of dots from turquoise to purple. It was a spectacle Hiccup loved to watch as she knew all too well, and saying that she didn’t enjoy the attention would have been a lie. Even after they reached their goal, the very top of their bell-shaped home, she threw in a few additional beats of her wings, just to bask in the awestruck expression on Hiccup’s face for a little bit longer.

Hiccup stayed in place as she fixed the rope to a looped branch in the ceiling, his wings beating rapidly and his arms raised loosely above his head now. When Astrid flew back in front of him, seeing him like this made her heart beat faster.

"And you're really sure?" she asked yet again. She just needed to hear him consent one more time.

For now, Hiccup wasn't entirely helpless, not yet. He was still able to command the branch to set him free at any moment. But what they'd planned – what he'd asked her for… well, that went a few steps further.

Hiccup's voice was deep and rough but still a beautiful sound as he chuckled. "Yes, I am. You know my limits. And I know that you won't do more than I can take."

A lump formed in Astrid's throat, and she couldn't help but kiss him again, forgetting her role for a moment as she just wanted to be near her companion. As prince of the forest fairies, Hiccup's safety was at constant risk. The fact that he gave her his trust anyway was more precious to her than any of the legendary treasures of his family.

"You know what to do should it get too much after all, right?"

Hiccup took a deep breath and nodded. He closed his eyes and visibly concentrated for a moment until Astrid felt an almost painful pressure inside her chest. Hiccup sending an emergency signal through their soul bond. It didn't even last a heartbeat but it was enough to appease her.

"Good."

She caressed Hiccup's cheek, now falling into her role more comfortably, but he took this off all moments to get cocky again.

"You do know that technically the soul bond isn't supposed to be used as safe words for sexual deviants, right?"

Astrid shrugged, a smirk playing around her lips now. "It works, does it not?"

Again, Hiccup chuckled. "You're unbelievable."

"And you knew what you were in for," she replied, but then turned serious again. "Are you ready?"

He swallowed and nodded. "I'm ready. But… can I look at you?"

Without a word, Astrid flew away a bit to give him a better view. She turned around on the spot, slowly, as her dress turned back into warm light, leaving her naked except for the necklace Hiccup had given her as a token of his love.

"Beautiful," he breathed, with awe written all over his face.

Astrid hovered in the air before him. She enjoyed how his gaze focused on her, how she was able to capture and hold his attention so easily. She knew that it was more than just her body he craved; their souls and lives were irrevocably connected, after all. But seeing that hunger in his eyes, even after all these years, was thrilling nonetheless. She even wiggled her hips and chest to make the light glisten on her skin, thriving on how it made Hiccup suck in a sharp breath.

"And now it's your turn," she purred, her eyes wandering over his body. With his hands above his head, his lean torso was stretched even further, a delicious sight for sure. But even with his bare torso and lust raging in his eyes, he looked still too modest for her taste.

Hiccup didn't take his eyes off her for even a second. The vines and leaves just followed his silent command and pulled back to reveal his body, a sure sign of his power if she'd ever needed one. And, oh, he was so beautiful. All narrow hips and lean muscles, covered by pale skin that was covered in freckles – from head to toe as she knew intimately. His chest was heaving slightly and his cock jutted out full and pulsing between his thighs, begging for attention already.

Astrid let her eyes roam over him for a little longer, then nodded approvingly and flew around to his back.

"Hold on tight," she ordered, and then watched as Hiccup's hands closed around the branch by his hands, holding his weight for now as his wings stilled. Working quickly but thoroughly, she wrapped the loose end of the rope around the base of Hiccup's wings. Once, twice, and a third time before she tied it with a safety knot.

The moment she pulled the rope tight, Hiccup let out a soft grunt and his entire body became lax. His hands slipped off the root, only held up by the rope, but they didn't need to hold his weight anymore anyway. He hung from the muscular base of his wings now, a strong part of every fairy's body but also so vulnerable. Bound like this, Hiccup was effectively sedated now, not in control of his body anymore. Even moving a finger would be difficult, let alone anything else. He was completely at her mercy now, just like he'd wanted to be.

She double-checked the knots, making sure that Hiccup was as safe as he could be bound like this, then circled him again to bring her face in front of his.

"Are you all right, love?" she asked in a soft voice, her hand on his cheek to lift his head. She needed to see his eyes.

She waited for him to blink, once, twice, then she let out a relieved sigh. If he only blinked once or not at all, then she knew something was off. But two times was good.

"And your safety signal?" Again, the dull pressure spread in her chest and she nodded. "Very good."

She leaned in to kiss Hiccup. It was just as much to let them feel each other as it was to mask her emotions, overflowing again with just how much he trusted her, how overwhelming this trust was. And how sexy. Her breath hitched and a single tear ran down her cheek, her love for him stronger than ever.

But this was not the time for her to become emotional. She was in control of him now, of his body and his pleasure. And she would prove that she was worthy of his trust.

Her teeth nipped at Hiccup's lower lip and her hand, buried in his soft but unruly hair, tightened and tugged at his locks. It drew a groan from Hiccup's chest, his cock bobbing at this kind of stimulation.

"You like that, don't you? A little pain to sweeten the pleasure?"

Talking him through it all was part of her role. Hiccup preferred to hear her voice when she bound his wings and his mind like this, even though they’d only done it for shorter periods of time so far. But it was more than just that. It also turned him on to hear her talk like this – and if she was honest, it turned her on, too.

“But you can take more, can’t you?”

Again, she tugged at his hair, hard enough for his head to tilt back. She let go of his lip and latched onto his throat again, biting gently at tender flesh. He groaned again and Astrid hummed in delight.

"Mmh, I love the noises you make, babe. Don't hold them back."

She latched onto his neck more firmly, sucking a bruise to where she could feel his pulse beneath his skin. Hiccup moaned, drawn-out and deep. It made a warm shudder run down her spine, his reaction so primal and true. In his current state, it wasn't his brilliant mind that dictated his actions but only his instincts and reflexes. And she knew that she would never tire of this.

"What do you think?" she asked, giggling slightly after letting go of his neck. "How are your father and the royal court going to react when they see this? The glaring proof of our relationship when they want nothing more than to ignore it." She brushed her fingertips over the dark spot her mouth had left on his skin, her teeth now digging into her own lip. "I've got to say, I like the sight of this on you. I should mark you like this more often. Remind them that we are inevitable."

She brushed a soft kiss over the forming bruise, then floated down his body until her head was level with his chest. Covered in sweat and moving with his heavy breathing, it was tantalising just to look at him, but that would have to wait for another time. Today, Hiccup had asked her to douse him in pleasure mixed with just enough pain to make him lose his mind – and she was eager to comply.

His nipples were sensitive, she knew that. But it still surprised her a little when he let out another deep groan and his cock noticeably bobbed for attention when all she'd done so far was lightly brush her thumbs over the hardened buds. She did it again, watching him closely, and felt warmth pooling in her belly as he shuddered beneath her touch.

“Now, look at these,” she purred. “So ready for me. What do you think, should I pay them a little more attention?”

She fluttered closer and with a smirk playing around her lips brought her mouth to his chest. At first, she only kissed his nipple, her tongue playing with it as her fingers mirrored her pace at its twin. Soon, she became bolder though, fiercer, adding suction and teeth to the game. The way he twisted and shook beneath her touch, it was intoxicating. When she switched sides, biting down on one nipple and twisting the other already more sensitised one, Hiccup even cried out, his cock twitching as if to draw her attention.

“Mmh, and what do we have here? Someone eager to play as it seems.”

After throwing a glance up into Hiccup’s eyes to make sure he was still here with her, she floated down even further, placing a soft kiss to his tip and licking off the string of precum hanging there. Above her, Hiccup whined, his dazed eye fixed on what she was doing.

“But I can only play with you when you can behave,” she mused, one hand closing around his shaft and stroking him slowly. "So let's see how well that works."

She kept the strokes light, slow, and her grip was certainly not as tight as he would have preferred. But that was the point, wasn't it? Hiccup's explicit wish had been for her to keep him at the edge for as long as possible.

And it wasn’t as if she didn’t enjoy herself, either. Her pulse was quickening as she played with him, moving her hand up and down his cock and massaging his balls. Every drop of precome she licked or kissed off him, letting her breath brush along his heated flesh. It drew a constant stream of low and increasingly needy whining from Hiccup, but she wouldn't give in this quickly.

"Oh, don't you look delicious like this?" she hummed, biting her lips at the alluring sight in front of her. Hiccup's cock was turning to a darker red, throbbing with need, and a flush creeping up his sweat-covered chest. A part of her just wanted to continue, to watch him come onto her body or maybe to even swallow him down. But that would have to wait for another day.

When she felt that he was getting close despite her slow pace, she stopped. Hiccup groaned in protest but she quickly silenced him with a light kiss.

"No complaining," she breathed. "Or I'll draw it out even longer. I'm sure I could keep this game up all night. What would your father say when you miss tomorrow's meeting? I'd really like to see his face when he comes here to get you and finds you like this." She ran her finger over his lower lip, humming. "But maybe you'll need a little help to hold out? Oh, I know just what to do with you."

She sank down to his cock again, caressing along his bobbing shaft. Then she drew a ray of sunshine from around them and wove it into a tight ring around his cock.

"I know how much you enjoy feeling my solidified light on your skin,” she purred. “But how about this? Do you like this, too? So tight, you won't come as easily now, will you?"

To prove her point, she took him into her mouth, bobbing up and down a few times and sucked hard enough to let him go cross-eyed for a bit.

Back up at face level, she placed her hand to his cheek and waited for his eyes to find her again.

"Are you still all right, love?" she asked in a soothing voice. She still had plans for him today, but if he called it off now then those could wait for another time.

It took a little longer than the first time, but he blinked twice, signalling her that he was okay to go on. Another wave of warmth washed through her and needing a moment, she leaned her forehead against his, basking in this overwhelming sensation of their love and trust. Even with their soulbond, she would never take him or their feelings for granted. They were a gift, to be treasured and valued at any moment.

After giving them a short moment to breathe, she flew around to his back. She let her finger run up his chest and around his shoulders, always keeping contact. Letting him know that she was there, that she was taking care of him.

"I wonder how you're going to take what I have planned next. You always say it feels so intense, almost enough to make you come. I'd really like to see whether that's true now."

Her words, whispered into his ear and with her breath tickling at his neck, made him moan wantonly, and an impish grin spread across Astrid's face. Oh, he knew perfectly well what she meant, didn't he?

With her head still resting against his shoulders, she brought one hand to where the rope was wrapped around his wings. Here at the base, their wings were strong, robust even. But that wasn't the case for every part of them.

Slowly, almost reverently even, she let her fingers glide along his wings, a beautiful pattern of green and brown in all imaginable shades. Just like a forest. The further she moved along, the thinner the wings became, tight skin in vibrant colours at the base and barely more than a delicate shimmer at the tips. And the thinner the wings grew the more sensitive they became.

Hiccup began to tremble when she’d made about two-thirds of the way, another weak moan dropping of his lips. It made Astrid shudder, too. For her, wing stimulation was usually too intense. She enjoyed a brief caress occasionally, to help get her off or as a rather inappropriate teasing when they were in public but nobody was looking. But to enjoy and even ask for prolonged wing stimulation… Well, Hiccup truly was a bit of a masochist when it came to sex.

The farther her fingers moved, the slower they became and the lighter her touch turned. She didn’t want to overwhelm him. Only slowly, she became bolder, encouraged by his needy moans and how he shook when she flicked her fingers against the very tip of his wing.

It was absolutely mesmerising, his reactions, the power she had over him, his trust in her not to go too far. She regularly took small breaks, to give him the chance to catch his breath but also to call their little game quits if he needed too, but he never did. His body was covered in sweat, his lips parted in a constant stream of moans and outcries, and yet he still wanted more.

Astrid felt high, almost as if on drugs just from what he let her do to him. Getting increasingly needy herself, she eventually even brought her mouth to his wings. Her lips ghosted along the translucent membrane, her breath enough to make him nearly sob. Next came her tongue, drawing a damp trail along the lower edges of his bound wings. It made him shake violently, his entire body all but vibrating from the overload of near-painful pleasure.

They both had nearly reached their limit. By now, Astrid needed release just as much as he did. There was only one more thing she wanted to try, something Hiccup had specifically asked for should they ever make it this far.

She felt a little lightheaded as she parted her lips and closed them around the very tip of his wings. Hiccup cried out and his hips pistoned forward, encouraging Astrid. Humming, she suckled on him, and held on to his shoulders and the sturdier parts of his wings to not get thrown off.

Hiccup's reaction was acute. He screamed, shaking with a full-body spasm, and Astrid was sure that, had she not bound his cock with that ray of sunshine, he would indeed have come just from her stimulating his wings. The thought was mind-blowing.

She kept sucking for a few seconds longer before she released him. Again trailing the tips of her fingers around his shoulders, she flew back to his front and took his face into both hands.

"You did well, love," she breathed, her lips only an inch away from his.

Hiccup let out a needy whine. His eyes were unable to focus on anything and yet he tried to give her a pleading look.

Smiling, she ran a thumb over his love lip.

"Very well indeed. I think you deserve a reward. Do you want to come now?"

She watched him closely and even held her breath as he blinked, once, twice.

"All right."

Then she kissed him, hard and passionately. She pressed her body against his, feeling intimately how he shook beneath her touch. He was so tightly wound, so sensitive, it was amazing.

Without letting go of his lips, she wrapped her legs around his narrow hips and ground herself against his erection. Oh, he felt so good! Groaning into his mouth, she moved her hips up and down his length to coat him in her arousal, exhilarating in how that made him twitch against her even more. Then she positioned herself, paused for a little bit longer to drink in the anticipation, and then pushed down on him, taking him in and moaning as the intensity of the moment made her see stars.

Once that first moment was over, however, she began to move for real. Neither of them was in the mood for a slow start, and so she set an almost brutal pace right away, her legs, hips, and wings working to fuck herself on his cock, hard. Hiccup again nearly screamed, the sound muffled by her mouth on his.

With a smirk, she drew back, her pace slowing down a bit. “What do you say, should I draw it out a little bit longer?”

Hiccup keened; he was desperate for release by now.

Her smirk turned into a softer smile. “No, you’re right. You’ve waited long enough and been so good, too. You deserve your reward now.”

With nothing but a thought, she made the ring of sunlight around his cock dissolve into thin air and increased her efforts again, bucking against him as hard and fast as she could and working her muscles to clench around him in addition. Within only seconds, she could feel him swell and throb inside her, his noises becoming more and more frantic until her efforts hurled him over the edge.

His orgasm was powerful, even Astrid could see that. Hiccup was screaming with his release, and his legs – his entire body really – spasmed with the onslaught of pleasure. His eyes nearly roll back into his head and the cords at his neck stood out tightly as his head rocked from one side to the other in a frenzied search for a further outlet. And she could feel him, his come so warm inside her and soiling their joining as she kept moving, riding him through his orgasm, and she only stopped when pleasant aftershocks threatened to turn into painful overstimulation.

After lifting herself off him, Astrid took Hiccup’s face in both her hands, cradling him, and breathed a soft yet intense kiss to his lips.

“I love you!”

Then she flew higher to free his hands before she moved to his back to loosen the rope around his wings.

“Okay, babe, I’m going to release you now. But don’t worry; I know that you can’t fly yet. I’ve got you.”

She wrapped one arm around his middle and removed the final loop of rope. It made him drop and put all his weight on her arms, the second one quickly joining the one around his chest. As careful as possible with her valuable charge, Astrid flew down and to the side until they landed on their large bed in its alcoves at one of the sides of their home. Then she took a moment to catch her breath. She was strong, physically, stronger than many others of their people, but carrying a fully grown person like a dead weight was still not easy.

Then she grabbed the soft blanket from the foot of their bed and wrapped it around Hiccup’s naked and slightly shivering form.

“How are you, babe?” she asked, lovingly caressing along his face. “Are you okay?”

Hiccup gave a weak moan but still made an effort to lean into her touch, smiling at the contact. “Mmh, fine,” he mumbled, then grimaced slightly. “Just my back’s a lil’ sore.”

“Well, I can help with that.” Chuckling slightly, Astrid helped him roll onto his front and, straddling his thighs, started to methodically massage the tension out of his back. It had carried the brunt of his weight and all his twisting and writhing, no wonder it needed special attention now. She avoided touching his wings, of course, and used an oil specially harvested by Hiccup himself, usually used to help against the pain in his amputated left leg. Warmed to a comfortable degree by her sun magic, he soon all but melted into the sheets beneath her, humming in pure satisfaction.

“Mmh, that was… absolutely fantastic.” His voice was slurred, as if he was close to drifting off into sleep.

Astrid lay down next to him, watching him with love and warmth thrumming in her chest. “I’m glad it worked out as you’d hoped it would.”

Hiccup chuckled weakly. “‘s was even better than I’d hoped,” he mumbled. But then he cracked one eye open to look at her again, a trace of concern in his forest green eye. “Except one thing. What about you? I mean, I was pretty much out of it, but… but you didn’t come, right?”

Humming, she let her head swing from one side to the other. “No, I didn’t. But... well, I don’t need to. I’m fine.” And she truly was. The mental and emotional satisfaction of watching Hiccup in this vulnerable-turned-feral state – it was something else, something mere physical pleasure could never give her.

Hiccup seemed to read the truth of her words in her eyes for he nodded with a soft smile and closed his eye again. “That’s good,” he muttered, almost inaudibly quiet. “But I promise I’ll make it up to you. Tomorrow…”

When she blinked the next time, Hiccup had fallen asleep. With a satisfied hum, Astrid cuddled to his side beneath the blanket and closed her eyes as well. She was looking very forward to the fulfilment of this promise.

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Chapter 5 Paxton and Amal Series

Hey you guys.

Here is the next chapter of the Paxton and Amal series, in a written format this time.

@albino-whumpee amazing drawing had just inspired me so much that I couldn’t stop myself from starting the Chapter last night and finishing it up today.

So here we are. I hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless.

Tag list: @albino-whumpee @orchidscript @finder-of-rings please let me know if I forgot someone

CW: boxboy universe typical stuff, modern slavery, one character fainting and vomiting in the bathroom, mentioned past abuse, character talking negatively about their body, whumpee is forced to become caretaker, one very brief abelist comment coming up in a memory,

  Night had found its way inside the small flat, where old floor boards creaked whisper silent around the curled up, young man on the orange sofa, as the old house settled unable to sleep just like him.

Paxton lay incredibly still, careful not to rustle the blankets and bother his masters, simultaneously overflowing with an all-enveloping warmth. Wrapped in softness he’d never known bevor and basking in the soft glow of the little night light his Master had plugged into one of the living room sockets.   Its golden shimmer illuminated parts of the coffee colored walls, the self-build cat tree next to the door frame with the missing door, which had relieved Paxton tremendously, and fell on the plush striped carpet he would have been grateful to sleep on.

But bevor he could even have dared ask for such a privilege, his master had thrown a heap of blankets and pillows on the couch, a nearly apologetic look on his face.

“They’re not washed and probably smell a bit like me. I hope you don’t mind. If I had known that you- well- I would have definitely washed them. And bought a proper comforter. If those fleece blankets are not enough I can make you a warm water bottle. Just tell me if- ah- forget it.”

Paxton had just looked at him, as he had rushed into the small hallway and vanished into his room, leaving him confused and not daring to sit on the couch. It hadn’t felt like a trick, but his feet had stayed rooted to the spot on the ticklish soft carpet nonetheless.

Paxton still remembers the goosebumps that had spread over his entire body at the sound of boiling water from the kitchen and how he had forced himself to remain still. Spine straight and breathing as even as he could manage. He also remembers the little delighted sound that had escaped him as his master had shoved a warm pillow like thing into his hands, with warming cheeks. A warm water bottle as he had called it, with such genuine bafflement about Paxtons lack of knowledge that he couldn’t help but feel stupid.

That, however, hardly mattered now as he lay there, on a soft couch, soft blankets draped over him, his nose filled with the sweet smell of his new master, of Amal he tried to remember, (heat prickling in his cheeks at the intimacy of using masters name), and curling around the warm water bottle as if he’d die the moment he would let go of it.

Wishing, desperately, for this moment to never end Paxton fought against the ever growing heaviness of his eyes, creeping down his limbs and nestling warm under his ribs.

The sudden scrape of a door lets his eyes fly open.

When had he closed them?

Soft footfalls stumbled through the hallway, approaching the living room from the left.

It must be his master, then.

What could he want in the middle of the night?!

Paxton pulled the blankets up over his nose, cringing at their soft rustle, wide eyes fixed on the doorless doorframe.

The only reason for his old master to seek him out at night had been - A shiver wrecked his body accompanied by memories of merciless hands around his throat and canes breaking skin.  

The scars on Paxtons hands began to itch as he pressed them closer to his trembling body, hiding them between the warm water bottle and his turning stomach. Knowing full well he would give them to his master, letting him do as he pleased. Would give his everything to him, at the first command.

He had to be good for him.

Would be good for him!

No matter how painful or scary it might be.

Ready to slip from the Couch onto the floor and kneel by master’s side, Paxtons eyes grew ever wider as Amal just staggered past the living room entrance, not even sparing him a glance.

If he craned his neck a bit, Paxton could see master fumbling with the bathroom door handle, finally prying it open and slipping inside.

Was it just him or had his master really swayed a little?

Face scrunched up in a frown?

No. It must have been the low shimmer of the night lamp playing tricks on him.

His master just needed to use the bathroom.

He wasn’t swaying. He wasn’t drunk and angry. He wouldn’t stop at Paxtons bed tonight and- No. Everything was fine. He was fine. His new master surely wouldn’t punish him without a reason. Surely. Hopefully.  Please. Please don’t. Please just go to bed again. Please, please, please.

A loud thud, stopped his spiraling panic dead in its tracks.

He lifted his head gingerly from the pillow, straining his ears, trying to listen over his thundering heartbeat.

Barely audible shuffling sounded through the flats silence, followed by a heaving that turned Paxtons stomach in sympathy and fear alike as he bolted upright, feet hitting the carpet running.

He stopped short at the bathroom door, unsure how to proceed until a little whimper followed by more gurgling pushed him to knock. A nervous tap tap tap of scarred knuckles against white wood.

“M- Master? Are, are you alright?”

“Pax…? He- help-“

Cold raced up his arms at his master’s whine and he had the door wrenched open bevor he could think better of it. Wondering faintly, how a master’s voice could even sound so small, quivering miserably.

The sight of his master let his heart drop, heavy like a stone, forcing air out of his lungs in a shuddering exhale.

His master lay doubled over on the bathroom floor, underwear hastily pulled back up over his butt in a futile attempt to preserve at least a sliver of modesty and covered in vomit. Dry-heaving at Paxtons feet, hazy eyes fixed on the bile that had splattered the wall.

“Amal!”

Paxton held a water filled toothbrush cup to his masters trembling lips, faster than any of them could comprehend, cupping Amal’s head gently with his palm. Green unruly hair tickled Paxtons fingertips as Amal shuddered, pale face pressed against his chest.

It was then that Paxton realized, just how small his master was.

“Your legs. They’re… uhm… they’re getting all… all dirty.” Amal rasped out.

“I don’t mind.” a soft smile tugged at Paxtons lips, “I kneeled in my own vomit so often, I’m used to it.”

Amal’s lips twitched, at that, brows crumpling together and Paxton feared he would be sick again but shaking hands pushed him away instead and Amal propped himself up against the toilet seat.  

“Thanks Pax. I-“, he swallowed around his burning throat. “I can handle the rest myself.”

Paxton wanted to protest at that, barely able to bite the words back that threatened to spill out but the last time he dared talk back to his master was forever etched into his face, an aching reminder to never ever do such a thing again.

So he just watched, wide eyed, as Amal pulled himself up, hands gripping the bathroom sink for dear life. Amal’s cheeks turned blotchy red as his legs shock eyes screwed shut bevor he took a tentative step and promptly slipped on the bile covered floor.

Paxton was up in an instant, catching him with a strength that surprised himself and sitting him down on the toilette seat.

“Kasi, stop fussing over me. I’m fine.” Grey irritated eyes stared up at him. Fever red face drawn into a pout.

Pain burst behind Paxtons eyes but he pushed it aside as best he could, focusing on his master instead. On the bashful smile curving master’s lips.

“That was close.”

“Please.” Paxtons voice was barely more than a shaky whisper. “Please would, would you let me help you, Sir?”

That’s what I’m for, after all.  

Amal’s eyes lingered on him and Paxton shrunk under his master gaze, heart nearly bursting out of his chest.

“I- I know you told me to- that you would ha- handle this. I- I’m sorry I misspoke. It won’t happen again I promise I- “

“Hey no. It’s fine.” Amal sat up a bit straighter, face slowly returning to a healthier color. “Thank you for being there.”

Paxtons throat began to close up at Amal’s gentle smile.

“Could you get me some iced coffee from the fridge? It helps kick my circulation back into gear, when my stupid heart decides to act up. Again.” He huffed.

“Hey don’t worry? It’s looking worse than it is. Really.”

Eyeing the soiled floor warily Paxton hurried out of the room.

 Face pressed into his hands and trying to muffle his groan, Amal allowed himself to wallow in his misery, until soft footfalls announced Paxtons return.

His face burned with humiliation as he gulped the coffee down, dizziness fading with every swig. He watched Paxton kneel on the floor, rug in hand and wiping up the mess he’d made.

Peeling himself out of his soiled night shirt, under Paxtons watchful eye, was an exercise in misery. Amal was incredibly glad his underwear had remained clean as he climbed into the shower, refusing – refusing - to take it off.

Grey disbelieving eyes wandered over Amals mastectomy scars, wincing in sympathy as he plucked the bath sponge from Paxtons hand and scrubbed over his chest, cleaning himself hastily.

A sudden self-conscious sigh escaped chapped lips. “What a night, hm?”

Paxton stopped whipping down his own leg with the cleaning rug. “What- uhm what had happened? Sir?”

Barking a little laugh, Amal leaned back against the tile wall, letting its cold seep into heated skin.

“Just my body trying to kill me again. Worthless thing.”

 “You’re really reselling him, Boss?!” “Yeah my Tattoo artist needs someone to look after her sibling. Some worthless Crip, or something.”

 Nails dug in scarred palms.

“Don’t say that.”

The unexpected volume of his own voice made Paxton flinch, letting it drop back into a whisper that didn’t lose any of its urgency. “Please don’t say something like that about yourself. You- you are an amazing person. The greatest master I ever had the privilege of meeting.”

An irritated huff escaped Amal, as he sat there half naked in his shower, washing the last bits of bile out of his hair, where he had landed face down in the testament off his own fragility, barley able to stand Paxtons adoring gaze.

Something stung in his throat, too deep for it to stem solely from vomiting all over the bathroom floor.

He felt the sudden urge to wrap himself in a towel, hide from those earnest eyes, which were trained solely on him.

Instead he turned his head studying a wandering water drop.

“How could you say that? You barley know me.”

For the first time in as long as he could remember Paxton wasn’t scared as he spoke:

“Because I know kindness when I see it.”

.

[emerald-amidst-gold]

_(:3」∠)_

Well hello, here am I to bother you again 🌟

Listening as they rant about something they're currently obsessed with.

You are no bother! Not at all! D: I adore these asks, so always feel free to make my inbox explode with them! :D

Ooo, this one will give me a chance to share dragon theories! YESSS! REJECT CANON, RETURN TO FANFICTION.

***

"Have you read this compendium on dragon breeds and their characteristics, yet?", Fane asked as he sat up on their shared bed, back leveraged by the pillows and worn book of deep red and black in his lap. He had just started reading and already he was seeing crimson.

"I have not, but the way you are currently glaring at the pages as if you wish to burn them tells me I should.", Solas piped up from where he was sitting beside him, for once not reading and instead examining a peculiar artifact they had found in the Hissing Wastes.

"Don't waste your time.", Fane said with a low growl, furiously flipping a page to actively gape at a following depiction of a male dragon. "Oh, for fuck's sake! How many more books do I have to dig for until I find one that has a proper depiction of a male!?", he snarled, eyes narrowing as he tried to find one, just one, characteristic that sounded home to him.

And he found none.

Solas chuckled. "What precisely are you looking for, vhenan?", he asked, the delicate scent of magic making itself known around them before it dispersed, the mage willing it away so as not to spur Fane's sensitivity. Honestly, he couldn't even find the energy to be sick with how infuriating this was!

"Larger wing span, thicker scales with double layering! One layer is for major protection against elements and potential fights with others!", Fane rambled off, mind whirling, racing with ancient knowledge born from experience, and something he couldn't quite pinpoint. "The feet and legs should be farther apart due to a wider chest and hips! Head shapes that are denser, but pointed, jagged spikes of bone marrow jutting from the sides to form the main horns!", he continued, not all hearing the soft tink of metal being set down and the shifting of covers as a body moved closer. "And the eyes! The fucking eyes are one color, Solas! They should be--!"

A sudden warm sensation against his lips had Fane's tirade dying in his throat and eyes going wide, blinking a few times until his stopper of flowing, irate words pulled away to give him an amused smirk, but deep adoration was visible within a blue sky with wispy grey, the setting sun streaming in from the stain glass windows haloing them with its own version of a sunset, deep blue lightening to lavender.

The sky was here, and it was beautiful.

Solas' smirk grew a bit from his stunned state. "They should be..?", he prompted, a spark of indigo telling Fane that the mage found this to be...riveting.

Fane blinked, mouth slightly agape. "Uh..", he uttered before another spark of indigo had him swallowing thickly. "They should be two. Two colors.", he said, tongue heavy and head mildly fogged. Why was it so hot all of a sudden?

"Mm-hm.", Solas hummed, leaning in again to give his cheek a soft kiss, lingering against the skin for a while longer to whisper. "What colors do your kin usually possess?" The inquiry calm, but laced with incandescent heat as Fane gazed down with hooded eyes, ire soothed, rage quenched.

"Brown and amber for desert dwellers. Blue and sea foam for sea. Verdant green and a paler version for forest. And snow..", he rambled on, slowing as the sky watched, listened to him with raptness, a smile blessing him, a hand coming up to caress a cheek. "...emerald and gold.." The final two toned hue falling from his lips with a whisper and an airy chuckle. He understood the point of this now. "I think you might be a dragon, my sky."

Solas chuckled, stroking his cheek with a thumb. "Why is that?", he murmured, a few fingers curling inward to graze the scar along his cheek, but now sorrowfully any longer. Fane leaned into the gesture as a small smile graced his own features.

"Because your skills of observation might be better than my own.", Fane said, turning his head a bit to lay a firm kiss to an open palm. He smirked a bit when a light hitch came from Solas, but stormy orbs remained calm, devoid of ulterior want as they gazed up at him.

"Nonsense.", Solas whispered, voice low, tone making his ears twitch pleasantly. "I merely know how you are, and how you can get when faced with discrepancies." The statement a light tease, a jab no more harmful than a nudge to his ribs.

Fane snorted. "And how do I get?", he asked, knowing the answer, but wanting to play this game, dance this dance as the hand caressing his cheek held it more firmly, the palm like fire, but its presence like cold rain upon cracked dirt.

"You get very passionate.", the mage said with a fond smile and glint of deep affection in swirling eyes. "A fiery inferno that wishes to blaze the world with knowledgeable heat. It is a sight I adore seeing, but one I know must be tended to lest it scorch the earth too deeply."

Fane hummed. "Want to tame a dragon, do you?", he teased with that question, knowing that once it had toed a delicate line, but now those thoughts were no more than passing thoughts, devotion having tempered them, a bond having whisked them away like the wind.

Solas shook his head, leaning to lay a few kisses against his cheek, his jaw and finally, his lips. Fane reciprocated with each of his own before their foreheads rested together, eyes connected, souls on full display as two hands, instead of just the one, came up to hold him in place.

"I do not wish to tame one, no.", Solas murmured, one hand ghosting up to push Fane's bangs back, leaning in once again to kiss at the spot just below one of his eyes before pulling back to smile at him. "I wish to see one fly, but its wings must be guided by acceptance, not rage."

Fane blinked before chuckling deeply, wrapping his arms around a warm torso, pulling it flush to nudge at a lax cheek with his nose. Where would he be without his wind, his guide, his sky? Forever grounded, that was were.

"So, you're saying you want to hear me ramble?", Fane joked, actually beginning to purr deep in his chest as slender fingers began to comb through his hair. Solas smiled at him, unreserved and unfettered, seemingly basking in his response.

"I do.", Solas agreed, stopping his massage of his scalp for a moment to wrap an arm around his shoulders before resuming the action, occasionally scratching just how Fane liked it. "Your passion is addictive, your soul untethered in regards to your kin. It is one of the many things I adore about you, my dragon."

"My one track mind?", another joke falling from Fane's lips as the atmosphere of dusk as well as soothing fingers was making him melt. Damn, he loved the evening..

"I love you.", Solas said firmly before chuckling as Fane leaned into nibble at his jaw. "...And your one track mind, yes.", he added with a fond sigh. Fane chuckled before pulling back, opting to just rest their foreheads together to watch the sky shift and change its never ending gradient.

"Well, I love you, too.", Fane reciprocated, actually smiling more as Solas' expression softened further before it turned to a smirk. "And your one track mind."

The response Fane got was a light laugh and shake of a head, but exasperation was nowhere to be, disbelief no more than a bitter memory as the sky twinkled with blue and grey - its own two toned hue that would have any other dragon frozen in an awe with the amount of emotion it possessed. And that easily drowned out the rage and ire of a world so mired in misinformation and lost knowledge.

***

This one may have, sort of gotten away with me because HNNNNGH. Fane rambles about dragons, gets angry. Solas listens like a lovelorn fool, cools dragon. Ta-dah! :D

[stusbunker]

Things That Are Deadly

A Supernatural Fan-fiction

Featuring: Dean Winchester, Vampire!Reader

Requested by @thoughtslikeaminefield for my one word drabble a day for August 2019. This took on a life all its own, other drabbles won’t turn into one shots. I hope. xoxo

“Billie”

They had been doing this game for months. He’d roll into town, sometimes alone sometimes with a partner and find her in a night or two. He didn’t waste anytime calling her bluff, whether flashing that fake badge he always had on him or playing the drunk ex. He knew just how to push a girl to extremes, hungry and on edge.

But then he’d leave, with a knowing smirk and a dead eyed glare, he’d slip into his black and chrome chariot and disappear, until the next time.

She had gotten lucky for a few weeks, he seemed to be otherwise occupied and she fed like a one percent-er. It felt too easy now, without him breathing down her neck, but it was a streak she didn’t need broken. Unfortunately, it was cut short, by something else entirely.

It had been two months and three states since Dean had seen her. A growing inkling in the back of his mind had him thinking he had lost her trail. It wasn’t that she was sloppy or savage; he had just been out of the game. Michael had seen to his own exploits long enough and now freed; Dean needed the familiarity of the chase. She was his fall back girl and boy did he need that sliver of control; a monster on a leash.

He spotted her in the back of the seedy bar, already whispering into some poor slob’s ear. Dean sent a drink to each of them, with a twenty for the waitress who looked at Dean as if he was nuts for pushing his luck. He knew it wasn’t about luck. She slipped the straw between her lips and sucked back the Bloody Mary, all the while watching him. Her date slammed his shot before she could push him off of her, bones crunching when he insisted. Dean winked at the waitress as she passed, earning him a impressed chuckle.

She didn’t say anything, she simply set the empty glass beside his graveyard and walked outside. She slipped up onto the hood of his beloved car, engine long since cooled. Her tiny skirt bunched and twisted as the night air met her lifeless flesh. Dean spun his key ring between his thumb and forefinger, coat collar hitched against the cold upon joining her.

“You needta be invited?” Dean balked, breath streaming from his wide smile. Everything about him screamed danger, run, now, don’t stop.

“Don’t play dumb, you know the answer.” She leaned back, legs slipping open as she purred.

“You’re right. Get in.” Dean nodded in agreement, words coming back with a bite.

She felt tiny on the wide bench seat, yet they were close enough that she felt the warmth of his whiskey and the slight hitch in his heartbeat. Her hunter was excited, one way or another. He pulled into an abandoned lot, empty warehouses as far as the eye could see. No one around for blocks. No one to hear a scream or even a decapitation.

When he adjusted the rear view mirror, she stopped breathing. His eyes fell on their company, but he shook her off with his eyes, keeping up the charade. He pulled her into his lap, scruff gliding over her jaw as his hot breath assaulted her every sense. She tried not to show how scared she was, dragging her open mouth over the few patches of his exposed skin.

He groaned, shifting beneath her as he slid something into her hand. A calculated hum sounded in his throat as he licked down her chest, dipping lower until she was free to swing. The machete reflected the interior in a blurred rush of tan and black, steel and skin before it met its target. She struck the vamp, who had been pimping her for weeks, just below the ear with a satisfying thwack. But the blade didn’t clear, a menacing blue light shot from his eyes and she froze, half over the front seat.

Dean checked the side view and he knew they had underestimated their guest. He pulled her back down and rolled on top of her, the blade falling against the dash, clambering down until it lodged into the floor. Dean fumbled with the passenger side handle as the grace-charged vampire grabbed him and threw him into Baby’s ceiling. Luckily, she had slipped out just before he came crashing back down. He was going to have pound out the roof again, damnit.

She got a hundred yards away before turning back, her eyes locked onto his as he crawled out of the door she left open. He was bleeding, she could smell it and the wanting made her squirm with a filthy kind of guilt. She’d been used, drained and beaten for days on end.  Yet wanting to drink him makes her feel lower than low, feral, evil.

He started to laugh. “Whew! I didn’t know big brother liked to watch. Sorry man, but I don’t go parkin’ for an audience.”

She shuffled forward, letting the hunter draw out her captor. Dean was hurting, but she also knew he was buying her time. Them time. The backdoor slammed open, hinges protesting against the force. Once the other vampire cleared the car, she made her way back to the driver’s seat.

“So, what, no comments from the peanut gallery?” Dean challenged the strangely silent adversary as he charged forward. Then Dean realized why: she had cut through his vocal cords. Even if Michael’s science project had wanted to banter; he couldn’t. Which only gave Dean less distractions to work with.

He dug in his coat for the syringes of dead man’s blood he always kept on him for these trysts of theirs. He never thought he would have to use them. He was grateful it wasn’t on her tonight. He clicked his teeth and finished unbuttoning his coat, he needed room to dance. He pulled out his gun, knowing the ammo would do little to stop this bastardized monster. His angel blade remained secure in the trunk and once again he kicked himself for losing his step.

The ang-pire, Dean decided, was painfully confident, grinning with his extra teeth as he walked into the spray of bullets Dean sent his way. Then came the hiss of laughter through splayed flesh, deepening as the grace flowed,  mending their assailant layer by layer. Bullets retreated, falling in misshapen jangles onto the jagged blacktop.

“Bullets? Really? Michael would be so disappointed,” his voice croaked.

“Yeah, well-” Dean shrugged. “He can kiss my ass.”

She didn’t strike out this time, this time she swung for the fences. The blade severed every inch attaching his head to his shoulders. She had closed her eyes, and once she opened them she saw Dean was doubled over, back throbbing. She raced over to catch him before his injury could catch up.

“Honey, we need to talk about your choice in friends.” Dean gasped, letting her walk him back to the solidarity of the Impala. 

“No love lost there,” she sighed, glancing back to the stilled body, before handing him the weapon. He tucked it back in his jacket, still hunched against the pain. Suddenly Dean was off again, wincing but booking it around the back of the car.

“Fucker moved, need to put it down,” Dean warned, patting his pockets for the keys, which were still in the ignition.

“I got ‘em, Crutchy,” she reassured, ducking in from the passenger’s side. All she heard was Dean’s voice belt out a resounding, “No!” just before she felt the swift prick to her thigh. The poison flooded her system, thick and festering. Dean’s fists struck the trunk in frustration, drawing the monster back to standing.

“You know what? I don’t give a fuck what He says about you. For that, I am going to take my time with you, now that your little slut is out of the way,” the Ang-pire promised.

Dean ran, full out, every muscle and bone hollering from his neck to his thighs. He felt about sixty-five, hips and all. There were two more syringes left behind, but he needed to keep him guessing. Dean squared up and brandished the machete. Pieces of him were still stuck to the blade; Dean tried not to think about it.

The once vampire snarled at Dean, lowering his stance before he charged the hunter. Dean had physicality on his side, he feigned left and though he wasn’t moving as quickly as usual he still got his outside leg behind the monster. He elbowed the back of its reattached neck before hacking into his back. Dean staggered back from the swing, clearing his feet from reach. Dean slammed the blade into his spine at the neck, like following a pattern to cut. In the end it was a sloppy job, Dean kicked the head across the parking lot before heading back to where the syringes lay.

He didn’t look at her body, legs dangling from Sam’s spot. Monster or no, he knew he was at fault. He didn’t want to see what the poison did to those perfect thighs. He was going to miss getting the drop on her, his trained pet. No matter how many guys she duped, she hadn’t finished or turned any of them. She had basked in the gray, a Winchesters’ team color if there ever was one. He sighed as he bent down, scooping up the next step.

He didn’t even hear the gun cock.

*^*^*

Billie hummed as she finished the book, delicate fingers tracing the back cover before closing it. Michael was going to be an issue for more than just those Winchester boys after all. She stood from her seat and placed it back on the shelf before she pulled out the next possible fate.

[elizabeth-234]

A Night She won’t Soon Forget

Hi friends! Hope the New Year is going well for everyone. Just a quick note, updating will be slower because I'm in school right now but I work on these stories whenever I have free time. I hope you stick with me!

Here is the next installment of the story. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: This chapter contains mentions of suicidal thoughts. (I will also put this in tags)

Previous Chapter One: A Day in Her Life

Chapter Two: A Day in His Life

Chapter Two: A day in his life

Tony shivered as he tip-toed from his dressing room to the library. The morning light hadn’t yet broken across the windowsills in the study and he knew there was a few hours to work before everyone else woke up. He started moving stacks of paper and glasses off the surface before getting started.

Sometime in the night one of the staff brought his schedule up to the bin on the desk. The paper was full of black ink and the list of appointments had an ache blooming in his head. Tony sighed, rubbing his palms into his eye sockets, and began working. He lost himself amongst the numbers and ever-fluctuating projections.

Tony surfaced from his work at a particular knock from the door. It was one of those things he was internally proud of. The ability to distinguish a knock from person to person. The skill saved him from embarrassment many times growing up.

He chuckled when he thought of the night Happy almost caught him sneaking into his room. The scent of smoke and sour beer leaked out as he drew the blankets up so his face was obscured. The man insistently knocked and came in unprompted. Tony’s eyes were scrunched closed and his heart raced. Happy, he was still convinced, knew of his folly but the man sighed and after checking the window was locked, closed Tony’s door.  

He stretched his arms up and noticed the sun streaming in from high in the window. Tony could tell it was Pepper at the door. She was his secretary in title but in actuality she ran everything for Tony. Their families were close growing up and they were friends since he could remember.

Pepper interned when his father still ran the company. Tony watched as she worked tireless hours to prove a woman could succeed in business. His father was not a warm man and although he had a soft spot for Pepper she needed to do twice the amount of work Tony did to gain half the recognition. It wasn’t fair but she never complained to Tony.

The knock was quiet but firm and Tony called her to enter.

The formality burned the back of his throat when Pepper entered the room, back straight and waiting in the center of the carpet for his instructions. His own spine stiffened in response and he swallowed the taste back. Tony hated that he gained control of the company when she was more qualified in every aspect. He wished it was hers. It should be hers, but as one last lash of cruelty his father thrust it upon his shoulders.

There was such a distance between them since. Their roles were demanded and they walked a fine line between work and life. He wanted – needed - for them to be how they were. To laugh together and for Rhodey and her to poke fun at his mess of a life. It was all too structured now, too much professional restrictions clouding their actions. He knew it was a wish of a child. Life was too complicated for such simplicity now they were older.

“Why don’t you sit down?” He said.

Pepper brought the papers in her hand onto her lap as she sat down. Tony finished up what he was writing and shuffled them to the side.

He glanced at her face from under his lashes. Her expression was open and unlined as she waited patiently for him to be done. Tony walked around his desk and went to the liquor cabinet to pour himself a drink. He motioned to Pepper but she shook her head with a crook of her brows. She was always a stickler for drinking on the job.

“What’s in the briefing today?” He asked as he sat down in the chair opposite.

Pepper pulled out another list and with Tony nursing his drink, the two of them went over company news and agendas. His leg bounced up and down. Pepper soldiered on giving no sign of weariness and Tony got up to refill his drink. He avoided her gaze when he brought a double back and sighed when she pulled out another set of documents.

Tony’s thoughts drifted to the upcoming holiday. He’d slipped her Christmas bonus into her purse earlier and was sure it was undiscovered because there would have been an argument if she’d found it already. It made something in his stomach clench, thinking that he couldn’t do more for her. Someday, he thought, someday the world would see her shine.

Pepper cleared her throat and he looked up to see her gaze focused on him. She stood up, brushing her hands down the already immaculate jacket she was wearing, and smiled.

Tony stepped forward arms open before she looked away. A light blush covered her cheeks and Tony dropped one arm. They shook hands and he tried not to remember all the times when society said it was impolite to embrace a friend.

“Sir…” She said and Tony flinched. “Tony, why don’t you come with me. Mom would love to see you and I know James said Barbara and the kids have been asking about you.”

What he wouldn’t give to be going somewhere, but he had decided to stay. Pepper would be gone for a week after today. Really, she should have left earlier but Tony was selfish and wanted to see her on Christmas Eve. She was going to see her family, Rhodey was back home, and he would be fine.

Tony swallowed. He loved Rhodey’s home. Hell, even his kids weren’t terrible, but he knew his friend didn’t spend enough time with them. It was practically the only time of year where Rhodey got to see his family uninterrupted for a length of time and he knew Pepper saw hers even less. He couldn’t barge in on them for his own need to not be alone.

“Thank you, but I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“But, Tony, it’s Christ- “

“Ms. Potts,” He said scowling. “I’m fine.”

He could see his friend’s indecision and felt a pang in his chest. She sighed and he tried not to notice how her shoulders drooped. After a moment, Pepper looked up with a crooked smile and came back over to where he was standing. With eyes wide, she wrapped her arms around him. He inhaled, smelling vanilla and something he couldn’t quite name. She radiated warmth and he basked in her arms for the moment.

“Merry Christmas, Tones.”


“Merry Christmas to you as well, Pepper.”

Pepper stepped away but placed her hand on his shoulder. He smiled but it fell when she turned around. The door shut softly and Tony listened until he couldn’t hear footsteps anymore. The chair engulfed him and something weighed against his chest, keeping him from moving. His lungs felt all tight and he rubbed his hand against his heart. Tony grabbed the glass from beside him and drained it in one sip.

-

The panes of the windows cast shadows onto the red carpet running down the hallway. The worn fibers gave no resistance after years of being tread down as Tony dragged his feet against it. His hands tried to grab the various bits of exposed walls but they kept missing their target and falling to his side.

Tony came to the edge of the stairs and stared toward the bottom. It was dark below and with each step down, more and more shadows collected. Tony swayed back and forth before convincing his legs and himself he could make it. It wasn’t like he hadn’t walked the path many times growing up.

His feet swung wide and he stepped down with the banister tight in his left hand. The other hand was glued around a glass. Dribbles of liquid splashed onto the carpet but Tony was too busy concentrating on navigating the stairs without causing bodily harm to notice. He made it without incident and wearing a cocky smile started heading to the kitchen with his rumbling stomach leading the way.

He turned the corner when his foot caught on something, sending him sprawling. With a groan Tony twisted his body so he was sitting, legs wide before him, and looked to see the offending piece of carpet. Tony cursed and got to his knees, crawling forward and muttering profanities under his breath. He flipped carpet down leaving a small raised section and he made a note to check with the housekeeper about fixing it.

Tony laid there, stretched out on the ground and started laughing. Low, deep belly laughs erupted from his mouth and, once on his feet, smaller giggles continued to follow him to the kitchen. He knocked first and with a greeting of silence remembered he sent the staff home for the holiday.

The countertops, floors, and utensils were all spotless. The only thing marring the immaculate room was his reflection in one of the pans hanging. Tony moved about carefully, aware of his unfamiliarity of the room and the pride that Mrs. Vern took in the state of her kitchen.

He grabbed a tray out of the icebox. Again, thanking his formidable chef in the back of his mind for preparing him enough to last over the holiday. He spotted a white peak and withdrew a stately looking Lady Baltimore cake, one of his favorites, and a bottle of champagne.

Considering his lack of grace earlier, Tony balanced the plates and precious cargo nimbly as he left the room.

He passed through the doorway and turned into another hallway. The walls rose up beyond his sight and large portraits of his family hung like gargoyles above him.  It was the only way he would see them again.

“What a depressing thought.” He said to the room. Tony never wanted to see those ugly bastards again. If it weren’t for the people looking up to the Stark name for a home, for a job, he would burn every painting down to their frames.

He stumbled into the door jam and, moving the glass to the top of the plate, opened it. Wind blasted forward sweeping his hair backward and causing his eyes to water. Tony stepped into the cold as the snow dusting the ground crunched under his feet. Branches hung dead, laden with the heavy material along the way.

The crunching was the only sound in the courtyard. Tony wondered for a moment if his hearing was going but he realized with a snort the snow was acting as a muffle to the world. He ducked under a low branch and over a small creak, some trickles of water still able to caress the rocks in their path, and Tony saw his goal.  A little cottage whose four sturdy walls housed too many memories stood nestled into a grouping of trees. The roof sunk down a bit on the left side but it remained surprisingly intact.

Again, he rearranged the plates in his hands and pulled a small key from his pocket.  After a few lame attempts the little door swept open and Tony stepped inside, stooping under the threshold.

Out of all the words used to describe his life, quaint would not be one often picked. Here it fit the environment well and he loved it.

The sun faded drapes, the two-person loveseat pulled tight against the window, and a kitchen with room for one sat in the far back corner of the cottage. His favorite were the shelves lining the walls filled with books squashed into every nook and cranny. The smell permeated into his mind and brought forth memories of him hiding away here, reading one of the large tomes while his mother sat in the loveseat doing the same thing. The small respite had been his mothers and now it was his.

Tony took a seat on the couch with a pile of the stolen treats sitting on the small table adorned with lattice lace next to it. He poured himself a glass and spread his legs out along the side, his manners drilled into him since a child kept him from placing his boots directly on the couch. The smoke from his cigarette curled into the air sending faint tendrils to the ceiling.

He pulled back the window dressings to look out behind the cottage. Most of the view was obscured by the trees but he could see a patch of the pond. Ice was just creeping over the surface and into the middle illuminated by the evening moons which sent sparkles shining in the frozen material.

Tony remembered going here, upstate, to get away from the bustle of the city as a kid. He learned how to ice skate on this pond. His mom watching from the bank as him and Rhodey skated and fell over the course of the day.

What he wouldn’t give to go back to those days. Heaviness pulled at his heart and he pushed the cigarette into the paint of the sill.

He sat staring at the sliver of light on the pound and found himself setting the glass down on the edge of the table. He stood and didn’t notice it tip over, spilling onto the carpet. The door was open before he knew it and Tony wandered out coatless to the back of the cottage. The cold penetrated into his bones but he felt only the suffocating smoke of his memories cloud his mind. He needed to get out of that room so filled with his mother’s things.

The ice went farther into the pond than he thought but he could still see a circle where the dark water was visible. Tony took one step onto the ice and another. Small cracks fissured out under his foot and air bubbles escaped to linger below the ice. Tony looked down and watched as the ice bent under his weight.

He took another step and let his fists unclench. They hung unmotivated at his sides, the wind rushing free between his limp fingers and into his bones. The air was too fresh, too free, and it clouded his mind.

Maybe it would be for the best if he fell through. His shoulders were getting tired of holding all the weight he carried, the ice would as well soon.  

He took another step.

Everything was in order, he thought. With the help of his estate manager, he had made sure a while ago that everyone, staff, Rhodey, and Pepper would be looked after well. They wouldn’t have to worry about him and he wouldn’t have to worry they would be left with nothing.

He stepped again.

Maybe this would be better. He would never have to see those portraits judging him from the grave, never have to face another day of being so goddamn alone again.

He took another step and froze. Wind sweeping the snow resting on the top of the ice and the moon appeared in its full glory from behind a cloud, settling down on his face. Tony was submerged in some kind of spell. Magic swirled around him and his fingers switched before curling into fists. He brought them up against his heart feeling it race. Strange, he hadn’t felt it until now.

Tony took a step back and heard the cracking ice. Like waking from a bad dream, Tony noticed where he was and how cold it was. He stared down at the damaged ice and with haste scuffled backward. Water permeated his boots and he fell into the bank. Puffs of breath steamed into the air and his chest contracted rapidly. He tried sucking in a breath only to be stopped by that heaviness in his chest.

Water soaked into his clothes and his head spun. Over and over he tried breathing deep, tried grasping onto his something but his hands melted through the snow he was buried in. Black spots danced across his vision and his hands came up to clutch his shirt tight.  

His eyes closed, the shallow breaths not being enough to sustain consciousness, and he slipped into blessed darkness away from his thoughts, away from himself.

Tony awoke, drenched in the cold. He unwound his fingers from his shirt before stretching them, feeling the bones shake with resistance. Carefully he stood up, working around his shaking legs and deep ache in his chest.

Tony stood there for a moment, his gaze resting on the ice he had stood on. With a turn of his heel, Tony stepped away from the bank, brushed off his pants, and hastily headed back to the little cottage.

What he was running away from was another question he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

-

The holidays were never easy for him, he argued with himself. Of course, he didn’t really mean it. All the cheer and good tidings were getting to him.

He poured himself the remnants of the bottle and cursed his lack of foresight to bring more. Forgoing any manners, he dipped his fingers into the cake and licked it off before diving back in and repeating his actions. He could bloody well do what he wanted it was Christmas after all and no one could reprimand him for it. With a dull smile he grabbed another portion not minding when it dropped onto his still wet shirt.

Everything was fine. The food was delicious, the champagne, besides not enough, was the best money could buy, and he was as rich as can be.

It didn’t matter. Christmas was just like any other day of the year. What did it matter to him? He had offers to go to parties. Pepper invited him to stay with her family but he chose to stay at his home upstate. He chose to do this and he loved it.

The world felt duller once he got back inside, the cottage a little shabbier, but Tony pushed those thoughts away and focused on his cake, thanking dear Mrs. Vern for making it on such short notice, and the lace dollies on the little table. He was sure his mom made them when he was a kid.  

There was a fuzziness hovering over his mind and there was still plenty of cake left. He sung carols and other folktales at the top of his lungs. Hours into the night he pulled a blanket around his shoulders and closed his eyes.  It truly was a grand time of the year and Tony felt a false warmth in his limbs.

It wasn’t until he was in the grips of sleep that the moon reflecting on the ice entered his mind again. Tony shivered and drew the blanket tighter and he slipped further into sleep.

His face remained impassive and youthful but unbeknownst to him a small tear ran down the side of his face.

There was no evidence of the emotion in the morning. The cold’s lingering grasp was swept away by the sun and everything was as expected, but on waking Tony packed up and went back to the city instead of staying in his upstate manor for the remainder of the holiday as planned.

He refused to open the windowsills and look out at the lake as he exited the cottage.

Thank you! 

Edited on 4-27-20.

Taglist: @verdonafrost @whatisthou

Chapter Three: A Day When Someone New comes to Midtown

[ichigopanhpff]

Ignis x Reader Fic: Next To You Pt. 8

This was one of the tougher chapters to write. I intended it to go a different route, but ultimately decided to go with this. That and I’m a sadistic af writer who love torturing her readers xD

While you’re reading, I’d like for you to listen this ONE OK ROCK song. I think it best reflects the mood of what I was trying to capture.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Last night felt like a dream. Dinner and dessert was perfect. Then it all came crashing down.

(Y/N)’s eyes lazily fluttered open with a blanket wrapped around her like a cocoon. She found herself in the darkness of her bedroom. Streams of light snuck through the small break in the blinds, suggesting it was near noon. She sighed aloud and turned to the other side, hugging a stray pillow.

Being alone was fine. She didn’t have to hurt anyone nor anyone her. This was predestined for those of the (Y/LN)s. Build bonds only to break them. Love only to use them. Blackmail only for self-gain.

She felt herself regressing back to being numb to everything as the pain radiated in her chest. Her world was turning back into the monochromatic one she’s grown so accustomed to from her youth. Mechanically reaching for her phone, she debated messaging Ignis but decided against it. She’s done enough.

She lost her one and only friend, her confidante. If someone were to jump into her room and kill her right now, she wouldn’t even put up a fight.

As (Y/N) drifted back into a dreamless sleep, her phone suddenly chimed with a message, jolting her up. Her eyes desperately scanned the notification, only to leave her disappointed.

“Don’t be stupid...” she assured herself aloud, feeling her eyes heat up with the need to cry again. She tossed her phone back on the nightstand with a clatter. “He’s already rejected you.”

How foolish of her to think she could be in the brilliant light like him while running from her shadows. They were at opposite ends of the same coin, always parallel to each other. As much as she reached out, no one could reach back to save her from herself. Unable to sleep anymore, (Y/N) rolled to the opposite end of her bed and reached for her phone again to check the message.

It was from her father; there was to be a family meeting at the house tomorrow and she had to dress up. No exceptions. A sudden uncomfortable feeling rose up from the pit of her stomach; tomorrow was the treaty signing with Niflheim. The timing’s all too coincidental.

What could they be scheming?

Maybe it’s time to dive back onto the Dark Net for some intel. It’ll make for some good emotional distraction.

–

When the morning of the treaty signing came, she hesitantly reached for a box buried underneath her bed and pulled it out. The top was lightly covered with dust bunnies and cobwebs. This was one of the many things she never wished to show Ignis. Reaching for the lid with shaky hands, (Y/N) balled them up tightly into a fist to steady herself. She had to remind herself she’s only wearing it to appease her parents and won’t become what it represents. Taking in a calming breath, she lifted the lid and revealed a neatly folded black garment.

The Phantom Fatigues, the only known signature clothing from her family. 

Made of air light breathable material and resistant to almost all the elements, it allowed the wearer maximum mobility and speed without making a sound. Wearing this also allowed them to vanish at will and into stealth mode; perfect for sneaking in and out of places. As nice as that sounds, it always felt suffocating for her as it was a constant reminder of her being bound to her so-called weighty family legacy. Each piece she put on heightened her anxiety to the point where she physically shook. Taking deep, drawn out breaths to calm down, she squeezed her eyes close to find her happy place.

The first person that came to mind was him. (Y/N) never realized how dependent she was on Ignis up until now. Almost every aspect of her life revolved around the crown adviser. How did that happen? Whatever the reason may be, it worked. Nervously taking a step forward, she walked up to the small full length mirror leaning on the wall. Gods, the outfit was exactly how she remembered it. She didn’t care her face looked like shit from crying and drinking whiskey.

The long sleeve loose fitting asymmetric top with a hood draped just past her hips. Her bottoms consisted of bandaged leggings with mesh panels and a pair of black shorts on top. To complete the ensemble, a pair of sturdy black leather boots with interior sheaths for weapons. Sighing heavily at her appearance, she figured the sooner she got this done, the sooner she can get out of these clothes.

Grabbing her go-bag, she took one more look around her apartment and left. Making her way out to the street, she looked at her phone again.

“Stupid girl,” she uttered to herself. “Ig’s gone. Let it go.”

(Y/N) closed her eyes to collect her focus and emotions. She reopened them and ducked into a narrow side street and jumped up to a building rooftop like a dragoon. She couldn’t possibly take the train in these clothes. Even regular Lucians would find her suspect. Throwing the hood over her head, she willed herself to vanish and made tracks to her parents’ house. The Kingsglaive would be on high alert and seeing someone jump on rooftops wouldn’t help calm them down either. After hopping over a variety of city buildings and admiring the skyline of Insomnia and the oncoming parade for Niflheim, she arrived with a few minutes to spare before the meeting time and reappeared after making sure no one was around.

She’s always hated her familial home. The concrete fort-like exterior with dark window frames always made it feel more like a prison than anything. The only sunlight the house got were in the hallways leading to the study and dining room. As a child, she’d often stay there, staring out at those very same windows wondering about the world outside; wondering if she’d ever be able to bask in the light like everyone else. Her room was often dark as it was at the far end of the house. When she had the chance to leave, she did so without hesitation and opted for a place with the best angle for natural lighting.

Staring at the cold, intimidating structure, she took a breath and went through the small entrance gate. Her presence was greeted with faint, echoing footsteps from far away and deafening silence. Before going to the meeting spot, she stashed her bag behind one of the many curtains in the main hallway to make a quick getaway; hiding it in her old room would be too obvious and she’d be trapped. She removed her hood and heard two sets of footsteps approaching her way. (Y/N) quickly turned to see her brothers in their respective fatigues and dark slacks.

“Azrael, Chronos,” she tersely greeted her older brothers. “What the hell happened to your face?” Azrael asked with contempt. “So sorry the way I was born offends you so much,” she snarked back and rolled her eyes.

Her brother merely huffed an annoyed breath and the three slowly made their way to the study.

“Either one of you have any idea what this meeting’s about?” “I overheard we’re to have some guests arrive,” Chronos replied and had to do a double take at (Y/N). “You’re in uniform.” “At the request of father,” she listlessly pointed out. “I’m surprised it still fits you,” Azrael sneered. “You and me both.”

They walked on in tense silence with the midday sunlight dancing past them from the wide french styled windows. Every nerve in her body was screaming danger up ahead as her mind played through the infinite amount of scenarios in what it could be; and the information she found on the Dark Net wasn’t helping any either.

“Why are you nervous, (Y/N)?” Azrael pointed out, noticing her fidgeting fingers at her sides. “I’m sure whatever we’re meeting ‘bout doesn’t concern you.”

She stopped in her steps and turned to her brothers, pausing their pace.

“Don’t you think it’s weird dad called us here on the day of the treaty signing?” she abruptly blurted out. “What do you mean?” Chronos asked and saw the hesitation in her expression. “I think… it’s some kind of trap,” she quietly spoke with bated breath. “Mom n’ dad would never set us up like that,” Azrael dismissed the theory and placed his hands on his hips. “With you, maybe.” “But what if they are?” she challenged. “They’ve been bitching non-stop about reclaiming our proper place.” “You know how they are: they shoot the shit to pass the time. They’d never side with the Niffs,” Azrael firmly concluded. “We may be fuck-ups in the eyes of the Lucis Caelems, but we’d never stoop that low for influence.” “That may be, but what do we have to lose now that the King’s agreed to the ceasefire?” she argued back. Chronos saw the top of the her dagger handles sticking out of the sides of her boots and inquired, “Is that why you brought those, (Y/N)?” “Call it insurance.” “We shouldn’t dawdle,” her middle brother dismissed her theory and walked ahead. “Let’s go, (Y/N),” Chronos called.

Her palms were sweaty and her heart was beating like a double-pedaled bass drum at her throat. Everything felt heavy and off. But what choice did she have?

It was time for a ‘go as you see fit’ strategy as she entered the Lion’s Den.

–

Days passed and news of Insomnia’s fall hit the radio waves and papers. Mixed emotions hit the four royal travelers: anger, worry, fear, rage, and most of all, revenge. After retrieving one of Noct’s Royal Arms with Cor’s help, they received a call from Iris to confirm her safety and slowly made their way to Lestallum from Hammerhead. While resting at a camper at Coernix Bypass at night, Ignis’ mind wandered to (Y/N). He’d tried to reach her on several occasions unsuccessfully when he was alone. Sighing and staring at his blackened phone screen, he decided to give it one more try, hoping to the Six she’s alright.

Hearing the phone ring twice on the line, a click suddenly connected. His heart leapt anxiously and heard the most discouraging message.

“I’m sorry. The number you have reached has been disconnected.”

Disconnected…

Did the Niffs capture her? Or was she already among the dead? Reaching up to his necklace, he unconsciously ran his thumb over the hand-carved skull she made for him, trying his best not to think of the worse case scenario. There were still so many things left unsaid between them since their kiss. But that would have to wait; his priority right now is to get to Lestallum and regroup with Iris. (Y/N)’s whereabouts had to be second.

Gladio entered the camper and noticed his friend’s sullen expression in the breakfast nook area.

“Iggy, you alright?”

His head jolted up and nodded.

“Yes, thanks for the concern,” he dryly responded, his face still full of worry. “Have you heard anythin’ from (Y/N)?” “Unfortunately, no.” “I’m sure she’s fine,” the Shield tried to persuade his friend. “She’s a fighter.” “That she is…”

He suddenly clapped his hand on Ignis’ shoulder, making him look up.

“Trust in her like you trust us.”

After a few rounds of “King’s Knight,” the four turned in for the night and it’s back on the road at the break of dawn. The change in the air was very noticeable as they drove through the Clegine area. The humidity clung onto their skin even when standing still. And wearing full leather attire certainly didn’t help either. They pulled over to the side for a quick photo op Prompto requested.

“Ugh, it’s so damn hot,” Noct complained after the photo was taken and wiped some sweat off of his forehead with his arm. “It’s most likely because we’re so close to the astral shard,” Ignis remarked and rolled up his sleeves. He left his jacket back in the car. “Alright, let’s head out!” Prompto called and retracted his tripod.

Placing their personal effects back into the Regalia, they hit the road again and arrived at Lestallum an hour and a half later. Feeling the wind and humidity blow past them in the underpass, the city welcomed them with a sultry sun above. Ignis parked the car and they all exited the vehicle.

“Nice little town,” Prompto remarked and looked around, taking in the relaxing atmosphere. “People seem friendly enough.”

The aroma of food coming from the stalls danced around the humid air, catching Gladio’s nose. “I smell meat skewers. Let’s get some after we meet up with Iris.”

The four explored the town to take in the local flavor and energy. It was certainly different from Crown City and was definitely a nice change of pace from hunting beasts and cave explorations. Gladio’s wandering eyes couldn’t help but look at all the females passing by in local clothing.

“The women here are… really well built,” he muttered to himself and checked out another one with an ice cream cone in hand, nearly breaking his neck in the process.

While walking along, Ignis couldn’t help but feel like they were being watched. He quickly looked over his shoulder with suspicion and found no one in the vicinity. As he turned back, he could’ve sworn he spotted a someone from his peripheral. They were already gone by the time he darted his eyes back.

“Ignis?” Prompto called. “You alright?” “Yes...” he hesitantly answered and glanced around once more for good measure before rejoining the group to The Leville. Everyone was relieved to see Gladio reunite with Iris, Talcott and Jared as they greeted one another at the hotel lobby. At least one good thing came from the trip. With everyone tired from traveling, they decided to check into the hotel and rest up. The front desk clerk called for Ignis after their accommodations were set up by Jared.

“Is something the matter with our rooms?” “No, sir. It’s just that there was something left for you,” the clerk responded and reached into a nearby drawer. He took out an envelope and handed it to him. “Did you see who gave this to you?” “Unfortunately not, sir. I couldn’t get a good look at their face.” “I see… Thank you.”

Ignis looked at the unaddressed item with furrowed eyebrows, unsure of who it could be from. Erring on the side of caution, he pocketed it and decided to read it upstairs in the room. After spending some time to catch up with what happened within Insomnia with Iris, the four boys were emotionally and mentally exhausted. Once everyone fell asleep, Ignis snuck out to the balcony for some privacy with the letter.

Staring at it with unease, he opened it and read the contents. It was from (Y/N). When they were children, they created a system and code names for each other in the event either one came into a life threatening situation. Should their messages get intercepted, it’d look like nothing more than gibberish to the third party.

He let out a small breath of disbelief upon reading it. From what he could decipher, her parents turned their allegiance to Niflheim, her brothers were killed and she’s either on the run or in hiding. The Niff’s attacks will start coming their way at a more aggressive pace and may be a while until they can see each other again. His disbelief then turned over to concern.

She used the initials W.R. as a sign off. It was the abbreviated codename her parents gave her.

Had she finally decided to fully embrace the part she fought so hard to deny?

“(Y/N)...” he whispered to himself and gripped the edge of the letter. “Please be safe.”

A few more days passed by and the boys found themselves staying around Cleigne occupied with hunts for funds, helping out the locals and getting the second Royal Arm. Upon blowing up the first nearby Niflheim base to exact revenge for Jared’s death, they realized they needed more information on the enemy. Vyv, the local tipster slash editor in chief for a magazine publishing company, reached out to them for pictures for some Niflheim bases.

When asked where he found out about the locations, all he said was his source wished to remain anonymous. Knowing they won’t get any more out of him, they hit the road to locate the bases. Pulling the Regalia aside upon finding the second base, Ignis noticed a figure surveying something at the top of the wall with the sun setting behind them. Squinting his eyes to get a better look, he was interrupted by Noct calling for him.

“We’re good, specs! Let’s get outta here before they decide to give us the full welcome wagon,” the prince noted.

The adviser nodded and made tracks to regroup with his friends. He turned to look back again, only to find the person was already gone.

“Iggy, you alright?” Gladio asked. “Yes...” he trailed off. “Just seeing things.” “Maybe you should clean your glasses,” Noct joked. “A fine idea.”

The four lost track of time wandering and going after extra hunts as the night crept up. Nearing a safe haven, exhausted and dirty from nature, a Red Giant suddenly ambushed the four with a swing of its blazing sword. Just the force from the aftershock alone knocked them all down. Prompto was the first to get up and fired a Starshell up in the air while Noct Warp-Striked the daemon as it flinched in pain. Gladio and Ignis backed Noct up by taking the creature’s blind spots. Frustrated with the two-legged ants, the beast roared angrily struck the ground, knocked them all off their feet from the shaking.

Having exhausted the last of their curatives from the previous hunt, they had to make a tactical retreat. With the daemon slowly creeping up to them step by thunderous step, the four conserved what stamina they had left to make a sprint for it. As it raised its sword above its head, the monster swung down at Ignis’ direction, only to have it intercepted by an invisible force. He staggered backwards from the reverberating ring of the clash of metals.

The figure he saw earlier at the top of the fort wall appeared out of thin air in front of him. The adviser quickly noticed the unmarked clothing made of flowing, air-light material; they were Phantom Fatigues.

There was only one family he knew who wore those. She faced the Red Giant with unflinching bravado with a pair of fabricated curved blades at her hands. The daemon quickly parried her attack with its giant sword and she quickly jumped back. The figure then wrote something illegible in the air followed with swirling red wisps surrounding her. Lunging at the creature again, she jumped up into the starlit night sky and landed the dual blades onto the shoulder blade of its sword arm. The giant roared in pain as she freed one blade, turned and beheaded it with one swift movement from behind.

Holy Ifrit. She took down a Red Giant alone.

As the daemon melted back into the black puddle it spawned from, the four boys saw their savior dismount back on the grassy earth, waver and collapse on the ground in a short beat. They slowly picked themselves back up and gathered near her fallen form.

“Who the hell is she?” Gladio panted out. “Whoever it is, they saved us,” Prompto chimed in. “That’s all that matters to me.” “It’s (Y/N),” Ignis finally answered in a hushed voice. “It appears she’s been watching us.” “Let’s get outta here first before more of these things wanna come out to play,” Noct finalized with a huff of breath.

Ignis scooped her up into his arms and hurriedly made their way to the haven. He felt (Y/N)’s muscles were stressed and heavy, her breathing shallow like she was teetering at Death’s door. While Gladio, Noct and Prompto set up the camping equipment, Ignis stayed by (Y/N)’s side to make sure she was comfortable. He folded his jacket up into a makeshift pillow for her. Upon removing her hood, he found it strange the glasses he was so used to seeing her wear were replaced with a mesh fabric blindfold. His worries and concerns were slowly drifting away now that she was in front of him.

When she slowly came to, a soft groan escaped her lips and her eyes fluttered open. They gradually widened to meet Ignis’ worried ones. Before he could say anything, (Y/N) jumped up and assumed a defensive position as panic rose up. Gladio and Noct jumped while Prompto and Ignis remained neutral. Heaving hard breaths, she looked like a cornered feral animal ready to pounce. 

“Whoa! Whoa!” Prompto soothed with his palms up. “(Y/N), i-it’s us! You’re safe.” “Where...” She spoke through a clenched jaw, still hyper-sensitive of her surroundings. Her veiled eyes darted around with fear. “Where are we?” “Camp,” the blond boy tranquilly answered. “We’re at a safe haven.”

She softened her stance and collapsed on the ground, letting a drawn out shaky breath. Her hand reached up and gripped the side of her head, lightly hissing in pain.

“(Y/N)...” Ignis softly called and reached out to her, only to have her violently flinch away. “Don’t touch me!” she screamed and shook in place.

He tried to get a good look at her; her fragile state of mind and heightened senses indicated she hadn’t slept much, if at all. Even the smallest sound could scare her away. He needed to act quickly before she decided to run.

“(Y/N)… I received your letter. At the hotel in Lestallum,” he quietly spoke. “I’m sorry about what happened.”

She merely nodded and wiped away some stray tears streaking down her cheek.

“Stay with us tonight. You’ll be safe here,” Ignis suggested in a soothing voice. 

She silently agreed with another nod of her head while the prince and the Shield let out a small breath of relief. The four boys then gathered at one end of the haven.

“So what should we do?” Noct asked and looked over his shoulder at (Y/N), placing his hands on his hips. “Leave her be,” Ignis replied. “Let’s get the fire going first and I’ll start food.” “Iggy, we can’t leave her like this,” Prompto objected. “Look at her!” “Prompto, just trust me,” he tiredly insisted. “There’s nothing we can do right now.” “You’ve… seen her like this before, haven’t you?” Gladio quietly inquired. “Unfortunately, yes.” He sighed and pushed his glasses up. “From when she locked herself away from the world.”

They went about their usual tasks while (Y/N) stayed stationary and silently observed. The pain from her temples died down to a pulsating numbing sensation like a caffeine withdrawal. Her eyes then wandered to Ignis’ back profile, who was in the middle of preparing dinner. She never realized how wide they were, as if he could shoulder the weight of the world on them. Sensing a presence to her left, her head quickly jerked to see Gladio with a cup in his hands.

“Here,” he softly said and handed her the mug. “Iggy said the tea would help.”

Meekly thanking the muscular man, she took it from him and slowly sipped it, taking in the aromas of honey and chrysanthemum. The two sat quietly. Eventually, Noct and Prompto made their way over to her end.

“How’re you feeling, (Y/N)?” Prompto gently asked with worried blue eyes. “Bit better, thanks,” she quietly answered hoarsely. “You really saved our asses back there,” Noct chimed in and rubbed the back of his head. “Thanks.”

She curtly nodded at the prince and went back to sipping from her cup, exuding an aura of not wanting to talk. Dinner was ready after a short moment and Ignis handed out everyone’s portion. He then gestured to (Y/N) to sit in his chair, to which she shook her head and declined.

“I’m fine on the ground,” she muttered out and stirred her food with her spoon. Tonight was Dry-Aged Tender Roast Stew. She took a small bite of food and paused to take in the flavor. She then took a bigger bite, as if trying to make sense of something. Her body felt like it was being healed and comforted with every spoonful.

It tasted different than his usual cooking, it was… deeper. She glanced up at his side profile, focused on eating and deep in thought. Did he make this with her in mind?

Ignis felt (Y/N)’s stare and turned to her.

“Is the food not to your liking?” “N-No. No...” She immediately looked down at her now empty bowl. “It was… delicious.” “I can see that.” Gladio noticed the amount of earth on her clothes and asked, “How long have you been out here by yourself?” “Four, five days, maybe...” “When was the last time you slept or ate?” “Four, five days...” “That would explain the paranoia and disorientation,” Ignis concluded. “Earlier today… that was you on top of the Niflheim fort, wasn’t it?” “I was looking for weak points,” (Y/N) responded emotionlessly and set her bowl down. “To infiltrate.” “By yourself?! You lookin’ to die?!” Gladio scolded. “I refuse sit by and watch everything burn.” She stared down the tattooed man down through her blindfold. “Not anymore.”

The five sat in silence while the fire crackled into the dark night. Prompto was the first to break the ice.

“So how come you’re wearing a blindfold, (Y/N)?”

She unconsciously reached up and gently touched it, trying to think of the words to explain.

“It’s… complicated.” “But you can still see, right?” the blond gunslinger asked with concern. “My vision’s more than substantial, yes...” She took a small breath and lightly sighed, fully aware of what’s running through their minds. “I’m sure you all have questions about what happened and I’ll… try my best to answer them.” Gladio was the first to jump at the opportunity. “So how were you able to take on that Giant alone?” She searched for the right way to answer him. “You were awakened,” Ignis assumed. “Forcefully, yes,” she dejectedly confirmed. “Awakened?” Noct asked. “Everyone in the (YL/N) have a different ability based on their personality,” she explained. “There are three ways to awaken; Kill someone closest to us, experience a traumatizing situation or willingly transfer your powers to the last person you’re thinking of before dying.”

She took a brief pause before continuing.

“It’s rare an ability’s repeated in our bloodline, but it’s happened. It’s considered a blessing from our ancestors. Both my brothers, Azrael and Chronos had that. It was only natural for my parents to think they were the gifted ones.” “So what’s your ability?” the crown prince enquired. “Remember how I told you at the start I was a taker?”

She inhaled and raised her right hand up. She scribbled the kanji of “sound” with her index finger. The character then dissipated into a wisp of air and almost instantaneously, a loud buzzing rang in their ears as they looked around in confusion. Prompto opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He grabbed his throat and tried again, only to be met with silence and started panicking. She then negated her previous action with a simple wave of her hand.

“–DUNGEON ALL OVER AGAIN–” the blond boy screamed and abruptly stopped by clasping his mouth shut with his hands. His voice echoed into the vast darkness, where distant roar from a daemon replied. “Do go on, (Y/N),” Ignis disregarded the blond boy’s outburst and casually rubbed his ear. “My ability, ‘Spirited Away,’ allows me to take things and use it to my advantage. When I took away ‘sound’, I could fully utilize my stealth and efficiently eliminate a threat. With the Red Giant, I took its ‘strength,’” she revealed. “However, I can only use half of what I take and the time-limit has built up to around three to four minutes.” “Do you have conditions that need to be met when you use it? What about the rebounds?” Ignis questioned with concern. “As expected of a Scientia to do their research...” she applauded. “It seems the only condition so far is the opposite party can’t know my ability exists. Otherwise, its effects are nullified. As for the rebound, well...” she wryly chuckled. “You saw for yourself.” “If your ability’s to ‘steal’ something, how was it that you used dual blades with the Red Giant then?” Noct questioned. “The answer to that is condition number three.” “Your brothers…” Ignis concluded. She merely nodded in silence as a confirmation and sighed heavily. “The blades, Silentium Ferro,” She held her hand out and summoned one with a grey haze exuding out of her arm. The curved black blade gleamed with ill will from the reflection of the camp fire. “Were Azrael’s. And…” (Y/N) removed her blindfold and slowly opened her eyes, revealing golden orange colored orbs. “These were Chronos’. The blood binding us makes rejecting them impossible. Our powers feed on the darkness of our souls, so the more we kill...” “The stronger you become,” Gladio finished.

(Y/N) then released Ferro from her hand and dissipated back into the air. Her expression was dark and emotionless, as if the memory of how she obtained her brothers’ relics played on repeat in her mind. “Their abilities are much more draining to use due to the weight of their sins compared to my own.” “You said your family forcefully awakened you...” Noct circled back. “What exactly happened?”

(Y/N) sighed and looked down at the rocky ground. “It started with the day of the treaty signing...”