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mcfreakin-bxtch · 4 years ago

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Chapter Three (Knight AU)

Be Yours

Din Djarin x Reader

Warnings: Talks of war/violence and forced marriages, Language (I may be missing more I apologize)

Word Count: 2.2K+

A/N: This took forever for me to get out. The next chapter will have more Din and James content and background!

*I’m reposting this because I went through another tumblr glitch (which they said should never happen again so let’s hope!) and my fic kinda disappeared from the tags

***

James Newsome.

That name made you tremble with pure anger.

The only son to the Newsome Heir, Prince of Coalstead, and one of the most infuriating men you had ever come across.

You had first met him when you had just turned fifteen, in his home in the smoky, dark yet elegant kingdom that made you appreciate the grassy lands that surrounded yours. Your fathers were quick to introduce the two of you; even at a young age, James had the ego of a thousand kings that immediately butted heads with your ‘righteous morality’ as he grew to call it, but you didn’t fully realize this until you began to see his true colors. It wasn’t hard to deduce what your fathers were up to, and your suspicions about this abrupt meeting were answered when he teased you about it.

“I think our fathers want us to marry,” he said in a mediocre sing-song. “Another kingdom for the taking, another queen to—”

You kicked him before he could continue.

From then on out the entire trip was full of arguing and bickering that even your guards couldn’t get under control, and each time he would give you that smile—one of victory and cheekiness you wanted to slap off. Jules, who had gone with you of course, ogled him just as every other girl did when he walked by much to your chagrin; you hoped it still wasn’t so.

“You’re just letting him get the best of you.” Jules said. She ran her fingers through your hair carefully as she brushed out the harsh tangles from your restless night. “And besides, it’s not like he’s… well, unfortunate looking.”

You grimaced. Sometimes, you wondered about your friend. “You’re not helping, Jules. And you know that it goes beyond his looks.”

She huffed as she took a part of your hair and clipped so that one side was out of your face, her annoyed expression matching your own in the vanity mirror.

‘Good’, you thought.

“Well,” she said after clipping the other half of your locks. “You’re the Princess of Riverheart and the most stubborn woman I have ever met.” You couldn’t stifle the grin that also laced her lips and Jules chuckled. “So do something about it, then.”

“Yeah.” You nodded with authority. “That’s right.” You stood up abruptly, twirling around to pull Jules into a tight hug, ignoring her surprised yelp. “Thank you.”

Your steps echoed loudly through the empty halls, sharp and defined as confidence bubbled inside of your chest with a fury. You whipped your head around every corner, not a glimpse of familiar aging hair or colorful robes at every turn. He wasn’t even in the grand hall, odd to you at the early hours but not uncommon.

Where the devil is he?

It was a long shot, going to your precious garden. Bringham rarely made an appearance, and you supposed it had everything to do with the dead; too many memories. As you expected, he wasn’t.

With a long and heavy sigh you sat down in the rays of the seething sun and twirled a strand of grass around your pointer finger. You closed your eyes and basked in the warmth of the morning, replaying the night before in your head.

“And you’ve told no one else this?” You asked, swallowing through the shock of what Din had just told you.

“No,” Din answered. “No one out of the Royal Court knows of this.”

You nodded, staring at the floor. “Okay.” Your voice wavered through your authoritative tone. “Okay.”

“M’lady.” Din cleared his throat. “You must’n let your father know I told you this. I—”

“I’m aware,” you gritted out. “I promise you, you will face no consequences for this.”

“I didn’t mean to… overstep. I’m sorry.”

You sighed and shook your head, burying your face in your hands. “No,” you mumbled. “I shouldn’t take my anger out on you. After all, you’re not the one forcing me into this.”

The room filled with silence then, a silence filled with understanding and a sort of acceptance.

“Din,” you said gently. “Thank you.”

The Knight stood postured, as he was trained, but there was a slight shift that told you that your sincerity reached a certain part of him you had not touched.

“It’s my job.” He replied. “It is the Code.”

You wished you had the blood of a witch so you could read his mind. To unbrand him and disintegrate the armor that shielded him from the outside world. It was selfish, very selfish of you, you constantly reminded yourself, but that childlike curiosity was a monster to fight; a battle you seemed to lose each and every time.

“Ah, and there she is.”

Your heart stopped. That voice hadn’t changed much since the last time you saw him, but he had definitely grown out of his boyish features; now replaced with a sharp jaw and cheekbones that matched, floofy, short brown locks that actually kept the younger boy you had met so long ago, with a black coat that defined the muscles he obtained over the years, and a toothy grin that was nothing but hubris as he stood a few feet before you.

“James,” you greeted coolly. “A surprise to see you here.”

His grin widened. “And did you not miss me, little princess?”

You glared at the pet name. “No, and I believe I told you not to call me that.”

He chuckled, all confident and airy as he strolled towards you, bringing an apple out of his coat pocket. “You certainly haven’t changed… much.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he walks closer to you, rolling the red apple in his hand, “that you need to loosen up. Let your guard down little princess, you’re not a queen yet, so enjoy it.”

He ended with an offering, the apple just inches away from the tip of your nose. You swiped it out of his grip with a frown. “And here you are already giving me a lecture.”

His grin widened. “I know. But you see,” he did a little twirl, inhaling deeply and opening his arms towards the clear blue skies, “people can change.”

You took a bite of the sweet fruit, chewing thoughtfully. “While that is true,” you mumbled. “That only applies to someone who actually wants to change for the better, not because they’re in need of their father’s treasures.”

James’s smile fell, as did his brows, and it made you smirk behind the apple. After all these years, it felt nice that you could still get underneath his skin and rip him a new one—the only problem was that you were still letting him do the same thing to you.

“And how does dear ole daddy feel knowing that his only heir is having doubts?!” He smirked as your expression fell. “He does know, doesn’t he?”

You could feel the blood rush to your face, painting it into a hot red that had you seething in your spot. Everything turned into background noise—no, not even that, everything just went numb, and before you could even think or take the next breath, the apple flew from your hand and towards his chest.

“Hey—” he barely got out in surprise when you lunged at him.

You didn’t have specifics in mind, but you knew that you just wanted to hurt him; to give him a piece of his own medicine through the only way that flew through your head. Your hand cocked back, knuckles upfront as you swung and you were vaguely aware of the soft crunch of his nose beneath your fist.

“Son of a bitch!” James howled, clutching at his face, little droplets of blood already seeping through the cracks of his fingers.

You smiled, triumphant in your stand, but it was quickly shattered when you heard the familiar pounding of hooves coming towards the garden.

“And what is going on here?”

Ah, you recognized that voice.

“Oh you know, Perry,” James sighed nasually, “the usual bits.”

Perry, a rather short man with a big rounded nose and a permanent sneer on his lips that matched the yellowish look of his hazel eyes—you imagined those eyes would look rather beautiful and clear without the harshness he brought to them—eyed the Prince’s bloody hand and your clenched fists; no doubt he could pick out the specs of blood on your knuckles.

As you expected, the guard turned towards you with no hidden malice. “What do you think you’re doing attacking—”

“It’s fine.” James huffed loudly. “I can take care of this myself.”

You were shocked to say the least, and it must have shown vividly on your face because James’s cheeks scrunched up to the corner of his eyes—he was laughing at you.

And Perry sat on his horse—at least the horse was well taken care of, as far as you could tell—gritting his teeth in frustration as he knew best not to go against his word.

“Very well. Remember to arrive on time for dinner, your highness.”

James waved him off, not taking his eyes off you; you held his gaze, refusing to back down. Finally he chuckled, wincing in pain as he did, but kept that smile all the while.

“You know, a simple thank you will suffice.”

You scoffed. “I do not owe you any apologies of sorts.”

“Not even for saving your ass back there?” He tilted his head back. “Weren’t you taught to show gratification for your saviors?”

You rolled your eyes so hard it felt as though it would stay in the back of your head, barely giving him a moment’s chance to stop you—if he had plans to—as you barreled past him.

“Do you know why I’m here?”

The question makes you stop. “No.” You lied.

He took a few steps closer to you, blue-gray eyes meeting yours with no traces of teasing—a first for him.

“I’m not supposed to be here, actually,” he sidetracked from his previous question. “But I was a little curious.”

It was a trap, you could sense it, and you knew better than to fall for it, but the words escaped your mouth without a second thought. “About what?”

His grin widened, pearly white teeth among the tiny streaks of blood from his nose. “If you were going to be happy seeing your soon-to-be husband.”

You walked away before you could give him any more satisfaction; his chuckle echoed across your mother’s garden, following your heavy steps.

***

The rain pattered against the rooftop.

It was a calming feeling in contrast to the brewing anger and frustration inside your chest. Each thump against your window echoed in your heartbeat, and as you sat in your room, refusing to let anyone in, your thoughts ran rampant.

How could your father not warn you of this? Prepare you for the heavy tasks that were bestowed upon you since birth by royal right, instead of throwing you head first into a marriage you’ve never asked for, and for a war you have no idea how to fight and by his own excuses.

The problem was that you knew of his reasoning’s. You had been prepared for a daunting title since you could walk and talk, and the aspects of a marriage you would not be able to turn down no longer—not without a good fight, at least. Your mind could contradict itself a thousand times just to try and make you feel better, but the end result would remain the same; you were going to have to go through with this, no matter how much you disliked the idea of it.

“‘For your people,’” you mocked with a scowl. “For my people.”

It made your heart turn in its weeping, struggling to overcome the waves of disdain. At that moment, you wished your mother were there, comforting you and telling you everything you wanted to hear, anything to justify your departure from the title itself.

“Wars. Death. Magic even.”

It shook you to the core just thinking about what was coming for your kingdom, your home. And now, all the weight was atop your shoulders, the lives of many in your hands for the first time, and you had no idea whatsoever on how you were going to handle this—marrying James and aligning Coalstead and Riverheart was a start, a start you thought less of.

Suddenly your mind drifted to the man who relayed this message to you in secret, and remembered that you had not seen him at all since last night. You wanted, no, needed, to see him before you let your head get the best of you; you could talk to him without worrying of him betraying your trust and he seemed to be the only one (other than insufferable fool) that was forthright with you about everything.

It would have to wait until after supper. You didn’t need any more suspicions from your father nor anyone else in the guard that would turn you in in a heartbeat. You needed to be smart and careful about this, no matter the battle raging between your head and heart.

If the rumors were true, your step to the high chair was coming sooner than you thought.

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#the mandalorian #the mandalorian au #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #knight au #pedro pascal

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ruthoakenshield · 5 years ago

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The Snowstorm at the Airport (Part 2)

By Ruth_Oakenshield

Richard walked down the hallway to the hotel. He couldn’t get his mind off of you curled up on the bench from before supper. He was worried about your safety. He thought about all the people at the gate and the surrounding ones and tried to tell himself that you’d be ok.

He arrived at his hotel room door and unlocked it. He flipped the lights on and plopped his suitcase down on the stand. He took off his jacket and scarf and hung them up in the closet.

Walking further into the room he looked at the bed and couch wondering which you’d prefer. He sat down on the couch and flipped on the tv. Flipping through the channels, he couldn’t get his mind off of you.

He groaned and rubbed his face. Just then his agent called and informed him she had contacted several stores and told him which ones would be best to take you to so you could pick out the things you needed. She also suggested a few restaurants to take you and your guest to after shopping was done. Richard thanked her and told her he would let her know when they would be allowed to fly out.

He had talked to the airline and they agreed to call him to let him know when the flight would be allowed to leave and what time and which gate he needed to be at. So he wasn’t worried about missing the flight.

Richard paced the room trying to distract himself. He pulled out some scripts his agent wanted him to look over for potential movies & plays he could audition for. But he kept finding his mind drifting back to your long, silky, dark hair and hazel eyes that seemed to change color each time he looked into them.

He groaned and decided to go check on you and make sure you were all right.

You woke with a start. Something wasn’t right. Then you heard it again. Someone was behind you messing with your backpack, trying to get into the locked top zipper. You heard a male voice curse quietly. You slipped your hand around the strap and sprung up swinging the backpack with all your might at the body behind the pole. You heard it hit him and heard him curse. You spun around and pinned him to the post.

“What the hell were you doing?” You holler, getting everyone’s attention who woke at the confrontation. “Why the hell are you targeting me and my stuff for stealing? You already got my suitcase, what more do you want?!!”

The man leers at you and tried to grope you just as Richard rounds the corner and his face goes white. He feels his stomach tighten into a knot when he sees what is going on.

You grab the pinned man’s wrist away from your body and wrench it back, you hear an audible ‘snap’ and realize you just broke his arm. He yells out in pain. Then tries to attack you with his other hand. “I’ll teach you a lesson for that you sexy bitch!” He cries out. Then he grabs your hair and tries to yank it towards him so he can kiss you, but you growl and knee him hard in the jewels. He instantly lets go of your hair to grab them, howling in pain. You take a step back, keeping your stance wide anticipating another attack. “Answer my question, filth! Why are you trying to steal my stuff!?!?!” You holler, eyes full of fury and your hands on your hips.

Just then the airport security arrive and arrest him. He just glares at you and refuses to cooperate and won’t answer questions.

Richard stands at the corner of the hallway staring at you, shocked at how you dropped that guy who out weights and towered over you. He saw an officer come over to you and talk to you for a few minutes then he picked up your backpack and handed it to you. You unlocked the compartment and showed him it was just your notebook and pens/pencils and food in that pocket. The officer shrugged and let you go sit back down and left you alone after giving you his card.

******

You were shocked that the thief would try to steal from you a second time. And shocked he would try it right under your head as you slept. It shook you to the core and you sat down on the bench and put your head in your hands and cried softly wishing Richard was there. “Why is this happening to me? Is it that obvious that I’m new at all this travel stuff?” You quietly ask.

“No, it’s just because your small, traveling alone and a young woman.” A quiet baritone voice says as you see two familiar white running shoes appear in your eyesight between your feet. You see them shift slightly as he kneels down in front of you and you feel his large, warm hand gently grasp your shoulder. “Are you ok, Ruth?” Richard asks you as he gently tips your chin up so you face him. You close your eyes when you feel his hand grasp your chin to lift your face up.

“Ruth, look at me.” He quietly orders. You open your red rimmed eyes and look into his Sapphire blue ones. “Tell me what happened. Did he attack you? Are you ok?” He asks as he wipes your tear streaked face with a clean hankie he pulls from his pocket.

You look down back at the floor. “I had propped my backpack against the pole so all my pockets and zippers faced my body. Then I put my pillow on top of it, wrapped myself in my blanket and went to sleep after you left. I don’t know how long I slept for, but I awoke to a feeling that something wasn’t right.” You tell him and tears start to run down your cheeks.

He wraps you up in his arms and just holds you and pets your head till you calm down. Once you quit crying he sits back and gently holds your face. “Then what happened, Ruth? When I got here you had him pinned against the pole. What happened between the time you woke up and the time you pinned him to the pole?” Richard quietly asks. You try to lower your head, but he holds it steady and you close your eyes. “Ruth, please, let me help you. Tell me what happened.” He quietly pleads.

You take a slow deep breath, trying to quiet your pounding heart. “I...I felt him trying to get into the top zipper of my backpack, but I had locked it with a TSA lock so he couldn’t get into it. I had slid my arm around the shoulder strap that I had pulled forward before I went to sleep. I jumped up and swung the backpack into him trying to throw him off guard so he couldn’t just run away like before. When I felt it hit him I dropped it and pinned him to the pole. He tried to grope my chest so I broke his arm and when he tried to pull me closer to him trying to kiss me, I dropped him with a swift kick to his nuts.” You giggle.

Richard chuckles and says, “I saw that part of the incident. Remind me not to piss you off, you play dirty.” He says as he gently caresses your face. You close your eyes and heave a sigh. “I was so scared, I guess I wasn’t really thinking. I just reacted. I had watched a friend who took Krav Maga lessons and learned a few tricks from her for self defense.” You giggle.

He smiles. “I’m glad you could defend yourself this time, but now will you come back to the room with me and let me keep you safe till we can fly out? I think you’ve had enough for one evening, don’t you think.” You look up at him and see he is very concerned. You look around and see people staring at you and whispering. You look back at him and just nod.

He stands and picks up your backpack from off the floor. He adjusts the straps, then puts it on. You stand and grab your blanket and wrap it around you as he bends down and picks up your pillow. He offers you his elbow and you take it. He leads you away to the hotel.

You are quiet as you follow him. You keep your head down and trust him to lead you to the hotel. You hope this isn’t going to get you into more trouble. Once you two get to the front desk he stops and tells the person to call up to the room when they get word when the British Airways nonstop flight to London will be departing. The desk attendant makes a note of it and the flight number and says she will have someone call up to the room when they get word from the airlines.

Then Richard leads you to the elevator. You both get in, and he presses “3” on the panel. The doors close and the elevator starts to ascend.

You look up at him and then ask quietly, “Richard, why did you come back to the gate? Didn’t you go to the hotel room?”

He swallows hard and then looks down at you. He wraps his arm around you protectively and gives you a hug. “I came back because I was worried about you. I talked to one of the airport security guards who told me that someone had been targeting and attacking single, young women. Stealing from them and assaulting them. He said they were doing all they could to catch him, but he kept disappearing before they could reach him.”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you sitting there by yourself and the fact that they couldn’t catch him. I wanted to check and make sure you were okay.” He told you. You shuddered at his words and he held you close. The bell chimes and the elevator came to a stop on the 3rd floor. The doors opened and he led you to the door. Then he realized that in his hurry to go check on you, he forgot his key on the table. “Shit!” He says quietly.

You look up at him with a puzzled expression. He looks down at you and sheepishly says, “I forgot my key card on the table. Do you still have the one I gave to you?” He asks.

You smirk at him and unwrap the blanket enough to reach into your bra and pull out the keycard and sleeve. You hold the sleeve and offer the end with the card sticking out to him. He grins and pulls the card out and unlocks the door. He hands you the card back and you tuck it back into your bra with a smirk.

He leads you into the room and shrugs off your backpack. Setting it on the coffee table. You look around the room and see the curtains are pulled open to reveal the snow swirling around. You walk over to the window and stare out for a bit.

Richard watches you and follows you over to the window after kicking off his shoes. He stands behind you and gently puts his hands on your hips and rests his chin on the top of your head. He slowly takes a few deep breaths enjoying the smell of your lavender and peppermint shampoo.

You sigh. “It’s too bad we weren’t able to fly out, but if I have to be stuck here waiting to do so, I’m glad it’s with you.” You tell him. “You didn’t have to do all this to help me. I’m nothing. Nobody to you. But I’m grateful for all you have done and how safe you make me feel.” You say quietly as you stare out at the snow.

Richard smiles then stands up. He gently tugs on your hips to get you to turn around. He takes a few steps backwards and sits on the corner of the bed pulling you by the hips towards him. You take a few hesitant steps towards him.

He reaches up and runs his fingers along your cheek and chin. “Sweetheart, you are not a nobody, and you are not nothing to me. You have shown yourself to be kind and compassionate, talented, independent, a little spitfire and wise.” You didn’t have to trust me or accept my help. You were careful and gave me the benefit of the doubt. You didn’t question me though when I offered to replace your wardrobe and when I mentioned I had an assistant. Why?” He asks. “Do you know who I am?”

You suddenly get very shy and look down at the floor. He reaches up to your chin and tilts your head to look at him. You look at his face and see the questions in his eyes. You sigh and nod.

“I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to draw attention to you. I know it bothers some actors when complete strangers bother them for photos and autographs. I didn’t want to be a bother to you. I just wanted to respect your privacy. I’ve always admired your acting and wondered what you were really like. I know some actors are really nice when they are just going about daily life, but I also know others can be complete asses and demanding divas.” You admit shyly.

Richard lets out a barrel laugh and pulls you in for a hug. You squeak, surprised. And squirm since you’re still wrapped in your blanket. When he finishes laughing, he lets you go. “Oh, sweet Ruth! And which am I? The arsehole, the demanding diva or the nice guy?” He asks you with a raised eyebrow and his trademark smirk.

You blush a beet red and quietly squeak out, “ the nice guy, though you’ve been a bit demanding about me joining you here.” You say, to tease him as you look at him with your own smirk and raised eyebrow.

He laughs again and flops back onto the bed. “Oh Ruth, you wound me!” He mocks. You smile at his antics. “Well now you got your wish. I’m here... now what? Did the airlines say how long they expect this storm to last?” You ask.

Richard sits up and grins. He moves you aside a few steps so he could stand. He walks over to the sofa and grabs the remote. He turns on the tv and flips stations till he finds the local weather channel then sits down on the sofa motioning for you to join him.

You come stand by the sofa and listen to what the weatherman says. “Two days?!?!?” You exclaim as you watch the storm slowly move along the coast and surrounding areas. “Ugh!!!” I only have one other change of clothes! I have no PJ’s, no toiletries and no way to get them!” You say and flop on the sofa next to him feeling suddenly dejected.

Richard just chuckles. “Sweetheart, the hotel will provide shampoo and soap, toothpaste and a toothbrush if you need them. You can buy most other stuff from their little shop by the lobby.” He informs you. You rub your face, and groan, frustrated.

He looks at you puzzled. “What’s the matter?” He asks you, noticing your face getting pink.

You get up, dropping the blanket on the sofa. Then grab your backpack. You unlock the front zipper and groan. “The rest of my meds were in my suitcase.” You say as you pull out your travel case with meds in it. I only have enough for the next few days.

Richard sits up quickly, “Meds? What meds are you taking? Maybe my assistant can get them for you when we get to London.” He says as he pulls you down to sit on the sofa next to him.

“Most of them were supplements I was taking. Ashwaganda to control my stress and cortisol levels so I’m not freaking out all the time and having mini panic attacks; Myomin to help with some female stuff I deal with, my birth control patch to also help with female stuff, and my hair, skin & nail supplement to help with my complexion and brittle hair.” You explain.

“Two of the supplements have to be ordered directly from the company and take two weeks at the least to arrive, the Ashwaganda I can get at some natural foods stores, but I just had filled the Rx for the birth control patches! I had just started them a couple weeks ago after my insurance finally kicked in from my job.” You explain.

Richard is immediately on his phone calling his assistant she asks to talk to you. He hands you his phone and his assistant introduces herself and she asks for your doctor’s name and phone number, and the information for your health insurance provider. Then she asks you for the names and amounts of the supplements you were taking. You give her all the info for them and tell her the name of the website you get them from.

She tells you not to worry about it and she will get it taken care of first thing in the morning. You thank her and she asks to talk to Richard again. You hand him back his phone and tell him she wanted to talk to him again.

He takes the phone and talks to her a bit more. You’re getting tired again and look around. Your pillow is sitting next to Richard on the other side of him. You reach across his lap and try to grab the pillow. He grins and leans over on top of you, pinning you against his legs. You squeak and try to get him off but he just chuckles and continues to lean on top of you.

He finishes talking to his agent and hangs up. Then looks at you stretched across his lap trying to reach the pillow. It’s just barely out of your reach and you’re squirming to move up the few inches so you can grab it. He grins and reaches over and picks it up, holding it up and out of your reach.

“Is this what you’re trying to get at?” He teases. You squeak when you see him pick up the pillow. “Richard!!!” You manage to say as he is still leaning on your back making it hard to take a full breath.

He chuckles and tosses it onto the bed. You keep trying to squirm out of his lap. “Hey!!! I was going to use that to sleep on! Give it back!” You demand. “... and let me up!!” He chuckles. “And what will you do if I don’t?” He teases as his head is right by your ear.

You freeze.

He chuckles again, “Relax, sweetheart, I’m just teasing you. Now where do you want to sleep? On the bed or on the sofa?” He says as he lets you up.

You stare at him for a moment while he grins with his raised eyebrow. Your eyes narrow as you look at him, then you grab a pillow of the sofa hit him with it... which he grabs out of your hand and bops you with it. Such begins the battle and you two have an epic pillow fight chasing each other all over the room. Both giggling and laughing till your sides hurt. He finally catches you around the waist and you let out a shriek as he tosses you onto the bed. “there!” He laughs, “Theres your precious pillow!” He says and tickles you till you can’t breathe.

(Don’t worry! The next part will be coming soon!!!)

(Photo is not mine. I found it online and liked it. So I saved it to my phone for days when I need something to make me smile.)

#richard armitage #snowstorm #snowfall #trapped #airport #hotel #stuck inside #teasing #pillow fight #thief #caught #blizzard #two days

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keishiko · 6 years ago

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Rewrite

It’s never too late to change your mind.

[Oneshot <3,000 words | Rated: Explicit (but only for a short bit) | Angst/Romance (Natasha x Steve) | Spoilers: “Endgame”]

. A chill wind howled across barren rock as he haltingly climbed the last few steps. He shivered in the cold. No, he corrected himself. His suit was designed to insulate him comfortably even from subzero temperatures. This cold seeped from emptiness, bit to the bone, clawed inside his skull.

He glanced around but there was no sign of life or movement. Perhaps, with the loss of the Stone, its red-skulled guardian had gone as well.

Recognition squeezed the breath out of him as he turned his gaze to the two craggy spires and the desolate ledge beyond. Shuddering, he willed himself to approach the edge of the cliff, one heavy step at a time. His mind seemed to be planets away when he noted a blackened, blasted hollow where one of Hawkeye’s arrows must have detonated. After what seemed an eternity, he reached the edge and, with another supreme effort, looked down.

A long, long way down to where the horrific drop ended in nothing but blank, gray stone.

He forced himself to keep looking, keep his eyes open against the rushing wind. Where was she? He had begged Clint to describe her to him. Clint hadn’t wanted to. But he had alternately yelled and pleaded and the two men had nearly come to blows until Clint broke down and told him what would ever after haunt his dreams.

Steve peered down, down, down into the wasteland chasm, searching in vain for a broken black-suited figure at the very bottom, porcelain skin white like death, fiery hair streaming like blood.

He deserved to be haunted, he told himself. It was the least he could do for her memory, if he never slept again.

It was only when the wind blew icy across his face that he felt the tears searing down his cheeks.

He’d almost forgotten what he’d come for. He fumbled for the tiny, slippery thing that thrummed in his hand, blazed against the black of his glove. For a moment he stood at the cliff’s edge, suddenly irresolute.

Then he flung it into the void.

He stared as it bounced off the rock—once, twice, three times—and then sent up a blinding ochre glow that suddenly flooded his vision...

“Lost something, soldier?”

He would know that voice anywhere.

He whipped around, heart in his throat, hope making him light-headed. She stood in front of him, smiling, looking for all the world like she had just made another peanut butter sandwich at the compound. He staggered forward, frantic with gladness and relief.

“Nat!”

He stopped short. He could not get closer. She remained just out of reach, smiling at him sadly.

He couldn’t think of anything else to say. He found himself tearing up again. “We won.”

Her gaze serene, she was as beautiful as ever in the golden haze. “What did it cost?”

His response tore out of him in a sob. “Everything.”

The glow dimmed. He reached for her again, but already her smile was twisting into a snarl and then she was Red Skull, blazing with fury, lunging toward him. The glow abruptly faded and Steve felt himself slip on the icy rock as it crumbled beneath his feet and then he was falling, falling, falling—

“Steve!”

He opened his eyes with a gasp. His throat felt raw. He found Peggy’s brown eyes on him, still dull from sleep.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped after a moment. He was still trying to catch his breath.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for.” Peggy pressed a kiss to his cheek—wet with tears, he realized—and lay back down beside him, draping her arm comfortingly across his chest. He sighed, burying his nose in her dark curls.

His return of the Soul Stone had been much less eventful. No, he hadn’t seen Natasha’s body anywhere. He had tossed the Stone into the abyss. It had disappeared.

And then nothing had happened.

After a few minutes of waiting—hoping, praying, wishing—he had reopened his eyes to find nothing changed. He was alone on the cliff. The wind still whistled around him.

As he started to descend the stone stairway he saw, out the corner of his eye, a dark figure materialize on the ledge behind him, a hostile energy begin to burn. But he heard nothing, felt nothing. He reached the bottom of the stairway unmolested.

When he had returned the last Stone to the Ancient One he had hesitated.

She had then asked him if, perhaps, as a small gesture for saving the world, there was anything she could do for him.

Now he settled back in the too-soft bed, stared up at floral wallpaper and shadow-flecked ceiling, and told himself to go to sleep. His hand tightened on Peggy’s elbow; he breathed deeply of the smell of her hair. All he’d ever wanted. All he’d ever dreamed of, all he’d hardly dared to dream of, for years and years.

The future—cozy and quiet and peaceful—stretched before them.

“How you’ve changed,” Peggy mused, as if to herself.

He started guiltily. He’d thought she’d fallen asleep. “How’s that, Peg?”

She chuckled, patting his arm. “Nothing important. Sweet dreams, Captain Rogers.”

He waited, but she said nothing more. When she was in a mood like this, it would not be shaken. Soon, despite his unease, he found himself nodding off to her quiet breathing and the susurrus of the wind in the tree outside their window.

A small echo of her voice drifted to him from what seemed like very far away through an impossibly misty fog, as he tipped over the cliff’s edge into slumber.

“She must have been somebody very special.”

It was a much harder landing this time around.

From streaks of gold and chrome light the world outside his helmet flashed into blurry darkness as he tumbled end over end on what felt like a hard stone floor, slammed into some kind of wall, and crumpled in a daze. Gasping for breath, he deactivated his helmet. As he struggled to reorient himself he became dimly aware of several indistinct faces gathering around him in the gloom, curious, staring.

Then came a panicked shout from somewhere he couldn’t see, in a guttural, familiar language—

A dark shape flew through the air, crashed into the wall above him. He twisted just in time not to be crushed by what turned out to be an inert human male.

Before he could react, another limp body toppled onto him. He had barely worked his head free to breathe when another body tumbled onto him, then another, and another. Chaos had erupted inside the half-lit chamber as his senses finally regained focus. Harsh shouts of command or warning, gunshots, shrieks of pain; the crunch of bone, the pop of joints. The thrum and crackle of blue-bright electricity. A faint smell of burned flesh drifted in the dank air. Horrified, Steve struggled to get up under the growing pile of not just bodies, but debris: a fallen filing cabinet, a broken metal crane, a huge, splintered desk. But the quantum leap had weakened him and he found himself straining futilely under the weight.

He realized dimly the noise had ceased. A last scream choked off with a sickening snap of sinew.

He wondered if he should call out.

Then he felt above him the weight being shifted, shoved off of him, pushed aside. He tensed, willing energy and strength to return to his muscles as he waited to be discovered. It hadn’t sounded like there were very many people carrying out the attack; only two or three at most, stealthy, practiced, sure. If they weren’t enhanced, maybe he could still get out alive. He bided his time, sensing the last few bodies being laboriously hefted from on top of him. This person was not as strong as he was.

There was a soft, feminine grunt as the last weight was rolled off him.

He stared up at green eyes, green eyes he’d know anywhere, green eyes he’d missed like his heart and soul had been ripped out of him, green eyes he’d longed to see again even lying in bed next to the love of his life in the long, quiet nights of suburbia.

Green eyes mirroring his own shock.

“Steve?!”

He was dreaming. He pinched himself. She laughed at him. While crying. Still a dream.

He was afraid to call her by name. Maybe he’d wake up.

Before he could say or do anything she had shushed him, ushered him through a corridor, a cabinet, an air vent; a tunnel, a catacomb, a sewer. A manhole. A side street. A blind alley. She propped him up against a brick wall, panting from the exertion.

Sunlight, fresh air. It reminded him, ironically, of his and Peggy’s neighborhood. He blinked at her, still dazed. Still hoping against hope. “Nat.” It came out a plea, not a question, not a statement.

She pulled off her cowl. Dark hair tumbled down her back. But the smile was the same.

“Steve,” she breathed, and she kissed him.

He crushed her to him, and when they ran out of breath they broke the kiss and just held each other laughing, tears streaming down their faces.

“What happened with Thanos?” she whispered.

“We won,” he told her. He would explain later.

They picked up supplies, with mute exchanged glances slipping with long-practiced ease into old covers of boyfriend and girlfriend. This was convenient, too, as Steve found himself unable to stop touching her, keeping hold of her—lightly, fearfully, as though she might disappear if he clung too hard. He grasped her arm, held her hand, entwined his fingers with hers. At first she stopped and looked at him searchingly, but there was no time for questions, and she squeezed his hand back.

As night fell she led him to her safehouse, the basement of a run-down apartment building in a decrepit area of town. She shut and secured the front door behind them and he dropped down onto the bare concrete floor, leaning up against the wall, suddenly exhausted. She smiled at him fondly, already on her way to the refrigerator.

“Let’s get some food into you.”

She had always been a competent cook—she tended to succeed at everything she tried, he reminded himself—and soon the tempting smell of soup roused him from weariness. As he came to her little dining table he found himself looking over her small but cozily furnished space and almost laughed aloud at the sense of relief that abruptly washed over him: Her bed had only a single pillow. There was only one mug (chipped). There was only one photograph, set up on a cluttered bookshelf, showing her with a dog.

“What’s so funny?” She was smiling at him, he realized belatedly. He must still be so damn transparent to her.

He tried his best to lie anyway. “I didn’t know you liked dogs.”

She turned back to the refrigerator with a smirk. Humoring him. “Belongs to a friend of mine.”

Soon he was savoring a steaming bowl of hearty soup with excellent brown bread. Almost as hungrily he devoured her with his gaze as she sat down at the table next to him with her own meal.

She flushed under his scrutiny as she talked quickly but gently, oriented him in time and space as if she were merely debriefing another agent. Steve almost laughed at the thought, then found himself blinking back new tears. The familiarity felt good, as good as nothing had felt in years.

She had woken up, she said, in an abandoned facility in Belarus, twenty-one days after that fateful snap of Thanos’s fingers. Knowing the timeline had been compromised, she had kept a low profile in the years since. Establishing a discreet new identity had been easy enough, but she had soon found herself falling into old habits, picking up on intel despite herself, and now ran what self-imposed missions she could to uproot or expose clandestine new terrorist or paramilitary organizations.

“What you arrived in this afternoon, practically by sheer accident, was the underground lab of a Neo-Hydra cell based outside Nuremberg.” She ladled a second helping of soup into his empty bowl even without his asking and he couldn’t help smiling to himself. “Some months ago Pym and Van Dyne’s research was stolen, so I’ve been monitoring this group and a few others in case something would turn up.” Her grin turned teary-eyed. “I didn’t expect that you would.”

He shook his head. “Our turn in the quantum realm won’t happen for another few years yet. I’m no physicist but I’m guessing those bastards did something right.”

She laughed, even as a tear ran down her cheek. “Too bad I killed them before I could thank them.”

He chuckled back. “Maybe next time.” Without thinking, he reached out to wipe her tear away.

She stilled under his touch, lowering her eyes to the table. “Steve...”

“Natasha.” He luxuriated in her name. He hadn’t said it out loud in a very long time. She hesitated, then clasped his hand in both of hers, cradling it against her cheek for a moment.

“What happened, Steve?” Her eyes on him were urgent, her tone deliberate.

She needed him to be honest with her, he knew.

“I missed you,” he said simply.

He’d always been honest. But he had never been so forthcoming. Steve, in his old age, was done waiting.

They made love tentatively in the shower, exploring each other tenderly, retracing old paths, discovering new ones. They had slept together in the past a few times, sought comfort, sought relief. They’d been careful to keep up boundaries, respect the limits of their friendship. But this time Steve was focused, devoted. He could sense Nat’s surprise—her surprise and her heightened pleasure—and cursed himself for never having really paid attention before, never actually noticing how earnestly she met his every move, how her face glowed with passion when she looked into his eyes.

They nearly fell out of her single-sized bed more than once, each time melting into smothered laughter; with teeth and tongue she plotted the delicate shift of muscle and vein down his neck until he could stand it no longer and pulled her down for a growling kiss. He remembered to deadly effect how she wanted his mouth between her legs and she came helplessly, sobbing, holding on to the headstand for dear life, because it had only ever really been him.

Maybe it was the super serum, maybe it was too much energy after what felt like a lifetime of lonely duty. Heck, maybe it was the soup. But he found himself lying awake under her softly snoring form, not restless, just thoughtful. He watched as the approaching day splashed ever-lightening blues and purples on the wall across from her only window.

For the first time in a long while, he was looking forward to the sunrise.

fin

[The Russos want multiple timelines?? Let’s give ‘em multiple timelines!! (I actually can’t bring myself to watch “Endgame” a third time, just for the heartache...💔)]

#fix-it fic #oneshot #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #captain america #black widow #steve x natasha #avengers endgame #romanogers #steve x nat

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x-fantasy-is-my-reality-x · 6 years ago

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Goku Black x Reader: Forbidden Fruit (Chapter 19: Even Nightmares Dream)

A chilling laugh reached his ears, jolting him from the peaceful silence. When he opened his eyes, the room had disappeared, leaving him floating in nothing but a swirl of deep purple and black. Swiveling his head, Black called to you, listening to his voice as it echoed through the void of emptiness. A sudden, deep laugh from the darkness reached his eardrums, making the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

Where the Hell was he? And who was that?

With a whoosh of air before his eyes, a patch of darkness began to twist and change, taking the thin form of a familiar Kai.

“My my Black, look at how you’ve devolved,” Zamasu cackled at the look on his partner’s face.

“What do you want?” Black hissed, clenching his fist.

“Is that really how you talk to your friend?”

“You’re not my friend!”

“Of course not. I am you,” Zamasu shot towards him, stopping a mere two inches away from his face, but the Saiyan refused to back down.

“And your point is? My patience is running thin.” Black was anxious to get back to you, but he was careful not to reveal anything on his face. He knew Zamasu would pounce on any and every opportunity he saw, like a true predator.

“Have you forgotten about our plan? Are you going to throw away all of this for a mere human?” Zamasu spat the word “human” like it was something bitter, his face contorting in an instant to reveal his distaste.

“She’s immortal!”

“Is that your pitiful excuse for keeping that disgusting thing around? Or have those ungodly lustful desires of a mortal body final taken over your mind?”

That was the last straw. Black rushed towards him, plunging his fist into his midsection only to find that the murderous Kai had disappeared into streaks of black smoke, formulating a couple meters away from where he was. He appeared completely unharmed.

“You can’t touch me in your dreams,” Zamasu remarked coldly, looking completely unconcerned.

Black let out a rumbling snarl, a vein pulsing in his neck as he struggled not to lose his temper again. Losing control would be no better than outright admitting his defeat. “So then what the Hell are you doing here?”

“Oh nothing much,” Zamasu drawled, folding his arms behind his back. “Just to remind you that I’m still here, and as long as I am, I’m not going to just forget about your precious pet.”

“Y/n none of your concern. You can stay in that stupid cage and rot for all of eternity, see if I care. I can carry out the Zero Mortal Plan with or without you, it makes no difference with me.”

“Oh really?” Zamasu almost purred, making Black want to gag. “What about those apes from the future, hmm? How do you plan on erasing them without my help?”

“I think I’ll manage, thanks.” He rebutted, aura pulsating pink. Another vein popped out of his neck and he struggled desperately to tame his fury.

“Hm sure,” the white-haired God taunted, suddenly teleporting to stand in front of his partner, noses merely two inches apart. Black could almost imagine the warm breath of his former ally dusting his face, but of course, they were both just illusions. The smug grin was wiped off Zamasu’s face in an instant as his temper changed without warning.

“You can’t protect her forever, you know.” Even though Black himself had a tendency to switch from one mood to another in a split second, it was still unnerving to see it on Zamasu. Perhaps it was because of how similar it seemed to himself.

“That too is none of your concern,” Black floated backwards a few inches, eager to put some distance between them.

“COWARD!” Zamasu spat startling him, though he managed to keep his expression the same neutral stare. “You would ruin the entire plan for one goddamn human! After everything we’ve worked for, all the blood it took, you would throw it all away?!”

“She’s basically a God!”

“She’s basically a God!” Zamasu viciously threw his words back in his face and this time Black really did lose control. Letting out an enraged roar, his hair shot up immediately and flared a magnificent pink, a furious aura surrounded him like a massive halo. Like the grim reaper of justice that he was. Locking onto his target, he charged, only to find the same result as his previous attempt, delighting Zamasu and sending Black into an even worse frenzy.

Nearly blind with rage, he let out a volley of energy blasts which promptly disappeared into the hazy distance much to his displeasure. Zamasu however, disappeared a millimeter before one was due to collide with his chest, which wouldn’t have done much anyways in a world of dreams.

Black was left confused and angrier than ever as he howled insults into the void, completely losing any semblance of self-control. After being forced to lose you for so long, ditching his own partner, and forming a shaky alliance with Trunks, he was long overdue for a break and now this? If only you could see him now. Good God, he was losing it.

His heart thundered voluminously in his chest as he turned left and right searching for the fiend who had seemingly disappeared into thin air.

“I could make that repulsive little bitch pay, Black. I can tear her limb from limb and trap her in a Hell that even you wouldn’t be able to rescue her from. Oh, the possibilities are endless.” It seemed to be coming from all directions and even the powerful Saiyan couldn’t discern exactly where it was emanating from. “Or….” The voice paused thoughtfully. “I could make her my pet.”

Black gnashed his teeth so hard it was a miracle they didn’t chip, but the voice didn’t seem to be bothered at all and continued to harass him.

“But I really have no use for treacherous little leeches who would betray her own kind for some fool in a stolen body. You can’t save her, not forever. The universe always finds a way, and when it does, you’ll be left with naught.”

“Come out you coward!” Black’s voice echoed through space, receiving no call. I’ll rip that bastard to pieces!

“Oh Black,” A voice suddenly appeared next to his ear, though he felt no breath. “Look at what that human has done to you. You’re practically one of them. A blind, useless, lovestruck mortal who can’t see past his own desire. So let me enlighten you.”

Before Black could swing his arm back, something flitted to life in front of him. Something eerily familiar. The spiky hair, sharp jawline, crazed onyx eyes…..it was almost like he was looking into a mirror.

No, not exactly. It was too solid to be a mere reflection, though as he hesitantly reached out a hand to touch it, his fingers passed through the figure’s chest, much like when he had tried to hit Zamasu. Black wasn’t even sure if it was him at first. He looked so…what was the word, vulnerable?

Sweat dripped down his face and matted his hair to his forehead, clothes all disheveled and out of place, and his eyes……that was the worst. A mingle of anger and fear, for both you and himself. Part of him knew that what Zamasu was saying was true, that he had perhaps grown soft, letting down his guard enough to allow you inside his heart. When you first met, he followed you out of sheer curiosity and boredom, but over time it had grown to something much more, something he never would have thought he would be capable of feeling. And as a result, he had barely killed anybody since you wandered into his life, and definitely not as much as he used to.

Fuck, I really am losing my touch.

But no matter how much he despised you at that moment, and no matter how much he chastised himself, he couldn’t bear to give you up. To Zamasu, Trunks, to no one but him. He was the one and only God who would ever be able to touch you, and to worship you in ways you never thought possible.

His dark eyes widened in shock. That was it! A God!

“Zamasu,” He suddenly addressed his ex-partner, who merely narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “I think I have a compromise.”

#goku black

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deviline · 6 years ago

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@viktorgreyjoy

It had been so long since last she’d been ashore; so long since last she had known her own name; she could not tell how long it had been-- could not make sense of time, now-- everything felt to her, foreign, strange; dreamlike. She lay in her cabin, feeling lethargic, disoriented, fearful of every little thing, brimming with it-- with that strangeness-- the blur of it all, not knowing what to do with herself.

Days went by-- long, dull, and she felt herself unravel-- no longer a woman, but only a shadow girl--raw and delicate all over. Her emptiness was purple and swollen. The hollow inside her stomach trembled; longing for something-- anything that would make her whole again. She was hungered for it; hungered and empty and yearning for something to call her own.

She stared at the mirror and could scarcely recognize herself; this delicate, whispish little girl; the depth of her midnight blue gaze, all liquid, velvet, glittering-- the little white scar along the apex of her shoulder (how had it gotten there?)--skin all white and pearly, smooth; pulsing with life; the silk of her hair--unbound, all black and crowned with starlight-- did it truly all belong to her? -- she wondered-- for she felt herself, older; frail-- not a girl, but a woman-- aching in ways her image did not betray.

She took to sitting at the deck, after a while; fragile little thing-- she would gather her shawl about her shoulders, and stare up at the open sky-- longing and longing -- and then, he would come up to the quarterdeck-- and she would stare; curious, at first, and then, enthralled.

She could never make sense of him-- this saviour of hers; Viktor, they called him, and she stared--languid, delicate with it. What strange a man was he-- she thought; all rugged and dark and frightening; his ocean body, his sea heart, waxwork mouth-- they all made him all the more fascinating to her; the black of his gaze, worn, sleepy-eyed, stripped, a stallion of a man-- how he would sometimes detach himself from every one around them; how he would grow stranger still when he drank-- almost softer, somehow; there was something broken inside of him, too, she could tell. She would go and sit with him when he would have his dinner, not saying a word, only wanting, to feel safer; alive; for solitude was not her friend-- making her wild, desperate, frightened; but he, always him-- he was real; he made something inside her to uncoil, burn in the notch of her spine, the base of her throat. With him, she felt alive-- like she had something she could hold to her-- someone that would not hurt her-- he was safe; familiar, in a way; the only thing she could remember. When he lay quiet, half drunk in the cabin, she clung all the closer to him still, his hands, his wrists, his neck, his mouth, the warmth of his body, the sudden leaping of his moods. As he would sit there, brimming with something so dark and deep and terrible, she would feel that she could see his mind as she saw his body, and it was labyrithine, fertile, sacred--all brimstone and fury-- she wanted to bury herself in it-- wanted to soothe what pain he kept beneath the strong plate of his chest-- this man she barely knew, all salt and rock and iron. She was loaded with intrigue for his impulses which blew in gusts, the strange calmness she would be filled with in his presence; how he frightened her; how he soothed her; how he made her feel something other than hopelessness. He reminded her of shipwrecks-- their sails forever at half-mast, lonely, terrifying.

And then, a night came when she could no longer contain herself for how she burned; how she could not breathe through it. She had not slept well last night-- or any other night before that--, turning, tossing, and dreaming sordid, incoherent little dreams. She awoke just before dawn, half in a dream, numb-- trembling. Her head was heavy, feeling as if she had just emerged from a swim in a spring of warm, murky water, like she was drowning in it.

Outside, a storm raged, streaking the sky with fire, all black and blue and silver, and as she lay in her bed, wrapped in her beautiful hair, the storm gathered strength and tore and howled and shook at the shuttered window and caused the tapestried hangings on the wall to billow inward. She blinked at the flashes of light glinting off the window, dizzied, breathless, feeling little jolts of fear run down her spine at every hiss of the ocean, every thunder rumbling in the distance, and after a moment’s hesitation, she rose, restless, feverish, pulled her gown on, and off she went, half in a daze, out her room and down the dark hall, the feeling that had swelled in her core, unbearable.

Sinuous, she folded herself around the moonlight spilling over her bare shoulders-- the sheer lace of her dress fluttering in the breeze-- slipped into the darkness of his room, frightening in the way she wanted him near her; unashamed and sacrificial -- she could no longer bear to be alone-- not tonight; and she knew-- she knew sleep had not claimed him either; she could see him clearly in her mind, even before she saw him, half awake, half drunk-- the fierce line of his jaw all rough with stubble; watching the storm; she thought he loved them-- such storms; she thought, surely, he, of all men, would have no fear of it.

Standing at his threshold, a thin dress soaked with May rain, she shivered, pressing her back against the door as she shut it, her soft gaze raking his figure. She stood for a moment, rapt, breathless, not wanting to ruin the enfolding silence; her eyes were very blue against the black of her lashes and the white of her skin, and she moved a little forward as lighting lit the room again, pooling in the ridge of her collarbone. “--have you not slept?” she asked in a whisper, soft, slow, languid grace as she came to stand nearer him.

#you were ocean depth / brimming with God;#he gets a special tag.#I ! have ! so much to say !!#viktor;;#this is a Mess but an Attempt at writing has been made folks #dis girl = a mess #ALSO.#I AM SO BAD AT CHOOSING WHAT GIF TO USE I give uuuup.

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askthiscpblog · 6 years ago

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The Pray, The Hunter, and The Killer

"ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! We got 10 minutes before you all start hiding so shut the fuck up and listen close! I don't want to repeat myself!"

A white, pale man with greasy black, moppy, rats nest head of hair and a permanent, long smile speaks to the crowd of Halloween guests of the Slender's Halloween mansion party. The Slenderman runs this party every year for a time of rest and festivities, but we are not here for that. We are here for the grand finale of the party and tha- "I SAID WE ONLY GOT 10 MINUTES!!!!" Jeff yelled again interrupting everyone's conversations. Once they quieted down he starts explains the rules of the party's legendary manhunt.

"The rules are simple! At 11:40 the hunted will have 20 minutes to hide wherever they like as long it's not in the buildings! Once it is midnight that's when the real fun begins! The hunters will have 6 hours to find and locate all the hunted!"

"That sounds easy enough." a random man said in the crowd.

Jeff retorted immediately, "Wrong! The thing is this is not a simple a tag you’re out!" The smile on his face somehow grows wider.

"You keep going until you get captured! In other words, if we take you back to the mansion then you are out, but don't worry! You can use whatever method to avoid being captured that is not killing! Be warned it's a two-way streak of anything you do will come back! Got it!?" There is a murmur in the crowd of people.

"I SAID GOT IT!!!?" His voice boomed that made everyone jumped and they all murmured, responding yes in various ways.

"Good! Now the game starts now! GOOOOO!!!!" He yells pointing towards the woods.

On cue everyone starts charging into the woods, marking as much noise as possible. It was about 3 minutes until things started quieting down.

"Well this is going to be fun." he says to himself then pulls out a radio and continues, "So I call dibs on the big harry jock."

A female voice responds in a sarcastic manner, "Ooooooof course you do. What is with you and big buff men? Do you swing both ways and don’t tell anyone?"

"SHUT THE SHIT UP JANE!" He roars.

"Shut the shit up? What the fuck is up with your speech pattern? And is there really anything wrong in going against the grain, so to speak?" A calm, firm male speaks up.

Jeff turns around to see who spoke up. The guy was shorter than him but held an aura that could set normal people off. Luckily for Jeff, he was not a normal person. He wore an orange jacket pulled up to his neck and had a mask on with a black outline around the eyes and lips. He even put eyebrows on it.

“Why the fuck do you care how I speak!?” Jeff screamed at him, getting up in his face. The other male stood there, arms crossed over his chest, looking at the ugly man in his face

“Because you make the rest of us look like dumb asses.” Masky retorted, his voice still steady. Jeff growled looking into Masky’s eyes, unblinking. For him, it was because both he can’t and because he didn’t want to back down.

“You know if you keep looking at me like that, people might get the wrong idea,” Masky told to him. With that, he patted Jeff’s shoulder and took a few steps back. Jeff could feel a shit eating grin under that mask of his, and that pissed him off. Jeff watched him take a few steps back and groans. He didn’t care, not enough to start a fight now. He had a hunt to go have fun with, and with that, he pulls out a phone to check the time. 12:00am. Time to start the hunt.

He pulls out a CD that has ‘Spread the Word.’ written across it in black marker. Jeff whistled and throws the disc to where it morphed into a large black and deep red furred dog. It had a smile as big, if not wider, than Jeff's. It came up to his chest, almost eye to eye with the guy. That smile appeared to be near human, only with a few sharp canines to tell the difference.

"Alright, Smile follow the scent of jockstraps and axe!" He barks out as an order to the mutt. After about 5 minutes, visual displeasure was on the dog's face and it looks at Jeff. He whined and gave a small yip to get his attention.

"You got it?" Jeff questioned the obvious. Smile nods with discomfort, not enjoying this sent in its nose.

"Then lead the way!" He yells with excitement. The dog huffed and followed the sent, trotting along.

They traveled for 3 miles marking sure not to make a noise. 30 minutes have passed in the travel and Jeff has noticed that smile has been acting skittish.

"Smile. You OK? You not acting like yourself." Jeff asked the dog in a whisper.

Smile looked at him and simply said, "Spread the word......." in response.

"I knew I should have brought my phone. I can't understand what the fuck you’re saying." He huffed in annoyance.

Smile sighed and continue forward, stop in his tracks. The red dog is looking east with a face of unease. 1-2-3 minutes went by. Smile was like a statue, in blinking. Jeff looks hard in the dark woods he can almost make ou- snap! They both look towards the opposite direction and sees a girl freeze upon seeing the smiling duo.

"Well, what do we have here? It looks like a little mouse went out of its hole and then set off a trap." Jeff stated forming a wicked grin on his face.

The girl starts to back away feeling panic and dread the longer she looks at him.

"Let's have fun shall we." Smile bolts after the girl.

The moment that sudden movement happened she started to run from the dog and screaming, "Brian!!!! Brian!!!!! Help!!!!! Brian!!!!" Her cries echo throughout the forest among other screams in the distance.

She can hear the dog snickering to her pleas for help. This made her run even faster not even watching her surroundings as a white blur goes to sidelines her. They both hit the ground and a pair of hands grasp the girl's throat and she sees the shadow of Jeff's face under the moonlight. Her eyes widen as she tries in desperation to fight against his grasp and then punches Jeff in the eye.

"Mother bitching cock shitter!!!!" Jeff relied back in pain. She pushes him off and goes to get back up until a sharp pain flashed through her in her right leg.

"AAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!" She howled in pain and looks to see the giant red dog sank its teeth deep inside her. She tries in desperation to kick the dog off, but gets slammed down and feels a weight on her back.

"Oooooh, you are going to pay for that bitch!" Jeff says as he grabs her hair and starts to slam her head on the ground. She cries in pain over and over again. As he is about to give the knock out something stops him. The sense that he eyes watching him. He looks at Smile and sees he has taken notice as well. Before Jeff says anything, something slams into the side of his head. It sent him flying off the girl into a tree.

"FUUUUUUUUCK!!!!" Jeff shrieks in pain. Smile looks at the attacker and his jaw pried open on the girl's leg. Smile tries to fight back, but the attacker lifts the dog by the throat. It then baseball bat swings Smile agents a tree. A whimper escapes before he turns back into a disk.

When this happened, a force hit Jeff. Jeff saw this happening and realized that its the guy he is looking for. He then gets up rubbing the side is his head feeling blood leaking out. And stares the football player down with both anger and excitement.

"About damn time I found you. I have been itching for a real fight all night." Jeff says now having a good examination of the man. He was a bit, he was harried, and he was angry. Jeff's smile becomes warped.

"You're going to regret hurting Julia." The football player responded brandishing a branch.

"Who? the bitch? Oooooh. You misunderstood. I was trying to pretty up that cadaver face of hers." He snorted at the half-conscious girl lying on the ground.

"BASTARD!!!" The jock howled and charges Jeff swinging the branch at full force. Seeing that he took the bait he doges the blow and jumps onto his back. He did take a fist full of the hair on the back of the jocks head. Pulling it to the left to make his neck exposed. Jeff managed to get 3 good hits on the right of the neck before the football players jumps and drops on top of Jeff.

"Gah!!" Chocked out by having the large man's weight crushing him. The jock then rolls around and sits on top of Jeff. Knees on arms and starts whaling on Jeff's head.

"Ha.....haha.....hahahaHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!" Jeff cackled after many blows to the face. This made the large man stops his fury of blows. Unperturbed by Jeff's reaction. Then he feels a burning pain in his left leg. The jock yelped that gave Jeff the moment to shove him off and got back on his feet. The jock looks at his leg. It was sizzling and oozing with blood. He then looks at Jeff, seeing him hold a blade gleaming in the moonlight of white and crimson.

"S-silver!? How did you-" he was then interrupted.

"Easy fang face. The moment you charged at me you're eyes when's yellow.

"Who the fuck are you!!!???" The jock demanded an answer.

"Ooooh. Me?" His smile has grown from cheek to cheek.

"I'm just the guy that's looking for a fun night." At that moment the werewolf felt a drastic shift in the atmosphere. A flood of dread and bloodlust is radiating off of the pale man in front of him and start to see that his feature us become more define. More menacing. Jeff can see the terror on the wolfs face and laughs at it.

"Is the lil puppy going to piss himself? To think that you're still not housebroken at this point." The wolf starts to back away not sure what to do. He is dealing with a killer. His breathing increase to quicker shorter bursts. He needed to run. He needs to escape. He needs to-. He then hears a moan of pain. He looks over to see Julia. She is covered in dirt and blood. Feeling retreats that he got her in this mess, but he will be the one to get her out and make this psycho pay for what he did.

"Oh?" Jeff tilts his head to the side. He now sees the werewolf's breathing has calmed then a growl can be heard. His eyes shifted away from the girl to Jeff. The man finally spoke.

"Well.....if it's fun you want....THEN I THINK YOU DON'T MINED BEING MY CHOW TOY!!!!!!"

The large man started to jerk in odd angles. His bones and tendons started to pop and snap as they shuffled. Pop. Snap. Craaaack! His size to half his normal size. Silver fur sprouted out of his arms, legs, chest...OK, you get it. It's a lot of hair. His skin stretched showing the bones shifting within his body as for his clothes ripped and tear off of him. His mouth starched forward forming a muzzle, along with his ears became pointed and parched on top of his head. Jeff watched as this happened. Amused by the transformation.

"So is the real fun is about to begin?" Jeff asked the werewolf that was the man before him. The wolf responded by pouncing on to Jeff. It's teeth going for his throat. Jeff oofed as he hit the ground. His hand on the wolfs neck. Keeping the jaws at bay, but not it's breath for it smells like decay. Jeff not sure what to do for the beast is stronger than him and is keeping it's maw away. As a last ditch effort. He longed his head flowed and chopping on the wolf's nose. A shriek can be heard from the man dog and jumps back. Giving Jeff the opportunity to make a counter attack. He hops to his feet and goes charging at the wolf at top speed. The werewolf gets on its feet goes for another lunge at Jeff, but sees him shrink right before they impacted. WHACK!!! The wolfs eyes widen and holed in pain and it drops to its side going over Jeff.

"HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!" Jeff is laughing as the oversize wolf grabs his nether regions. It took a minute for the wolf regain composure. Jeff is still laughing and has not taken note.

"HAHAHAH-GHHHHAAAA!!!" Jeff's laughs of joy morphed into a cry of pain as the werewolf claws at his back and blood gushed out as the skin tars open. Jeff stabs the silver knife into the wolfs arm in response. Getting a whimpering cry out. It turned into a slugfest of blades and claws. Turning Jeff's hoodie and the wolf's claws a deep glimmering red. Both are breathing heavy, staring each other down. Jeff could have killed him by now but would prefer this than dealing with slender's wrath. His vision blurs a bit due to the blood loss and can tell the werewolf is too.

"Just need to figure out how to end this....." Jeff thought to himself. He then sees the girls body. "That's it!" He looks at the wolfman.

"Hey, Fido! Catch!" Jeff throws the knife at the now unconscious girl. The werewolf did not miss a beat and hurls itself to shield the girl and the knife plants itself dead in the wolfs back. It pulls the weapon out.

Jeff runs and grabs the branch that the wolfman used on him and yells, "SWING BATTER BATTER!!!!!" Jeff swings the branch as hard as he can to the wolfs head. Tt ducked in time and was about to strike Jeff until they both heard a high pitched scream that echoes throughout the woods

This the slight pause was long enough for Jeff to get a second swing in hitting the connecting point of the jaw and throat. This sends the wolf flying back hitting the ground hard.

Jeff went charging up to make a follow-up hit but stops seeing that the beast is unconscious. He then takes a deep breath and drops to the ground."

Well. I know I won't get the jackpot tonight." He said to himself.

Clap.....clap....clap....

A slow clapping can be heard behind the tree line. Jeff takes notice and then stiffed. That sensation of being watched has returned.

"Alright. Who the bitch are you and why have you been following me?!" Jeff yelled out to his unseen spectator.

"Me? Oh, I'm just a fan. That's all. May I say not bad work." A voice responded. It was calm and smooth. It made Jeff felt uneasy.

"Oh? A fan." He gets up and draws his second knife. "If you like I can sign you an autograph. If you like?"

The voice laughs in response "oh thank you, but I already have one. What I'm here for is to invite you to my show."

"Show you say?" Jeff is growing more intrigued.

"Yes. It's about to have its finale and I want you to be my guest star. It will me give me great pleasure if you join." Jeff can't seem to pin down where the voice is coming from.

"And if I refuse?" Jeff questioned. Ready to make a run for it. Knowing full well he can't deal with another fight.

"JEFF!!!! GET BACK TO THE MANSION!!!! WE ARE BEING ATTACKED!!!!" Jane's voice is yelling out the walkie-talkie in a panic. Jeff goes to reach for it and make a bolt for it but stops himself in time feeling an edge of a blade on his throat.

"You think you have a choice in the matter." The voice is behind him now. Jeff tries to react but feels a syringe put in his neck. Afterward, he back of his knee is kicked, knocking Jeff to the ground.

"JEFF!!! JEFF!!! JE-" the walkie-talkie has turned off. Jeff gets on his hands and knees, gasping. The world is spinning around him. He was then pushed over on his back. He sees a figure of a man over him. His vision is too hazy to make out who it is. The figure bends down next to him and simply says, "Shhhhhhhhh. Go to sleep." Then the world turned black.....

#mod.a #Mr.E.C #manhunt series #jeff the killer #halloween special #creepypasta #ask creepypasta #manhunt #werewolf #not alone #the finale is about to begin #cutthroat Jace

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checkfortraps · 6 years ago

Text

Doom upon the Faithful

This is a rewrite of a little origin thingy I made for my human war cleric Alessa as part of a prompt list ages ago, detailing the day where she lost her husband, her best friends, and part of her sanity while fighting a necromancer lairing in an old abandoned temple of Torm.

Under a cut for length. If you find typos and faulty grammar, you’re very welcome to keep both.

They fought in a tight formation, four souls forming a ring of light against a tide of undeath, of bone-white heresy.

The cacophony of armor and weapons clashing deafened Alessa to the point where she should barely make out her own racing heartbeat. The earth shook under the power of the arcane, and the air smelled like blood and decay. It truly was one of the worst battlefields she ever laid eyes on - and she had seen a lot, both as healer and as warrior.

She was not sure for how long the confrontation with the necromancer had been going on already, but the collection of dents in her plate armor and the exhaustion seeping through the thrill of battle were proof that it had been too long already. They had to wrap this up fast, or face defeat. And defeat in this case meant annihilation at best, and serving as the newest recruits to the necromancer’s army at worst.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a skeleton smash through Myrna’s mage armor. No room for a shield bash, so she gritted her teeth and raised her arm, intercepting the blow with her bracer. Divine energies deflected most of the impact, but her arm still went numb. She let out a defiant yell, then drove her sword through the skeleton’s sternum, shattering it. The abomination crumbled to the ground in a clatter of bones, bereft of the foul magic animating it.

Next to her, Myrna conjured crackling electricity into her open hands, then grabbed two skeletons at once with a terrifying snarl contorting her features. Blue-hued energy cloaked them, turning them into glowing dust that swirled through the stale air like a faint afterimage.

A cry rose over the combat noise then, half frenzy, half pain. Alessa deflected another blow, this time with her shield, then spun around, tired eyes finding Senna on the ground, bleeding heavily. Despite her wounds, the dwarven woman fought on, hunkering down behind her shield in an effort to gain additional cover, her war axe hacking away at the enemies surrounding her.

It was a valiant effort, but ultimately futile. The tides of undead was already closing in on her, ready to swallow her whole.

She needed help, and fast.

Myrna followed Alessa’s gaze. Her lips drew into a thin white line. “Go’”, she yelled over the noise, extending a hand to blast three skeletons with a wave of fire, almost absent-mindedly. When Alessa hesitated, she gave her a shove. “I said go! I can handle myself.”

Alessa nodded, breaking into a dead run. A prayer formed on her lips. She wasn’t sure what she even prayed for, but the intent seemed to reach Torm nevertheless, for holy energy alighted on the front of her shield where his symbol decorated it. A wave of radiance burst forth from it, blinding her temporarily.

When the black swirls before her eyes faded, she found herself next to Senna, both of them covered in ash, the skeletons around them annihilated by her god’s righteous fury. The heat of divine power still lingered in her shield, noticeable even through the thick metal of her gauntlets.

“Praise you, my lord”, Alessa whispered under her breath. She glanced back at Myrna. The sorceress had cleared the area around her entirely, ash and soot the only testimony of the previous presence of an undead plague.

She wondered briefly why she had ever doubted the half-elf’s abilities. Old habit, maybe. When Myrna had joined their group, she had still been wet behind the ears, fresh from the academy. Her power had grown considerably in the last three years.

Senna gripped Alessa’s hand, hauling herself back to her feet. “Thanks. I was sure I’d see my ancestors soon.” She glanced around, dark brows furrowing. “Where’s Theo?”

Alessa felt her blood run cold.

“I fear he might be … indisposed.” A voice like icy waters, like winter and death personified. Alessa spun around and found a cloaked figure standing atop what seemed to be a podium at the far end of the chamber that might have been used for sermons once, before this temple had been ransacked and defiled. Red eyes burned in the shadows of a hood drawn low, meeting her gaze with a dark kind of mirth. Next to the figure hovered a giant hand made from arcane energy.

And in its translucent fingers, a limp body dangled, grey hair trailing over silvered plate armor, the helmet shattered on the ground alongside a mace that still glimmered with the remains of divine wrath.

“Theodore!” Alessa’s voice caught in her throat, the horrified scream turning into a strangled whisper. She wanted to run to him, to free him from that terrible grasp and then bash the necromancer’s face in with her shield. But her body betrayed her, limbs frozen in terror.

A flash of startlingly white teeth beneath that hood, a stark contrast to the eyes and the darkness cloaking the rest of the necromancer’s face. “Ah, allow me to guess. Your brother? No. Your lover. Delightful. It’s been a while since I had the pleasure of killing a couple. I wonder what your screams will sound like when I crush him.”

Darkness swirled at the flick of their gloved fingers, and the sound of metal bending under the pressure of the hand closing around Theodore filled the air, deafeningly loud. His screams died in his throat as it crushed his torso, squeezing the life out of him.

“No! Theo!” Alessa desperately tried to will herself to move, but her mental strength crumbled alongside her husband’s armor, and she found herself unable to break through her paralysis. Only now did she feel the blood drenching her gambeson, flowing freely from dozens of wounds all over her body. Her grip around the hilt of her sword had grown so weak she could barely hold on, pain and grief draining the fight out of her. Even if she managed to actually move, she’d never reach the podium in time to save Theodore.

A furious scream echoed through the chamber. Blue-tinged bolts of pure energy streaked past Alessa, so close she heard them buzzing like angry wasps. The giant hand dissolved under the onslaught of the magic missiles, proving that Theodore hadn’t gone down without a fight. Theodore hit the ground with a loud thump, groaning in pain.

He's still alive!

The realization filled Alessa with new strength. She reached for the white-hot blaze of faith in her soul and pulled. The paralysis fell away from her, and she crossed the chamber with the frantic speed that could only be conjured by desperation. She jumped up on the platform, roaring. Radiance burst from her shield again, washing over Theodore to close his wounds. Using the momentum of the motion, Alessa raised her sword and struck recklessly, anger driving the precision out of her attacks. Still, she managed to bury the blade deep in the necromancer’s chest with a sickening crunch when it hit bone.

Somewhere behind her, Myrna let out a triumphant howl, accompanied by Senna’s heavy footfall, like a war drum signalling victory.

Alessa found herself smiling at the carnage before her, at the blood coloring the necromancer’s black robes even darker. She was quite sure she missed the heart, but judging from the wet cough escaping her fallen foe, she had punctured a lung instead. It would be a very slow kind of justice for them.

One that did not align with Torm’s ideals. Even foul creatures like this one did not deserve to suffer for so long.

She stepped closer again, ready to twist the sword to bring this ugly business to a quick end, but she found it stuck. Her eyes widened in terror as she noticed the necromancer had gripped the blade with their hands, blood seeping from the cracks in their leather gloves where the sharp edge cut through them. Alessa saw red eyes and white teeth, and laughter filled the chamber, ugly and cruel, bloody spittle splattering her face as the necromancer leaned in closer.

“How very generous of you, offering up your life force so willingly. I’ll make sure to honor your sacrifice. But first, behave.”

Their bloody hand cupped her tear-streaked cheek, almost like a caress. Tendrils of black magic rose from their fingers, shrouding her vision until she was sure she’d gone blind. She tried to shove the necromancer away, but her body didn’t belong to her anymore. Her concentration on her Shield of Faith crumbled as crippling pain surged through her, the warmth of life draining from her until she shivered from cold and exhaustion. She sucked in a single shuddering breath, terror a tight coil in her stomach.

Then the world fell away from her, and she dissolved into nothingness.

Death.

#my writing #oc: alessa brightblade #behold! i actually finished a wip for once

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bluboothalassophile · 7 years ago

Note

Hello. I'm sorry, please bear with me, I'm not going to make any sense , as I find it hard to put my thought on to paper. I love your blog. You made me fall in love with Jason and raven. I would have never thought of them together. I'm a sucker for Jason with the kids. I kinda wanted to put in a request but now can't think of any. Anyway I love your writhing and always look forward to when you write something new. Thank you. (Sorry if it's just a bunch of words that don't make sense)

Hello,

You’re thoughts are very well articulated and I’m so happy to hear you enjoy my blog! I know you didn’t put in a request, take your time on that, drop it off when you’re ready and I’ll work on it. In the mean time, you said you like Jason and Kids, and have fallen in love with JayRae so…

Here’s a snippet of an Untitled Hopes for a Bastard story and I hope you enjoy! =)

SPOILERS FOR HOPES FOR A BASTARD AHEAD!!!

Nothingbut a Ghost…

13 Years Earlier…

Hazel eyes watched from above as the spare took place.

The kid had black hair, a white streak, gangly, scrawnyteen, fifteen at most. He was small, under weight and size for sure. Theycalled him Shabh, he was good, a fast learner, vicious little fucker though.

The opponent for the kid today was the American, anAmerican, with blonde hair, blue eyes, brutish features. He was bigger thanShabh, though the boys were roughly the same age he guessed. The Americanthough was a meta, with full use of his brain, enhanced agility, speed,strength, and a healing factor. The American was proving to be the biggestasset from H.I.V.E., but the American was a brute and familiar.

The American was also the best of the apprentices they had,but today he felt would be a true test for the American.

The Demon’s Head had favored the American.

However, the Daughter of the Demon was favoring Shabh.

He glared down at the pit assessing the boys.

“What are you thinking Tiger?” a voice as him which had himglancing over his shoulder at the Dark Archer, who stared listlessly at thepit, there was a devoid of emotion in the Dark Archer. Bronze Tiger sat perchedjust a little ways off.

“American,” he answered. Shabh, for all his skill would nothave the strength or endurance to fight the American. This match would provenothing but what he and the rest of the League of Assassins knew, the Daughterof the Demon was too sentimental. The practical pick was the American, for theboy was stronger, faster, bigger and better.

~~~*~*~*~~~

His hair flopped in his eyes, and he stared across the wayat the American and he felt the familiar, heavy weight of the sword in hishand. The heat was mercilessly beating down on them, and he felt sweat rollingdown his temple as he stared at the other teen. The other teen looked like abrute, way older than he was, about the age of a college freshman which had hiseyes narrowing.

This was Ra’s’ champion.

He could see the appeal, guy was a warrior, and dangerous,and arrogant. The American smiled cruelly, and winds gusted, picking up thedirt.

The American moved, he got a proper hold on the katanna he’dbeen given. The American moved first, closing the distance, he charged to.Metal clanged, and he was hit by the full force of the guy. He went for speedas they rushed each other. His opponent was skilled but showy, he moved justfor killing, no show.

Twisting around he slammed his elbow into the guy’s side andknocked him back a bit and bought himself some breathing room. rushing hisopponent, he snarled a bit as he leapt up, metal clanged as they fought, hetwisted through the air. He landed and twisted as he felt the harsh air slashthrough his hair. There was a slash, he felt the blood the searing pain fromthe slash, as he narrowly evaded the sword for his head. He twisted and ran abit to get some distance between them and the American leapt over him. Henarrowly evaded the sword going for his head as he blocked, defense was hisgame. The American went for his feet which had him scrambling to keep his balancewhen he kicked dirt into the man’s eyes, knocking him back with his knee andlunging with a snarl.

The world took a green haze as he attacked without mercythen.

The blonde stumbled beneath the force of his assault when therewas a loud crack and he gasped as he was knocked sideways and off his feet intothe wall, his ribs were singing. He blearily glared up at a tall middle easternman with hazel eyes.

“Let me finish it!” the American snarled as he came at him,he tried to lunge for the blond but he couldn’t breathe!

“That is enough,” the man who had broken up the fight spoke.

“Yes,” he heard Talia said. “Take him to the healers, I willdeal with him.”

Firm hands hoisted him up and he shoved her off him as hestumbled on his own, there was a blood thirsty fury in him demanding he killthem all, but suddenly the world went black as he felt a sharp prick on hisneck before he collapsed.

~~~*~*~*~~~

Groggily he opened his eyes in his quarters as he winced,moving to sit up he saw Talia sitting at the edge of his bed glaring at him.

“You lost control,” she snapped.

“I was winning!” he growled. Suddenly there was a sharpstinging in his check as a loud smack filled his room. He looked up at her andglared.

“Losing control of the Pit to gain a victory is not winning,it is Suicide!” she snapped. “And you will learn control your you will be putdown.”

“Really? After all the trouble you went through to bring meto life again,” he sneered.

“You are nothing if you cannot control it! It will drownyou, and consume you! Get control!” she hissed before she stormed out and hefell back on his bed. Well… FUCK.

~~~*~*~*~~~

It was hours later when he was wandering the halls, lookingfor an escape, his hood up, his knuckles wrapped, the bruises from today werehealing on their own, and the world had a slightly green tint to his mind. Or atleast he thought it did.

He looked over his shoulder when a sound had his eartwitching, and he shoved his hands in his pockets as he ran a fingerreassuringly over the blade. A startled gasp escaped him as he tripped oversomething that he hadn’t remembered being in his path before he went crashingto the ground and there was an ungodly scream piercing the air. Covering hisears he begged for it to stop as there was this heated rage beneath his skinwhich had him wanting to howl in agony. Slowly pulling himself to his knees hesnatched the thing which was screaming to calm it and himself down.

“Shhh…” he cooed in the small ear as he ran his fingersthrough thick black hair and he felt the tiny form relaxing. “I got you,nothing bad will ever happen to you,” he promised as he pleaded with the kid tostop crying.

At those words the crying ceased, and he peered at the kidin his arms, he looked familiar and severe with those wide, icy blue-emeraldgreen (in no way hazel would be the appropriate way to describe these eyes).The toddler patted his cheek and smiled.

“Hafid!” Hands snatched the kid away from him and a sharpkick had his world going black as he slumped back against the wall.

“Stay away from that monster, he is beneath you!” was thelast thing he heard.

~~~*~*~*~~~

Present Day…

“Miss O’Mara says I’m the smartest in the class!” Terrygrinned as he sat on the passenger’s seat.

“Is that so?” Jason mused. He’d been stuck on kid duty forhis visit, so that meant taking Terry and Damian to school, as Helena was sickshe wasn’t going in today, and Matt was too young for school right now. Damian gloweredin the back seat, the kid being the classic moody teen; Jason was finding thatfunny as fuck.

“Yeah! I even get to go to the zoo! Daddy said so! I did sogood!”

“No shit, you’re a regular genius Terry,” Jason ruffled thekid’s hair.

“Yeah! Oh, did you and Rae make up yet!?”

“Queen and I aren’t fighting,” Jason sighed tiredly.

“Then why she dating this Jeri guy?” Terry demanded.

“Because Jason is a moron!” Damian muttered sourly.

“Because she and I were never together, and she is free todate whomever she pleases,” Jason countered.

“Jay big idiot,” Terry said twisting around to tell Damian that,and Jason groaned at Damian’s superior smirk. For the love of God someone getit through these people’s heads that a guy and girl could be friends!

“He is.”

“See, I smart, if I was big I’d marry Rae Rae!” Terrydecided.

“Oh, would you now jailbait?” Jason mused dryly.

“Yeah! She pretty, she smart, she fun, she cool, Raeperfect! Why aren’t you married!?” Terry demanded.

“Because maybe that’s my business and not yours, duck!” Jasongrinned maliciously at Terry, Damian rolled his eyes. Finally! Silence, he thought as he pulled up to the school and gotout to let Terry and Damian out. Terry clambered out, hugged his waist and ran forthe school and his friends.

“Terry is right, you are an imbecile,” Damian said gettingout of the car.

“Talk to me when you actually get a date,” Jason warned hislittle brother.

“You have been an imbecile for years about this! Now she’sdating a Wilson!” Damian grumbled.

“Hey, shorty, did you ever to stop to think that maybe sheand I don’t want to date and are happy being friends?” Jason asked coldly. Hisyounger brother rolled his eyes and stalked off which had Jason prayingdesperately for patience. He sucked at the good big brother act.

Driving home he got out of the Audi as he walked to thekitchen. The Raven and him thing was fine as it was, and Joseph Wilson treatedRaven like a Queen as far as he knew (and since he had stalked them on dates hewould know!). And if Joseph Wilson broke Raven’s heart then he, Harley, Ivy,and Victor would all be lined up to kick Joe’s ass into the grave. However,Terry, Helena, Mar'i, Lian, and even Matt thinking that he was dating ormarried to Raven wasn’t helping! Lian had kicked Joseph’s shins the other daywhen Joe had shown up to talk to him about getting Raven a gift.

He looked up when Bruce walked in, a crying Matt on hisshoulder.

“Terry and the Demon Spawn are at school,” Jason said as hewalked to the fridge and pulled out orange juice for Matt.

“Duke is coming home for the weekend,” Bruce said tiredly.

“He must be liking Princeton,” Jason said, he kept the envyout of his voice. That was a lifetime ago, and shit happened.

“The funny thing is the dean thought you were her studentthere once, Jason Peters,” Bruce said.

“Do I look like I could get into Princeton?” Jason grinned roguishlyand made a sippy-cup of juice for Matt who looked ready to cry with his unhappiness.

“Jason,” Bruce started.

“Could you get the Duck, and the Demon Spawn to STOPthinking I’m married to Raven, please?” Jason said changing the topic. He hearda set of footsteps coming, and pour another sippy-cup of juice for Helena.

“And what brought that on?” Bruce asked, his amusement clearand Jason glared at his dad as he caught the riot of curls that was HelenaWayne and hoisted her up to his hip.

“Because Terry asked if Raven and I were done fighting and Idon’t remember Rae or I being in a fight,” Jason sighed. “Besides, she’sallowed to date,” he pointed out.

“I don’t think I should get in the middle of this,” Brucesaid.

“Why the fuck not!?” Jason sputtered. Bruce got in themiddle of everything else! Why not an actual problem like this!?

“Because, Terry is right, as is Damian,” Bruce said.

“There is nothing between Raven and me,” Jason defended.There wasn’t! she was the best friend he’d had for years now.

“I saw the aftermath Jason,” Bruce said tiredly.

“Doesn’t prove anything,” he stated haughtily.

“Jason…” Bruce sighed.

“We Are Not Dating, Nor Will We Be Dating!” He growled. Hewasn’t fucking up everything he had with Raven for this to go sideways. Andbesides, if she knew everything about him she’d run as far and as fast away asshe could. They all would.

“Jason, don’t live to regret never acting,” Bruce said.

“You’re just saying that because you danced around marryingSelina for thirty years,” Jason sneered.

“Yes. That’s part of it,” Bruce said. “The other reason is Idon’t want you to be like me, and I don’t want you to have regrets!”

“Regret what? Not fucking up my best relationship because Idon’t act on a possible, unconfirmed attraction to her, or acting on it andfucking it up beyond repair; because I’m King of Fuck Ups B,” Jason snapped. Hedidn’t want to fuck up Raven and his thing.

“Jason,” Bruce sighed.

“Talk to the kids, please!” He said tiredly. Someone get them to stop this, someone get thefamily to stop shoving something that wasn’t there on him. He wasn’t fucking uphis friendship with Raven when she was literally the best damn thing he had inhis life.

“Don’t do something you’ll regret.”

“Oh, I’m not regretting this, I’d rather have a friend thana lover,” he assured Bruce. He just didn’t want to lose his best friend.

~~~*~*~*~~~

He watched them from afar, he watched them carefully as heassessed his options.

The League was destroyed.

His father dead.

His revenge squandered.

His leader dead.

And it was all because of Shabh, he would enact his revenge.He would finally show who was better, and he would rebuild the League ofAssassins with it’s true purpose.

But first he’d have to draw Shabh from the shadows…

He watched the pretty little woman on Jericho’s arm as shetalked levelly to the blond. The streets were tranquil.

He’d seen the woman before, with Shabh, and he had seenShabh’s great care for the woman. He could use that to get a ghost to come outto play.

He could finally show who was better! And the world wouldknow, once he had beheaded the infamous Red Hood for them to see. They wouldall see. He was not second best, he was the best.

#bluboothalassophile #spoilers #hopes for a bastard spoilers #fanfic #one shot #jason todd #terry mcginnis #damian wayne #bruce wayne #helena wayne #matt mcginnis #raven #joseph wilson #jerirae #jayrae

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the-headbop-wraith · 4 years ago

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5 _ Regrets

Behind the door was nothing but shelves, some blankets folded neatly and some books. It was a barrier that Arthur doubted he could dig his way through if he was inclined, but he didn’t waste his time with the thought. Arthur spun away from the open closet and snatched at the door on the nearby wall and rattled the handle, the panel was jammed in the doorframe or held in place by other forces. Arthur became frantic, jerking the knob and kicking at the doorframe with one foot. He made a thunderous ruckus until the low pulse of that gold locket cut into his panic. With a small sound Arthur whipped away and pressed his back into the corner of the room. The spirit watched his feral behavior.

“Not my fault,” Arthur gasped. He crouched into the corner more as the spirit narrowed the dark pits of its eye sockets. “No. I swear, I’m telling the truth,” Arthur babbled. The sharp howl peeled through his mind, the shrill cry that woke him at night if the fall didn’t. “The cave! In the cave there was— Please, you have to believe me!”

“I do.”

Arthur blinked. Thick sobs gurgled in his chest as his heart throbbed, matching the tempo of the spirits shimmering locket. In the dim room there was little of the its shape he could identify clearly, but for the ribs protruding from its black suit, and the vibrant style of magenta hair it sported. The flames of its eyes bore into Arthur, and he was terrified to take even the shallowest of breath as it gazed down on him with icy malice.

“But you were weak,” the spirit hissed through its jaw. “You allowed what dwelled in that place to take you over. You entertained the idea of a conspiracy at work against you. Friend.”

Arthur patted the wall behind him as his mind raced, until his thoughts crashed into a long broken ache. “Vivi.” He feared to look, feared to confirm what he knew but refused to believe.

Both Vivi and Mystery were gone. They had left him.

For the moment the specter distracted itself by stroking the pulsating locket pinned to its chest. “Hm.” Its head swiveled as Arthur dropped to his knees, the floorboards beneath them gave a hollow clatter when Arthur came down.

“Do it then,” Arthur said, bowing his head. If he looked into the spirits eye sockets now, his soul would vacate his body in that instant. “You’re right. I was weak, I was…. I didn’t— I… utterly fucked up. I shouldn’t of….” Arthur took a moment to get his breathing under control, and smooth out his broken voice. No one would see. No one would ever have to know. He would take the truth to his grave, even if he wasn’t sure what that truth entailed. Vivi would mourn, sure, but she would never have to know. He had the strength to do that. Or, was it cowardice?

“I tried to make it up to her. I tried to fix it, but she doesn’t need me. I’m a—” He gagged when the spirit snared his prosthetic arm. A piercing squeal tore from Arthur’s throat as he was swung upward by the compromised limb and flung across the room. The prime connectors in his arm didn’t have a chance to recover from the exertion, before he smashed into the wall and dropped upon a desk. The desk crumbled and Arthur tumbled to the floor, scrambling to find his footing.

“I don’t want your sniveling.” The spirits voice became low, harsh. “I don’t want your tears, or your apology,” it went on, tilting its head until the moonlight flashed through its eye sockets. “And I don’t want your death.”

Arthur managed to get onto his feet before he pitched over into the wall, vision swirling and unfocused on the approaching specter.

“I want you to suffer,” the spirit snarled. The locket flashed quicker as the flames in its eye sockets brightened. “I want you to feel the terror and emptiness I felt. I want you to experience the fury and isolation that scalded my soul when I was KILLED!” It advanced on Arthur, gliding its lower half through a table as the moonlight fluttered across its bleached ribs. “You won’t—” The spirit glides backwards as a dark shape cut between it and Arthur.

Arthur choked, “Don’t!” He tried to move to his feet, but faltered as pain burned through his agonized shoulder. “B-back, Vi.” Vivi stood between Arthur and the spirit, arms open wide.

“I,” Vivi began, and took a breath. Her shoulders trembled as she stared the spirit directly in its eye sockets. “Won’t let you hurt him.”

The spirit’s hostility melted from its skull completely as it slid backwards, the table it had slipped through effortlessly before skid over the hard wood floor and tipped over. It stares at Vivi’s eyes through the bright lenses of her glasses, its bleached skull contemplative and uncertain. “Vivi,” he spoke. “You— you’re not meant to be here.”

Vivi let her arms drop a few inches as she gazed at the spirit. The strangest sense of deja’vu came over her, as if the voice was someone’s she’d known so well but the name… she didn’t have a name. She blinked, but no scrap of memory entered her mind. A ghost haunting a house out in the woods. She could connect nothing to this distinct apparition. “I… know you,” she said.

The sound played back in her mind. A breeze cutting over a fast moving obstruction, then the soggy crack that echoed off the walls. A terrible sound that delivered horror and panic. The urgency to move somewhere, to take some sort of action gripped her tightly, but there was nothing to do. She couldn’t fathom what to do, how to fix it.

“No, you don’t,” the spirit whispered. “You were there, but you shouldn’t have seen that.” The spirit drifted backwards when she took a step in its direction. “I made sure….” Its voice faded off.

“What did you do?” Vivi and raised her hand up, as if to touch him. The spirit looked upon her, flames dimming in its eye sockets, but made no move to retreat further. “You need to tell me.” Her eyes moved to the shimmering heart as its movement quickened.

“I won’t do that,” the spirit hissed. “Not to you— Don’t touch that.” The specter reached out to take back the flashing heirloom as it drifted away from his chest, carried by some powerful inner suggestion the locket acted upon. But Vivi had already reached her hands out carefully and placed her fingers around the glimmering locket; his most protected and cherished possession. The only possession Lewis had not yet lost. “Vivi, please.”

Captivated by the rapid flashes of the heart-locket, Vivi only heeded the wounded tone of the spirits voice as she slowly wrapped her fingers around the golden heart. Then they were gone. Vivi and the locket were gone.

The spirit tugged its skull up to the open doorway as amber flashed into the light shining from the hall, followed by a streak of blue. Vivi’s face was grief stricken as she was dragged through the door by Arthur, she reached back to the spirit before she disappeared around the doorframe. The spirit reached out for her hand, completely missing the glimmer of the locket as it fell fast to the hardwood floor.

And cracked.

“You….” He hissed. The magenta flames of his scalp swelled down his backside as he swoops out of the study and into the hall where the three retreated. “Abandon me.” The fire ignited outward from his coat and skull, shredding through timber and wallpaper. And for a brief span of its existence, the specter thought of nothing but making everything it ever knew vanish entirely.

When Vivi saw the eruption of fire heading towards them, she shoved Arthur on ahead as they ran. “Don’t look back!”

While the spirit was distracted by its devastation it must’ve lost some of its hold on the homes enchanted architect, for the hall ended after several long strides and wasn’t the infinite tunnel that had trapped them before. Arthur tore from the halls opening and diverted to the side, where the lower lounge was beneath the upper floors balcony. There was a long table basking in the glow of the candles, and hopefully as solid as he it appeared.

“Table, Mystery. Under the table!” Arthur called. He wrapped his arms around Vivi and forced her to fall with him as he dropped to his knees and skid between the table’s legs. “Trust me! Trust me,” he chanted. Once under the table he released Vivi, and punched the underside of the heavy oak with his mechanical arm and knocked it over, moments before the fire erupted out into the main foyer and flooded every inch of the atmosphere.

Mystery watched as Arthur folded himself over Vivi, and Vivi curled up into a tight ball shielded by the lapels of his amber vest. The room ceased to exist as it was consumed by hot white light-tinged pink, and the rolling bellow of sizzling heat. As Vivi and Arthur buckled under the driving force, Mystery leapt up over the table and turned his body to face the blaze.

The cold wind rushed through his clothing and skin as he fell through the dark forever. A yellow flame followed, fatalistic fire of a brief life swept up in a metaphorical orb, banished by the glittering emerald. An end was inconceivable, a conclusion was insufferable. He reached up gripping at open air, futile as it was. Where was he going? And what would happen when he arrived?

Cloth tore and his body was dislocated. He lay staring upward as the green haze thickened throughout the ceiling, wrapping around gagged teeth directed down on him. When would the nightmare end?

“Lewis?” a sick voice yelped. “Lewis!” The voice cackled wildly and sobbed in the same breath, a sick and twisted resonance on the cave walls. “For god’s sake Lewis, answer me! I said ANSWER—”

The voice cut off and what followed was a symphony of panic and shrieking.

“Don’t let this… Don’t let—”

The tsunami of fire crashed over Mystery as he held his ground, snout directed into the path of the onslaught. The shadow cast by the dog rose over the polished table and up along the wall behind his companions, then faded as the fuchsia swell dissolved completely. Mystery’s legs quivered as he raised his head to glare up at the suspended ghost poised on the other side of the foyer. It was just the death suit and the skull watching him with no outward countenance, held in its palm was an aqua heart locket, and even from his distance Mystery could make out the spider web fractures in its surface.

Without a word the specter faded, skull first followed by its suit, leaving only a scorched room and sizzling masonry. The mansion still stood but its stability could be tested.

Mystery didn’t know if he was up to the task. He sat down and turned his head as shuffling sounds came from behind the table. The first up was Arthur, peeking over the tables side and examining the ruble that had been dislodged from the walls and ceiling. Arthur had his good arm on Vivi’s arm and helped her up.

“Look’s clear,” Arthur says.

Vivi adjusted her glasses as she looked to the front side of the table. “Mystery, did you protect us?” she asked. To her question the dog merely wags his tail. Vivi steps over the table to kneel by Mystery and smoothed out his fur. “Don’t be like Arthur and overexert yourself.”

Mystery whined at her. He didn’t try, honestly. Mystery watched the dawning recognition flash in Vivi’s eyes before she whirled to Arthur and shoved him roughly with her palms. Mystery winced.

“Why did you do that?” she yelled. Vivi watched as Arthur stumbled backwards into the wall and the window behind him.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” Arthur said. He pushed himself onto his feet and moved back further as Vivi leaned towards him. “What was I supposed to do?” Arthur recalled the room’s state and began shuffling along the wall, towards the front of the room. Without meeting Vivi’s eyes, he gestured her and Mystery to follow as he slunk beside the wall.

“You know that ghost,” Vivi said. She closed the distance between her and Arthur and took the sleeve of his shirt as she followed. It wasn’t a bad idea to start moving now, but she was angry and she wanted answers first. “And it knows me. What is going on? I need to know why it wants to kill you.”

The three moved silently across the room, to where they abandoned their bags in the front hall. Vivi released the sleeve when Arthur crouched and began to rummage through the sack. The thick cotton material was singed lightly but not roasted through, some miracle or selective maiming. “This isn’t the time for that,” Arthur said, pulling open pockets and moving bottles around in what little candlelight still fluttered in the hall.

“When will it be the time?” Vivi crossed her arms and glared at him. “Well?”

They had a wide assortment of charms, holy effects – items tested and proven to weaken or ward off spiritual activity, by whatever mysticism governed the paranormal dimension. Arthur didn’t know what to select so he settled on sliding the bag onto his back. “Vivi.” He stood and gently set his hands on her shoulders and met her eyes. “You deserve answers. Yes. I—” His voice died as he looked away choking back tears. “Trust me. Please. I want to talk to you, after this. But first, I have to make sure we are safe.” Arthur slid the backpack over his arm and pulled out a container of salt from the open top, and a bundle of sage. “It will hurt, what I have to tell you,” he said, and squeezed her shoulders. “We’ll share the pain together.”

Vivi looked from the container and herb he had given her, then to the stony expression in Arthur’s face. She nodded.

Arthur held her stare for a few more minutes, before he turned to Mystery. “Can you find,” Arthur hesitated and squeezed his eyes shut. It didn’t feel right not to use a name, but it would feel far worse if he did, he knew. “Find the spirit?”

Mystery sat on the carpet gazing up at Arthur and tilts his head, as if to inquire about his companion’s mindset.

“We’ll do it,” Arthur said, and turned to Vivi. “You’re right,” he says. “We have to lay him to rest. I think that’s why we’re here.” He cast his eyes down as Vivi took his bad shoulder. “I don’t know what else to do.”

“Don’t leave me, for a start?” Vivi asked. “I can’t lose you too.”

Arthur turned his head to see her with his eyes and nodded, faintly. He adjusted the bag on his back and led their way along the wall, rows of flickering candles lined their path. The foyer still smoldered, but the air was chilled in an unnatural way and the scent of wood fire was completely absent. Illusion, came to Arthur’s mind. He couldn’t deduce which was real, why they should see the damage wrought by spiritual outburst.

“Can you find him, Mystery?” Arthur asked. He watched as Mystery padded forward, head high as the dog began scanning the walls and upper floors bathed in the chandeliers fluttering candle light. As Mystery went on ahead, Arthur looked back to Vivi and held out his good hand. Vivi took his hand and looked to Arthur without a word. “If… nothing goes right,” he says, “take Mystery and leave. Never look back. Promise?” He went limp when Vivi wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him, Vivi’s grip tightening. Arthur tried not to make a sound. He didn’t deserve this.

Mystery had reached the bottom of the large stairs and turned back to watch as his companions caught up. Wherever the spirit was Mystery couldn’t decide definitely, but he sensed simply being was enough to draw it out. Arthur was just walking bait at this point, but it would be best to find a location that gave the group an advantage if they became overwhelmed. They hadn’t explored the upstairs.

In fact when the upstairs had become their only safe route, the specter had intervened.

The carpet was charred and singed, and crackled under Mystery’s feet as he padded up the steps. Mystery exercised great caution, though he judged that the spirit would be unwilling to emerge at this time. He felt that the magenta spirits would be happy enough to follow a mild suggestion, if they trespassed into unwelcome territory. It wasn’t that the spirits were unintelligent, Mystery knew, it was due to time. In time even the most resolute could lose focus, and shed their sense of identity.

“Maybe not step under the chandelier,” Arthur said, as he guides Vivi to the side of the stairs.

Mystery didn’t pay them mind. He bounced up the remaining steps and stood on the foremost landing, head turned to watch as Vivi and Arthur joined his position. Mystery’s short tail wagged when they neared, and the dog resumed up the next set of steps to the left.

The top most floor encircled the grand foyer, high above in the ceiling large windows faced the sky dazzled with trillions of stars and misty galaxies. There were numerous doors along the upper pathway, decorations such as desks and suits of armor filled some of the empty wall space between the doors. Though there were candelabras fixed to the walls at intervals they offered no light, leaving the chandelier suspended at the center of the room as their only reliable light source. Some of the carpet and the banisters had received scorches from the frenzied inferno, but there was no greater damage.

“Where are you taking us?” Arthur asked, as he turned to Mystery. “Just a hunch, but I don’t think that ghost’ll be up here.”

Mystery turned to Arthur and tilt his head. Was Arthur really that desperate to meet his maker?

Apparently not. Arthur sighed and adjusted the backpack strap over his bad shoulder. “Maybe you’re right.”

Vivi tried the nearest door in their path but it was locked. “You said you fell into a crypt?” she asked.

Arthur tensed and turned to her. “I woke up there,” he muttered. “But I don’t know how to get there, or if there is an actual way in. I have a feeling I was brought there by some force.” Arthur looked to Vivi when she looked over her shoulder back at him. He anticipated her questions and prying, but Vivi only looked away and resumed trying the doors.

The icy chill that lingered in the halls returned to the foyer, and Arthur shivered. The fire had been unnatural, not feeling hot to his skin but scorching to his nerves and thoughts. As if the flames were not tuned to the air itself, but instead to his skin.

Vivi reached for the next door they came upon, but didn’t take the handle before a fuchsia spirit had melted from the wood and chattered at her with sharp teeth. Arthur gave a small cry and leapt back against the banister, nearly falling if Mystery hadn’t snatched the ankle of Arthur’s pants in his teeth and dragged him back.

The magenta ghost pulled its vague shape from the door and twisted over itself playfully, but its teeth remained sharp and its yellow eyes slid curiously over each member of the group. Vivi plucked up the bundle of sage and held it for the spirit to view. Before she could request a light from Arthur the spirit faded, its last cackle echoed off the walls.

Arthur crept up behind Vivi and peered over her shoulder. “Think it’s safe?” he asked. Vivi watched the door expecting something dramatic, maybe screaming, but the room was silent. Vivi sprang forward and snapped her hand to the doorknob. Arthur gave a low squeak as she flung the door open.

Behind the door a set of steps curled up into the dark upper floors, with no light but a pale blue spilling from somewhere. Mystery moved forward sniffing at the cold musty draft that flittered down. Satisfied by some conclusion or lack of interest, Mystery began padding up the wood steps and Vivi followed. Arthur lingered, casting a last scan over the large scorched walls of the lower room, before he entered after them and shut the door.

Vivi now held the sage before her like a torch. The steps creaked as their collection of weight and movement tussled the old floor boards. Another door awaited at the end of the winding steps, a crease of blue light swirled in the dust at the floor. Vivi inched toward it cautiously, fearful another spirit would lunge out.

“Where do you think we are?” Vivi asked. The sudden stab of her voice caused Arthur to jerk, the contents of his backpack clinking to his movement.

“An attic,” Arthur said. “Maybe. Mystery, what are we doing here?”

No answer came from Mystery. Instead, the dog sniffed at the door that Vivi contemplated. Vivi took the handle, and still holding the sage out like a shield, she twisted the doorknob. The door opened easily into a large, frigid room. It was not remarkable, the same tatters of paper peeled from the walls and there was very little furniture aside from scattered chairs and a table left beside the walls. Unlit candles stood upon the tables, and at the far side of the room where the ceiling peaked was a large window overlooking the front yard. The walls at the back of the room, away from the moonlight and sun, sported numerous pictures of varied sizes dotting up and down the walls and cobwebs covered the carved wood frames.

The wind skipped over the eaves and the slates, and a branch tapped outside the window. The atmosphere of the room was weary and forlorn, waiting only for days with sunlight and losing more each night that passed. Vivi lowered her hand with the sage as she wandered closer to the large window. Through the glass, on the moon washed gravel below she could pick out the details of the van waiting for them beside the road.

“He must’ve seen us arrive,” Vivi said, as Arthur joined her side. “The van breaking down was his doing.”

Arthur frowned. Yeah. And he probably enjoyed watching Arthur struggle. “I kind of don’t want to hang around here anymore,” Arthur admitted. “Charms or not.”

“What are you doing?” Vivi spun around as Arthur trotted off, headed towards Mystery on the far side of the room.

Arthur selected the sturdiest chair and struggled to lift it, but the wood was thick and heavy and his prosthetic arm felt loosened in its connectors. “I’ll smash the window and we can climb out,” he said, grunting with the effort of raising the chair. The chair clattered to the floor when Vivi hurried to his side and grabbed it from him. “Look! I’m thankful that thing harbors you no ill will, but I dunno how long that’s gonna last! This might be our only….” He noticed that Vivi was no longer looking at him, her attention had snapped to the walls behind him.

“Do you have your lighter?” Vivi held out her hand, and Arthur obliged. She took one of the tall candles sitting on the desk and lit it, the small yellow flame pulsed and dimmed in the accusing glare of the dark fog. Vivi held her hand beside the candle as the flame sputtered, until its light began seeping over the rough walls and surface of the desk. Vivi kept her attention fixed to the portraits on the wall – some large, others small and filled with crooked brambles growing in tangles around the skull effigy of the specter.

What had her captivated were the picture frames along the highest wall, descending with images of figures resembling she, Arthur, and Mystery… and someone else. A cave looming in the woods. She concluded they were always together. Inside the cave the group separates, and something had followed. One stays above, one falls low, and one to witness. A figure staring into a mirror and his reflection is the spirit. There were portraits of eyes and tails and an arm.

Vivi took a quavering breath as she reached out to touch the nearest picture and rubbed away some of the dust, revealing a heart. Mystery gave a soft whine to her as he watched.

“Vivi?” Arthur hummed. He looked again across the images detailing that day, the day that was a blur in the back of his nightmares. “Do you—” Arthur silenced himself when a low sob came from Vivi, as she slipped against the table and to the floor.

“No.” Vivi shook her head slowly. “But I can feel a sense of him. This someone who was so important that their absence is devastating. It doesn’t feel right. I should know everything about him – his voice, the color of his eyes, his name -but… there’s nothing. Just a dark cloud swirling, getting thicker when I concentrate.” She listens to the soft tapping on the window, her face buried in the thick scarf as tears warmed it. She turned to Arthur. “What happened? Tell me now.”

Arthur’s face became pained as he turned to Mystery. In response Mystery whined and glanced to Vivi. “You remember that Christmas, you gave me a pocket watch?” he asked, and produced the chainless, scratched timepiece from his pocket.

Vivi took it from his flesh hand and examined it, as though this was her first time viewing it. “I… do.” She handed the clock back to Arthur as he knelt beside her.

“There was someone else,” Arthur continued, still studying the portraits in the feeble candlelight. “And you gave him—”

“A locket!” Vivi pressed her hands into the front of her sweater. Arthur’s face fell.

“Mmm.” Arthur put an arm around Mystery when the dog leaned into his side. “I think you hit it off with him. You… and I—” Arthur shut his mouth and heaved a sigh. “I don’t know what happened. We went to this cave… there was an accident.” He reached out his metal prosthetic for Vivi to see fully and to collect on the gravity of its symbolism. Arthur swayed when she slumped against his side and began sobbing into his vest. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m so-so sorry.”

“I don’t even remember his name. How could I forget?” Vivi whispered. “How?”

“Lewis,” Arthur said. He tightened his arms around her shoulder and set his cheek on her head. “Sometimes you called him Lew-Lew. Or Bara Lew.”

“Shut up,” Vivi muttered. Arthur smirked, it wasn’t a hateful command. “We should have stayed in the van. We should have stayed….”

“Yeah?” Arthur said, gently. “But who can resist a creepy cave?” Vivi sobbed harder, her tears soaked right through his shirt. “He’d have done anything for you. Anything. You did nothing wrong.” He met Mystery’s eyes, and the dog had that same look on his face as all those nights ago. “I’m the one that resented him,” Arthur said. “I pushed him. It was me.” Arthur drew back when Vivi swung up and punched him square in the face. Arthur collapsed on his side as Mystery padded around his face barking.

“Is that why he hates you?” Vivi snarled, fists braced onto the dusty boards at her knees.

Arthur moaned as he rolled to his good side. “Yes.”

When Vivi rose to her feet, Mystery dashed from the group barking at the window on the far side of the room. Arthur recognized the tone Mystery used, it was alarm and urgency. He flopped onto his back and tilts his head back the furthest that he could managed. In his shock he missed Vivi’s approach; she knotted her fingers into his shirt front and leaned over him. “Wha—wait!” Vivi paused long enough to follow Arthur’s gaze and froze, her knuckles turn white enough to rival Arthur’s shirt.

Mystery bristled up the fur between his shoulder blades and his barks had subsided into throaty snarls. Across the room pressed into the large balcony window was a dark shape with green eyes, tapping at the glass and grinning at those on the other side.

#mystery skulls #mystery skulls fanfic #msa fanfic #msa #mystery skulls animated #msa arthur #msa vivi #msa lewis #mystery skulls ghost #arthur #vivi #lewis

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mcfreakin-bxtch · 4 years ago

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Chapter Three (Knight AU)

Be Yours

Din Djarin x Reader

Warnings: Talks of war/violence and forced marriages, Language (I may be missing more I apologize)

Word Count: 2.2K+

A/N: This took forever for me to get out. The next chapter will have more Din and James content and background!

*Also reminder that I’ve updated my masterlists and you can find the new link in my bio!