#he was planning to just lurk and watch over soap

[dovabunny]

Angsty Ghostsoap Idea of the day - Here all along

Soap met Simon when the man was on leave. Beautiful, mysterious Simon had walked past Soap's coffee shop a few times, before he mustered the courage to come in.

Meanwhile, thinking the huge man must've been stalking or creeping on one of his pretty female clients, Soap had stomped out to confront the man- only for the man to awkwardly apologize and ask him to dinner. The twist gave Soap such whiplash he...

... said without realizing what was happening.

For three blissful years Simon would come home to him every chance he got, sometimes even just for 3 days between missions.

He told him things he legally was not allowed to, but Soap was his 'home' - a place where he was just Simon, not Ghost or a soldier or a killer or a victim. A man who loved with his whole heart and wanted no secrets between them. Something neither of them had ever had.

They cooked together, Simon talked him into getting a dog named Riley, they made future plans and talked about him retiring.

Then Simon comes home from a bad mission. He was put on medical leave for wounds that were not all physical but refused to talk about what had happened- what had rattled him so. He wasn't himself - cold, blunt, quick to anger, and distant in a way Soap's never seen him in their years together.

Then Simon finds the rings Soap had been hiding.

Simon had been impatiently digging through his art supplies looking for tape when he found the box.

When Soap came home from work it was to Simon sitting in the dark, the box on the table.

His home had never felt as cold as when Simon's voice demanded "what's this."

Soap fucked up, but he wasn't even sure how. He stuttered something about where did he find it when he noticed there was a pile of his sketches too - torn out of his journals, clearly not too gently. All the ones of Simon's face.

"You KNOW why I can't show my face! You KNOW how I feel about this! I refuse to take photos with you so you do this???" He tosses the sketches across the table.

"They're all I have of you when you're gone so long! I didn't-"

"And the rings!? You ALSO know how my parents' marriage went so why the fuck did you think I'd want that? Or did that just not matter either?"

Soap stares, the tension that had been on Simon's shoulders since he arrived a few days ago now turned on him. Soap swallows hard. He had never for even a second felt scared of Soap. But he saw it now... Saw 'Ghost' overtake Simon.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I'll burn the sketches and get rid of the rings. I'm sorry, baby. Let's just forget this?" He tries to step forward.

"This was a mistake..." Simon whispers and it feels like a knife to the gut.

"...Si, love, what are you?"

"I said this was a mistake."

Simon gets to his feet and it's then that Soap spots the packed bag. Si throws it over his shoulder as he makes for the door.

"Simon, no! Baby, please - I'm sorry! Please, don't leave like this!" He reaches for him but Si shrugs him off and doesn't slow down.

His world collapses as the door closes behind the man he had given his heart, soul, and future to.

Simon doesn't return his calls or texts. Texts apologizing, begging, texts angry and hurt, texts reminding him he's loved and he has a home here whenever he's ready.

Then the number is disconnected.

Then he gets a letter in the mail that ends with "Our deepest condolences" and a pair of dog tags.

Five years later. Soap has tried to move on, but just couldn't. He still has the rings. Wishes he kept at least one sketch. His shop does well, Riley is getting old, and so is Soap. He keeps busy, and sketches less. Even after all this time when he puts pencil to paper his hand wants to draw Simon.

Then torn, crumpled pages on the floor with boot prints on them flash in his mind and he puts the pencil back down.

This morning he sat in his little kitchen and pages through the local paper when he feels his blood run cold.

Last week's festival was the highlight of the moment, the newspaper covered in photos taken at the event. But in the background of one looms a painfully familiar figure.

Soap grabs his phone and rings the paper. "Photo three, page two- at the fountain - when was that taken?!" The journalist is baffled - all of them last week.

That can't be. It can't be! But he knows that figure, those shoulders, those curls. he's in the shadows but outlined, angled towards where Soap's little trailer stand was.

Soap pulls the dog tags out of his shirt - always around his neck all this time. Is Simon.. alive?

And...near?

Soap looks at the shadows all the way to work, peeking around all day to try to spot a man that shouldn't be there - convincing himself he isn't crazy.

At closing time he had enough. He prints a page and sticks it to the door when he locks up.

"Si, if you're reading this grow a pair and come home."

Later that night there's a knock at the door. A familiar tall man, new scars and silver creeping into blind curls, but just as beautiful as he remembers. Unsteady hands hold a bouquet of his favorite flowers.

"Is this still home?" He asks

"Ours. Always." Soap smiles through the tears.

[sturnlsstuff]

MASK ON | ghostface!matt x fem!reader

— warnings: smut, dom!matt, sub!reader, cursing, knife play, choking, creampie, unprotected p in v, pet names, dirty talking, masturbation, mentions of murder, mdni

— a/n: matt is a bit crazy in this, it might be a lot so if u don't like, don't read xoxo

part two / part three

~~~~

saying that matt was obsessed was an understatement. he was going feral for you. losing his mind. every guy you talked to was found dead not even twenty four hours after your last interaction with him. it was making you think that maybe you have some kind of curse on you, but it was impossible... right?

matt was having his eye on you for a while now. but it was different. at first when he caught you at some party, he thought you will be his next victim. you guys talked, you thought he was funny and good looking. his tattoos caught your attention, you couldn't take your eyes of his arm. that's when matt's plans changed. he couldn't kill you, because he needed you. he craved you, wanted to put his hands all over your body, wanted to make you scream but from pleasure. but he was too anxious to start whatever, he didn't even know how. and you were so confident...

because matt was only shy without his mask on.

since this first and last interaction you both had, he started gaining informations about you. everytime your parents were at work and you were at school, he was in your room. he made a key to your house, allowing himself to come and go whenever he wanted. he stayed in your room for several hours, already knowing its layout by heart. he went through your drawers, smelled your sheets, stole your pretty lace underwear. but he also did something else. he installed a camera in your bathroom and in your room, to facilitate access to you. so every time you showered, every time you changed - he saw it. and he jerked off to the view, whimpering your name, with your panties wrapped around his dick.

he couldn't take it no more. his sick fantasies weren't enough.

he found himself in his car, parked down the road in your neighborhood. his phone in his hand as he kept watching you through the cameras. you were taking a shower, the water running down your perfect body. he couldn't stop staring at your beautiful curves, the way you soaped your skin, your wet hair sticking to your back... he wanted to be there with you, to press you against the wall and fuck you relentless, watching the pleasure forming on your face, listening to your sweet pretty sounds-

he was quick to pull out his painfully hard dick from his black jeans and start moving his hand up and down his length. having the perfect view on your tits, he kept imagining being there with you, being able to move his tongue around your nipples... he whimpers, thrusting into his fist, his dick pulsing desperately for some relief that he couldn't achieve. he was already struggling to cum, but it got worse when you got out of the shower and covered yourself with a towel, cutting off his view of your body. he groaned, stopping his movements and pulling his boxers and pants up. he was now on a mission. he had enough of just watching you.

leaving his car, he quickly made his way to your house and into the garden, hiding between the bushes. it was dark and he was dressed all black, so no one could spot him. he also knew that your parents were not at home. leaving you alone even though there is a crazy masked killer lurking nearby, looking for innocent girls like you? a bit stupid, he thought.

after putting on his ghostface mask and using a voice changer, he calls your number, waiting impatiently for you to answer. meanwhile you were in your room, still only covered by the towel and searching for some clean pajamas as you heard the phone buzzing. seeing the unknown number on the screen, you didn't think much of it and picked up.

"hello?"

"what's your favorite scary movie?" you hear a low, hoarse voice on the other end of the phone. frowning, you look at the screen of your phone before putting it to your ear again, thinking that someone is just making fun of you.

"what?"

"i asked... what's your favorite scary movie." the voice repeats, making you a bit confused.

"who's this?"

"that's not the answer for my question, sweetheart." the way he said 'sweetheart' makes you shiver. matt still hides in the bushes, watching you through the cameras on his other phone, seeing the confusion forming on your face and how you are still standing in your room just in a towel. this wasn't helping with his painfully hard cock that was straining against his jeans.

"uhmmm, i don't really watch scary movies..." you say unsure what to answer.

"yeah? then what do you watch?"

"i... i already answered your question so now you answer mine. who is this?" you ask again trying to sound confident even if the call was confusing you. was that one of your friends making fun of you?

matt lets out a low chuckle liking the attitude you're trying to put on. he knows he could make you change your act pretty quick. "isn't it a bit stupid? leaving you alone in the house when some psycho killer is nearby? maybe watching you? would be even a little unfortunate if he was talking to you right now, huh?"

your eyes widen and you look around as if you were going to find him. you understand the situation immediately. now you knew who you were talking to. it was him. and you felt your body rush through adrenaline. matt already was quietly unlocking your door downstairs to get inside. "what??? what do you want? please, leave me alone-"

"relax, sweetheart. i'm not gonna kill you. in fact you look too good right now to do anything to you other than making you moan while my cock is deep inside your pretty pussy."

"w-what??" you look around again as it could help you find him. processing his words, you frown your eyebrows, grabbing the top of the towel and pressing it tighter to your body. "how do you know how i look right now-"

"i know that you look incredibly hot in your pretty thin towel that isn't covering too much." matt smirks putting his second phone into his pocket and standing in front of the stairs. he didn't want to scare you too much, he needed to convince you to let him touch you.

panic starts filling you and you start looking around again. quickly walking to the closet, opening it, checking under the bed and in your bathroom. but he's nowhere to be found, obviously. "what do you want?!"

"i already told you sweetie. you aren't that dumb, are you? i just wished i could rip that towel off you... would you let me? hm?" as you hear his words, your eyes travel to the fabric covering your body, automatically pressing it against your chest. matt continues, "i'm not gonna hurt you, i promise. i just think you'd like this... i was watching you and i know what you watch when you touch yourself. naughty, aren't you? you like it rough and when the mask is on, huh?"

your eyes widen, your body shiver and neither of you says anything for a moment, your mind trying to process what you just heard. "you... what do you mean by saying..."

"yes, i watched you."

chewing on your bottom lip, you feel two things. panic and... something you definitely shouldn't feel right now. you actually liked watching home made porn when the guy had a mask on, while touching yourself. you knew it was fucked up, that you were fucked up and you had a lot of kinks that you would never tell anyone. but he knew. he watched you, took away your privacy. and something about this turns you on right now, making you more confused than ever.

"will you let me in, sweetheart?" you hear him ask and at the same time the stairs in the hall creak, indicating that someone was coming upstairs. but you were alone... right? matt knew your door were unlocked, he could easily get inside, but he needed to hear that you let him in. your body is literally frozen as you stand in the middle of the room, gripping the phone and looking at the door with wide eyes. heart pounding in your chest from the adrenaline and fear, yet the ache between your legs keeps growing when you think of every single thing he said. he was watching you, craved you and knew how fucked up your fantasies were because his were worse. "so? can i come in?" you see the door handle slowly turning, he was just outside the door to your room.

"y-yeah..." it slips out of your mouth faster than you can even realize. the call ends, you look at the screen confused, before your attention is turned towards the door which opens with a crack and a person dressed all in black, wearing a ghostface mask enters your room. he wasn't very tall, you checked him out, but couldn't notice much besides the knife he held in his hand. and that made your heart skip a beat and take a few steps back.

"oh c'mon, don't be shy now. you let me in, didn't you?" he speaks up, his voice a bit different than on the phone. it's almost like you recognize it, but you don't know from where. he slowly makes his way over to you but you continue backing away, with your heart pounding in your chest until you reach your bed, falling backwards onto the mattress, the towel loosens on your body, making matt smirk under the mask. he stops in front of your bed, looking down at you and tilting his head to the side a little. god, you were beautiful. he reaches his hand, running it slowly down your thigh, making you flinch a little. feeling your soft, smooth skin under his fingertips was like his dreams coming true. then with one quick movement he rips the towel off you, leaving you completely bare. you watch him with widen eyes, too stunned to speak because you're scared and that sends vibrations straight to your pussy. "what's the matter sweetie? you look like you've seen a ghost."

"i—" the words get stuck in your throat, even though you can't see his eyes, you can feel him looking at you. feeling it really intensely, not understanding how this situation can have such an effect on you, making goosebumps appear on your body, your pussy throbbing but at the same time the sight of the knife in his hand makes it slightly terrifying. "i... i j-just— what will you do...?"

a low, hoarse laugh leaves him, he places the non-sharp side of the knife between your tits and starts moving it downwards, but not in a way that will hurt you. looking at this with widen eyes, you can't believe how hot what he's doing is making you feel. matt was literally in heaven right now. seeing your terrified face but at the same time the lust in your eyes, the way your body reacted to his touch, it made him go crazy, his cock twitching in his jeans needing to feel you around him. needing to ruin you. "you've no idea how long i been wanting to do this...." he spreads your legs, a groan escapes him, seeing your pussy dripping with arosual, already ready for him. his fingers trace over your wet folds, spreading them open as he sees your pink dripping entrance and he inserts one finger inside you, the movement making you gasp silently and close your eyes for a moment. "...mmm, yeah.... so fuckin' pretty... wish i could taste you— fuckk, so wet f'me... and you didn't even see me— you're jus' a little slut, hm?"

he places the cold blade of that knife on your hard nipple, the feeling makes you let out a soft whimper and it's like a sudden wake-up call for him. he just made you let out a noise. and immediately want more. removing his finger out of you, holding your folds spread, he runs the handle of the knife along the entire length of your heat, making you whine again. "oh god..."

"you like it? i knew you might be into some crazy shit jus' when i first saw you...." matt throws the knife on the mattress and not wanting to waste more time, unzips his pants. "y'want it, yeah? tell me. tell me you want this---" he slaps your pussy making you squeal, the sound echoed throughout the room. did he really have to ask? you were dripping. for him. you should be scared of this psychopath in front of you, but instead you were turned on, which was sickening.

"mhm..." you hum, your eyes watching his movements very intensely. his pants were already down to his knees along with his boxers. swallowing nervously, your eyes stare at his hard cock, precum leaking from his red sensitive tip. damn, he was big. maybe even too big. "i-i do, but... i don't know if you're gonna fit---"

he felt his control slip away, those words making his cock harden more than possible. he just lets out, "--don'cha worry sweetheart.... i'll make it fit—", giving himself a few strokes and spreading your legs, pressing your knees against your stomach, he finally slides into you immediately feeling your slippery walls sucking him in and making him groan. you let out a muffled scream when he doesn't give you any time to adjust, he's just too desperate and feeling you around him makes his mind go blank. you feel his dick deep as he begins to move slowly inside you, brushing against your g-spot because of the position you two are in. your hands grab the sheets, eyes rolling back as he starts to pick up the pace immediately. it hurt, but at the same time it filled you with pleasure.

"oh--- 's too big... i can't—"

"yes you can." he growls thrusting into you harder, he can't get enough of the way your cunt feels around him so perfectly, the way you squirm beneath him, every single one of your moans leaving your lips, making him addicted. he looks down cursing to himself as he watches how his dick slip in and out of your sensitive pussy, each slap of skin makes you silently screaming and gripping the sheets as your life depended on it. "so fuckin' pretty... too big, huh? yet you take it all, like the good girl you are... fuck--"

"--mmmm, pleaseeee... oh my god—" you have no idea what even you're begging for. cutting yourself off, your eyes snap open looking at him, looking at the mask he was wearing, it just makes you clench around his dick.

"oh fuck, keep doin' that... s'fuckin' good f'me—" the headboard starts rocking against the wall with each movement of his hips and that's when you feel his hand wrapping around your neck, his fingers gripping gently at first as he picks up his pace even more making your mind spin. "that's right— take it... fuck-- take it all— make me fuckin' proud...i knew you aren't that innocent as you pretend to be.."

"oh- i... don't.... oh my—" you aren't even able to form a sentence as his fingers tighten around your neck, making you let out more muffled moans but still being able to breathe. his every thrust into you starts overwhelming you with pleasure, watching him while he ruined you, that mask on his face drawing out of you your deepest, most hidden fantasies. matt was too far gone, the look on your face, the way your brows were knitted together and mouth slack open letting out more sweet needy sounds, it all was imprinted in his brain and he won't forget this for a long time.

"don't hold back, sweetheart. let me— mmhh shit— let me hear you..." his fingers squeeze around your throat some more causing your breath hitch as he continues going on the unholy pace.

"feels so.. s-so good— oh! right there... plea--" another scream leaving your lips when matt keeps pounding into you, your stomach drops over and over and your pussy squeezes around him again. he's in total disbelief how good you feel, how your walls manage to strangle him more, it's even better than what he imagined. "---'m gonna.... fuck!"

"yeaah, that's it sweetie.... cum all over my cock... make a mess on it— shittttt.... y'like it that much? being fucked by the fuckin'.... ghostface.... huh? mmhmm—" matt growls when his dirty words just adds to your pleasure and suddenly the knot in your stomach releases. too far gone in the sensation he was giving you, you let out a shaky moan, your eyes rolling back while your body continues to shake.

"oh yeah, so good... perfect..." matt groans and just by your expression, the way your legs were shaking, he feels his dick twitches. he lets go of your neck, warm cum bursts from his tip inside of you as your walls sucks him in deep. your legs fall down onto the mattress, both of you catching your breath as he gives you a few more thrusts before stopping and pulling out, taking last look at your pussy now leaking with your own and his release. you open your eyes, but matt is quick to stop you. "no, don't. keep them closed f'me. don't you dare open 'em until i tell you. got it?"

you frown a bit but keeps your eyes closed. "wha-"

your words are cut off pretty fast when matt pulls his mask halfway up so that only his lips are exposed and presses them against yours, stealing a small, surprised whimper from you, but you quickly kiss him back. you can't even feel him properly, only feeling the soft texture of his lips as he immediately pulls away, leaving you a bit surprised. feeling a small gust of wind, as if you couldn't feel the warmth of his body anymore, you ask, "--can i open my eyes?"

but there's no response, so after a moment you find the courage to open your eyes, but the room is empty. a small frown appears between your eyebrows while propping yourself up on your elbow and looking around, but the mysterious ghostface guy was nowhere to be found. he disappeared as if... as if it was just your dream. your next sick fantasy. however, you touch your lips slightly with your fingers, still feeling the sweet taste of the kiss that lasted too short for your liking and you know it just couldn't be only your imagination. it has to be real.

right?

—————————————

a/n: this is lowkey inspired by some fanfic i read a looong time ago on ao3 but i can't find it rn and i have no idea what it was called 😭

[24-05txt]

The portrait was an accident.

Not an accident he regrets, but he sure as hell hadn't intended on getting here—lurking in his Sergeant's room in the early hours of the morning.

He just... well, sue him, he hadn't really been thinking when he made the offer. It's so easy to just fall into the flow of conversation when he's with Johnny that he hardly considers what comes out of his mouth at all—every word could very well bypass his brain entirely.

It had just seemed natural. "You only draw the pretty boys naked? So if it were me... do you need me to be joking?" and then he'd gone and agreed to a nude portrait done by Johnny himself. Worse still was that it was good. Soap was one hell of an artist to make it so that Ghost couldn't help but glance back at the image of himself every few minutes, gaze sliding off uncomfortably only to return as if magnetized.

He's not prone to looking at himself beyond what it takes to do basic hygiene or wound-care. It's not an uncommon occurrence to catch sight of his own maskless reflection and mistake it for someone else—his father, his brother, a stranger—but Johnny's drawing looks...it looks good.

(It looks familiar. It doesn't look like his father, or his brother, or anyone else. It just looks like him.)

When he tears the page out by the perforated edge, he hesitates to fold it over, and settles on resting it face-down on Soap’s desk until he's ready to leave. He might bite his own fingers off if it was smudged or creased or worse.

Fuck.

That's it. Just fuck. Ghost got himself into this mess and he will reap the fucking consequences—doesn't mean he has to be happy about it, though. Or maybe he is happy—maybe this is what happy looks like on him. Maybe that creeping, restless feeling that's been crawling up his throat is happiness.

He doubts it. More likely that he's caught something.

---

Soap takes a snuffling sort of breath, lungs shuttering full under his palm, then deflating with a slow exhale.

He wasn't meant to stay this long.

Problem is, it's turned out to be really fucking mesmerizing to watch someone breathe—to feel someone breathing with his hand splayed over their back. Actually, it's worse now that he can feel it too, nearly every sense he has is focused in on the steady, predictable, rise-fall-rise of Johnny sleeping.

(Worse still is that he's avoiding the real problem: the fact that he'd meant to leave as soon as the portrait was done. He was meant to have a laugh with Soap, tease him some, then dress and head back to his own room to sleep off the mission. He hadn't been planning on falling asleep—wasn't supposed to. Wasn't expecting to be that comfortable, wasn't expecting the way Johnny took it in stride like this was just something they did.)

Emotions. He lifts his spare hand and bites his wrist through the mask. It's not sharp enough to satisfy him but it is enough to remind him not to bite himself. Rabid animal he is, Johnny mightve had a point in the mess. It still takes him a second or two to commit to being a human being and stop gnawing on his own arm. Every time he thinks the habit is dropped, it comes back with a vengeance. Used to be he'd have his own dental record written in bruises around his fingers and constant sores on his tongue, though, so he'll take what success he can get.

(Similarly, as long as Price doesn't see, it hasn't reached a point of concern. Funny how much he measures by Price noticing. He wonders if Price has noticed this, yet; has noticed how Johnny has Ghost wrapped around his wrist and held in the palm. Surprising that the old man hasnt said anything yet, if he did.)

[night-vipers]

Misunderstanding - Part 1

Summary: You and Ghost had gotten close over the last few months, close enough for feelings to be questioned by both of you. You wanted to do something nice for him but it backfires in a way you didn't see coming.

Warnings: Arguing, Swearing

As I unwound from a tough training day, I sprawled out on the couch, immersed in a magazine, until there was a tap on my foot. Ghost was staring at me with one eyebrow raised behind his balaclava "You gonna move or what?" he asked. I flash him a cheeky grin and bend my legs to let him sit. He slides his hand down to rest on my ankle as he brings my feet back over his lap as he watches TV.

He shuffles a little before taking a few items out of his pockets and tosses them onto the coffee table while sighing. A badly crushed packet of smokes catches my eye as I glance at the heap of items. I pick them up and look at them, shaking them at him before I ask, "What did you do to these?"

He snatches them out of my hand and tosses them back onto the table. "They always get crushed under my gear, need something to keep them in." he says. I smirk at him, and then something clicked in my head—I was considering doing something for Ghost, and this was it. He scoffs, staring at me, "What are you smirking at?"

"Nothing, nothing at all" I say, trying to contain my smirk. He raises his eyebrow at me then shakes his head but I can see his lip curve into a smile slightly beneath his balaclava.

Later that evening, I discreetly asked Soap to meet me in the garage so I could enlist his help. As it got close to 11 p.m., I slipped out, trying to be inconspicuous so that nobody would suspect anything, and waited for Soap to show up so I could explain my plan of action. When Soap appeared, I looked at my watch. "What took you so long?" I whispered, rubbing my arms for warmth.

"Sorry Lass, got caught up. Why did ya ask me to meet you out here?" he says with his Scottish drawl. I look around making sure no one was lurking in the shadows.

"I want to get a gift for.. someone. I just need you to help me get it and keep it hidden until I'm ready to give it" I say, the excitement evident in my voice.

"And who is this gift for hmm?" he asks with a shit eating grin. I knew he knew the answer but I just pushed his shoulder.

"Will you help me or not?" I ask avoiding his question.

He puts his arm around my shoulder in a playful way "Of course I will, lass. Just let me know when you need me." he grins. We stroll back inside, unaware that Ghost had been watching from the roof the whole time. He was close enough to see, but not close enough to hear, and he didn't like what he saw.

I quickly go back to my room and turn on my laptop to start looking for styles and designs for Ghost's gift. I eventually settled on a black-printed titanium cigarette case with a skull design on the front. I clicked order and smiled to myself as I watched the confirmation pop on the screen. A knock on my door pulled me out of the excitement as I got up and answered. Ghost was leaning against the door frame. He seemed to be searching for someone as he glanced inside my room before  he turned his attention back to me.

"Where've you been hiding?" he asks as he walks in and sits on my bed. I was caught off by his question and had to think of an excuse quick.

"Uh I was in the gym, just catching up on some training" I lied, no idea that he had seen me outside with Soap. He narrows his eyes at me and sighs as he walks to the door. "Where you going?" I ask as I follow him.

"Got things to do" he says coldly and walks out before I can say another word. I shrug my shoulders and go back to my laptop to check when I can pick up Ghost's gift and I'm quickly filled with excitement again.

Ghost retreats to his room, closes the door, and sinks into his bed. Why you would lie to him confused and hurt him. He began to question whether there was something going on between you and Soap. Ghost was not at all pleased with the idea, and it caused something sinister to swirl in his chest. He chose to keep his distance in order to confirm whether or not his fears were real.

After a few days, Soap and I got together and went into town to pick up the gift. We arrived back at base after about an hour, and hurried to my room to hide the gift. "You gonna show me it?" he asks sitting on my bed. With a sigh, I take it out of the packing and give it to him; the front design makes it quite clear who it is for. He smiled and returned it "I reckon he'll love it, lass."

"I hope so" I say looking at it for a moment before I place it back in the box and hide it in my desk until I was ready to give it to him. "Thanks for your help Soap, it means a lot" I say as I walk him to the door and open it.

"No worries lass, let me know how it goes" he says as he gives me a quick hug before leaving. Ghost see's this from the end of the hallway and he now thinks there is definitely something going off between you and Soap and he was twisting with jealousy.

I went hunting for Ghost later that night, ready to give him his gift. I eventually found him making tea in the kitchen. Almost unable to control my excitement, I leaned on the counter next to him and smiled at him. "Hey, what you up too?" I ask, but all he does is give me a cold look and turn his back on me. "Is everything alright?" I ask,  I was confused by his behaviour since he never behaves this way with me.

"Why don't you just fuck off and leave me alone" he spits, finally turning to face me, eyes full of anger. I was taken aback by his words and completely shocked.

"Wh- what's going on?" I stutter, a little hurt by his response.

"I don't have time for sluts, just get the fuck away from me. I'm sure Johnny will be interested to hear what you have to say" he says angrily as he towers over me. I attempt to speak again but he slams his fist down on the side and interrupts me. "I don't want anything to do with you. You're annoying, you talk too much and I'm not interested in being anything more than colleagues so just fuck off" he yells in my face.

I felt my lip tremble and tears threaten to fall at his words, they were like a knife to my chest. Doing as he wishes, I return to my room where I slump onto the bed and cry in private. I became more and more upset as I repeated Ghost's remarks in my head. I sobbed until I was tired enough to fall asleep for the rest of the night, head buried in the pillow.

Ghost avoided me like the plague for the next few days. Dismissing me whenever I tried to talk and only speaking to me when it was necessary. Most of the time, I was alone myself in my room, trying to figure out why Ghost had decided he no longer wanted anything to do with me. I couldn't stop staring at the gift I hadn't managed to give yet and I started to question whether Ghost had really felt the way I believed he had.

[just-another-siimp]

Alone

You're the 141st's medic, assigned to work alongside Ghost, Soap and the Los Vaqueros. Everything changes when you return to Alejandro's base, separated from your team and armed with only a knife this would be your hardest mission yet.

This time you're being stalked from the Shadows.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Graves being Graves, Descriptions of injuries, mentions of death, murder, blood, reader is being stalked, Graves is a dick, kidnapping, Ghost and Soap being an old married couple. If I missed anything let me know <3 Note: I hope you're all as keen as I am! This took ages to write but i'm super keen for the next part. Don't forget to like and reblog, it gives me serotonin. Edit: 30/01/23 all pronouns have been changed to gn.

Enemy at the Gate || Alone || Prison Break || Epilogue

Alejandro had once told you that Las Almas was a beautiful city, despite the cartels and the near constant violence it was a home to many. Though in the dead of the night, with the screams of innocent people being slaughtered by men who thought they had the right to choose who was good and who was bad.. It was difficult to see the beauty he had described to you. Not when you were alone. 

Your muscles ached, burned from the position you’d been crouched in. Minutes seemed to last hours as you waited for the Shadows to pass. They had been sweeping through the building you were hiding in just moments before your arrival, blood stained the wall next to you, its previous owner laying lifeless not far from your feet. There was nothing that you could do to save any of these people, not if you wanted to survive as well. Ignoring the guilt that crept up your spine you forced yourself to look away from the body, focusing on the task at hand. Get out of Las Almas. That’s all you had to do. Any other plans could be made after that. 

The remaining Shadows had moved on, leaving you in an eerie silence. Peeking out of the window you saw nothing, the street in front of you was clear. Across the street was a clothing store, the door was wide open offering the perfect path to safety. With little effort you jumped out of the window, staying low to the ground, checking one last time to ensure that you wouldn’t be seen by a stray Shadow before moving into the store.

From behind the rattle of a glass bottle rolling along Las Almas’ cobbled roads filled your ears, it was close enough to startle you. If this was a horror movie, the main character would go back outside and investigate the strange noise. This however, was not a horror movie, even if it felt like you’d been thrown directly into one. Cautious not to knock anything over you turned back around, eyes scanning the street you’d just crossed trying to find the source of the noise. There was nothing. Probably just your imagination. 

Releasing the breath you didn’t realise you had been holding you moved further into the store, further into darkness, further out of sight. Not aware that if you turned around, just as the lightning illuminated the streets you would’ve seen him. The hulking figured what lurked in the shadows.. Watching you.

-

A few feet ahead of you stood a lone Shadow his back was to you, too focused on the rat that had just scurried out and over his feet. Your hand ached, grip on the knife too tight as you waited for the perfect opportunity to strike. The Shadow was taller than you, roughly Soap’s size. Which in a way helped, Ghost had spent weeks helping you perfect a stealth takedowns, often using the Scotsman as a test dummy. Relaxing your grip a fraction, the way Ghost had taught you to, you shifted your weight. Two steps forward and you stood on broken glass, the noise almost comically loud as you lifted your arms to strike down the Shadow.

There was a struggle, he’d turned pushing you back into the house, his surprised shout concealed by the thunder overhead. His fist connected with your stomach, effectively knocking the air from your lungs and knife from your hand. The shadow tried kicking your feet out from underneath you, as the world tilted you grabbed onto him taking him down with you. Both of you wrestled on the ground, attempting to pin the other down. You cried out in pain as he twisted your wrist into an uncomfortable position, yelling at you to surrender. In your ear the comms cracked to life, Soaps voice barely audible in your ear. 

“T.. is Bra.. 7-1 in- blind. How copy?” The distraction would’ve been deadly if the Shadows were out to kill you, except they weren’t and you’d have to use that to your advantage. You pushed upwards, giving yourself enough space to kick the Shadow back. Desperately your hands reached out for something to defend yourself with, anything to get the prick off of you. Your luck changed as you wrapped your fingers around the hilt of your knife. “Ghost? Chip? This is 7-1, do you copy?” 

“Stand down Chip! Graves wants you alive- but I’m not afraid to hurt you!” Within seconds the Shadow had you pinned down, one hand clamped over your mouth while the other gripped your empty hand. “So this is how it’s going to go. You’re going to surrender, you’re not going to try and escape and you’re go-” 

You didn’t let him finish his sentence, knife plunging into the space between his ribs directly into his left lung. His unfinished sentence was reduced to nothing but a pained gurgle, he was choking on his own blood some splattering on your face has he fell to the side. Pulling the knife from his side you managed to sit up, pushing yourself backwards until you met the wall trying to control the shake in your hands has his blood pooled at your feet. 

“Soap- this is Ghost. How Copy? Johnny… Johnny how copy?”

“Solid” 

“Thought we lost ya.” 

“Anything from Chip, Lt?” 

“Nothing.” 

Ghosts' voice pulled you out of your momentary shock, eyes still fixated on the Shadows limp body. You never even knew his name, but the way his lifeless eyes bore into yours would stick with you forever. Cleaning the knife on the fabric of your pants you took a moment to catch your brother after standing, knowing full well that you needed to report in. Soap and Ghost needed to know that you were alive, venturing through Las Almas and that the Shadows were after you. Yet when you opened your mouth to speak nothing came out. 

“Chip.. this is Ghost. How copy?” There was a pause. Finally you looked away from the dead shadow, hand reaching to unmute your comm. “Chip.. How copy?”

“Solid.” Your voice shook slightly, bending down to grab the P890. 8 bullets, that’s all you had and hopefully all you needed. “Just took down a Shadow.” 

“Good to hear from you, Bonie.” Soap sounded almost relieved hearing your voice. “Heard you scream, thought they’d gotten ya.” 

“I watched you get shot, thought the same.” 

- 

From your current position the Church wasn’t far away, you could see it peeking out from above the buildings now. It couldn’t be more than 400? Maybe 500 metres away? ALl you had to do was reach Ghost, then wait for Johnny at the church. You could only assume that he wasn’t too far behind, you’d wanted to wait for him, safety in numbers feeling more secure than walking through Las Almas alone. Ghost had advised against it, sitting still for too long in one spot was like asking the Shadows to find you. Especially after you killed one of their own. The rain seemed to be pouring harder now, soaking you to the bone as you waited for a patrol to pass.

“It’s pishin’ it doon out here.”

“Speak English.”

“It’s raining fucking hard.” 

You were forced to hold back laughter, moving from behind a dumpster and into another house. In the dark you fashioned another piece of metal into a pry, forcing your way through a locked door and into a back alley. There was a singular shadow, his back turned to you. Unaware of your presence as you crept up on him. This time he didn’t hear you over the rain, he didn’t turn when you covered his mouth with your hand, he didn’t fight back as life left his body. Without looking back you pushed forwards, ignoring the blood on your hands as you moved further down the empty street. 

Why did killing bother you so much? It hadn’t before. Sure you were a combat medic you were supposed to be saving people, but combat was in the name and you saw enough of it. You’d fought in enough of it too. Perhaps it was because you’d served alongside the Shadows, patched them out both on base and on the battlefield. Now you were killing them before they tried to kill you, it felt so.. immoral.

“Ghost?” 

“Chip.” 

“I killed another Shadow.” 

“Good, one less for Johnny to deal with on his way here.” You squared your shoulders, knife feeling heavy in your hands as you continued moving. “Look kid, I know none of this is easy but remember who the real enemy is. Graves betrayed us, don’t go feeling sorry for ‘im and his men.” 

“You’re right.” 

“Always am.”

“Ghost?” 

“Yes, love?” 

“The Shadows don’t want me dead, if something happens- if I get caught.” You paused, looking up at the sky letting the rain clean the dirt, grime and blood from your face. “Promise me you won’t come after me, not unless you’ve got enough guns to kill these sonsofbitches.” 

“No ones getting left behind, Chip. That means you too.” 

For the second time tonight you heard something out of the ordinary, you were supposed to be alone this whole time and you could’ve sworn you heard footsteps behind you just now. “Standby-” 

You felt exposed here, even with plenty of cover the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Turning back to stare into the darkness you found it staring back at you, no one was there it must’ve been your imagination. Paranoia creeping up on you after being alone in a place so dangerous for so long. 

Standing from your crouched position you took a couple of steps backwards, eyes not leaving the darkness until you were sure that no one was there. Wiping the water from your eyes you planned on turning around again, only stopping when lightning illuminated the sky. You could’ve sworn your heart stopped beating then and there, breath caught in your chest as the silhouette of a man flashed before your eyes. He was staring right at you, unmoving. Darkness engulfed the alley again.

“Found you.” His voice followed him out of the darkness, taunting you as he stepped into the light. Your eyes widened, fear almost paralysing as you took in the size of the man before you, he was probably an inch or so shorter than ghost but built bigger than he was. You searched for a weapon, stolen pistol pointed directly at him half expecting him to do the same. Instead he only continued to walk forward, unarmed. You fired two warning shots. He continued stalking towards you, green eyes filled with something malicious he didn’t even flinch. “Graves ‘as been tryin to find ya. Come along lil Darlin’, you’ve kept ‘im waitin’ long enough and ‘m startin’ ta get bored followin ya everywhere.” 

In your ear you could hear Ghost saying something to Soap, you ignored them as you took a step back. You fired four shots this time, only one hitting him in the chest. He was armoured, heavily so. You were surprised he’d gotten this far without you hearing him. You had two bullets left, he was laughing as he lunged towards you knocking the pistol out of your hands as you attempted to get away from him. Using speed to your advantage you ran. 

The Alley led to a set of stairs, you bolted up them with the Shadow hot at your heels. As you reached an open door you grabbed it, flinging it back as you ran through hoping to slow the brut of a man down. It didn’t. Climbing up the stairs you jumped out of a window dropping into a garden bed and rolling once before running across the courtyard, you turned to see how far away the Shadow was to find nothing. Still you didn’t stop, not wanting to find out what would happen if he caught up to you. 

“Ghost, I’ve got one big scary looking Shadow following me.” 

“Think you can get to the church?” 

“I’ll have to.” 

“‘Good, get to it.” 

- 

You were less than 200 metres from the church now, from where you stood it looked magnificent. Perhaps this was the beauty that Alejandro spoke of, maybe one day when this was all over you’d be able to visit Las Almas. See the town in a different light, one that wasn’t caked in the blood of innocent men, women and children. 

“Ghost I’m almost there, no sign of tall and brooding but I’m sure he’s out there.” 

“I’m in the tunnels, Hen. Anything happens and I’ll be there as fast as I can.” Soaps voice piped up, giving you hope that you’d get out of there without any further issues. That hope was dashed just as quickly as it had appeared, out of the corner of your eye you caught the same Shadow running towards you and just like that the chase began again. 

You didn’t have a chance to tell Soap or Ghost, instinct screamed at you to run and not look back. The Church wasn’t far away now, just one street between you and the main square. One street between you, Ghost and Johnny. Taking a chance you turned the corner without looking, not seeing the two Shadows that stood waiting for you guns raised. 

“Drop your weapon!” 

“You’re surrounded, Chip. There’s no point in trying to run now.” There wasn’t even a chance for you to drop your weapon, both of them had dropped to the ground in front of you. In your ear the comm cracked to life again a soft grunt in your ear as the firing continued, it was directed at something else. Maybe Soap. Looking up at the Church you almost smiled. “Little darlin’.. if you think I’m gonna let ya get away, you’re mistaken.”

“What the fu-” 

His hand was wrapped around your throat before you could finish your sentence, it took no effort for him to lift you in the air slamming you against the nearest wall. Pain spread across your back and shoulders, tears stinging at your eyes. That was going to sting later. Gasping for air you clawed at his arm, kicked at his shins, anything to get in a breath of air. He only smiled at you, pressing down harder on your throat tiny black dots starting to fill your vision. The world tilted and you were on the floor, gasps audible over the comms as you tried to catch your breath. 

“Gh-ghost.” His boot connected with your stomach, your body collapsing to the ground gasping violently for the air it had been deprived of . A pained whimper left your lips as he twisted your arm behind your back, plastic zip ties secured around your wrists tight enough to cut off circulation. Next he pulled out your comms, Ghosts yelling audible as he crushed the tech under his boot.  

“Now now, you’ve got a meeting with the boss, Lil Dove.” 

“Fuck you-” you managed to spit out before his foot connected with your face.

- 

Time was a concept in your current state, you vaguely remembered being thrown into a car only conscious long enough for someone to knock you out again. Everything was dark, your head spun, you wanted to throw up. A bright light pulled you back into consciousness yet you couldn’t open your eyes, had you been drugged? The steel chair underneath you was uncomfortable, your body ached as you tested your restraints. 

“Well look who finally woke up.” The sound of footsteps was enough for you to force your eyes open, head tilted backwards as you glared at Phillip Graves wishing you could punch that stupid smirk off of his stupid face. “Welcome back to the land of the living Chip. You slept in.” 

“It’s what happens when someone kicks you in the face.” The taste of iron filled your mouth as you spoke, once Graves was close enough you spat the blood at his feet directly hitting his shoes. The back of his hand struck your face, it was totally worth it. This time you smirked at him, looking him dead in the eye. “I won’t cooperate, whatever it is you want me to do I won’t do it.” 

“Oh but that’s the thing, sweetheart. I think you’ll do exactly as you’re told.” His face was closer now, you could feel his breath on your own, instinctively you turned your head away. 

“Fuck off Graves, I want nothing to do with your Shadows and their bullshit.” You couldn’t stop the wince that left your lips as his hand grasped your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

“You don’t have a choice, Chip. You’ll do as you’re told or I’ll kill every last Los Vaqueros in this place, their lives. They’re in your hands.” He let go of your chin, arms folded across his chest as he looked down at you. "So what is it Chip? Will you let everyone die?"

---

Taglist: @komorebiiiiiiii @mauveserpent @mydogeatscoffeecups @reiya-djarin @underatreedrinkingtea

[baldursgate3gayz]

Soap pt.1 (Slightly NSFW and Dub-Con) (Gortash x M!Trans Named Durge)

Triggers again: slightly NSFW and Dub-Con

Word Count: 3906

The streets of Baldur’s Gate were not known to be safe at night. Thieves are ready to steal your coin, assassins lurk to strike, and vampires prowl for meals to ease their hunger. Maybe even the dread Bhaalspawn, creeping in the night to steal your life for their dark Father’s sacrifice.

Or they could be mindlessly stumbling down a back way with a newly blinded eye and blood pouring down their face. 

That’s what Thanatos was doing, at least.

He wasn’t even supposed to be out tonight; he should be at the Bhaal temple preparing for his morning meeting with one Lord Enver Gortash. Instead, he had run away in shame from the temple after his dear father had violently reprimanded Thanatos. He wasn’t pleased with the half drow neglecting his duties as Chosen. No matter how the man tried to protest and assure his Father that they were working on the plan, he didn’t want to hear it. Shamed burned through the Bhaalspawn at the memory, especially remembering how he had violently thrown up after. Bhaal had been so angry he even threatened to give the title of Chosen to Orin, saying he’d keep Thanatos alive just to watch his sibling ruin all of his plans with the Chosen of Bane. The half drow had dropped to his knees, begging for his Father’s forgiveness, and promised to do better. Luckily, his Father acquitted pleas but reminded the Bhaalspawn to ‘Do better.’ After their conversation, Thanatos had run away like a guilty dog, tail tucked between his legs. He also desperately wanted to avoid his fellow Bhaalists. 

He ran for the streets he usually hunted in, mind swimming in embarrassment and confusion. What could possibly be keeping him from his duties? When the Bhaalspawn worked with Gortash, he was always careful to take care of all of his responsibilities properly. He’s only ever forgotten one sacrifice because the Banite urgently needed his services. And he’d only missed one sermon he was supposed to lead when the Lordling needed his assistance scouting a robbery location. And he’d only missed a single check-in with his Father because of a very impotant meeting that had gone over time with Gortash. 

With that thought, Thanatos felt his already sick stomach worsen. His heart hammered on his chest as the realization set in. Enver Gortash had been the distraction, the reason for his failings to his dear father. And then became the distraction from the half drow’s surroundings. 

As his head was swimming with the realization, a man ran up to him and immediately slashed across his right eye. It had all happened so quickly that the Bhaalspawn hadn’t even registered the attack until the damage was already done and the culprit was gone. He stumbled around for a few seconds after, pain enveloping his face. The Urge howled angrily deep inside himself, attempting to crawl out of his skin to take control, but was stopped when the half drow tried to open his eyes. The pain in his eye was immeasurable; it was nearly impossible to force his eye open, and he had to use his hand to do so. Hot, sticky blood covered his hand as he pried his eyelid open. All Thanatos could see through the eye was a blur of the world around him in a deep red shade. Blood began to flow rapidly out of the wound and into his mouth as he tried to stop himself from vomiting against the drowning feeling of the overwhelming iron taste. He knew he was in rough shape, now possibly blinded, which left him practically defenseless in the evidently dangerous streets. He wouldn’t return to the temple; he couldn’t stand to see his Father or the other Bhaalist in his sorry state, but he had to go somewhere. Unfortunately, the only place he knew of was Lordling Enver Gortash’s office, so he stumbled through the dark streets toward the man’s home.

During the trip there, the Bhaalspawn managed to rip a strip of clothing off his armor to press against the bleeding wound, which slowed the blood flow a little. The Banite had a stringent rule of no unnecessary blood in his office, and if he was still there, the half drow didn’t want to hear his bitching. Thanatos hoped he wasn’t there as he clumsily climbed onto the roof to get to the office window. The last thing he wanted was for Gortash to see the condition he was in; he’d never hear the end of it. When he finally got to the window, he just barely managed to force it open enough for him to squeeze through. Embarrassingly, he got caught as he was halfway through and fell to the other side, yelping in pain as the cloth he held across his eye dug into his wound. The half drow whimpered as he struggled to his feet, trying to ease the fabric from his face when a voice spoke.

“You’re usually more grateful when you sneak into my office, Bhaalspawn,” 

The bloodied cloth slipped from Thanatos’ hand as an anxious shudder went through his spine. Careful to keep his damaged eye hidden, he strained his good eye to the desk on the other side of the room where Gortash was. His arms were crossed, his gauntlets and outfit still on despite the late time in the evening. There was a rather unimpressed look on his face. The half drow watched the man’s eyes slowly drop down, widening ever so slightly before looking back up at the shorter man with vague concern. Confused, the Bhaalspawn also looked down before cursing under his breath as he saw the soaked bloody rag on the floor. He carefully looked back up at the Banite and readied to be chastised. Instead, the two just stared at each other for a few silent beats. 

“Come over here, Thanatos,” Gortash said, voice commanding and leaving no room for argument. For a moment, the shorter man thought about leaving, running away from the other man to avoid whatever anger he would receive. But the reality was he had nowhere else to go. He was possibly blinded, blood was still pouring from where he was attacked, he knew no cleric that would willingly help him, and if he returned to the streets, he could just get attacked again. So instead, careful to keep his damaged eye hidden, he walked over to the Banite, trying to maintain eye contact with him. The strain on his good eye made his head ache and wince, which deepened Gortash’s frown. His clawed gauntlet reached for Thanatos’ jaw, which caused him to flinch away. Reflexively, he bared his teeth, but he fought the added urge to snap at the Lordling, at least just barely. His teeth hurt from how hard he clenched down on them. The artificer’s face morphed from somewhat worried to very unimpressed in seconds. “Thanatos,” He growled, eyes darkening. The Bhaalspawn’s stomach lurched at the deep vibrating tone, and he looked up at the man’s face tentatively. His eyes stared down at Thanatos, making him fight the desire to shrink down into himself under the dark, angry stare. 

“Heel,” Gortash commanded.

Shockingly, the fight the half drow had washed away at the words. His sneer disappeared, his body’s tension released, and he dropped his head. Somehow, in some twisted, sickening way, he felt safe with the taller man and his commands. He did feel a need to hide his eye more out of shame than anything else. However, he did not fight the Lordling when his clawed hand reached for his chin again and pulled to make the Bhaalspawn look fully at him. Gortah’s face remained stone still as he looked over the slash on Thanatos’ face. The half drow tried to catch a glimpse of the damage in the reflection of the other man’s eyes, but they were too dark to see anything, and his sight was still too blurry to distinguish anything. 

There was a long stretch of silence as Gortash observed the other man, making him tilt his head to get a different angle of the wound while humming interested noises. Thanatos wanted to slither away from the sensation of being poked and prodded by the taller man’s eyes, especially when he leaned in uncomfortably close that the shorter man could smell the remnants of his earthy cologne, worn away from a long day. Just as he was about to pull away, the Lordling released his tight hold on Thanatos’ chin, making him sway and nearly stumble from the powerful grip now gone. He was embarrassed by how much he had leaned into the man’s touch, especially when he swore he felt tiny new cuts on his chin where his grip was. It could’ve been from how tightly he was being held, or it was his own fault as he helped Gortash dig those claws into his skin. 

“I’ll have a bath prepped and get some clothes for you to change into,” The Banite said as he went over to his desk, shuffling some papers together. The Bhaalspawn frowned. “What?” Was all he managed to ask, his throat somewhat painfully dry and scratchy. He watched the other man give him a disapproving look. “You can’t make the trip back to the temple in your state,” He answered in a rather condescending tone like it was apparent. Maybe it was; after all, Thanatos was blinded in his eye, but still, it annoyed him intensely at the assumption. “You don’t know what I’m capable of, Banite,” He growled lowly, trying his best to come across as intimidating. The unimpressed look from Gortash meant it definitely wasn’t. “By all means then, attempt to return to your Father in such a broken state, but I will not be blamed for the inevitable loss of your other eye or a limb,” He taunted. The half drow’s face flushed, and he snapped his head away. If only the Banite knew he was to blame for this entire mess. 

There was another lengthy silence where the Bhaalspawn could feel Gortash’s eyes on him, waiting for an answer. He felt a snarl deep within him, a snapping anger yearning to crawl out and wrap its hands about the other man’s throat. It wondered if it squeezed the taller man’s throat just right, would his thick, metallic blood pool and pour out of his mouth? Would he look up at Thanatos in horror as the blood would gush from his eyes while he begged for sweet, sweet mercy? He even wondered if, instead of bright red, would Bane’s Chosen blood be gold flowing in his veins? A rush of blood thummed to the half drow’s head, blurring his already weakened vision, and he could feel blood begin to seep out of his wound again. As his head spun, he heard an annoyed scoff. After a moment of trying to focus, Thanatos looked up at Gortash, whose eyebrows were quirked up with a rather pissed-off look on his face again. It seemed he was waiting expectantly, probably an answer to what the shorter man planned to do.

The Bhaalspawn wanted to turn on his heel and march back to the temple just to prove to the smug bastard that he could. But he knew he would not be able to stumble back to the sewers. Plus, he would have to deal with the congregation and the many questions that would come his way, something he didn’t really want to deal with a bloodless zapped brain. He also definitely didn’t want to deal with Orin, for even if he could hide the damage from his Father, that Tattle-Tail would immediately let Bhaal know, which was indeed the last thing he needed to happen, especially after the talking to he received this morning. He didn’t need to give his dear Father more reasons to be upset and use it as proof he was unfit for his duties as Chosen. 

“Fine,” He said quickly. Surprisingly, the half drow thought he was the slightest quirk of Gortash’s lip but blamed it on his waning eyesight. “Finally,” The Lordling sneered. “Wait here, and I’ll get you something to change into and have the servant start the water. I’m also going to grab a clean cloth; I don’t want you getting blood all over my home,” With that, he turned on his heel, striding out of his office and slamming the door on his way out. In the meantime, Thanatos could feel sticky blood slowly moving down his cheek right on top of the drying blood, making his skin itch. He wanted to reach up to the wound, to tear it open even further as a sort of punishment to himself for letting this situation happen. Also, as retribution for crawling to the Banite for help but he kept his hands down. He didn’t need to make it worse. So he stared at the door, waiting for the Baite to return. Something deep, deep down in his chest growled, and he thought he heard the faintest whisper of ‘Dog’ whispered from the Urge.

When Gortash returned, he had his sleep robe hung around his forearm and a damp hand towel in his hand. He smirked at Thanatos. “I see you stayed,” There was that condescending voice again. He got closer to the half drow, holding out the robe. The Bhaalspawn stared down at the expensive fabric. “You don’t want me getting blood on your floors, but this is fine?” He asked suspiciously. “Would you rather walk around naked?” The taller man asked back. Thanatos frowned but plucked the robe from the Banite as he returned to his desk. The shorter man looked down at the fabric; it was familiar, something he’d seen Gortrash frequently wore when the two’s meetings would go late into the night. He had also wondered what it felt like, how it would give under his fingertips. There was a dramatic ‘Ahem’ from the other side of the room, and the Bhaalspawn looked over at the other man. His arms were crossed as his back leaned against his desk. “You’ll have to strip,” He stated bluntly.  

Thanatos wanted to snap that he indeed knew that but bit back the words. He didn’t need to try and push against the Lordling’s strange generosity. He waited for the man to turn around or leave the room to allow him some privacy. The Bainte did not move. Both men stared at each other, Gortash’s smirk unwavering while the Bhaalspawn could feel himself sway under the man’s eyes. Tentatively, he dropped the robe to the ground and reached for the top half of his armor. His movements were slow and sluggish as he struggled to tie it loose. The new wound across his right eye continued to ooze out more blood, especially as he painfully pulled his top over his head. Hissing, he threw the offending piece aside and just barely caught a glimpse of the red blood that soaked the collar. He heard a gruff laugh and turned to give an intimidating glare at Gortash. His smile did not move.

The Bhaalspawn scoffed at him, reaching for the robe when the Banite stopped him with an ‘Ah, Ah, Ah.’ The half drow paused. “All of your clothes,” The taller man said, nodding towards Thanatos’ pants, the smile on his face curling even more upwards. Embarrassment burned through the shorter man again, a very different hot, sweaty embarrassment as he looked away from the dark eyes he could see trying to undress him. This would cross a new line in their… situationship, and Thanatos wasn’t sure if he was ready to do that. 

What was once a strictly professional working relationship had morphed into something sexual a few months back, but they had strict, unspoken rules that were never broken. Or at least the Bhaalspawn had thought they did. They only did one thing, Thanatos sucked Gortash off, let him cum in the shorter man’s mouth, he’d swallow, and that was it. Both would always keep on as many clothes as possible; the half drow was always fully clothed, and he would never get off himself. They didn’t even really talk about it; just one day, Gortash had Thanatos get on his knees, and he face fucked him. Ever since then, they have always added that to their get-togethers. The shorter man was able to see it as a reward after a while, something he looked forward to however, every time afterwards, he would be slick with arousal, and his clit would throb in anger at the lack of reception. Usually, after, he would find as many victims as possible in a desperate need of some kind of release. It was never enough, no matter the number of cocks he filled his pussy with or how much blood he’s stained his hands with. 

So, being completely nude would be a new step in whatever situationship was between the two men and Thanatos was genuinely terrified about taking it. Gortash, however, seemed to have no reservations whatsoever. With a dramatic roll of his eyes, the man strutted up to the Bhaalspawn and took hold of his hips, pulling him close. Due to their height difference, the shorter man had to tilt his head up to the Bainte with them being so close. He felt dizzy trying to match the other man’s stare. The Lordling’s fingers curled down to grip the half drow’s tight pants, his thick fingers squeezed between the fabric and the shorter man’s hips. Thanatos swore as he felt what must’ve been an electric shock go through his skin that the other man was touching. “These must go,” The Banite said lowly, trying to tug down the pants. Reflexively, the Bhaalspawn’s hands spasmed up, grabbing the other man’s thick wrists with his dried, blood-covered hands. Instantly, what little playful qualities Gortash’s face had disappeared as he leaned down closer into the other man’s face. 

“Obey.” He muttered. 

There was a very still moment between the two of them. Thanatos knew he should fight back; this was getting out of hand. The other man already had some sort of control over the Bhaalspawn, which was evident from the shorter man crawling to his office like an injured mutt trying to find that one person who was kind to them. This wasn’t kindness, though; the half drow was bleeding from his possibly blinded eye, and Gortash was obviously trying to take advantage of his weak state. But what choice did he have, return to his father or let the Banite do whatever he wanted? There was only one smart choice for Thanatos to make.

So, his hands fell away, and his body became loose. He was expecting a howl of disapproval from the Urge for giving up so quickly, but all it seemed to do was huff and once again hiss ‘Dog’ into his brain. It appeared his Urge was also feeling the blood loss. The Bhaalspawn blinked to refocus on Gortash, who had a fuller smile on his lips as he began to pull down the shorter man’s pants. He did so slowly and with much care that Thanatos had not expected. Then, he dropped to his knees, his face right at the other man’s nearly bare crotch. The half drow reached out to grab the Banite’s shoulder, trying to get his working eye to glare at the taller man. “W-what are y-you doing?” He stuttered, voice shaky and weak. “Doing what you won’t. Believe it or not, but I’d rather not spend all night dealing with this mess you’ve made,” Gortash answered, eyes dropping down to focus on pulling the Bhaalspawn’s pants all the way down. Thanatos felt a sharp sting of arousal go through his body as his pants were simply yanked down to his ankles, completely exposing his lower half. He wanted so badly to snap at the Lordling, to kick and scratch at the man for even daring to be so bold with the literal child of Bhaal, but he just couldn’t. His waning energy made him submit tiredly and quickly destroyed any desire he had to fight back. So when the Banite tugged at his ankle to lift the half drow’s foot to remove the rest of his pants, he followed. Same with the other foot. Then, he was completely naked, with Gortash kneeling at his feet with a far too pleased smile. 

“Good boy,” He purred. Thanatos tried desperately to ignore the warmth that pooled in his stomach at those words, which became much more challenging when the Lordling leaned close to his left thigh, seemingly inspecting it before placing a chaste kiss on the flesh. Another much more aggressive shudder ran through the half drow, much to his annoyance. He truly hoped that slick feeling in between his legs was just his imagination.  Gortash rose to his feet, trailing his fingers like spiders along Thanatos’ exposed skin. This time, the Bhaalspawn wasn’t as caught off guard when the taller man got a tight hold of his hips. The half drow stared up at him in a sort of awe, his mind buzzing in a haze of confusion and lightheaded airiness. He hadn’t even noticed that the Lordling had picked the night robe back up until he pulled away and presented it to Thanatos. 

The Bhaalspawn found he could only blink at it dumbly, confused about what he was supposed to do with the fabric. While he could feel the annoyance from the Banite, he said nothing, just grabbing the shorter man’s arms with a not-so-gentle grip as he moved him to slip into the robe. When Gortash tied it, he pulled it so tight that the half drow stumbled closer to him, their chests touching. Thanatos swallowed uncomfortably against his dry throat. “Close your eyes,” The Banite softly commanded, and the Bhaalspawn did so. The clawed gauntlet grabbed his chin again, digging into his skin. He felt the other man pull away slightly like he was reaching for something, and then he was back. “Do not fight,” The other man said in the half drow’s ear, who nodded in response before something wet and cold slowly wiped across his wound. He tried to move away from the cold as it stung his injury, but the hold on his chin tightened. “What did I say?” Gortash growled, hot air somewhat tickling the shorter man’s ear. His voice wasn’t angry; it was more like annoyance and disapproval. “I’m sorry,” Thanatos whimpered in a pathetic tone. There was a soft hum before the grip on his chin loosened slightly. Another cold, wet swipe went across his eye; this time, the Bhaalspawn kept himself as still as possible. The wipes were not kind, very forceful as the Banite tried to clean the wound and all the caked blood Thanatos imaged he was still covered in. 

What could’ve been minutes or hours was finally over when the half drow heard the smack of the wet towel somewhere further off. Slowly, he opened his eyes to look at Gortash. He was a bit disappointed that his vision was still damaged. The Banite looked down at him with an expression the Bhaalspawn could not discern. The taller man stepped away, going towards the door before turning his head to glance at Thanatos. 

“Follow,” He commanded, and so the half drow did.

(I took over 1000 screenshots for this)

Pt. 2

Pt. 3

[full-tiltboogiearc]

It's an empty promise, that's what it is, whenever Soap says something like you'll live. Maybe it's sick of him to play that kind of mental game, but under the circumstances he has to pull out whatever treat he can to lure out the stray, wounded animal (even if it means he's the same person who's going to throw a net over its head). His hand is firm on the gun, but he even lowers it, for show just in case the other's watching.

But his little parade is cut short when he hears doors swing open. He takes cover behind one of the piles of pallets, suddenly juggling both his target's presence and, now, his competition. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," one of the lackeys sings. Through gritted teeth, Soap plans his next step. There's only a few options here: go for his target and risk getting shot by his competition, or vice versa. Go for his competition and his target either eliminates him, too, or keeps running.

Either way, the chances of him proverbially winning are low. And he's not used to being the one that comes up with the plan.

He sucks in a sharp breath and, when the timing is right, when he feels a pair of boots ever closer to the pallet, he juts out, rifle first, striking one masked man over the head, effectively knocking him out. The other, however, hears this, and shoots in Soap's way. Soap hides behind pallets once again, waiting a moment before he aims at the second lackey. His shoulder is grazed by the lackey's wayward bullets, but Soap is able to take him down.

"Bullets! This way!" Voices from outside call attention to Soap and his target's hiding place. Soap can't be sure, but he thinks he sees his target lurking in the shadows... On his white shirt, a red dot grows larger and larger.

It's a cadaver of the building's potential, probed by the unfeeling eye of a magnum.  Inside, the blood trail thins out.  A fine grain crunches underboot,  fibrous strands like burlap settled atop the sandy debris, and an inch of rusty metal that'd been snapped cleanly. Further in, morning light becomes dubiously sparse. Smothered by the towering worksite, whose shadows were thrown across the floor in dark irregular masses.

Soundlessly,  a cutting of dusty tarp is strapped tight across Riddick's wounds.  They were packed with whatever unsanitary sediment was still in the abandoned buckets to halt the bleeding. The gritty pain, the tingle of cold at the edge of his limbs, it was all secondary. Only one imperative mattered now: live.  

So he was soundless. Unthinking of the protests of his body as he bent into shadows, blending into the dank blackness. Somewhere cramped and difficult to use a gun. A box cutter sheds its rust in the folds of his fist, a freshly snapped blade eager to cut into its first task.

Light explodes in from the top of the stairs at the far side of the room. The shape of two men block out the light, rifles held at the ready into the dark. They've kicked in the access door that Riddick was forced to abandon earlier.

Plans to ambush his pursuer are postponed. Riddick remains in the shadows, assured that greed would thin out the threats if he just let it play out a little first.

[bangchanshehe]

The Trespasser pt. 21

You were on top of the world with the new title of leader of your family’s clan. You were the strongest clan in all of the orient and you were proud. But your family feels that there are threats still lurking around making you a target. When they introduce you to a potential man for a business and marriage merger will it help your clan or make matters worse?

Word count: 2k

Wonho x Reader, Shownu x Reader, Jooheon x Reader

The next morning after the two of you had woken up you spent the remainder of the morning not bothering to get out of bed but opting to be lazy instead. Every single day that you had been there it had been nonstop moving around and you wanted to take the opportunity to be lazy while you were there. And sure, it felt wonderful to get out and do some exploring after being cooped up at home after the roll over, but you were less of a plan every moment of your vacation type of girl and more of a do what you want type planner.

You and Hoseok just remained in bed silently watching whatever was on the tv while the two of you relaxed. But interrupting your relaxing moment was the rumbling of your stomach following with sharp hunger pains. You had tried to put off getting up for a long as possible but now you were literally starting to feel sick to your stomach.

You had jumped out of bed and threw on a large, oversized t-shirt and a pair of underwear before trucking into the kitchen. But as soon as you stepped inside you came face to face with the mess that you left behind the night before. In the heat of the moment the two of you left everything behind and never even bothered to get food after the two of you were done. You let out a long sigh and approached the mess that lingered behind. None of the food was salvageable or edible after being left out overnight.

You dumped all the cutting boards, knives, pans and dishes into the sink and quickly ran the water from the tap in efforts to heat it up. If you were going to get all of the oil and butter off of the pans it was going to require some serious cleaning efforts and elbow grease.

As soon as the water had warmed up you began working away at the dishes using a scrub sponge to get rid of the grime and food. But the moment that you smelled the tomatoes and garlic as it ran through the water with soap and down the drain your stomach began tightening up and cramp. You held your breath for a moment willing the cramps to go away but they continued to linger despite how long you waited.

You dropped the saucepan, turned off the water and stepped away from the sink but the feeling of vomit rose up to the surface and threatened to spew out. You turned away from the sink and immediately approached the fridge to pull out a bottle of water. But as soon as the cold air had washed over you your body chilled and goose bumps rose all over your arms and legs, causing the feeling of sickness to progress.

Leaving the fridge wide open, you immediately took off for the bathroom and as soon as you had been within reach of the toilet you immediately opened your mouth and let out the most aggressive vomit that you had ever experienced. There was barely any time for you to catch your breath in between each round and it left your eyes a watery mess.

“y/n! are you okay?” Hoseok called out to you

You could hear him knocking on the door in nervousness, but when you hadn’t responded he let himself in. when he saw the state of your surroundings and realized what was going on he immediately crouched down next to you and pulled the hair away from your face

“what’s wrong?” he asked

Your throat felt so stripped raw that you considered not even answering him so you wouldn’t agitate your throat even further. but the longer that he sat with you, you knew that you would need to answer him.

“I don’t know… I was in the kitchen washing dishes and the smell just triggered me somehow.” You finally responded

Hoseok wiped your tears from your face, and he grabbed toilet tissue to wipe away the drool and vomit on your mouth and chin.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked hopeful

You shook your head no before you elaborated further “I don’t feel as bad as I did a minute ago, but I still don’t feel great” you answered honestly

Hoseok pondered your answer for a moment and he looked over your body. You really weren’t looking like you were okay as you sat down in front of the toilet, damn near clutching onto it for dear life and he knew that it wasn’t a good sign.

“come on let’s get you back to bed…” he said as he stood up and held a hand out to you.

You glanced over at his extended hand and then looked down at the floor. While taking deep breaths you tried your best to dry your wet eyes while you examined how you felt.

“I honestly feel like I need to stay here for a minute” you answered  back quietly while clutching your stomach “I think I might get sick again”

Hoseok looked down at you in concern, glancing over the sheen of sweat on your skin and the flush in your cheeks from what he assumed was a low fever. “if you get any worse I think that we should go to see a doctor” he expressed his opinion only to be reciprocated with a sigh and a head shake from you. “do you remember what the doctor said about nausea, headaches and lots of movement after the accident?”  he continued on with his explanation “what if we did a little too much too fast and triggered your symptoms again?”

You sat still on the floor for a moment trying to really think about what he said  and how your body was feeling right now. and, it was true that you two did get warned about too much movement and excitement.

“will you grab my purse off of the counter in the kitchen? I think I might have some antinausea pills left to take” you asked  Hoseok and he immediately took off

It was only a few seconds before he came sliding back into the bathroom with your bag in hand. He quickly handed it out to you and you wasted no time before you began digging around looking for the medication. But before you could find it you saw something else in your bag that sent you down an entirely different rabbit hole of worry.

“Hoseok…. I think we need to go see a doctor” you said softly not even bothering to look up at him

“okay… you get dressed and ill get everything else together” he said before disappearing but it was only a few seconds before he popped his head back into the door way to look down at you with concern “do you need help getting up and getting dressed?” he asked

“just go!” you had barked out to Hoseok a little too loud and firm

Hoseok stood shocked and still in the doorway for a second before he left. And the moment that he was gone you let out a loud sigh. You had no intentions of coming across so harshly but if your suspicions were correct then you had every reason to be emotionally charged right now.

You took a few deep breaths and got up slowly off of the ground so you could brush your teeth and get dressed, but the entire time you were mindlessly working away while your mind raced a mile a minute, doing math and calculating. By the time that you found yourself being escorted out of the front door and into the car you had no idea how much time had lapsed or what you had even looked like.

“Thankfully there is a doctor within just a few miles, so we won’t have to go very far” Hoseok said calmly trying to give you some peace of mind, unsure of what was going on internally in your mind right now.

You nodded your head and watched the road in silence as he peeled through the streets, making his way towards the destination as quickly as possible. And as soon as the car came to a stop you opened your door and buckled over to puke once more in the parking lot of the doctor’s office.

When you were sure that you were done you took a deep breath and wiped away at your mouth with the back of your hand. You unbuckled your seat belt and then stepped out of the car on wobbly legs, making your way inside of the building as quickly as you could. Hoseok tried to hover closely behind you to make sure that you were okay and catch you if you were to fall. As you approached the entrance, Hoseok opened the door for you, and you immediately stepped up to the receptionist.

“Hello, my name is y/f/n and I recently had a concussion. Today I’ve been very sick, and I need to see a doctor as soon as possible!” you quickly tried to explain

The woman looked up at you with wide eyes as she tried to process the information that you just spit out at her. “Have a seat and the doctor will be with you shortly” she explained with a soft smile and then began furiously typing away at her computer.

You stared at her blankly for a moment before you politely bowed your head and then moved to take a seat in the waiting room. You had wanted so desperately to tell her what you were so suspicious about, but you didn’t want to say it out loud yet. No…. if you had done that then it would become real. And you were the farthest thing from being ready for that right now.

Hoseok took a seat next to you and began rubbing circles in your back as the two of you waited. And as much as you didn’t want him to touch you, focusing on the circles was the only thing that helped take your mind off of things and kept you from going stir crazy.

“y/n?” you hear your name being called by an older female

You looked up at her and immediately stood up, signaling that it was you. You began to walk towards her, but stopped when you realized that Hoseok was following you. You turned to him quickly and held your hand up to him.

“wait here for me… I’m sure ill be out before you know it” you said to him softly with scared, wide eyes.

He had a soft pleading look for a moment and before you knew it, it was gone again. He had turned off his true feelings and was put into baiter mode. He nodded his head and sat back down again, this time keeping his gaze trained on the floor. And as soon as you were confident that he was going to stay you disappeared into a patient room with the doctor.

You had sat down on the patient bed and the doctor stood next to you with a chart, ready to take notes and diagnose what was bothering you. But, before she could even begin to ask questions you had jumped in and quickly explained your situation.

“I’ve just been diagnosed with a concussion due to a car accident about 3 weeks ago, and today I’ve began vomiting, have a low fever, little hunger, and am very lackluster. I was on antinausea medication, but I stopped taking it about 5 days ago when my symptoms stopped occurring. It’s very possible that what I’m experiencing today is because of the accident and rigorous movement as of lately… but I think it might be something else that’s causing this….” You died off

The doctor looked at you with confusion and questions in her gaze as looked over you swiftly. When she realized that you weren’t going to continue, she cocked her head to the side and stared at you with wonder.

“What are concerned about?” she asked you getting straight to the point.

You opened your mouth to speak but the words left your mouth. You let out a long shaky sigh and you cleared your throat before you gathered the courage to finally say what you held so taboo.

“I think I need to take a pregnancy test…”

[rocorambles]

Fool

Pairing: Sakusa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Yandere, Rape/Non-con, Manipulation, Degradation

Summary: Your body might be the most spotless and pristine it’s ever been, but you’ve never felt more disgusting, more filthy in your entire life. 

Requested by Anon

Sakusa quietly walks besides Komori and you while the two of you giddily chatter about one thing or another. He honestly could care less about his cousin and his new friend. He has more important things to worry about. Volleyball, nationals, school, staying healthy and clean. Who cares about a random girl his cousin started talking to? But then you slowly become a permanent fixture in their group. The three of you walk to and from high school together every day. You all study together, exchanging notes and information. You simultaneously bite into store bought onigiris after school.  

At first he talks to you out of sheer politeness, accepting the fact that he might as well make a bit of small talk considering how he’s going to see you every day at this rate. But as time goes on he finds himself actively joining in the conversations, seeking you out at lunch time, and hanging out with you on the weekends. He finds himself looking for your face in between class breaks, nagging you to wear your face mask, and thinking of you even when you aren’t with him. But he doesn’t dwell on it. Volleyball is still the top priority in his life and the three of you graduate from high school as close friends, but nothing more than that. 

It’s hard to keep in close contact during college since the three of you are in different universities. Texts are exchanged once in a while. Sometimes he’ll open his phone and see Komori and you littering the group chat with stupid memes and mindless nonsense. On his birthday he’ll get a phone call from both of you, but that’s the extent of it. Well, that’s the extent of it for him. A sickening feeling coils in his stomach when he opens social media and sees a photo of Komori and you at brunch on a random weekend and he wonders if he might be coming down with something. But the dark feeling lurks and festers in him as he sees more photos of just the two of you out and about shopping together, eating together, partying together. 

Sakusa knows that Komori and you have always been closer than him and you. It’s Komori who’s always been your first choice when you need help with something. It’s Komori who’s the first person you run to when you want to share a funny post you saw. So he shouldn’t be surprised to know that the two of you hang out frequently without him, but that doesn’t stop the green eyed monster from growing bigger and bigger inside of him. It keeps on expanding within him as college continues until all he can think about is you. 

As soon as he wakes up, he turns on his phone and scrolls through your social media feeds. Whenever he has a second of spare time, he finds himself flipping through photos of you. Right before he goes to sleep, he goes through old text messages you’ve sent. He has to stop himself from throwing his phone against the wall in anger whenever Komori’s face beams up at him, far too close to your own smiling face and with an arm slung far too familiarly over your shoulders. The three of you see each other in person a few times a year during college breaks, but it’s not enough and having Komori there only fuels the urgency within him. 

He hasn’t seen you in a while. Now that you’re all working, it’s hard to find the time to get together. You’re only free on weekends, but that’s usually when Komori and he are traveling for volleyball games. But that doesn’t mean you’re not on his mind. Quite the opposite in fact. Absence makes the heart grow fonder after all. Sakusa hates jacking himself off. There’s something so primitive and disgusting about the whole thing and he grimaces at the sticky feeling of his pre-cum, but he can’t even keep count of the amount of times he’s waited for Bokuto’s, Atsumu’s, and Hinata’s breaths to even out in their shared hotel rooms before opening up his phone and looking at his favorite saved photos of you while stroking himself off. He recoils in disgust when warm liquid spills across his hand, but when he imagines how pretty you’d look licking it clean for him, it’s suddenly not all that bad. 

It’s one of his very few free weekends and he makes his way to his seat in the audience before settling down and watching Komori and his team warm up before their match. He internally groans when he feels the presence of someone sitting next to him and immediately starts trying to shrink in on himself in order to minimize any contact with the other person. “Sakusa?” His head turns so fast his mask almost flies off when he hears the familiar voice. He can feel his chest tighten when he sees you so close to him and his body instinctively leans closer to you, drawn to the woman he’s been fantasizing about for years. The two of you catch up, but he’s hardly paying attention to the actual words as he watches your lips move, as he watches your hands wave in the air, as he watches your eyes sparkle. He can feel his fingers twitch, desperate to see how soft and warm you’d be in his hold, desperate to touch someone in a way he’s never felt before. He usually abhors the idea of physically touching anyone or anything, but when it’s you, there’s nothing he wants more.

He snaps back to attention when you loudly cheer for Komori and anxiety springs up within him when he realizes they’re almost done with the second set. No, no, no. This wasn’t enough time. He needs more of you. His thoughts spiral as he thinks about how to keep you with him a little longer, but then it clicks when he sees the adoration in your eyes as you attentively watch Komori racing across the court. His eyes darken when he sees the way you look at his cousin and he knows exactly how to get his way. 

“Hey, Komori is going to come over to my place tonight. You’re more than welcome to just hang out with me after the game ends until then. It’ll be nice for all three of us to hang out again. It’s been a while.” 

His jaw clenches at the way a blush of red tints your cheeks when he mentions Komori’s name, but he digs his nails into his thighs as he waits for your response. He knows he has you. Hook. Line. Sinker. And sure enough, you beam at him and excitedly agree. It’s nice to have you alone to himself and if he dreams enough, it almost feels like the two of you are on a date as he walks with you to his place, pleasantly conversing all the way. He can’t help but think you fit perfectly in his apartment. It just looks so right to have you in his home and he hides his smile with the cup of tea in his hands. But time passes far too quickly and he can see the way your leg begins to twitch when you ask him exactly when Komori will be arriving. His grip tightens and he forcefully takes a deep breath before he accidentally breaks his mug and gives you a tight smile, assuring you he’d be here soon. It’s time to finally set his final plan in motion. 

He gets up to refill your cup, but just as his hands draw near you, he drops the entire pot on you, covering your entire shirt and lap with the liquid. He makes a show of panicking as he attempts to wipe you down (relishing in the feeling of your body beneath his hands as he rubs much harder, much longer than he needs to) and he almost smirks at how naive you are as you assure him it’s completely fine. Mistakes happen. He practically shoves you into the bathroom with a fresh towel and some of his clothes as he urges you to get clean and dry before leaving and closing the door behind him. But he doesn’t move an inch after that. He waits right outside the door and he can feel himself getting aroused as he hears the rustling of clothes and you shuffling around. He imagines how you look, completely stripped down and vulnerable. Thank God it’s not going to be just an imagination anymore. 

He waits until he hears the shower begin to run, until he hears you clambering inside, until he hears you sweetly humming to yourself and then he moves faster than he’s ever moved before as he rips the door open and barges in, slamming the door behind him and locking it with a resounding click. You shriek when you see him and you yell at him to get out, but it’s no use and he has you on your knees, your head submerged under the water still cascading down from the showerhead. Your eyes clench shut in an effort to keep the water out as you take panicked gasps of breath through your mouth. It’s so hard to breathe when water is pouring on your face. It’s so hard to think when you’re caught off guard in a situation you’ve never even had nightmares about. You frantically claw at Sakusa’s arm that has a tight hold of your hair, but you instantly stop, instead aiming for the hard object that’s being shoved into your mouth. It’s disgusting and yet vaguely familiar. Kind of similar to when you accidentally get shampoo water in your mouth...Realization dawns on you and you try to spit out the bar of soap lodged in your mouth, but Sakusa’s grip is relentless as he shoves it in and out of your mouth, making sure to scrub it against every inch of your orifice that he can reach. You almost sob in relief when he finally removes it from your mouth, but that turns into pain when he jerks your head back until the shower water is pouring into your mouth and when it’s full, he slaps a hand over your lips and orders you to gurgle before finally shoving your head back down where you gag and heave as you spit the soapy suds out. 

Mouth finally empty, you plead for him to stop, to explain why he’s doing this, but you cringe when he coldly looks down at you and says he’s not done cleaning you yet. You try to shove past him to get out of the enclosed space, get out of his home, but really, what chance do you think you have against a professional athlete, against one of the best volleyball players in the country? It’s embarrassing how easy it is for Sakusa to force you on all fours and you brokenly cry as he lathers his hands with the bar that had just assaulted your mouth before pumping his fingers in and out of your tight pussy, using the flexibility of his wrists to twist and turn, touching places you’ve never been able to reach yourself. Sakusa’s not even trying to provide you with any pleasure, intent on just making sure you’re completely clean before he uses you, but he’s so thorough and persistent with his movements that you can’t help the way your juices begin to leak as his fingers rub against every crevice. 

He pulls his digits out in disgust as he sees the sticky coat you’ve left on them. “You’re such a fucking whore. Do you get turned on just from being cleaned? Do you like being filled that much? Don’t worry. I’m more than happy to give you what you want.” You shake your head in denial as your tears mingle with the water still streaming down on you, but you moan as Sakusa shoves his cock into your dripping cunt. He grips your hips so tightly his hands turn white and you rapidly pant as both of you adjust to being connected so intimately. But there’s only so much patience Sakusa has after lusting after you for years and he starts a punishing pace, pulling all the way out before fully slamming back into you with every thrust. Internally you beg him to stop, beg him for mercy, but the only things that spill from your lips is moan after moan as he fills you so well and you’re almost grateful for the fact that water is still coming down, the sound of drops hitting the shower floor blocking out some of the lewd humiliating sounds echoing in the small room. You feel something hot, something alive crawling from deep within you. It doesn’t feel like a normal orgasm. It seems bigger, more daunting and you clench your teeth and fists, trying to not let it out, but it’s no use and you scream as you erupt. Sakusa scowls when he sees the flood of liquids that pour out of you. What a fucking mess. And yet, you somehow feel even better like this. Sopping wet, quivering walls milking his cock. And that’s all it takes for him to release deep inside of you, letting your pretty hole hold his mess. He glowers down at the disgusting mix of transparent and white liquid that trickles out from you and that sticks to his length when he finally pulls out. 

“Open your mouth.” You obediently follow his order. What use is it to fight now? Now that he’s already used you? He has you suck and lick his softening shaft until every remnant of fluid is gone and you gratefully pull off of him and collapse on the floor, glad that it’s all over. You glare at him, angry tears in your eyes as you spit out scathing insult after insult at him. “How the fuck could you do this to a friend? One of your closest friends? Someone you’ve known for years?” He rolls his eyes as you continue with your pointless rants, but he perks up at your next line. 

“Wait until Komori gets here and I tell him exactly what you did.” 

You falter when Sakusa begins laughing and you stumble back as he suddenly lurches towards you, but there’s nowhere for you to run and you squeal when he grabs the detachable shower head and holds it right above your pussy, still oversensitive and raw. 

“Oh, Komori’s not coming. He doesn’t have time for dirty sluts like you. But maybe after I clean you up again, he’ll think about sparing you a minute.”

You howl as Sakusa once again reaches for the bar of soap and begins harshly rubbing it all over and inside your reddening flesh and you don’t know if it’s fueled by pain, pleasure, anger, or betrayal, but you keep on howling as your rose-tinted dreams of a friendly libero are ripped to shreds by the black haired monster above you. You howl until your voice can’t make any more sounds and then you just lie there under the now cooling water still spraying down on both of you as Sakusa continues. Your body might be the most spotless and pristine it’s ever been (it certainly feels like it is with how rigorously Sakusa scrubs you), but you’ve never felt more disgusting, more filthy in your entire life as he releases load after load inside of you, letting you feel, letting you know how foolish you are for ever thinking you had a chance with his cousin, for ever thinking he’d let you be with anyone other than him. And as the night drags on and on, you can’t help but begin to agree with him. What a fool you are.                 

[blueluneacy]

Soaps and Special Drinks

I wrote a giant melone x reader off a fantasy i had at work. enjoy

word count: 4k

warnings: delusional yandere, not sfw, breeding kink, stalking, public sex, aphrodisiacs, forced drugging, major dub con, does making someone uncomfy at work count? idk but its there

You didn’t hear her until she called your name for the third time, and when you did, you nearly fell over.

“Oh god, what happened, what did I miss, I wasn’t asleep, my eyes were open!” You yelled, leaving your manager to jump.

“(Y/n), it’s okay, don’t worry!’ She said, laughing a bit to herself. “Don’t worry, I was just going to ask about what was happening and if you needed anything. But it looks like nothing is happening.” She sighed. You nodded, looking around the shop. You worked at a small, handmade soap. The soaps in here were beautiful, but the shop itself was quiet, only getting a few customers. The bulk of sales ended up being online at the owner’s etsy shop, with the actual building simply being in their family for the last 300 years, making it hard to part with. You didn’t mind, the soap was nice, you often got to take some of it home, and the work was easy. But you couldn’t deny that god, it was really god damn boring. 

“Yeah, I’m alright. Sorry, I’m just… Really bored.” You laughed, your manager just sighing.

“I can take the front of shop for a bit and you can play on your phone or something. You don’t have to just stand there all day.”

“I don’t mind it. Gives me time to think. Besides, I see you playing on your phone in front of shop all the time, I know that I can do it right here if I wanted to.” You hummed, your manager just rolling her eyes.

“I put it away when a customer shows up, don’t you worry. And what is it that you’re always thinking about, huh? A boyfriend?” She teased. You rolled your eyes.

“You know that I don’t have anyone like that in my life. I end up thinking about stupid stuff. Like what would happen if cows became four feet taller, or something.” You told her. It was a lie, of course, but you could never admit what actually went through your mind.

After all, how could you admit that you were just sitting there thinking about otome games and anime characters? It was nice to sit and think about lots of handsome men loving you. Maybe you played too many video games or watched too much anime.

“Alright, alright. Keep sitting with your weird thoughts.” She teased, the two of you laughing before the bell at the door rang as it swung open. 

The two of you stared as you saw the man walk in. He was so strangely dressed, and he was wearing a mask. Is this some sort of bad Dread Pirate Roberts cosplay? Half of his shirt was missing, which you sort of wanted to chalk up to bad sewing, but you also knew that it merely could be bad fashion. People around here are weird looking. He had choppy purple hair that covered one of his eyes, making you think that maybe the whole mask thing was meant to be an eye patch more than anything. You weren’t an expert in eyeball health. Still, you smiled brightly at the customer, not wanting to offend as you walked over to him, ready to assist in any way possible.

“Hello, Welcome! Is there anything in particular that you were looking for today?” You asked, Melone looking over at you before his eyes widened. God, you were just so… So god damn cute! The apron you were wearing hugged your curves so well, your body was so cute in the way you held yourself, smiling as you looked up at the man. He could just notice your tummy under the apron, a shudder going through his body as he saw your bright, smiling demeanor looking up at him.

“Oh, I heard that there were handmade facial products here? I’m looking for something a little more natural in my skin care routine.”  He replied, looking down to see your little name tag, smiling as he got the information. “Ah, I suppose then you could help me, (Y/n)?”

You forced your grin a little wider when he said your name, before nodding, waving him over and you brought him over to a little corner of the store. You don’t know why, but it seemed to only make you uncomfortable when people did things like read off your name tag. Which seems silly, after all, it was there for a reason, but still.

“Of course, sir, let me show you. Are you looking for something like a cleanser? We also have exfoliate scrubs, made all in house.” You told him. Melone just hummed, leaning over the products and moving a bit too much into your personal space as he pulled off his gloves. 

“You can call me Melone, sweetheart, no need for the formalities. And do any of these have scents in their formulas? I would hate to break out from oils…” He asked, touching his face lightly. You just smiled, shaking your head. You took note of his name, trying to keep yourself smiling

“Any scents that the product has is from the actual parts, not from anything we add. Like, our coffee ground scrub smells like coffee, because you know. We also have some regular facial soap, all in bar form, that we have, if you’d like to see. I can also make some samples for you, and we have a sink where you can try out some of the testers we have out.” You told him. He just smiled, nodding as he looked around a bit.

“That’s all well and good, but what would you recommend before bed? I need to remove my makeup, and so many cleansers are for the morning.” He complained. You just smiled, looking around and grabbing the giant pot of what you were looking for.

“Here we go! This stuff kills at removing any makeup. It’s made with shea butter, honey and rose water, with a little bit of tea tree oil in there for that calming feeling.” You said, reaching in and using a little spoon to put some on one of the little dishes your store carried, and then handed it to him. “Go on, go to the sink and check it out! You should also really check out our poppy soap too, it has poppy seeds in it which honestly? My skin has never been better.” You chuckled. Melone looked at you, before smiling and nodding. If that soap was what gave you such a glow, then he would definitely have to try it. You sighed as you went back to the counter next to your manager, watching the man as he washed his hands, his eyes widening before he grabbed one of the little papers you had next to the table, and a pen. Since everything here was served in whatever amount the customer wanted, the shop kept papers for customers to make a list of what they wanted.

“What is it now, daydreaming about a customer?” Your manager teased, leaving you to roll your eyes.

“Do you want him instead? He was all in my personal space.” You replied.

“Oh, cheer up, he wasn’t that bad. A little weird, but harmless. And you really need to get used to the idea that Italians don’t have a notion of personal space. You practically lost it when that old lady grabbed your hand.” 

“Hey, that was a while ago, that’s not fair! I think I’m used to it now, he’s just sort of creepy. Melone…” You mumbled his name to yourself, Melone’s ears perking up as heard you speak about him. Oh, your name sounded so good rolling off your tongue. He wanted to hear it over and over again, make you make the sound, scream it, moan it-

“I think I have my list ready, cara. Care to help me out?” Melone asked, coming over to the counter and leaning over it, handing the list over to you. You just took it from his hands, looking over the list before sighing.

“Can you get the bar soap while I get the cleanser?” You asked, writing down what you needed in the liquid before handing out the rest of the list to her. She nodded, walking off with a small smile on her face before you just sighed, going to get the cleanser. You grabbed one of the small glass jars you had, before putting it on the scale, taring it out after placing down the glass. 

“Five hundred grams, right?” You asked, only for Melone to nod. 

“Yes. It’s heavier, so it’ll be less than what I assume it’s going to be, so I might as well just go for it. I’ll use it anyway.” He replied, watching the way you reached into the pot and carefully scooped out the cleanser. You were so focused, he couldn’t help but imagine what you would look like in a domestic situation, maybe using a serving spoon to scoop out sauce for dinner, maybe just for the two of them. Maybe you would be in a cute little apron like the one you were in now, your feet bare and your hair loose as you grew heavy with his child-

In that moment, Melone felt a plan start to form in his mind.

The rest of the transaction went fine, in all honesty. Melone seemed as though he was suddenly in a hurry, that he forgot that he had something to do, purchasing his items and leaving with a quick “Ciao!”. You could tell that he was speed walking down the street, but you didn’t really care. Maybe you were over exaggerating, and he was just some normal gy, albeit oddly dressed. Still, it didn’t really matter to you. The fact that the store was empty meant that you could go back to your daydreams.

You were so grateful when the store finally closed. As the two of you locked up, you pulled your coat closer to your body, looking around.

“You should be careful now going home. It’s dark a lot earlier now, I’m afraid that maybe there might be some bad actors in the alleyways…” Your manager sighed. You nodded in agreement, the thoughts of how dangerous this city was becoming as Passione moved themselves in running through the both of your minds. Your manager had talked about moving, not wanting her kids to grow up here, and you couldn’t blame her. But both of you knew deep down that no matter where you went, the mafia probably lurked there somewhere.

“I will, don’t fret. Text you when I get home?” You asked, giving her a smile. She just smiled back and nodded.

“Don’t zone out and forget, alright? I’ll text you when I’m home as well!” She said, before waving, the two of you walking off in separate directions.

You hummed slightly to yourself as you walked down the street. You made sure to stay close to the streetlight, but you could swear that you could see something out of the corner of your eye, the feeling of being watched harsh in your stomach. You turned around often just to check, but no one was there. You must really be losing it today.

Still, it was like you were attracted to what was unknown. You instinctively started to move farther away from the streetlight, to try and see what exactly was going on in the shadows, but nothing was there. You barely even noticed how far you were in the dark until you passed by an alleyway. You didn’t even see the hand that shot out and grabbed onto your collar.

You immediately tried to scream, but you could barely make a sound as lips crashed into yours, your body pressed up against the wall as you squirmed. You winced as your head slammed against the wall, your vision tripling and a groan leaving your mouth and easily swallowed up by Melone. He pulled away, taking deep, harsh breaths, watching as you tried to focus on him.

“Don’t worry cara, it’s only me, didn’t mean to scare you, wanted to surprise you on your way home…” He cooed, pinning your hands above your head and moving to let his lips press against your neck, leaving light kisses and he hummed.

“Wha… Y.. You’re that guy from the soap shop! What are you doing, let me go!” You yelled, starting to squirm. Melone just pouted, as if you had told him a bad insult or you had genuinely hurt his feelings.

“Ah, don’t be like that, bambina. Are you mad because I embarrassed you at work? It’s alright, I’ll make it all better.” He hummed, reaching into his pocket to pull out a small vile. He used his teeth to pull out the cork, before letting a drop hit his tongue.

“Yep, it’s still good. Go on, drink this all down, and you’ll feel much better, carina.” He told you. 

“Like hell I’m going to drink anything you give me-” Perhaps you shouldn’t have spoken. When you opened your mouth and started to yell at him again, he just shoved the vial into your mouth, pouring the liquid in before covering your mouth with his hand.

“It’s alright, I know it tastes awful, but you have to drink it all, amore, otherwise it won’t work.” Melone hummed. You just sat there, holding the foul tasting liquid in your mouth before finally caving and swallowing. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice. When Melone felt that you had swallowed, he pulled his hand away, leaning over and pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead.

“Di molto… Good, thank you. It means a lot to me that would trust me like that.” Like you had any other fucking choice. You just let your eyes narrow as you continued to let them dart around for some sort of escape.

“What exactly did you fucking give me?” You hissed, Melone laughing a bit.

“Well, I suppose you’ll feel it momentarily, won’t you? Liquid medication only takes one to four minutes to assimilate…” He hummed. You swallowed, feeling that your mouth was starting to feel really dry. It felt like everything was getting hotter, until your whole body was on fire. You let out a soft whine when you finally opened your mouth to let out a few pants, suddenly out of breath, before squirming again. This time, to try and get rid of the heat that was engulfing you. 

“W-What is this?! Please, it’s so hot, what did you do?!” You cried out, internally cringing at how desperate your voice sounded. But Melone just ate it all up, leaning in to press his body against yours, the outline of his cock making you shudder. God, think, what was happening to you?!

“It’s one of the best aphrodisiacs out there. Only the best for you, bella, I want to make sure that you feel amazing throughout all of this…” He told you, before pressing his lips against yours. You tried to struggle, but god, you were feeling so weak as the drug coursed through your veins, and Melone’s lips felt so good against yours. You felt your knees get weak, your body slipping down the wall that you were leaning against as it became harder and harder for you to support your own weight. Melone just pulled away, watching you sink to the ground as if weighed down by your own lust, smirking to himself. You were so beautiful like that. Melone could see the way you were tugging at your clothing, trying to get them off in some relief from the hell that consumed you. He just chuckled, pulling you up and making you lean on him. You just ended up grabbing onto Melone tightly, trying to take deep breaths.

“Don’t worry bambina. I bet it hurts bad right now, doesn’t it? Maybe I should’ve opened you up first…” Melone thought aloud, before shrugging. Too late now. He reached down to start to pull your panties off, the other arm wrapped around you and firmly holding you against him. He shuddered at the way your soft body pressed up against him, holding onto him like it was the end of the world.

“Don’t worry, (Y/n). I’ll make this heat go away, make you feel all better. You’ll feel perfect and well once you’re fucked full of my children.” He hummed. Despite yourself, you just nodded, desperate for a suggestion that would mean that you would feel better. 

Melone practically jumped in delight, easily pushing two fingers inside of you, relishing in how wet you had become, to the point where you were starting to slick your legs. You moaned, gripping onto Melone tightly and starting to whine shrilling, babbling back at him.

“O-Oh fuck, that feels so good, fuck, please, Melone, pleeeeease…” You whined, already trying to buck against his fingers. It felt so good, but it wasn’t enough, it just wasn’t enough to satisfy you, to make you feel whole again.

“You’re tempting me so much, bambina. You make me want to fuck you right now, god, you’re going to be so full when I’m done with you, my cute little wife.” He told you as he added another finger, scissoring you open. God, if you could hold yourself up, Melone would have no problem getting on his knees and eating you out until you came all over his face. He wondered what cute, fucked out faces you would make after cumming five, ten, a hundred times for him. He felt his cock twitch in his trousers and did his best not to get ahead of himself. He wanted to make sure that you felt just as good as he did, but god, you were making it so hard with those cute faces of yours! The way you were clinging to him, gasping and moaning like a bitch in heat, begging him for more, it was all so much.

“P-Please, fuck, more… It’s still so hot, please, need you so bad…” You mumbled, moving to rest your head against his shoulder as he thrust his fingers into you. He let out a low moan at your words, his hips slightly bucking against you for it. He was so pent up, not wanting to waste a single drop until he found the perfect person to fill up with it, and here you were, all perfect and begging him to breed you full of his children.

“Aww, poor thing. Perhaps I gave you a bit too much…” Melone sighed, pulling his fingers out of you and leaving you to whine in frustration. He pushed his fingers into his mouth and just moaned, shuddering as he tasted your juices. You grabbed onto him tighter, begging for some sort of relief from this hell. When Melone finally pulled his fingers from his mouth, he let his own lips crash against yours, pushing your back against the wall and pressing your chest against his to hold you up while his hands moved to rip his cock out from his trousers.

It was nice, bigger than you expected, and you could see that Melone was well groomed about himself as well. In any normal circumstance, you would be continuing to scream, but as Melone started to rub his cock against you, slicking himself up with your juices, you just moaned.

“Yes, fuck yes! Please, more, give me more, god, fuck me already!” You cried out, squirming and trying to make Melone’s cock catch to try on your entrance. Melone just groaned, moving a hand to grab your hip, before pushing into you slowly. He threw his head back as he moaned, his nails digging into you as he started to move, only pulling his cock out half way before slamming back, leaving you to whine in return.

“Oh, cara, you’re so tight, fuuuuck… You’re so perfect, fuck, my pretty little wife, gonna be such a great mother, fill you up and keep you full of my babies-” Melone groaned, leaning forward and leaning on your shoulder, babbling his nonsense into your ear. And you just ate it all up, nodding and wrapping your arms around him and digging into his back, whining.

“Fuck, yes, please… Feels so good, please, Melone, pleeease…” You whined, holding onto him tightly as you tried to grind against him. Your words were enough to really spring Melone into action, starting to pound against you wildly, mouthing as your neck and leaving harsh bruises. You just scratched at him in return, leaving red welts that might even turn into bruises tomorrow. Melone groaned at the idea of you marking him so primally, the feeling of you marking him as yours just as he was marking you as his. 

“God, you’re all mine, aren’t you? Love you so much, (Y/n), gonna keep you safe, warm, all mine, I’m yours just as much as you’re mine, fuck-” His teeth dug into his lip as he felt the way you were clenching down on him, the signal that your orgasm was fast approaching. Really, it was a miracle that you haven’t cum once or twice already, but perhaps it was something in the back of your mind that was holding you back, keeping you from finishing.

“Mmm, I can feel you’re close… Di molto, that’s perfect, do you want to cum while I breed you? It’ll be a great way to make sure it goes as far as it can.” Melone groaned into your ear, his voice sultry and husky in a way that filled your foggy head with static, only pulling Melone closer as you tried to chase your own orgasm.

“Yes, yes please, fuck, it’s too much, I’m gonna cum, please let me cum, please-” You mewled, on the verge of tears from how pent up you felt, grabbing onto Melone as if he would disappear if you let go.

“Fuck, good, then cum, cum on my cock, make me breed you, gonna fill you up so much, so perfect and soft and round, do it, cum for me, God-!” His voice was practically as a howl as his movements became jerky, before finally thrusting in and bottoming out inside of you, finally cumming. It was the feeling of him pushing inside of you that one last time that set you over the edge, a loud keen coming from you as you squeezed down on Melone, starting to milk him for all you could. 

The two of you rode at your orgasms together, quiet panting and whimpers from the both of you as Melone finally pulled out of you. You practically collapsed as he let you go, free from the burning heat but now exhausted beyond all belief. Melone caught you, holding you up with his arms and chuckling a bit. You shuddered as you felt some of Melone’s seed drip down your leg, leaving Melone just to purse his lips.

“We shouldn’t be wasteful like that. I should’ve brought a plug, poor thing…” He sighed, reaching down to scoop up what fell and push it back inside of you. You moaned at the sensation, giving him a look to let him know that you were much too sensitive right now. He just laughed at your expression, before easily scooping you up in his arms.

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. We have all the time in the world once we get home.” Melone hummed. You stared at him incredulously, trying to figure out what the fuck he meant. You started to squirm a bit, but you were much too exhausted to really put in an effort to get away from him.

“Hmm? Well, of course I’m going to bring my wife home.” Melone hummed, petting your hair lightly. Your face went pale at the realization, but there was nothing you could do. Even if you could get out of his arms, you were too weak to run away away from him. You were stuck, hopelessly trapped with a madman, forced to listen to his deranged cooing as he made his declaration.

“We have a lot more work to be done if we’re going to make you a mother.”

[thewritewolf]

Adventure to the Heart Chapter 13: Family

First | Previous | Next | Last

@adrinetteapril

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

“That… can’t be right.” Nino stared at the game mat with disbelieving eyes before glancing at Alya and Max. “Right?”

“Wake up and smell the well-perfumed treachery, babe!” Alya threw her arms over her head. “I knew those nobles were trouble and the proof is right here in front of us!”

“I mean, yeah… but come on, just cuz there’s a stockpile of their swag in the bandit den doesn’t mean they’re in cahoots with ‘em, right?”

“While admittedly there is a non-zero chance that you are correct,” Max said, pushing his glasses up his nose, “a variety of other circumstantial evidence has been accruing against them for some time.”

“Okay,” Adrien said, rubbing his temples. “What are the odds we can actually bring them to justice with this stuff?”

Max frowned. “That may very well be a matter for the dice to decide. As I mentioned, the bulk of our evidence is circumstantial and our strongest smoking gun, if you’ll excuse the turn of phrase, is this pile of trade goods found in the brigand stronghold.”

“Which they can just say was stolen from them.” Alya slumped in her chair. “They really thought this out, huh?” Alya narrowed her eyes at Marinette, but a smirk was playing at her lips. “Or at least, someone thought this out.”

“Well, you guys will have plenty of time to figure it out,” Marinette said looking pointedly at the clock. “A week, as a matter of fact. Next session you can decide what you’re going to do about all this.”

“Shoot, already time to leave?” Alya glanced at her phone and sharply sucked in a breath. “Dang, yeah its almost time for dinner.” She looked over to Nino. “Are you still planning on coming over?”

Adrien went along with them as they made their way downstairs, talking about their plans - some in the game, but most just about dinner. As they got to the door, Adrien was checking his phone but there was no text from the Gorilla just yet - not even his usual one word text of ‘Here’. Anxiety was building as the other three left out the front door one by one.

Marinette gave him an odd look when he hesitated at the door. “Is something wrong?”

“Well,” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck, “its just that my ride isn’t here yet and, well…”

“Oh, that’s okay!” Marinette said it with a grin, but Adrien could see the hint of panic lurking just behind her eyes. He understood the feeling - after a long day, sometimes all you wanted to do was collapse in your room and decompress. “You can hang out here for a little while if you want!”

“That’s the thing. It might be an hour or two since the Gorilla is watching his Spanish soap operas right now.”

“...What?”

Adrien shrugged. “Its the one thing that he always makes time for. Even my father can’t reach him when they are on.”

“I… see.” Marinette furrowed her brow. “Well you could… um… you could have dinner with me?” Her eyes flew open wide. “I mean! You could eat here! With my family and food and very tasty and-”

“You mean it?” Adrien asked, wide eyed. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten to eat at someone’s house before. Well,” he quickly amended, “except for at Chloe’s but that’s basically just going to a restaurant anyway. Room service,” he added, when she shot him a confused look.”

“I promise, the food we have here is served with love,” Marinette said with a smile. A smile which quickly vanished in panic. “Not that I love you or anything! Well I do but like a friend I love, you know? Friendly love, that’s me!”

Adrien laughed - he couldn’t help it. “Thanks, Marinette. If it isn’t too much to ask, then yeah I’d be happy to have dinner with you and your family.”

Marinette relaxed a little and turned around - no doubt to go talk to her parents about it - when he added, with a playful smile:

“And for what its worth - I love you too!”

-------------------------

Later that night, after having an amazing dinner with a warm family, Adrien stepped into the cavernous entry room of his home. To his immense surprise, someone was waiting for him there.

“You’ll be going to New York for next week,” Gabriel said as a matter of fact. “Arrangements will be made with your school during that time, but your presence will be vital for establishing our brand in America.”

Warm food and bright laughter seemed like a distant memory as a cold pit opened up in his stomach.

“But father-”

Gabriel held up his hand and closed his eyes. “No arguments.”

He walked away, leaving Adrien to drag his feet back to his room. Missing out on a week with his friends was bad enough, but this would be the first session that he had ever missed. They had become his favorite part of the week, a time when he could be someone else and goof around with friends.

Was this part of his father’s plan? Was he going to try to take this away from him too?

The only thing Adrien knew for sure was that if he fought this here and now, it would only give his father an excuse to take it away from him. For now, he’d have to go along with it.

And hope that this wouldn’t be the beginning of the end for his dungeons and dragons adventure.

[agoodgoddamnshot]

Excuse - Geralt/Jaskier/Eskel/Lambert [G]

[Gif isn’t mine]

Warning(s): None

Word Count: 1,700

Originally posted to my AO3

Kaer Morhen is cold. Jaskier's Witchers are warm. What else is he supposed to do?

Jaskier would argue that he has a lot of good ideas. Geralt would argue the opposite, considering how many times the Witcher has to work him out of trouble as a result of Jaskier’s good ideas, but that’s nothing but slander on the Witcher’s part. Jaskier has a lot of good ideas, and this may be his best one yet.

He isn’t shy. Words have always come easy to him whether he would compose yet another Continent-seizing hit that would spread throughout the land like a wildfire, or lulling women and men into languid kisses and into his bed or theirs. Geralt might have his swords and potions, but Jaskier has his own weapon, and it’s even more deadly.

And what was he going to do? Go to a near-abandoned keep perched at the top of a northern mountain, with his only company for the season being other Witchers, and not try and enjoy himself? Gods be good, he isn’t insane.

He’s chuffed. A smile hasn’t left his lips as the bodies around him finally settle. One would think after spending so many winters together, that they would each know where to go and where to lie. Apparently not. It’s a forest of legs and arms, and through it all the warmth of a lit hearth and the mingling scents of bathing salts and soaps blankets over them. With the warmth sureness of having bodies around him, gathering him close and keeping him comfortably in bed, the world outside slips away. The rest of the Continent, the wars brewing in the far south, even the storm that has been threatening to tumble through the ridges and peaks of the mountains for the last few days and nights; all of it ceases to exist and there is only this room and the keep around them.

A low hum rumbles through the hollow of his neck. “Go to sleep, little lark,” Geralt murmurs, eyes still closed and breathing beginning to deepen and thin. Jaskier can’t see Geralt’s face, but he imagines it’s softer than usual. His brow smoothes and his lips part ever so slightly when he sleeps or dozes. Even in the mediations he does either out in the wilds or in the corners of tavern rooms, Geralt looks completely at peace when he’s teetering on the edge of wakefulness and sleep.

He’s home now, surrounded by his family, and for the first time that year, his shoulders can finally slacken and fall, and he can breathe. This far north, bundled high up in a keep many people don’t even believe exists anymore, no one will come to bother them.

Geralt’s arm is strung across him, holding his waist hostage as he has Jaskier gathered close while he dozes by the bard’s side. Just beyond Geralt is Lambert, lying on his back, like Jaskier, but with his shoulder and side pressed against Geralt’s back.

Geralt explained it to him once; the need for them to bundle together, to make sure that they’re well and alive and here. And if Jaskier finds himself at the epicentre of it all, then he’ll gladly have three well-built Witchers clambered around him. Eskel dozes by his other side, already lost to sleep as he drifts further and further down. His hold on Jaskier slackens slightly, but his arm slung over Jaskier’s shoulders and his leg strewn across the bard’s won’t move any time soon.

He’s effectively pinned; arms and legs of Witchers strewn over him and each other, a maze of limbs that he has no plans of trying to worm out of any time soon. There isn’t even a need for the blankets or furs of the bed. Witchers run warm, it seems; when they’re freshly washed and their skin is soft, and sleep threatens to take them under as they doze.

Lips press to his neck, just over his pulse-point. Jaskier hums. A smile still stretches across his lips. He’s thoroughly pleased with himself; and Geralt surely knows that. He must feel how Jaskier is almost trembling with having everyone around him, dozing and sleep-soft and willing to let him in to their huddle for the winter. Oh gods. He’s going to have this for the whole season. His smile only grows.

If Geralt can feel it, he doesn’t say anything. His arm tightens around Jaskier’s waist as he moves slightly closer; a warm line along Jaskier’s side and huddled close to him. The bed is big enough for the four of them, quite comfortably. If one of them were to roll away during the night, they would have the space for it.

And Jaskier has to wonder what it must have been like all those sun-turns ago, when they were scrawny and weary-eyed pups who banded together when their training turned harsh. A place like this, that haunts all of them in some way, with more ghosts lurking through the halls than stones making them up, can still be their home. Rooms of tormentors and teachers became their own. This is their space now; and Jaskier is more than a guest. This is his home too. A nest to fly to when the winter winds roll in.

A hand reaches over Geralt, lightly swatting at Jaskier’s thigh. “I can hear you thinking, pigeon,” Lambert grumbles, turning over on to his side. Over Geralt’s shoulder, Jaskier spots one golden eye trying to glare at him through the heavy sleep fog that is lapping over them. “Shut the fuck up.”

Geralt kicks back, aiming for Lambert’s shin. “Stop talking,” he rumbles, eyes still closed. Jaskier looks down at him fondly, noting how his brows are starting to knit together. He reaches as close to Geralt’s face as he can; his own limbs are lost to the entanglement he’s in, but he manages to brush the back of his knuckles against Geralt’s cheek, smoothening out his expression again.

Lambert all but scoffs behind him, but bundles close all the same. Eskel barely budges. Jaskier listens to his long and languid breaths, to how slowly his heart beats within the depths of his chest. Jaskier stretches his neck as best as he can, pressing a light kiss to Eskel’s forehead and watching with delight as the man’s brows knit together and his nose wrinkles. His hold on Jaskier tightens and he burrows close, setting his nose against Jaskier’s bare shoulder and breathing in a lungful of scent. The moment that he does, his frown slips away and he falls back to sleep.

They’ve all seemed to have had quite a year. Hunts and contracts and run-ins with Destiny, Jaskier can’t blame them for filling their stomachs with as much of Vesemir’s food as they could, padding down to the hot springs not long after and letting their sore muscles soak until they were soft. All Jaskier could do was bundle his wolves into their den, smiling as each of them found their own place around him and each other. And within moments, as soon as Eskel blearily waved his hands and all the candles throughout the room quenched, sleep lapped over them.

If he could have a winter of this, that would be good. Good things are few and far between these days, no matter where they go. Whispers of war and insurgents to the south, kingdoms starting to squabble among themselves, and all of the monsters, both other and human, lurking in the shadows. The Continent, and the rest of the world, can be shitty. Jaskier’s eyes have been cracked open to that throughout the years of travelling with the White Wolf.

But he trudges through the other three seasons just to have this; warm nights bundled inside of Geralt’s room, his wolves dozing and snoozing around him and keeping him safe and held. And he’ll fight every celestial and god in order to keep it this way.

He sinks further into the mattress, feeling sleep start to tug at him and lure him down. His eyelids grow heavy, and with the warmth of the room and the bodies around him, it’s a struggle to keep his eyes open. He’s just about to fall under when Geralt shuffles next to him, breathing out a long and languid sigh against Jaskier’s neck. When he speaks, it’s nothing more than a rumble that comes from the centre of his chest. “Are you still cold?”

Jaskier snorts, a sound that rouses the wolf furthest from him and earns another swat to his leg and a grumble to shut the fuck up. Geralt kicks back in Jaskier’s honour, getting Lambert in the shin.

Jaskier reaches up, carding his fingers through Lambert’s hair first, soothing the wolf’s hackles to lie down and settle. Lambert can be a bristly one, and downright cranky when the night wears on a bit too long, but Jaskier’s smile turns fond when he can feel the red wolf slowly melting under his touch. He tries to keep his voice low; something completely pointless when he’s surrounded by Witchers with enhanced hearing. “I’m much warmer now. Thank you, darling.”

Geralt knew exactly what he was doing. They all did. And still, Jaskier managed to lure three wolves into his bed. It’s not his fault. The keep is perched on the highest peak within the mountain, battered from all angles by sharp winter wind. The Witchers have their augmented bodies and don’t feel the cold, while Jaskier trembles and shivers and tries to wrap himself in as many layers as he can.

Or, as he discovered, just get a bunch of Witchers to warm him up instead.

Geralt hums against his neck. One that knows Jaskier is more than comfortable and pleased with himself, that he got what he wanted and is incredibly smug about the whole affair. But he breathes in his bard’s scent, letting it coat and settle on the roof of his mouth and lure him back to sleep. “Glad to be of service,” he murmurs, drifting off.

Jaskier beams at the ceiling, his smile unmovable as he feels each of his wolves slowly sink further into sleep, knowing that they feel safe with him to let their guards down. He revels in it.

[nelllraiser]

those magic changes | eddie & nell

TIMING: before nell was yoinked into the hellscape. LOCATION: gallows grove. PARTIES:  @specterchasing & @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: eddie and nell have some much needed post-highschool catching up while a spawn tries to catch them up. CONTAINS: sucidal ideation (eddie’s general disregard for his life).

The Bend, also known as the bad part of town, also known as Eddie’s favorite part of town, looked particularly derelict the day he and Nell decided to meet up. The sun hung low overhead, threatening to swap places with the moon at any moment. Meanwhile, within the depths of the sewers, an especially hungry vampire awaited the transition with rapidly diminishing patience. His sire botched his shot at immortality, making him a mindless spawn but, what he lacked in brains, he made up for in brutality.

Eddie parked outside a stretch of abandoned homes only a few blocks away from the spawn’s location. He took a sweeping glance at his surroundings, but there was no one in sight. His hand slipped into his back pocket and retrieved his phone before texting Nell in search of an update.

[Text to Nellspawn]: It’s 7:46 and we agreed on meeting at 7:45.

[Text to Nellspawn]: If you hate me, say it to my face, coward. ):

Nell crept up to Eddie’s car like a cat, making not a single sound as she ducked below the side of it- for once grateful that she was shorter than was ideal. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she smirked as she read the illuminated words on the screen. In the blink of an eye she was jumping from her hiding spot into Eddie’s window, slamming the screen of her phone against the driver’s side window of Eddie’s car as she yelled out. “I got your text!” Hopefully he’d at least jump a little. Or maybe she’d be so lucky as to get a small little scream that she could mock him for. 

Out of nowhere, Nell popped into Eddie’s peripheral vision and his heart leapt into his throat. He jumped in his seat, clutching his chest with wide eyes. “Holy fucking shit,” he breathed. As he gradually calmed down, his expression of terror turned into one of utter disdain. Eddie rolled down the window, glaring up at Nell. “Hey, could you do me a favor and stand in front of my car for a second?” he asked. “I promise I’ll make it quick.”

Nell practically cackled as she watched the fear very possibly shave a few years off Eddie’s life, sticking her tongue out at him through the window. “Surprise! I could tell you’re really happy to see me. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone look like that since the time I saw a toddler witnessing their first boggart going in on the peanut butter aisle of the grocery store.” Just in case he didn’t pick up on what she was insinuating, she made sure to rub it in. “Get it? I’m comparing you to a toddler. A small child.” Rolling her eyes she took a step back from the car door, giving him room should he choose to open it. “As if your car would stand a chance against me. I’m made of steel.” For a moment she flexed her arms in the classic pose, though you couldn’t begin to see anything past the looser sleeves of her jacket. There was simply something about seeing Eddie that made her feel as if she were as careless as the day she’d left White Crest. As if all the terrible things since then hadn’t come to pass. He was clean- a slate that wasn’t marred by being present for any of the atrocities of the past year or so.

Eddie willed himself to continue glaring at her, but the truth was that it felt good to hear her laugh again. Like most, Eddie viewed high school as hell on earth, but drama class with Nell gave him a sliver of hope to hold onto each day. “You’re three feet tall, you don’t get to call me a toddler.” Eddie rolled the window up and stepped out of the car. “It might take a few tries, but you know what they say about wills and ways,” he said, finally giving in to the urge to grin. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw her—graduation, maybe. Those years were more blurs than memories at this point. “Fuck it,” he said before taking a step closer and pulling her into a hug.

“I am not!” Nell stomped petulantly against the ground, not entirely helping her case. “I’m just saying if the toddler stroller fits you- who am I to argue?” Nevertheless her own grin was still bright on her lips, feeling lighter by the second the faster she and Eddie fell into old ways. It’d been..shit- it’d been almost six years, but it felt all too easy to pick up where they’d left off. “Yeah- they say Penelope Vural has the strongest will and the best ways, and no car’s ever gonna stop her.” Her laugh was lighter, less sharp as he stepped forward for a hug, and she embraced him back without hesitation. “I can’t believe you’ve gone soft on me, Carridine,” she teased before her gaze flickered over his shoulder to the nearby cemetery. “So you’re still stupidly bent on getting yourself snacked on in there?” One of the things that she and Eddie unfortunately had in common was that they were nearly impossible to sway once they’d made up their minds to do something idiotic. And she wasn’t keen to watch while White Crest swallowed up the friend she’d only just reunited with.

She hadn’t changed, not from what he’d seen so far. It felt like stepping out of a time machine and reliving a period in his life when the most pressing issues he faced revolved around timed tests and peer pressure. “It’s your fault for leaving me, Vural,” Eddie replied, giving her a tight squeeze before stepping back and shoving his hands into his jacket’s pockets. “It’s not stupid if you film it, then it’s art,” he said as he backed up a few steps closer to the rear door of his car. He turned on his heels and pulled the hand before ducking in to grab his filming equipment. “Besides, we might not even run into anything worthwhile,” he said with a shrug as he pulled the bag’s strap onto his shoulder.

The physical scars Nell had gained since seeing Eddie were tucked away under layers of clothing, always prone to the cold. Thankfully it seemed the scars on her soul had seen fit to fade into the background for the moment being as well, leaving her to freely bask in the warmth of Eddie’s company. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about going to cry in a Subway again,” she joked dryly, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m pretty sure that makes it more stupid, actually.” If this had been six years ago she most likely would have been all for diving headlong into a cemetery, and she’d still do that if it was only her going in. But there was another life at stake here as well, and it wasn’t one she was willing to risk. “Yeah- we’ll see.” She was too jaded at this point to feel optimistic about not running into something lurking in the cemetery, already knowing vampires loved to lurk in their shadows. She’d brought a stake just in case, more than ready for if things went south.

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it,” Eddie advised in response to her comment about shedding tears in sandwich shops. His hand raised and mimicked a flapping jaw at her next comment. Whether or not his plans were stupid, it wouldn’t stop him. His already poor decision-making continued to deteriorate with each passing day. He told Bex he would be careful but, as much as he didn’t want to disappoint her, he didn’t know the first thing about showing caution. And, frankly, he showed no interest in learning. Eddie’s outlook on life made being alive out to be more of a chore than a priceless gift. 

“You wanna do an intro for the channel?” he asked, digging out his camera. “Or did you somehow become the type of person who values anonymity?” Eddie’s brow raised at Nell as he walked passed her en route to the cemetery. 

“No- I don’t think I’ll be trying it, thanks. I would, but it makes it a little hard since I have something called dignity. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t expect you to be familiar with the concept. I will keep knocking it, though,” Nell teased, that same playful glint still making a home in her eyes. “Wow!” The word was stretched out as long as she could make it last, offense plain to see in the way her eyebrows had raised towards her hairline. “I can’t believe you just admitted you don’t watch any of the TikToks I make for the newspaper. You think I’d be doing that if I valued anonymity?” She still wasn’t sure how she’d managed to land the job, reveling in the pay and benefits for the minimal amount of work she did.

“You’d be lucky to have me in your intro!” In another moment she was parroting the old intro she’d seen on his channel the times she’d tuned in, letting the words fall none too sweetly as she poked fun at him. She was pretty sure the camera wasn’t even out yet- but that didn’t have her hesitating.

“Dignity,” Eddie mused, sounding as if he were trying to dredge up the definition from deep within his memory banks. “You’re right, I’m drawing a blank. Is dignity the reason you got drunk at Hayden Dane’s house party and asked everyone for soap to appease the bathroom demon? Yeah, I don’t think I have that.” He shrugged all the way up to his ears. It didn’t occur to him that a demon actually did take up roost in Hayden’s bathroom, explaining why his house burned down two days later. Eddie knew a lot about ghosts and decidedly less about infernal imps.  

“There’s a pretty big difference between newspaper TikToks and showing your face on a YouTube channel exposing White Crest’s supernatural underbelly,” he replied with a glance. “Most people don’t want to be associated with it. I actually watch your content all the time. It’s… kind of how I learned you were back in town and had been for a while.” A year of radio silence. No point acting like it didn’t sting a little.

At the sound of Nell repeating his old intro back at him, Eddie clutched his chest in despair. “No,” he whined, turning to face her again. “Let it stay dead, Nell. I’m not that person anymore.” The camera in his hand raised in her direction. “Here’s your chance at YouTube fame. If you embarrass me, I’ll get your house haunted.”

Nell rolled her eyes fondly at the memory of the little Bannik that she’d found in Hayden’s bathroom, having been utterly thrilled to stumble across a demon in her drunken state. It had been in the midst of her beginning to acquaint herself with the demon species and portals— so of course she’d been all too eager to find some soap for the little creature. “You’re lucky I was there to appease the bathroom demon. You all would have been long gone if it wasn’t for my quick thinking.” Were Banniks actually all that dangerous? Absolutely not. But Eddie didn’t need to know that. 

“Mhm- White Crest’s supernatural underbelly,” she repeated dryly, still not all that pleased that Eddie had made it his life’s mission to single handedly crack open supernatural secrecy. “You know that’s a great way to get people killed, right? What you’re doing with your videos and stuff?” 

Stepping through the threshold of the cemetery, Nell’s mouth was already propped open to give her next quip of a reply when a chill ran down her spine. Whether it was the product of being attacked from the shadows one too many times, or an actual premonition- she was suddenly quiet. She began to scan the tombstones with a sharp eye, as if something might be lurking behind them. Then...a low snarling sound, and Nell realized she’d been right to have come as Eddie’s personal bodyguard. “Shut up,” she hissed, already trying to pinpoint where the sound was coming from, a hand slipping one of her hidden stakes from its hiding place.

Eddie eyed Nell skeptically. “Uh-huh,” he uttered. The likelihood of Nell being right about the soap-loving fiend was actually pretty high, but Eddie didn’t care to admit that. He much preferred giving her a hard time, and the feeling seemed mutual enough to dissuade any guilt.

“You know what else is a great way to get people killed? Keeping them ignorant,” Eddie retaliated without missing a beat. “So long as I try to avoid outing individuals, I’m pretty sure I’m in the clear.” This was an argument he knew well, the beginning of it anyway. People didn’t usually bother trying to correct him once they knew how firmly he stood his ground. They saw him as a lost cause, he saw them as uninformed.

Nell seemed on-edge, which Eddie didn’t understand. As much time as he spent in graveyards, he never developed a sixth sense for danger. Mostly, out of lack of interest. “Yeah, that’s a great intro,” he deadpanned. The sight of a stake made him lower his camera. “What are you doing? Now’s not the time to showcase your Buffy cosplay.” He didn’t hear the growl over his own voice.

Nell had never backed down from a fight, argument, or otherwise in her entire life, her stubbornness and determination matching Eddie’s in a way that hadn’t been fully explored quite yet. After all, they’d agreed on most things in highschool, but as was often the case with the supernatural— things got far more complicated when it entered the picture, and relationships were no exception. So she was more than ready to fire back a retort before another growl pierced the night air, and she shushed Eddie once again. “I said shu-” But her words didn’t meet and end as the spawn finally leapt from the shadows taking advantage of her momentary distraction to begin its attack.

Rolling in a smooth and practiced maneuver, Nell clutched the stake like a lifeline in her hand staying low to the ground as she readied her magic should she need it. “Don’t move,” she gave Eddie another command as she tried to draw a large circle around the spawn with her footsteps. But the thing had taken one look at the stake in her hand and decided to go for the easier target. In the blink of an eye, the spawn had shifted course, turning towards Eddie with bloodlust in its eyes. 

Eddie let out a startled laugh at the sight of the vampire, his usual reaction to imminent danger. He instinctively raised the camera as Nell momentarily outsmarted the beast. Asking her where she learned a maneuver like that would have to wait.

“Gonna have to deliberately disobey that order,” Eddie said once the spawn locked onto him. A familiar surge of adrenaline flooded his system and Eddie jouked to the right, an outstretched hand commanding a small cross to fly from a nearby grave into his grip. He was lacking in the faith department, but desperate times called for desperate measures. “Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off,” he chanted as he waved it in the spawn’s direction.

The raising of his camera wasn’t lost on Nell, and she shook her head in disbelief as the spawn tore after Eddie. Really? Even now Eddie was trying to get a shot? “You can’t upload a video if you die, dumbass!” Nell yelled, already hot on the spawn’s trail while it flew after Eddie like a bat out of hell. Which...wasn’t actually all that terrible a description of the lesser vampire when Nell thought about it. At least her friend had enough sense to arm himself with some religious memorabilia, though the spawn had yet to spot it while being far too intent on having its next meal.

The creature was faster than Nell could have ever been without a hunter gene or otherwise, but thankfully she had her own tricks up her sleeve. Casting one of her oft-used spells when it came to fighting, her speed was instantly buffed, and she became a blur even quicker than the spawn. The burst was enough to get her on top of the spawn and send herself barreling into the side of it, trying to find purchase with her stake. She was by no means all that large of a projectile standing at only 5’2 and having a slight build, but the momentum she’d gathered was enough to shoot the spawn off its path. The spawn was quick to recover, snapping at the hand that held her wooden point and clamping its jaws down on her wrist. With a curse falling from her lips, the weapon was forced out of her hand. 

“What the fuck?” Eddie exclaimed when a Nell-sized blur collided with the vampire. Questions piled up, giving him a reason to outlast the encounter. The spawn recalibrated with deadly quickness, and blood subsequently flowed from Nell’s wrist. As much as Eddie liked to pretend situations like this fit his laissez faire narrative, he couldn’t stand idly by while someone he cared about bled for his mistakes.

His camera hit the ground while his feet carried him to Nell’s side. With little regard for his own wellbeing, Eddie pressed the cross to the side of the spawn’s head. It sizzled against the wrinkled skin, sending the creature reeling backwards with a shriek.

“You dropped this,” Eddie said breathlessly as he floated the stake to Nell’s uninjured hand, hoping she would take hold of it. He stayed next to her, holding out the cross to hopefully keep the beast at bay long enough for Nell to plan out her next move. But it looked hungry and Eddie couldn’t imagine it had much patience.

Nell grimaced while she did her best to ignore the injured wrist, giving Eddie a grateful nod as she caught the stake he’d floated in her direction. She couldn’t deny that she was enthralled by the encounter with the spawn, and she would have been enjoying herself even more if Eddie hadn’t been involved in the crossfire. Not for the first time, she felt like she was back in the Ring, fighting for her life and the winnings of those who’d bet on her. She couldn’t deny that she missed the rush of battling for her life, and the roar of the crowd. 

The cross move had been smart on Eddie’s part, and Nell supposed she should at least count herself lucky that he knew enough to know what had the ability to ward off vampires. “Just go-” she began to say, unwilling to risk Eddie’s life any further. She didn’t wait to see if he’d obeyed, once again rushing forward with a speed she shouldn’t have possessed. The stake in her good hand plunged forwards through the spawn’s chest, but her efforts were fruitless beyond making the creature even angrier. At the last second it’d darted to the side, shifting just enough for the point to miss its heart.

With a growl of frustration, Nell decided she was done with trying to hit a moving target. She kicked a leg into the air to hook it behind the thing’s head, using her momentum to swing herself up by the crook of her knee until she’d sat herself on the spawn’s shoulders, hands placed on either side of its head. “Just gotta bring the inside out,” she reminded herself as she gripped her magic tight. She could feel it’s sludge-like blood responding to her will as it’s head began to fill with more than it could hold. Pulling her hands from the creature’s head, she tugged on the blood she’d pooled, bursting the spawn’s head in an explosion of brains and viscera. With the remains of the spawn painting her front, she slipped from it’s twitching body, catching her breath while she looked to see where Eddie might have gone. 

Nell told him to go, but Eddie couldn’t look away, let alone move. She climbed the vampire with precision and put a bloody end to it. He went momentarily slack-jawed. “What the fuck?” he breathed, sounding like a broken record. Eddie trudged towards Nell, remembering a final obstacle stood between him and the answers he wanted so badly. He placed the cross in his back pocket, making a mental note to return it to its rightful grave before they left, and reached out for her injured wrist.

“Can I take a look at it?” he asked timidly, wanting to make up for the harm he caused her. “Or do you have some kind of spell for that, too?” He eyed her curiously, fine with either answer. If she had a handle on her blood loss, he would need to figure out a new way to make tonight up to her, but he could work with that. “I think the best I can do is a band-aid, anyway.” He offered her an apologetic shrug.

Nell fixed Eddie with a disapproving look the moment she realized he hadn’t actually moved an inch since she’d told him to leave. “You know- usually the best way not to get killed is to listen to me.” Mindlessly, she let him take her wrist, not entirely having expected him to ask for it, but offering it nonetheless. Her head tilted in amusement as he mentioned spells, realizing he’d already pegged what was going on. “You mean you’re not buying the whole- I just got really buff after highschool or something like that?” To be fair she had gained more muscle, but it was of a leaner make than anything a bodybuilder might have. 

“Well- it’s not really...a spell but-” As he eyed her wrist she willed the blood to clot where the skin had been broken, once again flexing her bloodkinesis as the wound scabbed over. “I can just do that for the most part. I never really learned a lot of healing.” She gave him a smile anyway, coming down from the high of the kill slowly but surely. “You can still put a band-aid on it though, if you want,” she teased, though thankful for his concern.

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” Eddie replied flippantly. For Nell’s sake, he kept his indifference towards death light-hearted. Whichever way the wind blew, Eddie didn’t mind much. Either he lived another day, or he didn’t. In his opinion, both options seemed eerily similar. “We can play pretend, if you want, but I’d rather pick your brain about magic.” He knew another spellcaster, Bex, but she didn’t seem as advanced as Nell. “God, how did it take me this long to figure it out?”

Nell healed herself, in a sense, and Eddie’s eyes widened with delight. “So cool,” he said, catching her gaze again. “You don’t have to coddle me. I get it, you’re all tough and scary now. Way beyond band-aids.” As he spoke, he meandered back to the grave he’d stolen from and returned the cross with a quiet apology. Ghost or not, they deserved more respect than he’d given them. 

Returning to Nell, Eddie knew better than to think they’d walk back to his car without a good lecture. “I’m fully prepared to be scolded now, by the way. Hit me with your best shot.”

Eddie might have thought his jokes about dying were landing decently, but Nell’s face didn’t so much as twitch into a smile as he spoke the words. After the last year...after the last six years she knew that death wasn’t a joke. She supposed it made sense that Eddie would have a skewed vision of it as a medium, but that didn’t mean she had to encourage him. Maybe he’d feel differently if he’d watched someone he loved die, woken up covered in her blood with her headless body lying next to him on the ground. Shaking her head to dispel the dark memory, she simply sent him another stern glare. “No fun in dying, really.” She wasn’t going to entertain his frivolity when it came to his life. But magic was easier to talk about, and something that wasn’t tainted by her trauma. Her voice grew lighter again, curious to know what he himself was curious about. “Sure- what do you wanna know? Or how much do you know already? It probably just took you so long cause you couldn’t see around your giant hair,” she teased, leaning on an old laugh. 

Another little smile crossed her face while she watched his reaction to the magic, always thinking it endearing the reactions of those who were less acquainted with it. “Actually I’ve always been scary and tough, thank you very much,” she joked with a wrinkle of her nose— even though she’d gotten in more than her fair share of fights in highschool. 

Picking up his busted camera from the ground, Nell thumbed some dirt from it’s lens before taking a closer look, trying to figure out if a simple repair spell might have it back in working condition. He’d asked for a lecure, and she was left wondering when she’d become the kind of person who doled them out. “This isn’t a game, Eddie,” she began seriously. She should have known the levity of the start of the evening wouldn’t last. Not in a place like White Crest. “You can’t just waltz into supernatural infested areas without protection. And you shouldn’t be doing it in the first place.”

Nell didn’t laugh, but that was nothing new. Eddie understood that most people took death more seriously than he did, and he knew they had their reasons. On the other hand, their solemnity didn’t invalidate his indifference. He preferred not caring, it made life easier. The subject-change suited him just fine, however. “The conditioner I use doesn’t help either, eats at the brain cells, y’know,” he said, going along with her joke. “I’ll be honest, I don’t know much. Magic’s fascinating, but I’ve always been satisfied with the whole telekinesis thing, so I didn’t do much digging. So, feel free to talk to me like I’m an idiot, not that you need my encouragement,” he teased.

“Taking on a vampire is a little different than maiming Cindy S,” he playfully corrected her. Eddie knew Nell had never been a push-over, but this was groundbreaking as far as he was concerned.

As expected, she provided words of warning. He nodded along absently, his eyes fixed on the camera in her hands. If he kept up at this rate, he wouldn’t be filming for much longer, anyway. Lack of equipment meant lack of content. “And, why is that?” he asked curiously when she finished bending his ear. He figured he knew the reason, or at least the jist, but he wanted to give Nell the benefit of the doubt. Maybe, her reasoning wouldn’t be as boring as everyone else’s.

“We both know that’s a lie because you don’t have any brain cells to eat,” Nell commented dryly, wishing they could have stayed in the sun of their earlier conversation, the lightness of it having been reminiscent of simpler days. But these weren’t simpler days anymore, and apparently the spawn and whatever bullshit this town would toss out next hadn’t wanted her to forget that for more than the half an hour it’d taken for her and Eddie to get here and get into the cemetery. “You know telekinesis is basically just another form of magic,” Nell supplied, remembering saying something similar to Blanche. An ache of longing shot through her as she thought of her best friend, wishing they could be physically closer, but knowing that Whtie Crest had essentially sapped the flush from her friend’s cheeks, and the joy that was meant to color them. “It’s cool you can work with it though since not all mediums can.” She assumed he knew as much. “But magic…it’s built on a few core things...intention, will, focus…” She didn’t know if this was the best place for the conversation the more she looked around. For all they knew there could be another spawn lurking, or a fully fledged higher vampire who was thirsty. “We should talk about this somewhere else, though.” 

“Cindy S fucking deserved it,” Nell joked in reply, honestly having half forgotten the way she’d broken the snotty girl’s nose while in highschool until Eddie brought it up. “And she was already halfway to being a bloodsucker with the way she acted.” 

Nell’s annoyance grew as he seemed more preoccupied with the camera than herself. “You’re not even pretending to listen,” she accused, the displeasure plain in her voice. “Because you’re either gonna end up dead or have someone else end up dead or get hurt.” She waved her wrist as a reminder, not above using it in a moment like this. “And maybe you don’t mind being a ghost, but it’s not fucking fun for the people who care about you.”

Hearing Nell refer to something he possessed an innate knack for as ‘magic’ brought a grin to Eddie’s face, a grin that grew larger when she called attention to how rare of a gift it was. Telekinesis wore him out more often than not. Even now, he felt the dull throb of an oncoming headache making itself known. But, despite the pain and exhaustion, Nell’s opinion made him feel proud. “Yeah, it can be a little tricky,” he admitted, thinking back to Willow propelling him across her living room. “Right, right, totally. Time and place, I gotcha.” Eddie wouldn’t have minded loitering in the cemetery until daybreak, but Nell was the one recovering from a vampire bite.

“Yeah, well, all busting her face accomplished was convincing her parents to let her get a nose-job.” Eddie pursed his lips at the resurgence of long-ignored memories. Present day left a lot to be desired, but nothing could convince him to relive high school. 

Eddie opened his mouth to assure Nell he usually went on these adventures alone, but her next comment caused him to immediately slam his jaw shut. His brows knitted together as he considered her. He wanted to argue, to insist that no one cared about him enough for it to matter. He would’ve used her as an example, calling attention to how long it took her to reach out to him. If people cared so much, they would act like it, and he wouldn’t feel so alone. But, admitting to feeling that way would’ve made him sound pathetic.

“I’m not gonna die, don’t be so dramatic,” he said, turning away to start walking towards his car. “I’ll try to be more careful.” Eddie hoped she wouldn’t call his bluff. “Do you need a ride?” he asked over his shoulder, eager to change the subject.

“A new nose job, and the satisfaction of leaving me and my friend alone,” Nell jokingly corrected. Cindy had been one of the ones to make fun of Blanche and the way she seemingly spoke to herself at times when addressing a ghost. She wasn’t necessarily proud of the temper she’d had in highschool, and referring to it as past tense was most likely generous— but she liked to think she’d improved from the even more violent youth she’d been. Besides, she’d break someone’s nose for Blanche any day. 

“You don’t know that,” Nell rebutted instantly, still annoyed at how lightly Eddie seemed to be taking everything. “You know White Crest loves to eat people up and spit them out.” How many people had gone missing or been killed in their highschool class alone? Too fucking many. Perhaps she was leaning a little too hard on her personal feelings when it came to the matter, tired of watching people she cared about die, but if it made Eddie live another day she wasn’t opposed to tough love. “There’s a thousand and one things out there that could kill you, and you’re throwing yourself at all of them. I’m not being dramatic.”

After years of separation, Nell couldn’t tell if his words of being more careful were sincere or something he’d said to placate her, but she figured this was another conversation they shouldn’t have in the middle of the cemetery with beasts potentially lurking in the shadows. “I’m not done with you,” she clarified, not wanting him to think he’d gotten out of this. “But I’ve got my bike that I need to take home. Thanks for the offer, though.”

White Crest’s history didn’t bother Eddie. He coped with his surroundings by romanticizing how capricious the town was rather than fighting against the inevitable. When people questioned him, he often wondered what made them so certain they knew how he should live his life better than he did. Whatever it was had yet to be explained to him in understandable terms. He didn’t want to argue with Nell anymore.

“I said I’ll try to be more careful,” he reiterated.

Eddie stopped when Nell politely turned down his offer and turned to face her. It only felt right to pay proper attention to their goodbye. “Don’t mention it,” he deflected. “It was good seeing you again, Nell. Fingers crossed, next time will be a little cozier.”

[kyloswarstars]

Come on! • Part 1 – „A Stranger“

Peaky Blinders • Mini-Series

Vendetta had brought your family back to Small Heath for a while. As a Blinder you received orders from Tommy like everyone else did as well. Your current one: Keep eyes on Bonnie Gold. When you first heard those words you wouldn’t have dared to imagine this order would take a complete turn on you.

Pairing • Bonnie Gold x Shelby!Reader

Words • 2.1k

A/N • This Mini-Series is following the events of Peaky Blinders S4 (means: SPOLERS). Lemme know if you like ittttt 🌚

Come on! • masterlist

/////

There was one rule you had set for yourself: Never. Fucking. Care. You did what you pleased. With anything, anyone, at anytime. Life was too short – perfect example: your brother John – to stick to someone else’s ideals or follow the law. Or, worst of all, society’s expectations.

Being a Shelby was innate. Being a Blinder was a choice. One your brothers may have disliked because you were together with Finn, the youngest Shelby, but… you didn’t care. The first time you stole a Peaky cap and caused havoc was thrilling. Who said only the boys could have fun? Yes, society. And what did you do about that? Exactly, you didn’t fucking care.

You should probably care a little more sometimes as it would be good for your own health, but after John passed recently, that thought was thrown in the cut before put into reality.

Being back in Small Heath, due to the vendetta, didn’t automatically mean everything was back to normal. A lot of things were different. Your temper, boiling under your skin and making you want to destroy something, was the same as ever. It was fuelled by dismay over the grief that was still lurking. Every other day it dragged you into this black cloud. The strange thing was that it felt so soft, so easy to fall into it. And once you let yourself fall and started to grieve, it seized you tighter, not wanting to let you breathe again. Once you cried, you wouldn’t be able to stop. So, whenever you felt that grief creeping up on you, you harshly removed yourself out of this black cloud before you couldn’t stop missing John anymore.

One of the disadvantages of running away from your feelings: Your temper, this always hungry beast inside of your chest, asked for an outlet. Throughout the day this outlet came in the shape of boxing. Even as a kid you had imitated Arthur throwing punches whenever something was troubling you. The physical exhaustion numbed your thoughts. But in the nights, boxing wasn’t so easy. Punching air didn’t do shit.

Standing in your old room at Watery Lane, already having pulled every piece of clothing out of the wardrobe and the pillow cut open, feathers flowing around the room, you took a look in the mirror. The way you viewed yourself was normal to you – you knew it wasn’t how most of the others viewed themselves, though. You just didn’t care at all for your appearance. The time people spent with worrying over their appearances was just wasted lifetime to you. What did it matter how you looked in the end? Everyone dies no matter what you look like.

Dead. John is dead. Tiny black clouds were reaching out for you, trying to make you sit on them and carry you into their nightmare land. Not with me.

Not being able to throw your fists into a punching bag, you closed them around the scissors you found in a drawer. In the rush of letting out air, getting free of that intense feeling of being trapped, you didn’t care at all when you took the scissors and started to chop your hair of – strand for strand.

All of the cut hair gathered at your bare feet, tickling between your toes. With every trim your breathing returned to a steadier rhythm. The mess on your head, when the scissors couldn’t cut anymore hair, didn’t allow you to fully settle yet. Opening the door and glancing into the hallway, none of your siblings seemed to be awake – every door was closed but one. You rushed to the only door being open: John’s old room. And indeed you found an old bar of shaving soap and brush in his bedside cabinet.

Picking up your knife, which had been laying on the floor with your shoes, you soaked the shaving brush in some water, swirled it over the soap and applied the rising foam on the remnants of your hair. It was the first time ever you felt a blade being pushed over your head and it was great. You could almost hear every single hair being relentlessly shaved off. The thoughts wouldn’t leave your brain faster, without hair in the way, but you were finally able to fall asleep now, once you were done shaving your head.

/////

Sun was just starting to rise outside, meaning you didn’t sleep that long, but at least a little bit. Throwing on some pants and a shirt, you grabbed your bag and cap after brushing your teeth.

The betting shop was still quiet but that would change soon. You planned on being out of the house by then.

Arthur was sitting in the kitchen, having some breakfast and sipping on his tea. When he saw you coming in, he choked on a sip. Crashing the cup down to the table, he coughed it out, looking at you in shock. „Y/N, what the fuck happened to your hair?“

„It’s gone,“ you shrugged.

„Yeah, I can see that.“

„So… then you know what happened,“ you teased and grabbed a slice of bread, making your way to the door.

„Nah, you’re ain’t going nowhere.“ Arthur got up and pointed over to the betting shop. „Tommy has an order for you.“ A small chuckle escaped him. „And I’m gonna go with you to see his reaction on your baby head. Can’t miss out on that.“

If you cared you would’ve hit him for saying you looked like a baby with the bald head but you really, really didn’t care. It was the awaiting order which you cared about. You just wanted to leave for King Maine’s, not being bothered with a job to do first.

When you entered the office, Tommy didn’t look up. Only when you reached his desk did he spend a second on diverting his eyes from papers to Arthur and you. For a moment, Tom’s eyes were fixated on your head, you knew because they were looking to high up for the goal being your eyes, but he didn’t care. Just like you.

„New order, Y/N. Keep an eye on Bonnie Gold when you’re at the boxing hall. Need to know how he’s keeping up.“

Bonnie Gold? The guy who had shot a man at John’s funeral, rode by with his father on a horse and later killed another Italian, one of Changretta’s men? „I’m not a fucking babysitter, Tom.“

„You’re not. You’re my messenger. So go do your work.“

„Even worse,“ you muttered under your breath, but that was how Blinder business worked. You did as you were told.

Leaving Watery Lane before anyone else could stop you, your excitement was slightly impaired. King Maine’s was your hiding spot where you went to when everything got too much. You punched your thoughts out, your grief and also your fucking heart because some days even feeling it beat in your chest seemed to be too much to take. All you could hope for was to have some peace before he would show up at King Maine’s. 

That wasn’t the case, though. Bonnie Gold was already there. Of course he would be.

Your immediate reluctance to ‚keep an eye on someone‘ faded as you entered the hall and stood there, watching him for a minute. It wasn’t even eight and Bonnie was already sweat-soaked, fully invented into mauling a punch bag. That was some dedication right there. 

Leaning on a pillar and still observing him, some of the other boxers greeted you silently. For a long time you were visiting King Maine’s now and never has there been any strange glances or lewd whistles. Perks of being a Shelby probably.

His fists slowed down. Bonnie placed some final punches then let go of the sandbag, went over to a bench, and grabbed a bottle. While he was drinking he looked around and eventually spotted you.

You didn’t hide you were watching him. Actually, you stared right back in his eyes from afar. Until Maine shouted from the other end of the boxing hall to not distract the Gold boy. Cautiously regaining your balance, you grabbed your bag and went to change in this super tiny lumber room. It was your own personal changing room, provided by King Maine with some reluctance. But as a Shelby one of your brothers, if not yourself, always made sure you were treated the right way.

Starting your boxing session, your thoughts that had kept you awake all night until you chopped of the hair, were slowly starting to fade. You hit them right into the punch bag where you wished they would stay forever. From time to time you felt two eyes on your back. And whenever you turned around you stared back at those two eyes, Bonnie Gold’s eyes.

The first boxers who had come to King Maine’s studio in the morning were replaced by a few other locals by now. It were always the same guys here. Fellas, pretty loyal to the Shelby’s, and most of them trying to become a Blinder one day. But except for a handful they were just pricks, all mouth and no trousers. If you gave them a cap to cut someone’s eyes they would probably shit themselves.

By noon you had tired your lungs out, your clothes were soaked in sweat, and you granted yourself a minute on a bench before you would go back to Watery Lane for lunch.

Bonnie Gold was still there. He walked over to you when you started to unwrap the bandages on your hands.

„I know you’re supposed to watch me.“ His voice didn’t sound like you had expected it. It was calm and almost a little teasing. 

Only looking up for a second, you turned your attention back to the bandages. Untangling them was a profession you still hadn’t managed after all those years. „A strange way to start a conversation with a stranger.“

„You’re not a stranger.“ He sat down next to you.

I didn’t invite you to sit with me, you thought. „I never talked to you before so I would call you a stranger.“ 

„Okay, then let me restart.“ He turned towards you and reached out his hand for you to shake it. „I’m Bonnie Gold.“

„I know.“ You didn’t shake his hand as a matter of principle. Strangers, even though he wasn’t really a stranger, didn’t get body contact from you. Maybe during a training fight in the ring but not because society expected you to shake someone’s hand even though you rather liked to keep your personal space.

„See! You know who I am. And I know who you are.“ He didn’t mind you not shaking his hand; he only grinned at himself.

„Doesn’t change the fact you’re still a stranger.“ You rolled up the bandages, which you were finally able to wrap off your hands, and shot him a smirk. 

„A stranger you’re supposed to watch.“ Bonnie winked at you. „But Tommy gave me orders too.“

The question as to why he even knew you were supposed to keep your eyes on him popped up but you really didn’t care for that. „Well, there are two things you need to know, Bonnie Gold. First thing: Tommy gives out orders to everyone, including me. I may have gotten an order but the second thing is: I don’t do things, not even following Tommy’s orders, if I don’t enjoy doing them.“

„Is that so?“ His smirk still didn’t leave his lips. He seemed to quite enjoy this conversation.

„Indeed,“ you confirmed your previous statement, kinda playing along with this vibe.

Bonnie leaned over a little and lowered his voice so only you were able to hear him. „Didn’t your brother also tell you to stay away from dangerous men?“ 

Leaning in as well, mimicking him: „You think you’re a dangerous man? To me?“ This thought made you actually laugh out loud for a second.

„I killed men,“ he stated in all seriousness.

„So did I,“ you returned, enjoying the blindsided expression on his face. „I guess that equals it out.“

Bonnie Gold slowly found his grin again, stood with his hands up in surrender. „One point for you.“ He walked off but decided to come back once more. „If you’re willing to we should get in the ring together for a training. I think this could be interesting.“

Contemplating it, you stood as well, slowly backing up. „Tomorrow at seven. I promise I’ll go easy on you.“ Hearing him laugh at your words when you turned and left for the small lumber room, you had to grin again. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad having to keep your eyes on him. He was kinda… cute.

[serararku]

Dancing in the Sand Pt 2

Thalen had plans of his own out here, but what he didn’t realize was he would be Mizuna’s packmule. Up and down, back and forth, he had to haul all sorts of boxes, all while the tribe simply watched; not even Era lifted a finger to help, as she was too busy trying to get Vahli out of the barrow so Mizuna could get some work done without him breathing down her neck or worse-- ripping out Thalen's. By the time he had carried the last box from the back of the wagon, all the tribewives were inside, standing between the ‘scaleborn’ and their precious kittens.

"They ain't never gonna hand them babies over until it's far too late." Thalen scoffed in between huffs, choosing to plop down on a box to watch this disaster for himself. "Just look at em. They all want them kittens cured but none a'them are willin' to trust ya."

"Not even the older children want to get near me, huh?" Mizuna tried to hide her disappointment, but it was painted all over her face. Like spirits lurking within the edge of a haunted forest, the kittens stared at Mizuna from behind the legs of their mothers, curious, but overly cautious; they've encountered lizards before, but not ones that spoke in a foreign language and wore clothes. The protective tribewives weren't exactly making it any easier for their children to trust this stranger either.

So it fell to Yuun to once again demonstrate why she was the Favored Wife for over twenty summers, and why she would have continued to hold that title if she didn’t become a Matron. The woman gently yet firmly pushed through the group of women with her youngest and final daughter bundled in her grasp. She stared through Mizuna as if she was searching for any trace of treachery, but all she saw was concealed excitement and tension. The language barrier and stark difference in cultures made conveying her emotions to this scaled stranger difficult, but it wasn’t going to stop her; Vesri was just as precious as all of her other daughters, and if anything were to happen to any of them, there would be hell to pay. Yuun continued to stare into Mizuna’s eyes while she slowly offered the bundled infant, before muttering in her native language. The Raen woman turned to glance over at Thalen and asked, “What did she say?”

“She said every time she yelps in pain you’ll pay it back a hundredfold, Doc.” His words were… concerning. “Just be careful, aye? One word from these wives and both’ve us ain’t makin’ it outta here alive.”

Mizuna did her best to prove she meant no ill will to any of the children, and treating the youngest of the Zu Tribe would certainly help convince the others. Only the fat round face of the kitten poked out of the cotton blanket, her cheeks flushed red and her eyes and nose watery. She was so light and delicate… Mizuna wasn’t sure this woman was even handing her over until she took a step back to return to the other tribewives. Immediately she could tell the kitten was suffering from Crimson Flux, a serious and contagious disease, but one that was easily curable. Carefully she sat down next to her tools and tonics to begin returning their children to better health. The burden of proof that outsiders could help them was now sitting squarely on her shoulders.

But first? A bath.

Mizuna first pulled the infant out of her warm blanket and lowered her naked body into a bowl of cool water. She began to hum as she rubbed soft soap against her skin, and kneaded shampoo through her tiny silver tufts of hair. Vesri seemed to be enjoying it-- she even opened her bright orange eyes and reached up to grasp at Mizuna’s fingers. The bitter medicine was sweetened with blood strawberries, and it went down smoother than honey. Next came the soothing balm she spread over the baby's scalp; not only did the spearmint help cool her off, but the hair loss would be reversed in no time. Mizuna dried her off from ears to tail, before swaddling her with the blanket. The child wiggled and struggled in her cotton cocoon for only a few moments, before she slowly closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

“Thalen? Can you translate for me?” Mizuna asked, causing him to perk up.

“Hmn? Aye.”

“Their children have Crimson Flux. I can easily cure them with the medicines I have, but they will only catch it again if they continue to drink contaminated water. Their drinking sources need to be purified.” Thalen cleared his throat and began speaking that peculiar language; she hoped he was repeating everything she said verbatim, but given the shocked looks on the womens’ faces, whatever he was telling them was making them worried. The woman before stepped to Mizuna again and smiled when she gave her back the swaddled kitten. The tribewives began huddling around her as she slowly left the chamber, but once they all got a good whiff of the mint in the baby’s hair and saw how clean her skin was, it was over.

They swarmed Mizuna, picking up the bottles and prying open the crates she had set aside in search for more of that shampoo and spearmint; Thalen wisely rose from his seat and gave them a wide berth once they approached him and the other boxes. “Wait-! Ahck-!” It was no use! Once one of them found the case of spearmint, they all began humming and whistling at each other, squirting the contents into their hands to rub into their hair. To make matters worse, they began stripping out of their clothes to rub the shampoo into a lather on their bodies. Even the kittens reluctantly followed their mothers and joined in, and before long the soap that was supposed to be used to clean all the children was all over the place. “Thalen! Where did you-- Thalen?!”

But Thalen was long gone. He decided to make himself scarce once the commotion started; he wasn’t about to further risk the Nunh’s ire by staying in the same chamber with his now naked and soapy harem. He resigned himself to the back of the wagon, where he had 'acquired' a bottle from the estate’s private collection-- Black Galleon Whiskey, a forty-summer-old sour mash that ran almost a hundred thousand gil a barrel. Fortunately for Thalen it was already half-empty and gathering dust, and with luck it's absence wouldn't be noticed. Slowly he lifted himself up to sit inside the back, letting his feet dangle off as he popped the cork out and brought the drink to his lips.

"There you are… Tia." Thalen glanced up to find one of the tribewives headed straight for him. It was the one with the infant, though her baby was notably not with her. "Why have you come here? Were you sizing up your opponent… and the prizes for being victorious?"

"No." Thalen answered, glancing around nervously. There was nowhere else he could go-- not without pushing her out of the way. Only a fool with a deathwish would put his hands on a Nunh’s tribewife. "Just… paying off my debts…"

"He's not here. Vahli is currently being tended to by a few of his wives so the scaleborn woman can do her job." An amused grin spread across the woman's face as she took another step forward. "You're one of the oldest Tia I've ever seen. Are you some sort of hero in the tribeless lands?"

"I'm a lot of things, ma'am, but a hero isn't one of them." He scratched at the scruff on his chin, doing his damnedest to avoid looking at her; there was not a shred of doubt in his mind that this woman was Era’s mother-- they could almost pass for twins.

She took another step forward. "You stared death in the eyes. Vahli could have snapped your neck like a twig between his fingers, but you didn't even flinch. I think you're braver than you think." She glanced over her shoulder to check if anyone was close enough to hear them, but the warriors were out on patrol, the huntresses were guarding the barrow, and the other wives were busy indulging themselves;, they were both alone out here. "How did you come to know my eldest daughter?"

"She saved my life up in Mor Dhona." He explained, choosing his words carefully. "Without her searching for that poor bastard Tage, I would have bled out and died."

The woman's eyes flickered. "So your life belongs to Era, not the scaleborn."

"Yes… that's the truth of i-"

"But you mated with my daughter, didn't you?" Instinctively his ears pinned to his head when he was caught off guard, but she didn’t bother waiting to hear his excuses. "Vahli would leave your corpse for the carrion if he knew you were one of her partners. But not to worry…" She said with a devious grin. "Your secret is safe with me... for now. Lie to me again and I might go back on my word. So…" She stepped to him again, close enough to touch. "Why are you really here?"

It was blackmail of the foulest kind. Thalen swallowed dryly, his throat parched and his thirst ignited; the last thing on his mind was entertaining a tribewife, no matter how good she looked-- he didn’t come here and risk his life to sate his lust. “... my brother was butchered by Rarku Nunh twenty summers ago. I… wanted to reclaim his bones and give him the proper burial he deserves.”

Her ears pinned against her head, and her grin faltered. “I’m sorry to hear that… but if your brother passed away such a long time ago, his bones are either buried deep in the sand or ground into dust. It could take you time to find his remains… time you don’t have.”

Thalen knew the truth of it, but it still stung regardless; Nolas was just a boy when that grown man killed him like he was putting down a crippled animal. The sunken face of his half-dead brother flashed in his head and he was brought back to that terrible place all over again. Through labored breaths he blinked and forced himself to try to swallow back that panic, but all he could do was focus on the gargled voice of the greatest man in his life, screaming at him to run.

“You poor thing…” Yuun whispered, snapping him out of his trance when she brushed the back of her hand against his chin. “You were there… yes, I remember… that little boy my Nunh spared from that grisly sport. Twenty summers ago-- how old were you?”

Through a scratchy throat and a sudden headache Thalen answered with, “It was my sixth summer…”

“The bones may be gone…” She started, tracing his bottom lip with her thumb. “... but our Tia Keeper takes the weapons and armor after every battle to better train our boys. Perhaps he still has that small wooden shield?” His eyes lit up with newfound hope; even a memento of his brother would be good enough. Her grin returned when she saw his spirits lifted. “You can’t wander around the territory searching for him… Vahli is itching to find just one good excuse to take your head after that display of disrespect. But I can take you there myself. Would you like that, Tia?”

"Going out of your way to help a complete stranger like me?" Thalen huffed as he perked a brow. “I find it hard to believe this is coming from a place of charity.”

“How right you are.” Her hands reached behind her neck to tug at a few threads, causing her furs to cascade down her body. Thalen’s heart began to pound as she climbed up on top of him, using a hand to push him onto his back. “A favor for a favor… mate with me like you would if I were Era. I want to know what it feels like to be mounted by a young Tia again…”

“S-someone will hear us…!” He protested, placing a hand on her shoulder to get her to stop.

She leaned back just enough to grab the door and swing it closed behind her, plunging the inside of the wagon in darkness. He felt her press herself against his body, her hot breath tickling his neck and ear. 

“Then we better be quiet…”

[hypnoticwinter]

Down the Rabbit Hole part 11

The drive is short and bumpy. The two men sitting next to me are relatively motionless, only moving when the vehicle jostles them. The vehicle itself is loud and powerful-sounding; a diesel engine, I reckon, just listening to the throaty growl of it.

Gravity puts its hand on my chest and gently presses me back into the seat and I realize we’re angling up an incline. We must be driving out of the cratered aperture of the Pit. There are twists and turns but the driver takes it slow and we eventually level out, and then the vehicle is stopping and one of the men next to me gets out and they shove in someone else roughly, almost knocking me over. The man on my other side catches me and pushes me back upright and then I’m knocking shoulders with whoever they pushed in. “Peter?” I whisper as the car starts back up, and I feel him turn his head towards me.

“Shh,” he says, but I can tell it’s him, and for a moment I feel reassured, and then I realize that if he got caught as well I have no support on the outside, hell, nobody even knows I’m in here, and my stomach drops further.

“What about Bao?” I whisper.

The man to my left tells me to shut up at the same time Peter does and I sink back in the seat, the edge of the handcuffs grinding painfully into the little nub of bone at the edge of my wrist, feeling appropriately chastened.

With my head in a hood like this all I can see is Rey getting splattered against the white concrete of the Pit’s floor. I see it over and over again, on repeat in the darkness behind my eyelids, in the darkness of the hood when I open my eyes to try and get at least a little visual input to focus on. The fabric is too opaque, I can’t see anything, I can’t even tell whether I opened my eyes or not.

I realize, as I feel a drop of salty liquid edging at the corner of my mouth, that I’m crying.

The vehicle rumbles along for another ten minutes before rattling to a stop, and then the men pile us out and, one hand on my shoulder and the other in the small of my back, push us forward and into some sort of building. We pass through hallways and corridors and then we’re pushed down into chairs. I can still sense Peter next to me, sitting down just like I am, and I can hear the clink of his cuffs same as mine as the men uncuff us and then recuff us with our hands in front of our bodies. Small mercies, I think. My shoulders had been starting to get tired.

“Peter?” I whisper.

“I’m here,” he says.

“Oh, thank god,” I mutter. If I’d been alone it would have been ten times worse.

“Be cool,” he tells me.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him.

“Shh,” he says again, and I roll my eyes beneath the hood.

“Look, I didn’t –“ I start, but he shushes me harder.

I can feel myself starting to get angry but then I bite it back down. I’m really not in a position to talk; arguably this is all my fault. If I’d just left Rey, just let him crawl to the orifice, he’d be the only one in trouble, we probably could have gotten back through the pipe and left by the time they’d seen him. But I hadn’t had the heart to –

“Take their hoods off,” someone says, and then somebody’s hands are at my neck and I feel a tiny choke of fear before they grab ahold of the hood and roll it off me and I have to screw my eyes shut against the bright light assaulting them. I manage to crack one eye open into a squint and see a grimy interrogation room straight out of Law and Order or something. Bright ceiling lamp, check; metal table, check; massive mirror along one wall, probably two-way, check; grubby balding man with several days’ worth of stubble sitting across from us, arms folded, check.

Next to me Peter is blinking away the stabbing light of the overhead lamp but I’m too busy staring at the man across from us. “Hey, wait a minute,” I say. “I know you.”

He colors brightly. “Ah yes,” he says. “The reporter. Who knew you’d be the person involved in smuggling people into the Pit.”

Peter looks over at me. “Shut up,” he says very seriously.

“I think she wants to talk,” the man says. “Why don’t you keep talking?”

“Are you a cop?” I ask him.

“No,” he says. Next to me Peter laughs.

“They wouldn’t let cops in here,” he tells me.

“So what authority do you have to hold us here?” I ask the man. He barks out a short, humorless laugh.

“You two do realize how much trouble you’re in, don’t you?”

“I assume you’re about to tell us anyway,” I grumble.

“You’ve broken into a high-security Federal installation,” he says. “I don’t know how you did it but trust me, we’ll find out. The penalties for what you’ve done are –“

“Yeah,” I say. “I know. I did the research. Five hundred dollar fine and felony trespassing. You want to hand us over to the cops now?”

“Roan,” Peter groans.

“There’s also the small issue of the man you got killed,” he says, inclining his head towards me. My mouth drops open.

“Excuse me,” I start. “I was not the person who shot him.”

“Roan,” Peter says again, “shut up.”

I whip my head around to stare at him but he stares back, unafraid, eyes narrowed, and I feel myself falter for a moment. “Could you be a little more helpful?” I ask him. “All I’m trying to –“

“You won’t be able to talk your way out of this,” Peter tells me.

I screw my mouth shut and look away from him. The man across the table from us leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “How did you two get in?” he asks.

My cheeks are still burning and my stomach is a queasy hell of apprehension and fear and anger. I don’t trust myself to answer so I don’t say anything. Peter is equally silent. The man gives us a moment or two then sighs. “It’ll be a lot easier for you if you just tell us,” he says. Peter looks over at me.

“Don’t say anything,” he warns me again, and I roll my eyes at him.

“Yeah, I know,” I snap. “I’m not stupid.”

“Oh really?” he asks, giving me a sardonic little grin. I can feel my blood starting to boil. Then he turns and deliberately looks away from me and I nearly snap, nearly, except somehow I manage to bite it back down. The man across from us is watching the exchange like it was a soap opera.

“So,” he says after a moment, “I take it getting somebody killed wasn’t part of the plan?”

We are silent.

“What were you trying to do?” he asks me. “Surely you knew that if you tried to go down the main orifice you’d be spotted.”

“I was –“ I start, and then cut myself off.

“Go on.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Mm,” the man says, a little noncommittal grunt.

The door slams open and we all jump. A short, willowy woman in a jumpsuit walks in, eyes fixed on the man across from us as though she were a shark and he a tuna. She has a white padded patch strapped across one eye and beneath it I can see mottled, scarred flesh, but her other eye is broad and green and fiery, set in her cheek like a jewel.

“Mister Farquhar,” she says. “Get out.”

Farquhar swallows, but stands his ground. “I wasn’t aware you were still on the base.”

She stares at him for a moment. “Farquhar,” she says, “you blithering idiot, I live on the base. You really thought they wouldn’t wake me up for what happened tonight?”

“I just thought –“

“No, you didn’t think at all. Why are you here? Why are you trying to do Security’s job?”

He puffs his chest up a little but the effect is underwhelming. “I was in charge tonight, I was under the impression that as the overnight Director –“

“Just because you run the overnight shift in the admin building doesn’t give you blanket oversight over everything in this damn complex. Now get the hell out of my interrogation room and let me do my damn job.”

At this the woman glances over at us, her good eye raking me like a laser, and then her gaze fixes on Peter and for a moment, just a moment, I see something resembling shock lurking in her face, but her composure returns so quickly it leaves me wondering if I even saw it.

My eyes narrow. It can’t be – can it?

Farquhar is still standing there, his arms crossed over his gut. “Since when do you perform interrogations personally?”

“When somebody fucking dies, Farquhar,” the woman says, rounding on him. She has to look up at him but he still takes a step back. “Now are you going to get out of here or am I going to have to have you thrown out?”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. He shuffles towards the door. “I’m going to file a complaint!” he calls from down the hallway.

The woman shakes her head. I glance over at Peter; he’s watching her like his eyes have never seen anything else.

She closes the door and then looks over at the mirror on the opposite wall. “Turn the camera and microphone off,” she says, “and then get out.”

A moment passes, and then the speaker on the wall crackles to life. “Uh, ma’am,” a voice says, “I don’t think the regulations –“

“I wrote the regulations. Just do it.”

The speaker clicks off and then the tiny red light beneath the camera next to it slowly fades. The woman waits another minute or so and then turns to us, her eye fixed on Peter. Her expression is so mixed I can’t even begin to decipher it.

“Hello, Peter,” she says.

“Hello, Mak,” he says.

 * * *

 “This is a fine fucking mess you’ve put me in,” she tells Peter, her legs resting crossed up on the table, head resting on one fist, balled against her cheekbone.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says. She rolls her eyes.

She’s prettier than I thought she’d be, even with her eye. It must be horrible, I think to myself, eyeing the edges of the scar where it pokes out from beneath the patch like a spider just a little too large for the rock it’s hiding beneath.

“What,” she says, “so just because you didn’t mean to get anybody killed I have to stick my neck out another couple of inches for you? I told you you had to stop! I told you what would happen if you got caught again! What, did you think I was joking? And who the hell is she?”

I’d zoned out a little bit; Makado has a tiny curl of an accent wrapping itself around her words like a snake, and I had been trying to identify it, but as she turns her baleful eye in my direction I find the trepidation sinking back into my bones like a lightning bolt. Whatever she’d been like before, whatever ended up happening to her, Makado had clearly changed.

“Her name is Roan,” Peter says, glancing over at me. “She’s –“

“Your girlfriend?” Makado finishes, disdainfully, curling her lip at him.

“No!” we both blurt out, nearly at the same time. We look at each other for another moment before I answer.

“No, I’m not his girlfriend,” I tell Makado. “I’m a reporter.”

Evidently this was the wrong thing to say, because she throws her hands in the air helplessly and laughs at Peter. “Really?” she asks him. “A reporter? Christ, I wish she was your girlfriend. It’d –“

“Look, I know I can’t use any of the information I’ve gathered,” I tell her. “I’m not going to put it out there. That wasn’t my intention.”

“Right,” Makado says, clearly not believing me. “What do you know, anyway? What’s he told you?”

“Pretty much everything that happened that night,” Peter says. “Except how we got out the second time.”

“Everything?” Makado asks, and to my great surprise I see a faint, faint blush coloring the caramel skin beneath the freckles on her cheeks. Peter is smiling lightly.

“Yeah,” he says. “She’s just curious.”

“You realize,” Makado says, her eye flicking between us, “that things that are secrets are usually that way for a reason?”

Peter spreads his hands, or tries to; the handcuffs stop them. He glances down at them, then up at Makado, and she grins at him. “No chance,” she tells him.

“Why the hell were your people so edgy tonight?” he asks. “You didn’t have to shoot that guy.”

“Let’s just say you picked a bad night to do this.”

“Do you want to explain or are you going to just be cryptic?”

“If I told you,” she says, trailing off, drawing an exaggerated finger across her neck. She turns in her chair, kicks her legs off of the table. “You,” she says, pointing to me. “Your name is…Rowan?”

“Roan,” I say. “Like the horse.”

“Huh,” Makado says. “That’s a new one. Look, why are you here? Why are you tangled up with this guy?” she asks, nodding to Peter. “And why the hell were you helping that stiff to the orifice?”

“She didn’t know he was going to try and jump,” Peter says.

“I thought he just wanted to look at it,” I say lamely, and Peter sighs next to me.

“I told you,” he says. “I told you not to go onto the plate no matter what.”

“He broke his fucking leg,” I snap. “He kept trying to walk on it. He was going to crawl on his hands and fucking knees over there. I had to help him.”

Peter lapses into a silence. “Well,” Makado says after a moment. “At least one of you has a conscience.”

“Oh, shut up,” Peter growls. “Don’t fucking snipe at me, Mak, you’re just as complicit in this as I am. As we are,” he says, nodding towards me.

I am very glad that the look Makado is giving Peter is not directed at me. “Are you threatening me?” she says softly, her voice icy. Peter looks away.

“No,” he says.

“Tell me how you’re getting in,” she says. Peter blows out a big breath.

“So that’s it?” he asks. “No more plausible deniability, no more –“

“I told you last month when we caught you,” she snaps, “that you had to stop. That I couldn’t protect you any more. The first couple of times it was fine. Just a harmless washed-up fucking dickhead ranger brain-fucked from the goddam Pit using some secret way inside only he knew. That story doesn’t hold up if it keeps happening! I told you that the next time you came in here I’d have to call the FBI like I’m goddam supposed to. Do you really think people aren’t breathing down my neck too? Do you think I just have carte blanche to run things how I want to in here?”

“I know you don’t,” Peter says.

“Please tell me why you came in here. Give me something. Give me some reason to believe that if I get you out of this, if I save your ass for the hundredth time, you aren’t going to be back in this same goddam room next month.”

“They book a month out,” Peter says helplessly. “I had a girl come in from fucking China for this. Even if I had the heart to tell her no and send her back I don’t have the damn money to buy her a return ticket. I closed everything down the minute I got home a month ago.”

The look on Makado’s face is so painful. She stares at Peter for a moment before she brings her hand to her face, massages the bridge of her nose. I notice that she stays very carefully on the right side of her face, away from the pale, sallow skin near her eyepatch on the left side.

“It’s my fault,” I say after a moment. “I ran into Peter a few nights ago when he was taking some people in. We got to talking and he told me almost the whole story of what happened that night, in 2007 I mean. I asked him if he could take me in too and he agreed. That’s all. It would have been fine if I hadn’t have been there.”

“What’s your angle?” Makado asks again. “Are you writing a story on the Pit?”

“I thought I was going to but after everything I’ve heard, not any more.”

Her eye flicks over to Peter. “Have you been telling secrets?” she asks.

“I may have told her a few things that the official report…neglected.”

“God, you never do things by half, do you?”

“Have you called the feds yet?”

“No,” she says. “But somebody died. They are going to find out. I can’t cover something like that up.”

“Mm,” Peter grunts. “Alright. There’s a guy from the cult in Bronchial right now, probably heading over to the Domes or down to the Cord. I’ll go in, grab him, bring him back out, there’s your scapegoat.”

Makado slaps the table with her hand. “Enough. No scapegoats. You aren’t a fucking cowboy. I will try and cover for you but this is the absolute last time. You have worn out all of your fucking goodwill, Pete, and that’s me that’s saying that.”

“What are you going to tell the feds, then?”

“I don’t know,” she growls. “I’ll think of something.”

“Can somebody please explain to me,” I say softly, “why it is so goddam important that these people get inside the Pit to fucking die there?”

Makado and Peter both look at me, and I stare back at them. “I’m serious,” I say. “You told me,” I nod to Peter, “that there’s a point of no return, but surely there has to be some kind of alternative to fucking killing them. And clearly you,” I point to Makado, “were at least willing to turn a blind eye to this. Um, no pun intended. Sorry.”

Makado looks at Peter. “How much do you trust this woman?”

“She’s solid,” Peter nods, glancing at me. “Her heart’s in the right place.”

Something about him saying that makes my stomach soar and I have to stop my lip from curling at myself a moment later. It wouldn’t do. Easy girl.

“Did you tell her - ?”

“No,” Peter says. “Of course not.”

“Tell me what?” I ask. Makado sighs.

“What I’m about to tell you, you can’t tell anybody else. Ever. People have died for less.”

“People have been killed for less,” Peter corrects her, and Makado rolls her eye again.

“Fucking whatever, Pete. Look. Roan. Are you in or out? You want to hear this or not?”

What the hell, I think to myself. “Peter’s right,” I say, staring at Makado, meeting that burning gaze. “I’m solid. I know I can’t use this in a story. Now it’s personal curiosity. I want to know.”

“Alright,” Makado says. She licks her lips. “So Peter probably told you that once you’re…afflicted with this obsession with the Pit, it progresses until you reach a point where if you can’t get to the Pit to get inside it, it’s physically painful, and a lot of people, if prevented from going to the Pit, end up killing themselves. Right?”

“Right,” I say.

“That isn’t entirely true. That happens to some people, but for a solid portion, you lose your willpower to end your own life after a certain point. There’s a stage afterwards.”

I can feel a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. “What happens?”

“The compulsion becomes virulently contagious,” Peter says. “It isn’t a normal disease so it doesn’t have a normal vector of transmission; we don’t know how it does it exactly, but it uses emotion. Feeling strong emotion yourself, like fear or anger, if you’re afflicted, can plant the seed of the compulsion in people near you, and then they go through the same process, and…”

I look at Makado. She nods. “The only way to wipe it out,” she says, nodding to Peter, “is an experimental type of drug called an anabiotic. Dulls your personality, inhibits emotional response. Keep that state up for long enough, that can kill the – disease, or whatever it is.”

“The catch is,” Peter says, “that if you keep that state up for long enough, like, say, if you’re attempting to cure the - the whatever it is - it can also become permanent.”

“Jesus,” I breathe.

“The only good thing,” Makado says briskly, “is that all the cases follow a similar pattern – they all originated from the night of the 2007 disaster. There aren’t any new cases, just new transmissions. You clean them all up, it goes away.”

“In theory,” Peter says.

“In theory,” Makado agrees. “But so far that theory has proven correct.”

“God,” I say. “So in a major city –“

“In a city like New York or Boston, something of that population density, you can imagine how devastating that could be. Think of how many times you feel emotions each day,” Peter says. “Each time, you could be infecting dozens of people and not even know it.”

“Luckily,” Makado adds, “it’s difficult to get to that point. It takes time, a couple of months at least, for things to get that bad, and before you reach that stage the compulsion gets so strong that most people who’re able to do make it down here and try to get to the Pit. The issue is the people without means to do so, but generally they end up either killing themselves or isolating themselves anyway as a result of the personality distortions a compulsion of that strength causes, so they’re easy to identify. There haven’t been any major outbreaks, not in a large city, but you can imagine how concerned the government is about the threat of it.”

“I don’t get it,” I say. “Why are you letting them in?”

“Because I was one of the lucky ones,” Peter says. “I had a mild case and my personality returned after treatment. That isn’t the usual outcome.”

“But couldn’t you…I don’t know. There has to be some other way.”

“They don’t infect others if they die in the Pit,” Makado says softly. She’s inspecting her gloved hands, her long slender fingers clenching and unclenching. “We don’t know why, we don’t know how it works, but if they’re inside the Pit when they get to that point, it’s just a death. Heart attack, stroke, blood clot, aneurysm, whatever does it, they just die. That’s all.”

I shake my head. “Jesus Christ,” I murmur. “How is that possible? How does that make any sense?”

“We don’t know,” she sighs. “There’s…difficulty studying it. It’s better to just keep it under wraps. Can you imagine what, say, Iran or North Korea would do with an individual like that? You could wipe out a country in a matter of months, and nobody would know what the hell was going on. And it would spread…”

“Or the US,” Peter says, and Makado nods.

“Yes,” she agrees. “Or the US. It’s better to just keep it secret, not let them know all the details. One of the scientists here, Dr. Frost, she’s the one who figured all this out. We’ve just been…trying to contain it.”

“But now that’s done for,” Peter groans. “There isn’t any other option now.”

I frown. “What do you mean? What other option?”

“That’s enough storytime for one night,” Makado says swiftly. I narrow my eyes but she stares me down and eventually I shake my head, look away. I know I was lucky hearing as much as I did. Best not to push it.

“So now what? Now you’ll stop letting people in?” I ask. Peter shrugs.

“Things Will Change,” he intones. It makes me suck my breath in.

“Christ,” I say. “I’m sorry, I fucked everything up, I didn’t know –“

“It isn’t your fault,” Makado says softly. “You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I think it shows a lot of character that you’d help that man, even knowing that you’d get caught.”

“Thanks,” I murmur.

“You can send me down,” Peter says, “but get Roan out of it. I’ll take the blame.”

“Nobody’s taking blame,” Makado growls. “I need you. I still have a little jurisdiction. I’ll talk to some people, see if I can get this calmed down. I can’t let either of you go yet but there are rooms here, you’ll be comfortable.”

She rises swiftly and opens the door, nodding to someone outside. Two men in uniforms enter the room, tall and rugged and strong-looking. “Take them to the dorms and put them in that converted trailer outside of C, in separate rooms, and lock them in, but no cuffs or restraints. Tell Melendez to call me once you’ve done that, I’ll get him to put a guard on it.”

On the way out, after they uncuff us, Peter tries to say something to Makado but she shakes her head at him and the words die in his throat. Then it’s another ride in the back of a Humvee, this time thankfully without the hoods on, and then they usher us into what is essentially a semi-truck trailer, except the inside is done up with very, very bare living quarters, and push us into different rooms. They lock the doors behind us and though Peter could maybe break them down if he tried, where would we go? There’s a guard on the trailer and even if we did get out and subdue him, we’re still in the middle of the base.

Once I’ve shrugged out of my jeans and panties and kicked them aside, grimacing at myself as I do, the acrid stench of dried urine stabbing at my nose, I reach over and knock on the wall and after a moment Peter knocks back. I think about trying to yell through it to talk to him but I’m too tired for that kind of nonsense.

The mattress is stiff and the sheets rough and scratchy but I manage to fall asleep almost as soon as my head hits the pillow, and no dreams trouble me.

 * * *

 I wake to the squeak of the door’s hinges, but not sharply; the awareness of the noise flutters downwards into my sleeping mind and slowly, gently, drags me out and into the day. I crack one eye open and see Makado there, looking much more cleaned-up, in a pencil skirt and a sharp jacket, holding a tray with parts for a continental breakfast on it. I sit up and yawn, clear the sleep from my eyes. “Well,” I say, my voice still a little creaky, “does the head of security usually serve breakfast in bed to the prisoners?”

Makado laughs, setting the tray down on the small folding table in the corner. “Not usually,” she admits. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Well, I’m a captive audience. Ha ha.”

She grimaces at me. “I should have you locked up for that one. Oh wait.”

She gestures to the chair and I gesture to my pants in the corner. She goes to pick them up and then stops. “Uh,” she says. “You do know there’s a commode like, right there?” she points.

I can feel myself blushing. “Actually, uh… when you guys shot Rey last night… it was so close to me, and you know, the bullets were going right past me…”

Makado has the decency to look embarrassed.

“Oh,” she says. “Um. Give me one second.”

Makado leaves then and I get up, wrap the sheet around me like a towel, and start in on breakfast. She’d brought a couple of different boxes of tiny one-cup servings of cereal and a little plastic cup of milk, as well as a bagel and a banana, and as soon as the first spoonful of Raisin Bran hit my tongue I realized how hungry I was.

Makado returns while I’m halfway through the banana and tosses me a jumpsuit. “Hope it’s your size,” she says. “We have spares but people who aren’t yoked as hell tend to lose out.”

I thank her, set it on the bed. After a moment Makado leans up against the wall, crosses her arms. She has a thoughtful quirk to her lips and I cock my head at her. “Don’t think you can butter me up with just breakfast,” I warn her. “It’ll take a lot more than that.”

“I’m not buttering you up. I just want to talk.”

“Then talk.”

“Well,” Makado says, peering at her nails. “I’ll be able to get you out of here tonight. To leave and never return, hopefully.”

“And Peter?”

“Peter won’t be leaving with you.”

“So that’s it, huh?”

“What’s it?”

“After all that happened,” I say, “whatever kind of relationship you two must have had, whatever happened that night – it all leads up to this? You hand Peter over to the FBI and wash your hands?”

“I’m not handing him over to the FBI,” Makado snaps. “And don’t presume you know what kind of relationship we have just because he told you –“

“Then what’s going to happen to him?”

“I have a job for him.”

“A job?”

“Yeah. A job. He has a unique skillset,” Makado shrugs. “And we need more rangers at the moment. One and done. And then he stops fucking letting people in here.”

I think about that for a moment. “Alright, let me help, then.”

She stares at me. “This is not a negotiation,” she says softly. “You don’t get to make demands –“

“I’m not making demands. I have skillsets too. You need reports written? You want someone there to take pictures? I can work a camera, a big one, news quality. Video or stills, I can do ‘em both. I used to work for KGIM down in Dallas.”

“Jesus Christ,” Makado says. “I’m not hiring you. You’re lucky you’re getting out of here without any charges.”

“Goddam it,” I mutter. “Look, I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I don’t want this story to end like this. I don’t want to have to walk out of here knowing that I never got to the bottom of it. I know I can’t fucking write about it, I can’t do anything with it, but it’s going to eat me alive if I never know what really happened.”

“Would it really be so bad to just let it go? Go back to whatever you were doing before?”

“I wasn’t –“ I start, but then I stop. “Yes,” I say, in a small voice, knowing I sound like a child. “It would. It’d kill me.”

Makado shakes her head. “I can’t figure you out. I find it very, very hard to believe you aren’t writing a story on this.”

“If there is one, it’s in my head. I’m not an idiot, I don’t want to get disappeared.”

“I don’t know what you think the story of this place is, but it’s probably a lot better in your imagination. You ought to write a book. It’d probably sell.”

“It wouldn’t be true.”

“So the truth is what matters?”

“Yeah. Most of the time.”

Makado laughs, a hollow little rattle. “I wish I had your optimism.”

I look at her. “What happened down there? With the amalgam?”

She yawns. “I lost my eye. Then I got out. Then I lived happily ever after. Now I’m here dealing with you.”

“Peter is a much better storyteller than you are.”

She really laughs, then, and for a moment, just a moment, I think I catch a glimpse of the Makado Peter told me about, the one he fell in love with. Then she’s gone again and this hard woman is back again, staring at me calculatingly. I shake my head, rest it on my hand. “What happened?” I ask her. “Wouldn’t it feel better to tell somebody?”

Makado reaches up and in one deft motion removes her eyepatch, and my mouth falls open. It is so, so much worse than I had imagined; in some abstract sense I had extrapolated from the frail, mottled skin peeking out from beneath the patch, I had assumed a shape and size and sense of the flesh beneath. I had guessed that it was due to violence, due to the amalgam, but the pale white bone glaring at me from the graceful round rim of her empty eye-socket, the way the thin cords of her remaining flesh hang and stretch and look as though they surely will snap is much, much worse than anything I could have come up with on my own. The rest of her skin surrounding the top third or so of her cheek is healthy and normal, but the rim around it is white as snow, and pockmarked with acid burns, and then it inclines downwards like a great scoop was taken out of her face and left the bone from her eyesocket to her brow exposed. It looks completely healed, as though it had been meant to grow that way from the beginning; nothing raw or pink or infected-looking about it.

“It’s not pretty, is it?” she asks, and the way the muscles make that dead flesh shudder forces a wince out of me.

“What happened?” I ask again. Makado turns away for a moment, and when she turns back the eyepatch is back in place. It does a remarkable job of covering it, but now that I know what horribleness is lurking under there I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to forget it.

“The amalgam got me,” she says simply. “And it started to absorb me.”

She sits down heavily in the chair opposite mine and I notice a ring of mottled tissue around her wrist, extending down into the glove on her left hand, a scattering of marks like the aftermath of acid droplets cast over her arms, irregular clusters of them, five, six, seven, eight of them on the left, one, two, three on the right. She follows my gaze.

“I was very lucky,” she says. “I didn’t have any real permanent damage. Except for the eye, of course, but you can live without an eye. You become part of an amalgam, you don’t come back from that. Or if you do, it isn’t really living any more.”

She inclines her wrist upwards, looks at her watch. “Alright,” she says. “I’ve got time. You want to hear the rest of the story?”

Continue with Part 12

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