#i am in your walls i will kill you with an axe

[patricia-the-autism-apprentice]

Noelle Holiday JoJo Reference!!!

some noelle art I made...

yare yare daze...

below the cut- some close up pictures and reference photos

---reference photos---

the grilling noelle and the one with the box costume I used a reference image for but I can't currently fin d said images but I will update this post when I find them~

[patricia-the-autism-apprentice]

every goddamn word in this image hits like a 50 caliber rifle to the chest and through this pain, I understand.

This is how I feel I sound when I try to tell others about my lost media archiving

[seradyn]

Yours To Bare, Mine to Cherish

Dragon!Sylus tries to push you away when old wounds flare up, causing him too much pain to trust you. You refuse to let him, and instead teach him how to ask for help, how to be vulnerable and not fear the lashes that follow. Basically: how to train your dragon to let you comfort him and give good massages.

As a chronic pain haver, I am forced to give all my blorbos chronic pain :) I’ve been working on this for SO LONG 😭 Still not over his myth so please enjoy us pampering our dragon 💕

Word count: 11,021. AO3 Link cause it's long

Important tags: gender neutral reader, no y/n, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, chronic pain!Sylus, cuddling and snuggling, massages, Dragon!Sylus, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, present!Sylus (you’ll see), arguing, Sylus x reader, Sylus x MC, canon compliant, canon-typical violence

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Your dragon was in a foul mood.

It’d started when you decided you’d like to restore some of the old weapons Sylus had discarded haphazardly around his home. Swords, axes, spears and daggers laid in broken heaps throughout the cavern, each one a trophy plucked from his would-be assassins turned prey, he’d boasted. Impressive as they may have once been, though, they were now but piles of chipped rubbish, pushed up against the walls and out of the walkways, hardly spared more than a glance. A dragon has no use for such weaponry; their claws are daggers, their teeth swords, so the battlements remained as haughty decorations, a warning to all those who dared enter his domain, lest they meet the same fate.

One particular sword had caught your eye. Dragon’s Scourge, Sylus said the warrior had called it, sniffing derisively at the pretentiousness of such a name and the underwhelming performance of said blade. It had pierced neither scale nor flesh before the sorry sod had been strung up in the stalactites of the cave and left to rot, much like his weapon. Sylus claimed it wasn’t even worthy of straightening his bangs, dismissing the old thing, as he had with the daggers you once turned against him.

Upon further inspection, though, after returning from another successful raid, and bored beyond belief, you found the steel to be of decent quality. Being raised under the army’s instruction taught you how to recognize the mark of a good smith. Taught you to know the quality of the metalwork on your blades, how the weight felt as you gripped it, the feeling of it sliding through the air before hitting its mark. They taught you many things, as they groomed you to be their killing machine, while the lordlings sat getting drunk on their own false grandeur.

You hoped with all the blood you planned to spill with it, its steel would take up a new name, carved from crimson rivulets of the faithful. You were thinking something along the lines of Justitia’s Scourge, or maybe even Human’s Scourge, just to rub salty irony into their wounds. But that would have to wait, you thought as you scrutinized it, until it wasn’t caked in rust from centuries of disuse, and a proper whetstone had been taken to its dull edges.

It took a full day and night of work to restore it, though you now reaped the fruits of your labor, watching with a satisfied smile as you turned the blade to catch stray beams of moonlight through the porous cave ceiling. A vinegar bath overnight had peeled off the old rust, and with the tools Sylus had snagged for you from the armories you’d torched, you were able to scour and polish the sword the following day. By nightfall, the edges were properly sharp again, a few experimental swings showed it was ready for battle once more. A bolt of excitement ricocheted down your spine, tingling to your fingertips as you thought of showing the rebirthed blade to Sylus, of cleaving pious flesh from bone to earn it its new name.

It had been at least three days since you had seen your dragon, however. He left you to your devices when you began work on your little pet project, when you’d shooed him out of your chambers to prepare a ‘surprise’. He seemed less than thrilled with the idea, if the downward curl of his lips was any tell, but he’d nevertheless entertained your whims and left you be. You were grateful to have his eyes off you for a day or two, but now that you’d finished, his absence reverberated through the yawning emptiness in your chest, where his claws had carved a dragon shaped hole. Normally, he often lingered nearby, watching curiously as you tried to climb out of his cave, or polished his coins out of sheer boredom, or even while you ate your meals, made of sparse rations stolen from soldier barracks. You hated it, at first, until you realized he didn’t do so out of malice. He was but a shepherd, watching with intrigue as his sheep tried to jump the fence of its enclosure, wondering if it would ever have the strength to clear it, or if it was doomed to an early trip to the slaughterhouse, ushered there on broken legs.

But now you’d seen neither sight nor heard sound of him, and you couldn’t help but miss him. If he wasn’t nearby, you could usually still hear him deeper in the cave, the clinking of coins as he moved about, or the faint rustling of his scales gliding across stone. The gust of wind from a flap of his impressive wings as he took off. The sword was complete the previous evening, and yet the cavern remained noticeably silent. As if the mountain held its breath, anxiously waiting for his return. The mark he left on your neck throbbed, pulsed, beckoning you to him as the fisherman’s lure calls the guppies from the safety of the school.

This wasn’t like him.

Leaving the blade in your chambers; it wouldn’t do to approach an agitated dragon with such a thing; you began to make your way through the winding tunnels, deeper into the darkness. His own quarters, the ones you’d once slunk into with thoughts of dragon eyes and dripping red, were in the heart of the mountain, where the sun didn’t dare reach, and veins of buried magma spread like spiderwebs underfoot, keeping it pleasantly warm. Sylus made it clear his distaste for sunlight, and dragons ran naturally hot; all you need do was follow as the darkness stretched deeper into the earth, down the spiral staircase in the heart of his nest, as the air grew warm and charged.

You descended the last crude steps, carved by his own claws, landing with a thud in his chamber. His overflowing coffers, now teeming with the prizes from your exploits, glittered in the dull orange glow of the candles, a kaleidoscope of technicolor treasures. You felt a wave of satisfaction as you gazed upon your additions to his hoard, proof of your enacted vengeance in every pillaged gem. But less so the jewels, you were pleased with the tapestries, the blankets and pillows now strewn about his cave, after you’d bemoaned the harshness of the stone against your skin. You had no scales to protect you, after all. Sylus thought you odd for requesting things so mundane, but he acquiesced, if only to sate your growing desires.

And there you found him, sat amongst a pile of pillows on his ‘perch’, as you’d lovingly called it, a dark shape against the speckled constellations of his gold. The raised stone dais, where he often lazed about when not with you, had not escaped your demands to make his home more accommodating for a human. A puffy white blanket now laid over the old rock, stolen straight from an Oracle’s bedchamber. You’d tucked ivory pillows with gold tinsel into the corners, to rest his head or back against, you’d reasoned, but Sylus only scoffed. He made no move to stop you though, and you weren’t blind to how he snuggled into the cushions when he thought you weren’t looking, his tail flicking and eyes closed like a contented, oversized cat.

You came up short, however, when you fully took in the state of your dragon. Sitting up, his back turned to you, he was curled in on himself, a taloned hand gripping his tensed shoulders, his tail draped over the edge, twitching restlessly. He hung his head, hiding his face from view, his body heaving with faint pants that echoed in the tight space. Next to him, the once pristine and well kept bedding had been shredded, huge gashes running across the delicate fabric, a plume of feathery down decorating his bed and the cave floors where the stuffing had been ripped out.

The mark on your neck flared to life at seeing him, and you instinctively clasped a hand over it. You could feel the outline of his bite under your fingers, his reminder of your deal, a stamp and signature on your contract. You let out a stuttered breath as the ache spread underneath your skin, consuming, tearing, flaying your flesh open with phantom fire. It burned.

You’d never seen Sylus like this before, never felt the mark throb quite as sharply. It tended to hurt, when his draconic instincts expressed themselves, when you felt him crave mortal souls, but that was a feeling you’d grown familiar with. You knew it, felt it, and discarded it, the mark and his desire tampered down as quickly as it had roared to life. You’d grown accustomed to the feeling, the ache deep in your chest that cried devour, devour, consume, it’s yours, even as it filled you with a sense of wrongness. Sylus never acknowledged it, never hinted that his desire grew in twine with yours, even as you felt the reflection of it in yourself. He swallowed it down, and with it, the mark would go dormant again, like nothing had happened, his stoic expression no less tamed than before.

The pain it radiated now was so different. You felt it travel along the highways of your nerves, burning and burning and burning its way down your spine, through your limbs, all the way to your toes, where it felt like your meat was being pulled from your bones, ripped and sliced and stabbed. You shuddered, a harsh exhale pushed from your lungs as you suppressed the urge to scream, to rip into your own flesh to find the source of your pain, and carve it out. You’d felt a distant ache from the mark as you traveled deeper into the mountain, but standing in front of Sylus, it was nearly unbearable.

Was Sylus…Could he feel it too?

Carefully, on gentle padded steps, you approached him. You made no attempt to hide the sound of your footfalls, you were sure he already knew you were there, if your previous meetings were any indication. However, he was surely irritated, the jerky movements of his tail confirmed as much, and you had no desire to exacerbate it by startling him. You’d been on the receiving end of it before, when you teased him too much too often, or when you demanded he bring you something particularly ridiculous, like the fuzzy mountain cat that now roamed his domain with you. You’d not seen it in a while either though, it could likely sense the ire of its master, and decided it was better to simply stay out of sight, lest it become collateral.

“Sylus?” you broached softly, as you neared his place on the dais. Even the quiet whisper of his name felt too loud in that space, where the tension grew thick, made the air scrape across your suddenly dry throat.

His reply was a deep, rumbling growl, coursing its way out of the depths of his chest and echoing on the cave walls. You stopped in your tracks, eyes going wide as the sound made the fine hairs on your arms stand on end.

“Leave me be,” he spoke, and it sounded nothing like the smooth velvet of his voice, tinged with tender fondness and amusement that you’d grown to adore over the long months. No, this was the voice of a dragon - one filled with seething flames to scorch the earth, make his bed of ash and rubble. A fury so potent, the heavens trembled in its presence.

This wasn’t like him at all. 

“Sylus, what is wrong?” You asked, your worry spreading like mold throughout your body, choking you, covering up the pain from his mark, even as it swelled, surged, pushed into your fingertips.

“I am in no mood for your games. Leave.” He hissed. Actually hissed. His tail lashed, gouging out shallow grooves in the rock below his perch, the pointed barb extending and retracting. Poised and ready, like a scorpion’s, right before the kill.

In all the time you’d known him, all the months of shared hardships, he had never spoken to you like that.

Not even when you both dreamed of tearing the other apart.

“What is going on with you?” You breathed, not bothering to hide the worry in your voice, your heart. 

“It is no concern of yours,” he threw over his shoulder, and it struck like a sword in your chest.

How could he say that, after spending months with you, helping you, fighting alongside you against a world that abhorred you and him?

How could he say that, as the only person who stood by you now? And you, the only one left who stood by him?

“Of course it’s my concern,” you said, and you wondered if he could hear the hurt in your voice. “Sylus, what is-”

“Have you lost your hearing?” He snarled, cutting you off as his voice grew louder. “I thought I made myself clear. Leave. Now.”

You stared at him, stunned, as Sylus seethed vitriol at the tender place inside you, where you’d planted the seeds of affection, adoration, where they timidly poked their tender leaves out. As you felt them wither, their crumbling stalks easily pulled out, shredded in apathetic claws.

Had you made him angry, somehow? Crossed a line he forgot to draw in the sand, and now he wanted nothing to do with you? Your heart kicked, lurching at the thought. Had your dragon finally grown tired of you?

But, as you looked at him, tensed up and refusing to look at you, your intuition cracked like a whip, and you realized what he was actually doing. Your skin rippled, and you felt a steady stream of anger pump into your veins, to match his own, where once was only worry. You’d worked so hard, tending that garden, to grow something other than bloodlust and hatred inside of you. But now they came back, like weeds you could never fully eradicate, twisting around your fragile heart.

Did Sylus truly think he could scare you away so easily? Intimidate you into abandoning him, so effortlessly? Did he forget that you were not the same helpless little thing he rescued from the Abyss? He said it himself; you’d grown your own horns, when you vowed vengeance on those who damned you, and vowed your soul to him in tandem. You weren’t just going to let him destroy whatever it was you two had built together. You hated the thought so much, it filled your mouth with the acrid taste of bile.

“Sylus, I’m not going anywhere.” You said firmly, planting your feet. If he wanted you to leave, he’d have to throw you out. The gnawing worry and anger, coupled with the pain still writhing under your skin, made the thought so unpalatable you wanted to peel yourself open, let him consume your soul if only to let him feel the tender emotions that enveloped you whenever you thought of him, when you looked at him.

“Then you are a fool,” he sneered, and you felt your hopes being snuffed out. “Begone.”

“Sylus, let me help-”

“I need no help.” He spat, the final word tasting foul on his tongue. His tail flexed, muscles rippling as he drove it into the ground, a clean puncture straight through the stone, pebbles scattering across the floor.

You breathed through your nose, trying very hard to stop yourself from saying ‘yes, you do’, bluntly to his face, or it may anger him more than your continued presence already was. You knew when to hold your tongue, despite what he may think.

“Please, can you just tell me what’s wrong?” You begged, hating how desperate you sounded. It reminded you too much of when you first met, when he held your life so easily in his hands. But, strangely, you found you hated his current state even more, could stomach begging like a peasant if it meant you could get through to him.

“Do you truly wish to test my benevolence again, sorceress?” He ignored your question, saying the nickname he normally spoke with such fond amusement, filled with contempt and repulsion. Spoke it the way the Judicators did, as they condemned you, sentenced you to die. As they took you away from everything you knew and loved, and made you watch as they reduced your world to rubble, made you watch as the only people you ever knew chanted for your execution, rejoiced at your damnation.

The extent of this transgression, this intentional cruelty made your skin grow hot, your brows drawing down as nothing but rage bubbled up and shot out of your heart like lava, a volcano erupting and eating away at the worry there. How dare he? How dare he speak to you like that, after all you had been through together? After you blocked blows, fought off the wrath of the holy army that aimed for his vulnerable flank while you raided their temples, their armories, their barracks. You’d taken hits for him, gladly, if it meant sparing him pain, even if it meant feeling the wounds twice; once for when your blood spilled, and again when Sylus admonished you for being reckless, for worrying about him, even if he inevitably patched you up, told you to be more careful in that quiet way he did. After you learned to enjoy what slivers of peace you could find together, how he took you to the night markets, bought you anything your hands touched, and tried to fight the smile that curled his lips as you covered him in cheap, counterfeit jewelry, in leather pouches that he would never use, but you liked the designs of, or that set of old red keys that’d been turned into an ornament, simply because it matched his eyes.

Did all of that mean nothing to him, for him to treat you this way? Treat you worse than he did when you were nothing more than a meal to him?

Part of you was so angry and hurt, you wanted to just do as he said. Leave him to his devices, and let him suffer in solitude. Tell him to never ask for your help again, since he clearly didn’t need it. 

You turned, took a step away from him, fighting back the stinging in your eyes. You stopped, your breath catching, as your heart stuttered, like your chest was caving in around it, crushing it. Your vision swam, and you clamped your eyes shut, as you tried to hold onto your anger at him for speaking so cruelly to you. At hurting you in a way you hadn’t been sure you were still capable of hurting. But all you could see were those moments when he showed you the kind of creature he really was. Those moments like when you sang to him on the cliff, and he looked at you with affectionate awe, promised to buy you an organ so you could play it properly for him. The gentle lull of his voice as he carried you away from the tavern in Tarus City, retelling the play to you when you complained you’d have nightmares if he didn’t. How he snuggled with you at night when you had them anyway, because the thought of him mutilating himself was so much worse than whatever you could’ve imagined was the reason for the end to that awful, awful play. How you two poured over maps and star charts, planning your next assault while joking and teasing each other. Smiling, laughing.

Your heart screamed, as the dragon shaped hole he’d carved hemorrhaged, filled your chest with so much blood, you felt like choking.

As much as you wanted to be enraged at him, force him to suffer for hurting you so thoroughly…you couldn’t leave him. Couldn’t bear to walk away, even if it meant your own destruction. The prospect hurt so much more than the words he used like daggers.

You straightened, hardening your resolve, tucking your anger away for later. You turned back, marched over to the dais. If Sylus refused to see reason, then you would make him understand his own foolishness.

“This has nothing to do with your benevolence, or lack thereof,” you snapped, proud of yourself when your voice came out even, unaffected by the anger and revitalized concern that now mixed into a potent concoction inside you. “It has everything to do with you being too afraid to admit you need help!”

What you thought before was a snarl was nothing compared to the throaty, guttural angry and inhuman sound that burst from his throat at that, echoing around the both of you like the detonating of a bomb. He twisted violently, pinning you with his eyes, the ill omen of those ominous pools of ruby rose. They crackled like a storm, his nose crinkled and lip curled in utter contempt at your accusation. His next words came out as a barely contained roar.

“I am a dragon-”

“Indeed,” you cut him off, raising your voice to match him, unflinching in the face of his utter childishness. “In which case you can surely stomach telling me why you’re so upset.”

He paused, eyes widening for a fraction of a second, almost imperceptibly, before he quickly wiped the expression off with a scowl, turning away from you as his tail continued to flick. You stared at the back of his head, crossing your arms, daring him to try to deny it again. You always did like a challenge, he knew this about you. You weren’t going to leave, if for no other reason than the fact that only he could soothe the burning of the mark, douse the fire that tore through you, even as you stood there meeting his anger head on. The truth was, though, that you still cared about him. You weren’t sure if that would ever change, now. Even when he was being insufferable.

Eventually, he let out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“…Everything hurts,” he whispered through gritted teeth, curling in on himself further.

Your heart dropped at that, the confirmation that the fire in your muscles was also in his, the untouchability of him in your mind shattering.

Sylus always seemed so invincible; he shrugged off the blows from the army as if they were nothing, he stopped arrows with a flick of his wrist, rended battalions with a swipe of his tail. A grimace and a stare, his right eye roaring to life sending whole squadrons into madness, howling as they tore each other apart. You’d yet to see anything perforate his impenetrable scales, save for the greatsword nestled somewhere deep in your chest. Even then, when you first found him in the depths of the abyss, looking up at the sheer size of his true form, all rippling scales, muscle, and teeth, he had seemed more annoyed than anguished, while he sat ran through with the sword, with his massive scarlet wings cocooned in chains. He watched you as the lion does the mouse, waiting for the inevitable, for you to wrap your hands around the hilt, for the blade to slide smoothly out from where it was implanted in his chest, to set him free from the prison of your ancestor’s making.

He seemed so…almost boyish now, in the near fetal position, tail flicking, flicking. And what a strange sight it was. Something filled you at it, boiling and prickly thorned, wrapping around your heart and squeezing, pulsing along with the mark on your neck. It took a moment to recognize it as offense. Offense at seeing your untouchable, mighty dragon, who scoffed at attempts for his slaughter, who laughed as you tried to procure his eye, now besought by something intangible, something which you could not name, that you could not know. Something that your daggers, your swords, all the weapons in the caves could not split away from, could not heal the jagged edges that cut him, and thus cut you.

Through the fire seeping into your veins, though, the only train of thought that remained on course, reverberating through your head was why, why, why is your dragon in pain?

What could be causing your dragon such agony?

You wracked your brain, trying to think if you had missed something, if he had hidden any injuries from your last raid. But the Justitiaurs fell as easily as they always had; tearing each other apart with one look from his glowing red eye. You two were together when you stormed the resident Oracle's chamber, cut his throat with your daggers, and watched his blood paint the ivory tiles a color that matched the gem in Sylus’s chest. Non had presented more than an inconvenience to you both, more like fleas squashed between your fingers. He’d claimed his invulnerability, and proven it just as easily; what could have possibly inflicted such debilitating pain upon him?

Though, you quickly realized it didn’t matter so much the why or how of what Sylus was feeling. What mattered was that he felt it, and you didn’t want him to be feeling it, regardless of the fact his pain was reflected into you.

You gently padded to the dais, watching his twitching tail as you sat on the edge of the coarse stone, brushing aside loose feathers. Here, you caught a glimpse of his face; his nose scrunched, lip slightly curled to reveal pointed fangs, and eyes clamped shut by furrowed brows. Your heart plummeted like a stone thrown in a mirrored lake, lost in darkness’ depths, seeing the pain etched so clearly onto his marble face, disrupting the collected, bored expression he always wore.

“Where does it hurt?” Your voice came out soft, soothing. Gracing the air as a brush of fingers on his skin, a kiss of petals.

“Everywhere,” he huffed, exasperated. He shook his head violently, his claws bearing down on his delicate skin, just shy of breaking the surface and drawing blood. Your fingers flexed, wanting to pull the deadly talons away from his shoulder, away from himself, but you refrained. Patience was key, with a predator so close to snapping.

“Where does it hurt most?” 

A growl reverberated out of his throat, a discontented purr. He peaked open his eyes, though he did not look at you, his gaze remained fixed on the shredded blankets, the frayed threads loosened by his rough scales and talons. You simply waited, for the waves of pain to abate, for him to find his voice again. He let out a heavy exhale, closing his eyes.

“…My tail, my shoulders, and my back.”

You nodded, though he couldn’t see it, gaze flitting to each area as he listed them off. Outwardly, you could see no damage to them, the scales glistened a burned amber shade from the sconces scattered about, his mortal flesh was smooth and unblemished, save for the marks his claws had already begun to leave from gripping his shoulder so tightly. Your curiosity burned with the desire to ask questions - had he been poisoned, perhaps? Was he sick? But again, you reminded yourself that questions could come later. Healing must come first.

“Give me your tail.” You outstretched your hand to him, palm up expectantly.

His eyes opened again, darted to you, the deep, preternatural growl rumbling in his throat. You held his stare, unwavering in his clear attempts to dissuade you.

“This is none of your concern.” He looked away, shaking his head again to try to rid himself of the nagging sensations plaguing him.

You frowned. “I know,” you said, making grabby motions with your hand. “Now stop being stubborn and let me help you.”

His growl transformed back into a hiss as he shot you a glare. When you, again, didn’t back down from his challenge, he let out a disgruntled snort. Spitefully, like a child angry about being caught stealing his mother’s pastries, he turned his back to you, letting his long, lithe tail plop gracelessly onto your lap. You let out a light ‘oof’ as the weight settled across your thighs, effectively pinning you down. It reminded you of when he effortlessly threw the dagger out of your hand and pulled you to him with the lean appendage, like you were weightless, like it required barely a thought. You couldn’t say you were surprised, as you admired it, your hands tentatively brushing along the top and sides, feeling, searching as you thought about how to help him deal with the pain.

You weren’t sure if what you had in mind would work, but you were willing to try, if it meant he had a chance at relief. You were taught some basic medicine in the Sanctuary; as was mandated by the army. Basic first aid, how to treat a wound, what was reasonable to handle on the field and what required a doctor. Nothing too sophisticated.

But most importantly; how to handle basic muscle aches and soreness.

You decided to start at the tip of his tail, the impressive spike and retracting barbs you had enviously stared at more than once. You gently took it in your hands, holding it steady as it attempted to twitch out of your grasp. Sylus let out another angry snort, but held still when you refused to let go. Observing the lithe appendage, you realized the end was forged of bone, and beyond your help, but on the underside, the scales slowly faded into a soft, leathery underbelly. You felt along it, slowly moving up, using your fingers and the heel of your palm to gently push on it until finally, you felt it; a knot of twisted flesh just below the surface.

Being as tender as possible, you held his tail firmly as you began to grind your palm into the center of the knot in tight circles, to loosen and soothe the ache there. It was definitely painful; Sylus growled, his tail jerking to wrest it from your grasp, but you simply tightened your grip, not letting him get away. He slowly relaxed, as you felt his flesh detangle, pushing bigger circles into his scales until it lost its shape, molding into the rest of his powerful, healthy muscles. Sylus let out something like hum, clearly pleased, his body starting to relax under your fingers.

When you were satisfied the knot had been thoroughly worked out, you moved on to the next section of his tail, where the pointed barbs faded into smooth ringlets of scales, rippling from half formed, stubbed spikes. You carefully coiled the finished section around you, not wanting to pull his tail by letting it dangle off the dais, and began running your fingers around the base of his spines. The ones closer to the base of his tail were thinner, sharper, little knives diving out of his scales. In contrast, these ones were wide, dull, and short, as if they hadn’t fully formed yet. You wondered if Sylus was even younger than you first thought, feeling the ache of a body that wasn’t done metamorphosing, hadn’t finished growing all the scales and spikes dragons were known for. You wondered if that was why he ached, why his muscles had tensed into knots.

You gently pushed your fingers into his scales, into the mountains and valleys of the contours of what made his draconic skin. You felt how they dipped, like city streets that snaked through clusters of buildings, made a network of highways where you could see the sky, feel the wind on your face. You felt how they rose again, like shockwaves pulsing away from the origin of an explosion, as you pressed your palm into another knot. Sylus grunted, his tail curling of its own volition, as you soothed his muscles. It was different, from the human skin you’d practiced on, but so similar, too. His scales were warm and rough to the touch, but underneath, his muscles steadily smoothed out, like you’d been taught these massages would do.

When you were done there, you had to scoot closer to him, to massage the last part of his tail. The finished parts curled around you, inviting you closer, keeping you in place. You worked around the magnificent spines that curved toward his back, the deadly weapons smooth to the touch, but unmistakably sharp, as you brushed your hand around them. The scales here were bumpy, like permanent gooseflesh pebbled his scales, though the heat radiating off him proved otherwise. You ran your hands up and down, spreading your fingers, rubbing circles and indistinguishable shapes into the peaks and valleys, the bumps and ridges that made the topography of his reptilian skin. You wrapped one arm under him, cradling him gently, so gently, as you massaged the place under the fin-like protrusions that jutted out from the sides of his tail. A deep rumble broke the stillness, and you smiled, when you realized Sylus was doing the dragon equivalent of a purr. His head lowered, relaxing, as you rubbed the leathery membrane of the frills between your fingers, smoothed over the spiked ridges where it turned back into polished scales.

You leaned back, relishing in satisfaction as his tail curled further around you, without pain, without a grunt or grimace. It quickly faded though, as you looked at him, tilting your head appraisingly. Tracing your eyes over his bejeweled back, how the red streaks flowed from it, slithered around his body and rejoined at the gem in his chest. He said his back and shoulders hurt too, didn’t he?

You weren’t quite done, then.

You angled yourself towards him, his tail still in your lap, holding you in place. You laid your hands on his back, the lower part of his shoulder blades, spreading your fingers across the smooth planes of mortal flesh. They tensed at your touch on instinct, drawing his shoulders together, before they relaxed, surrendered to you, trusted you. His tail flicked once, intrigued, before you started slowly rolling your hands, from his shoulders to his lower back, up and down, like using a rolling pin, kneading out dough with your hands. The rumbling purr grew louder, echoed through the cave, his back beginning to arch slightly to give you better access, his head tilting in bliss. You didn’t bother hiding the smirk that spread across your face. Instead, you had to suppress a shiver as you marveled at the feeling of his skin beneath your hands, so delicate and fragile and beautiful, like what you thought holding a newborn babe would feel like. You moved your hands in, towards the cord of scales that traveled down his spine, untangling the knots you found there too. You rolled your shoulders, the pain that burned and ripped through you settling, easing as you soothed Sylus’s ache.

Once his back was done, you leaned forward, chest nearly flush with it, intent on giving his shoulders proper care next, when you yelped as Sylus fell back into you in a heap, his tail sliding out beneath him. You stared at him in disbelief as he settled in your lap, purring, ever purring, his face completely relaxed as he nuzzled it into your chest. His eyes were closed, and he let out a long, tired sigh, as he made himself comfortable, reclining into you like a chair.

“More,” he mumbled, when your hands didn’t return to him, didn’t continue his massage. Against your will, a bark of laughter erupted from your chest, watching the big, scary dragon melting on top of you. His warmth soaked into you, your skin a greedy sponge, and you let yourself just relish in it, for a moment. The outer caves, where your chambers were, got so cold at night, where the lifeblood of the mountain didn’t flow. He brought you blankets, wrapped you in silk, velvet, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same as the heat that surrounded him, an aura of warmth that kept the fire in his heart, his belly burning. You held him in a tighter embrace, as you were reminded of how much you missed him, how you shivered in the plush nest of bedding you made, how unbearably cold it was, absent of his warmth for the past few days.

Sylus wriggled, grunting unhappily when you didn’t immediately comply. You snapped out of your stupor, chuckling, impatient dragon, before putting your hands on his wide, muscular shoulders, beginning to slowly roll them in your palms. His left one was much harder to work on, the scales rising up like jagged peaks, the pointed ends barely kept from your tender flesh. You did your best to work around them, pressing your fingers into the canyons where the scales parted, rolling the heel of your palm where they met his neck. He huffed, rolling his shoulders as the knots came loose, as the soreness he felt dissolved like warm fog, the reflection of it in your own shoulders draining.

When the taut string that held his shoulder blades together finally went lax, your hands traveled downward, beginning to delicately caress his arms, over the backs of his hands, before ascending again. An achingly tender touch that your caregivers at the Sanctuary used to sooth you with when you were a child, the faintest ghosting of fingers across skin, a touch so sickeningly sweet it made you want to weep. Sylus’s breath hitched, as you shared this delicate caress with him. He let out a shuddered sigh, turning his hands and opening them, so you could slide your fingers all the way over his wrists, down to his palms, and travel back again.

You both let the moment stretch, let the silence bloom between you, save for the occasional purr or sigh. You watched him, as you tended to his pain, how his back pushed against you with every breath, how his eyes were closed in sheer euphoria as he rested his cheek on your chest. You stared at him as you felt emotions build in your chest, push on your tender ribs, your heart clenching. Happiness that he was no longer in pain, anguish that he felt it at all. Joy that you were able to comfort him when he needed it most, despair that you both let him suffer for so long, by not seeking the other out.

I will always come to your aid.

You vowed it, to yourself, in the deepest recess of your soul. You promised it, to him, in the darkest echelons of your heart. And as much as you would’ve liked to let the silence last, let this feeling of your heart leaping as a blissful doe across a grassy, sun dappled knoll, with your beloved dragon in your lap, there was only one way to ensure such a promise remained intact.

You kissed his hair to smooth him, the delicate silver strands tickling your lips. “Sylus?”

“Hmm?” His eyes remained closed.

“What caused you such pain?”

His contented half smile vanished, brows furrowing. He opened his beautiful eyes, averted his gaze from you, tail swaying in renewed agitation. You worried for a moment that he may not answer you, or worse, try to part from you again.

“Before I was imprisoned in the Abyss, many sought me out. To claim glory in my slaughter, to be the one who finally killed the fiend. I was accosted by armies, whole battalions.” He paused, weighing his words carefully. “They were…harder to repel, when I was younger.”

You closed your eyes. You closed your eyes, against the sinking feeling in your chest, against the despair that crested, flooded you. You could see it. The mark pulsed, and you stared out of eyes that were not your own. You heard a dragon's roar, a familiar sound, as you watched a writhing, living ocean of gleaming steel bound down the hilltops towards you. Massive, scaled hands stretched away from you, swatting at the bright shapes as they threatened you with their polished swords, their axes, their spears. You screamed, as they dug into your arms, your flank, arrows embedded into your wings, your neck. A flash of red streaked across your vision, a sword made of blood descending on you, aimed at your heart.

You shook your head, the images swirling together in blotches of color, condensing, precipitating back into a picture of a dark, black cave. You felt steel along your limbs, pinching, pulling and locking you in place. You thrashed, snarling and snapping your jaws at the chains as your muscles ignited with pain from the wounds that never got proper care. But the chains did not yield against the thrashing of your head, the beating of your wings, your lashing tail. A sword made of blood, holding you in place.

You opened your eyes. You opened your eyes, and looked down at the tormented creature in your lap, who trusted you enough to show you his soft underbelly (even if it required some coaxing), the tender parts that took the blade so easily. And what a monumental feat that was, for a dragon, you realized. For a being whose very existence depended on being the strongest, on having the will to fight against a world that longed for his head from the first moment he opened his eyes. Vulnerability was weakness, and weakness was death. Cruelty was a shield against the swords, bows, axes of cruelty that were wielded against him first. He’d snapped at you, before, as a wolf does when caught in a snare, baring fangs and snarling even as the kind hunter tries to free him. Tries to restore his freedom, before he could finish gnawing his leg off, because what is a leg compared to the boundless sky, a forest that stretches and stretches into a pinprick of darkness, or an ocean that reaches so far, it touches the horizon with blue gold fingers?

You rested your chin atop his head, his horns framing your face. Your hands kept moving, spreading your fingers, closing them, down the ridged scales on his arms, back again over soft skin.

“I’m sorry,” you said, because it was the only thing that felt right to say.

Sylus huffed, brushing off the heaviness that cloaked you at his admission. “You’ve no reason to be sorry.”

You squeezed him. “And yet I am, for what my kin did to you.”

He hummed, clearly still in disagreement, but letting the matter drop. He adjusted his position, getting more comfortable in your lap, snuggling against you. You watched him fondly while you bore the full brunt of his weight without protest, shielded him from the pain as best you knew.

“Maybe tomorrow we can go down to the market and get you some lotion for the soreness.” You suggested, not stopping your hands from moving across his skin.

He hummed again, thinking on it. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Why?” You tilted your head at him.

Sylus took a deep breath. “…This is enough.” He said, his voice heavy with emotions he was too prideful to share.

“…Okay,” you said, because you trusted him, now, to be honest with you about this. Trusted him not to push you away when pain made him feel weak, made him want to hide in the shadows.

Even with this newfound trust, though, you gently cupped his chin in your hand, turning his face so he’s forced to look at you. So he could not claim ignorance as his blood-red eyes took in the conviction on your face, in your words, spoken with genuine, honest devotion.

“Come to me next time you’re feeling like this.”

He stared at you. You held his gaze, holding him softly, but firmly, not letting him pull away from the words you needed him to hear from you, and what you needed to hear from him. Would grow sick with worry, if you didn’t.

He looked away, staring up at your lovely neck, his teeth marks in your skin. He nodded, once, before meeting your eyes again.

“Very well.”

You let out a tense breath, your shoulder blades easing. You let go of his face, but he was quick to grab your hand. He held it up, turned his face into your wrist, nuzzling it, his lips softer than the purest, freshest wool as they pressed into your skin.

“Only if you promise to hold me, as you have today, when I do.” He pushed your palm into his cheek, his hot breath fanning down your arm as he sighed, his eyes half-lidded and sleepy.

Your heart swelled, felt like it might burst from affection, an adoration that it felt too small to contain. You swallowed around the lump in your throat those thick emotions formed, as he asked you to be his safety, his comfort.

“Always, my dragon.”

Sylus smiled, buried his face in your palm. He placed another gentle kiss on the outside of your wrist, before returning your hand to his cheek.

“How did you know to come to me?” He asked softly.

You paused, tapped his cheek to make sure he was looking at you. Your hand moved, his gaze following it, as you brought it up to press against the imprint of his teeth marks in your neck.

“Because…I felt it, too.”

He stared at you, with those perfect rubies, traveling across your face. His eyes flicked between the mark and your face, before his nose wrinkled slightly, and he turned away from you again.

“That wasn’t my intention, when I gave it to you,” he said, some of his irritation creeping back at his displeasure.

You let out a heavy breath. You suspected as much, weren’t sure he even knew you caught traces of his own desires through it. “I know. It’s okay.”

“No.” His tail swayed unhappily. “You should be angry with me.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. You were angry at him, still. Just not for that. “I can handle the pain,” you said, instead of admitting your hidden feelings.

“But you shouldn’t have to.” He looked up at you, his rose colored eyes filled with…remorse?

“I am willing to, if it’s for you.” You leaned forward, brushing your lips over his temple to reassure him.

He scoffed, shaking his head in disdain. “Humans are foolish,” he hissed, though there was no heat in his words.

You grinned down at him. “One of our many charms.”

He snorted, and you felt how his lips quirked up in a smile. He relaxed again, closing his eyes, your reassurances a powerful balm for his soul. His tail stopped swaying, curled around your ankle instead to hold you closer.

“I am still mad at you, though.”

He stilled, his expression falling. He opened his eyes again, caught your gaze, puzzled.

“I care about you. A lot,” you said, hardening your expression, so he knew you were serious. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you speak to me like you just did without any consequences.”

Understanding colored his features. He had the decency to look slightly sheepish, hanging his head.

“I’d be disappointed if you did,” he admitted quietly. He slowly lowered your hand from his face, guiding it to his chest, to the gem embedded over his rapidly beating heart. You brushed your fingers across the smooth surface, traced the edges of each uneven, polished side. He engulfed your hand with his massive claw, closed both of them over his heart. “I will make it up to you. Anything you desire, it’s yours.”

You hummed, considering his offer, letting him open your hand again, lean down to run his nose across your palm. Watched him, as his forked tongue parted his lips, licked a soft stripe across your skin so sweetly, you may have wondered if you imagined it, were your eyes not locked on him. Not an apology, but perhaps the closest a dragon could come to the concept.

You smiled.

“You’re going to have to be an obedient little dragon for a long time to make up for it.”

Sylus stilled, his talons tightening around your open palm. Then he shifted, met your eyes with his, a toothy grin meeting your own.

“I am at your mercy, O great sorceress.”

🐉 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 🐉

Sylus is in a foul mood.

A deal had gone belly up, that he’d been working on for weeks. Weeks of dealing with the sniveling underlings of a business partner he coveted, whom nearly pissed themselves whenever he spoke, of long, boring negotiations that got dragged on for hours beyond what was necessary, of finally drafting and signing a contract for the protocores he needed, only to have a rival business, some small faction he couldn’t even bother to know the name of, made of traitors and vultures alike, had outbid him with an offer too tantalus; the promise of Onychinus on a platter, them as the new reigning monarchs of the N109 Zone.

Their hubris was their own undoing. They hadn’t tried to disguise the bombs they put in his shipment very well, assuming with the contract in place, Sylus was keen to be lax. What they didn’t know is that Sylus is nothing if not thorough, consistent with his business. Every shipment bound for his warehouses is checked, checked, and checked again, to ensure he gets exactly what he is promised, and to ensure situations - precisely like these - are foiled before even having a chance at fruition. The protocore shaped explosives had been caught on the first scans, and Sylus is offended, not at the attempt on his life, but the sloppy execution of the whole ordeal, especially from his own ex-employees.

He’d repaid the offensive slight tenfold. It was customary, after all. Crushed the insurrectionists who coveted the seat of the N109 Zone, their pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears. They’d made their bed, and Sylus is more than happy to help them lay in it, under six feet of dirt. And his new supplier, who was so for such a short amount of time, got the same treatment for consorting against him in his own territory. He stormed the building they used as a den in a hail of bullets and red-black evol, looking forward to the mushroom cloud that would erupt in a ball of fire when he blew the place off the map. He’d smirked, thumbing the detonator in his pocket, as his men scoured the building for anything valuable or useful, while his supplier hung suspended in the air by his evol.

It was when his men reported back what they’d found in the building’s basement that he took a special pleasure in the vengeance he planned to enact. The dozens of women, in cages, they’d found, emaciated and barely alive. Whom he’d had to relocate anonymously to a shelter within Linkon, because he refused to leave them buried among the rubble. He remembers the way his face twisted in outrage when his men first delivered the news of what was going on in that wretched place.

This was one business Sylus refused to dip his fingers into. That level of depravity was lower than a swine’s belly, and he refused to stoop so low as to wallow in the mud with people more monstrous than he could ever hope to be. Had he known about his new supplier’s involvement in such things, he never would’ve pursued them in the first place. But he was a weapons dealer, first and foremost, and his particular brand required top quality protocores to meet his, and his buyers, standards. And, supposedly, his newest catch sold some of the best on the market after his last, and longest lasting one, had been caught in a turf war near the outskirts of the N109 Zone, and was erased from existence completely.

Sylus prefers to keep his emotions out of business; it simply made things easier, less messy. But perhaps he was more biased than he let on, because he let that old, familiar bloodlust make his bones feel restless, let the burning fire of rage seep into his veins like molasses as he discovered the kind of pigs that tried to lay with him. As they tarnished his reputation, by even associating with them.

It was no matter, though. That contract was now neatly shredded in his bin, all copies of it eradicated, and that portly man who ran that business, well, he’d made for a fine night’s entertainment. Sylus feels a deep sense of satisfaction at having acted as his comeuppance, tearing down his fragile kingdom brick by brick, ensuring nothing but a crater would be left of it. His lips quirk up in a smile, as he remembers how the man had squealed - as all hogs do - when he peeled his skin off, slowly, and fed it to the wanderers that lurk in the nearby no-hunt zones.

But, as much fun as he’d had smearing another pest in his territory into the dirt, he is now facing the consequences of his actions, dealing with the fallout of indulging in his murderous whims. Without a proper supplier, he is pressed to find another way to fulfill the orders that had piled up over the last couple of weeks. Onychinus always fulfills its orders, Sylus prides his business on that, but now he is scrambling, trying to find a new supplier who won’t sell him fakes within the next 48 hours.

Sylus sighs, staring down at the papers on his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. Swirls the glass of wine that’s gone warm in his hand. His head is beginning to throb.

A light rapping at the door has Sylus lifting his head. His first impulse is to be irritated, as he suspects it’s the twins, and with the drumming behind his temples, he has half a mind to tell them to leave him be. But, perhaps their reconnaissance to find a new source for the protocores he needed was fruitful. He could handle them for the few minutes it would take to be debriefed on the results, he decides.

“Enter,” the smooth baritone of his voice broke the stillness of his office. Sylus leans back, drumming his fingers on the armrest of his chair as he waits for them to comply.

The door handle turns, and Sylus sits up, when he sees not the twins, but your beautiful, perfect self, wearing one of the outfits he bought you, dart through his door, quickly closing it behind you.

“Sweetie,” he greets, perking up as you turn, flashing him a sweet, gentle smile as you make your way over to him. Though only an expert could see how the slight widening of his eyes, the faint relaxing of his shoulders belied his adoration for you. You, who made every deal worth slogging through, made every contract a stitch in the fabric of the tapestry of all he would do for you, offer you. You, his most precious treasure, who smiled so sweetly as you approached him, are the only one who can tell his face lit up the moment he saw you.

Your brows furrow slightly as you round his desk. “Everything okay? You look exhausted.” You ask softly. Your voice, a caress of feathers against his rough exterior, made him want to shed the armor that protects the soft, squishy parts of himself. He discards the wine on his desk, opens his arms for you, and you obediently plant yourself shamelessly in his lap, straddling him to bury your face in the crook of his neck, holding him as tightly as he holds you.

He let out another sigh, the stress he feels seeping out of him as he absorbs your warmth, his shoulders slumping. “Unpleasant business,” he answers, kissing the crown of your head, his thumbs rubbing back and forth along your lower back. He feels his heart swell, strain against the warmth that fills it, as you hum in acknowledgement, nestling deeper into him, rubbing your hands up and down his recently tense shoulders. He wonders how you are able to do it, how you are able to tamper the lingering bloodlust towards the sycophants who thought they would consort against him, by simply being there, holding him, existing.

“Do you want a massage?”

Sylus opens his eyes, tightening his grip as he tries to suppress the way his heart leaps at the offer. You do this for him so often, yet his heart is just as excited every time. He thought he would get used to it, that the greedy, yawning maw inside him that wants to swallow you whole would be soothed by your presence. But with every indulgence, every time you run your hands along his skin, he only feels his greed growing bigger and bigger, his desire for you like a cancer that grows and grows without ending.

“I might become a spoiled brat, if you keep offering so often,” he teases, calm, collected. Hiding the way he wants to say yes, please yes into your ear, beg for his desires that squirm and wiggle in the deepest parts of his heart. He would, for you. He’d bend the knee with a smile on his face, if it meant he’d get to feel more of your angelic touch.

You lean back and he lets you, despite his urge to keep you crushed against him. You smile, and he can see that mischievous twinkle in your pretty eyes.

“Who says I don’t want to spoil you?”

Sylus can’t help but laugh, shaking his head. You may make a monster of him yet, with such promises. “I could certainly get used to it.”

You nod happily. “Good,” you say, leaning in to trace your nose up his neck, pepper the underside of his jaw with kisses. He groans, tries to keep himself from devouring you, like he so desires to do. “Come on then,” you speak into his skin. “Let’s go.”

He chuckles, but dutifully stands, lifting you as he does, your legs naturally coiling around his waist. The papers, his problems from the last few days, slide off his shoulders like rain on hydrophobic feathers as he carries you out of his office, down the hall to his bedroom. The door opens, shuts behind him with a soft click and the brush of his evol, the lock sliding into place to ensure you’re not interrupted.

Sylus sits down on the edge of the bed, holding you in his lap as you begin to unbutton his dress shirt. He buries his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder, smelling you, fighting the urge to sink his teeth into your plushness. You kiss the place just above his ear, finishing the last of the buttons and pulling the shirt off him. He takes it, throws it somewhere inconsequential, then shifts you off his lap, looking at you expectantly. You waste no time getting to work, and as soon as you prop up a suitable amount of pillows against the headboard, settle yourself to lean comfortably on them, he crawls after you, letting himself fall on top of you like a giant weighted blanket, wrapping his arms underneath you. You laugh breathlessly, squirming while you complain that you can’t get to the skin oil with him on top of you. Without opening his eyes, his fingers twitch, the sound of a drawer being opened reaching his ears, the small container of oil put in your hands by inky red tendrils.

You scoff playfully at him, before popping the cap and lathering the oil into your hands. Sylus’s nostrils flare, trying to catch as much of the scent as he can. Datura flowers, a splash of vanilla, a hint of lavender. The same scent in the lotion you got for him in Tarus City, when you finally convinced him it would help the muscle soreness, despite his protests. You’d been right, of course.  You usually are, Sylus had learned. Though, he is sure you don’t remember the scent, wouldn’t have reacted so lukewarm towards it if you did. Another attempt at making you remember bound for the bin.

He gives up on dwelling on it though, because he has to swallow a moan as your hands, which are so, so unbelievably soft, start to knead his supple flesh, pushing and pulling on his skin expertly. You trace every inch along the planes of his back, the contours of every muscle, down his spine, the place just below his neck. He can feel as his stress is worked out of every inch of him, your hands leaving no place ignored, forgotten. He shivers, his skin tingling with delight as he holds you closer, tries to absorb the feeling into his bones so he can never be without it. He could live here, he thinks. Would be content if this moment stretched into infinity, and he never had to leave your embrace.

He isn’t sure how long he lets you dote on him. All he knows is that sleep has begun to call for him, he feels so relaxed, so full, completed. That the oil, whose touch was cold at first, is now warmed by his body and your hands, is disappearing into his skin as you and it cradle him. He wants to accept the invitation to unconsciousness, let the world fade into nothing around him, but he knows stress has dug its greedy claws into you, as well. You tried to hide it from him, said you didn’t want to bother him; he already had so much on his plate. When would you learn you are never a bother to him? When would you learn that he would strip Onychinus down to a cadaver, if it meant you are always happy, always pleased, always at his side?

So instead of allowing himself to fall asleep, despite how tempting, he holds you more firmly, before he abruptly rolls, planting you snugly on his chest.

“Sylus!” You protest, and he can’t help but smirk; you’re so cute when you’re annoyed with him. “You could give me a little warning, at least.”

“I could,” he agrees, pinching the fabric of your clothes between his fingers. “But where’s the fun in that?”

You huff, peel yourself off him to scrutinize his form. “You want a chest rub too?” You ask, hands instinctively moving to start anew.

Sylus quickly grabs your hands, gives them a gentle squeeze. “You already pampered me. Now it’s my turn to return the favor.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” you say, shaking your head. “You don’t have to.”

“I don’t,” he concurs again, running his hands up and down your arms. “But I want to. I know you’ve been stressed lately, too.”

Your lips part slightly, eyes going wide. You always thought you hid it so well. “I’m okay, really-”

“Don’t lie to me.” He gives you a pointed look, cupping your face in one big hand, running his thumb below your eye. “I can see the bags under your eyes.”

You stiffen, avert your gaze. Sylus wraps his arms around you, pulls you further into him, so you can bury your face into his neck. He runs the tip of his nose along your own neck, kisses the place his teeth once punctured.

“Let me take care of you.”

You don’t respond, for a long moment, and Sylus worries you may try to deny your fatigue further. But then, you give the smallest nod, and he is relieved.

He doesn’t hesitate; starts working your clothes off as soon as he has your permission. His fingers run across your skin, pulling the fabric up, giving you a chaste kiss when you obediently lift your arms so he can finish removing it. You shiver as the cold air graces your form, and Sylus pulls you more tightly into him, letting you soak up as much of his warmth as you can. His evol stirs when you settle, placing the bottle of oil in his hands. He pours a generous amount onto them, the hands made for you, to love you, made for your pleasure, lathers it into them. He puts them on your shoulder blades, spreading his fingers in an attempt to be as gentle as you, before he begins to slowly roll your doughy flesh. You let out a whimper, then a happy sigh as you melt into him, get lost in the feeling of his hands on you. He allows himself to start humming the tune you taught him, the one he knows you do remember, somewhere deep in your subconscious. Your hands grip his shoulders, clutching him as he watches the oil slide across your body, sooth the deep aches where his hands can’t reach.

It doesn’t take long for your breaths to grow long and even, your body sinking further into him as drowsiness overtakes you. Sylus feels a profound sense of satisfaction that he is able to comfort you so thoroughly as to lull you to sleep, as you just had for him. That you trust him enough to let down all your defenses. He remembers, not so long ago, when you hated him, accused him of being a monster, a title more literal than you remembered. When you thought he was responsible for ripping everything you loved from your desperate fingers.

You’ve both come so far since then.

He lets his lips roam across your scalp, nibbles on the shell of your ear. You stir, shifting to secure yourself more firmly in his lap.

“I love you.” Your voice is gruff with sleep, though the words come out no less assured.

Sylus hums. “I love you,” he echos, nuzzling his face into your soft, downy hair. He presses his lips into your temple one more time before closing his own eyes, settling into the cushions. “Get some rest, my beloved.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had so much fun with this, even though it took around 2 months and like, 20 drafts 😂😭 But I really wanted to show the progression between the past lives both Sylus and us/MC have had and how they are now, while exploring the scars Sylus definitely has from being hunted in his youth. I wanted to show this mirroring effect with past/present and how they’re the same people, but they’ve also changed over time. It was also an excuse to write more nonsexual intimacy, which I couldn’t say no to :)

Btw I hope Sylus wasn’t too mean in this. I HC that he can revert back to such a state when his instincts kick in, because of his cruel lines right before MC stabs him the second time (right before they share souls). It’s like how animals become more aggressive/hide away when they’re sick because they know they’re more valuable during that time. But I hope it wasn’t too much 🙏

I also definitely didn’t cry while rewatching his myth to get names/details right, because the song that plays when he dies plays intermittently throughout the entire myth. You do not perceive me

Disclaimer: I do not consent to my work being translated, published, used without my knowledge, reposted, or used in AI training.

[caughtthedarkness93]

Ok, I guess I gotta talk about that one scene in Dragon Age: The Veilguard eventually because I've heard about discourse regarding it and it's driving me up a wall with how some of the criticism ignores key context from the rest of the story that informs how it's written. Spoilers for Taash's storyline follow below the cut.

So I mainly have seen this referenced on TV Tropes because I am not on the hellscape that is Twitter, but people, it seems, have been criticizing the scene where Taash comes out as nonbinary to their mom for how they get pissed at how their mom takes it. Often this is used to frame Taash as being unreasonable as their mom is struggling to understand what that means.

And I feel like that criticism kind of misses a big part of what that scene is actually about. Because Taash's relationship with their mom is complicated. This is something that their storyline stresses repeatedly. Taash has fond memories of growing up with their mom and knows that she basically gave up her whole culture to ensure that Taash wouldn't be forced into a soldier's life. It's clear that their mom is still very attached to Qunari culture and she outright expresses a couple times that she feels like being a Qunari scholar equipped her extremely poorly to actually raise a child. That checks out - under the Qun, that would be someone else's job entirely.

So this informs a lot of Taash's relationship with her - Taash recognizes that she gave up a very privileged position with the Qunari for their sake. Because she wanted a better life for them than what they'd get there. That's a huge sacrifice.

However, you watch how they interact, you can see that Taash's mom is also very critical of them and very controlling. She doesn't care much for Taash's privacy, tries to make a lot of their decisions for them without putting a lot of thought into what they actually want, and she is extremely critical of them sometimes about things that don't really matter.

So we get to that scene late in their storyline - the Lighthouse dinner. I think the critical mistake a lot of people make when looking at this scene is thinking that it's about how she reacts to Taash's gender identity.

Which that informs it, sure, but there's more to it. When Taash yells that nothing they do is good enough for their mom, it's not a reaction to how she responds to their identity, it's a reaction to the way their whole relationship has been built up throughout the game. It's the straw that broke the camel's back. And it's true to Taash's character.

One of the things that I like about Taash is that they're someone who likes a straightforward, direct solution to most problems. Thing in your way? Break it. Big scary monster? Kill it. They like to be able to take the most simple, direct path through a problem, preferably one that involves slaying a big monster, and Veilguard constantly puts them in situations where that isn't an option. And in those situations, they struggle a lot. Taash struggles to get along with Emmerich because that involves overcoming internalized prejudices (and understandable ones too - necromancy is something that would probably make a lot of people uncomfortable irl and for a culture where cremation is the norm and undead can be a legit issue, that would go, like, quadruple - of course they're uncomfortable with Emmerich). That's not an easy thing to do because it involves a lot of introspection and interrupting thoughts that you've been trained to think. Taash questions their gender identity. Definitely no easy, straightforward way to solve that. They angst a lot over being afraid they're broken somehow for feeling these things. A fraught, complicated relationship with a parent who sacrificed everything so that you would have a better life, but can't seem to bring herself to let you actually live it the way you want? Can't hit that with an axe.

And ultimately, that's what's happening in this scene - the whole game, we've seen Taash struggle with this really complex, nuanced relationship, this mother who clearly loves them and wants the best life possible for them, but struggles to understand what their child really needs and often says or does things that are hurtful. In this scene, this bubbling, brewing resentment, definitely exacerbated by Taash being outside their mom's orbit and with a team that has more faith in their skills and abilities, finally comes to a head.

The scene is only about Taash's identity on the most surface of levels. Yeah, that's what sparks the argument, but it's not what the argument is about.

[patricia-the-autism-apprentice]

i made more traumacore revival album covers ladies

more tomfoolery below the cut

i own like literally none of these images i just downloaded them and made a fuckin collage in krita lmao

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

anything related of Anders??

prob some fluff where this menacing teddybear is all lovey-dovey with his girl?? or, or some teammates to lovers??

anything really, I just need something for this man as there AREN'T ENOUGH FICS ABOUT HIM!! Gosh, I need him like air 😭😫

Btw, I adore your writing 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Thank you so much, love! I am so obsessed with Anders and you're right, there is seriously NOTHING for him. Send as many ideas you want, I'll do my best to answer them. And let me know if you want a smutty follow up.

Anders Lassen x Female Reader

Warnings: 18 + for language, blood, and canon typical violence.

Living for Later

The situation was grim at best. The soldiers in their crisp white uniforms had varying degrees of expression, from confusion to anger, and the worst of all glee. The glass case at your back digs in, the sharp edge leaving an imprint and the gun slips from your fingertips. The last of your bullets expended on the men bleeding out onto the soles of your boots. 

“Shit,” you whisper, reaching behind you for the handle on the case, seeing the axe behind it from the corner of your eye. Behind the men, you see Apple's face a reflection of the anger you feel. It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. Apple quickly looks behind him, talking to someone on the ground and you strain to see anything when the soldiers close in. Two men grab each of your arms and another puts his hand around your throat. Something similar had happened the night before but this was a much less pleasant experience. You close your eyes when he moves closer whispering to you in his filthy tongue and you flinch away. 

The group laughs as he pulls back to spit in your face. You open your eyes and see the shine of a knife and start thrashing doing everything in your power to escape. Apple finds your eyes and a smile splits across his face. You’re ready to curse him at every language you know when the first wail of pain reaches your ears. 

Your heart pounds as you see the wide shoulders of Anders Lassen spear his way through the soldiers. He’s down to his last two arrows and he digs it into the eye of the one holding you, spraying blood onto the wall like a work of modern art. He’s seriously outnumbered and you look around when the axe catches your eyes. Ripping open the case you grab the axe and shout, “Anders!” He turns and grins, grabbing the axe and letting loose the beast you’d only seen twice before. 

Moving along the wall, you reach where Apple is watching his mouth wide. One of the men tries to grab the axe when Anders kicks him in the throat, shouting, “My woman gave that to me!” Before planting the axe in his head. Anders heaves, his shirt coated in blood before he turns to you with a smile, “You okay, love?” Like he didn’t just brutally butcher a group of enemy soldiers. 

You giggle and his smile grows as he crowds you against the wall, lifting your head with one finger his eyes checking over every inch of you. “Are you hurt, Min Elskede?” he asks quietly, his finger tracing over your cheek before he holds your face in his hands. 

“No,” you shake your head, the adrenaline slowly leaving your body, slumping against his body, “you killed them before they had the chance.” 

“I would burn the world down for you,” he presses his forehead to your own, “you know that, right?” 

“I know,” you reach up and press your lips to his own, “the feeling is mutual.” 

“While this is very romantic, being covered in blood, and kissing after just saving her life. We need to get moving,” Apple interrupts, wincing when you both glare at him. 

“Ja, we need to save the world, blah, blah, blah,” Anders grabs your hand tugging him behind you, “lead the way, Apple.” Apple starts up the stairs and Anders goes to follow but stops turning to give you a look that leaves your panties dripping, “this isn’t over, later you’re mine,” he presses his mouth to your own and you moan feeling his tongue tangle with you own, before he pulls away and pulls you up the stairs. 

You make a promise to live going up those stairs because you really wanna make it to later.

Do you want later? Let me know because that rope is giving me some thots.

[fantasydreamland]

Answered Prayers

ragnar lothbrok x fem reader

Summary: After being captured by the Vikings your prayers to god remain unanswered, as you come to realize they always have. An intriguing Viking man teaches you of their ways, and all your prayers are answered. (No language barrier & Ragnar is unmarried for the sake of the story).

Notes: 18+ ONLY!!! Smuttt, maybe some fluff, loss of virginity, p in v, fingering, oral (f), angst, kidnapping/violence/raiding in opening story, possible spoilers.

Word count: 3.7k

I’m very into Norse spirituality so I loved writing this

masterlist

Everyone in the city moves in a panic as the bells ring, alarms in response to the Northmen pulling up to your shores. You find a spot in your house to hide and clutch your cross close to your chest as you pray to god to protect you from these heathens.

A bang startles you as a Viking man kicks down your door. Your heart races as you hear him tearing apart the house searching for valuables. You hear screams outside and continue whispering prayers to god begging him to keep you from being found.

The Viking eventually finds you hiding in a corner between your bed and the wall. Your heart stops when his bright blue eyes meet yours. His eyes examine you from head to toe before he smirks.

“Please… please don’t kill me.” You beg through oncoming tears. “Take whatever you want, just please.”

“Come.” He reaches his hand out for you to take.

You look up at him with furrowed brows in confusion.

“You said I can take whatever I want.” The man says. “So come.”

“No, no, please. Please don’t hurt me…” You cry.

“If you come with me, I will have no reason to hurt you.” He steps closer. “Otherwise…” He gestures to the axe in his hand.

You sniffle as you get up onto your feet. The Viking gestures his hand out to you again which you reluctantly take. He rushes out of the house, dragging you along with him. A small shriek escapes you as your eyes take in the dead bodies and blood everywhere. The man pays no mind to any of it as he pulls you through the city and leads you right out the front gates and into their Viking camp.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” A large Viking man with long dark hair approaches you. You pull away as he tries to brush hair from your face.

“Leave her be.” Your captor says as more of the men come over to ogle at you.

“Why? She is a useless Christian. Only good for one thing...” The man smirks at you.

“She is mine, keep your hands to yourself Rollo.” Your captor replies. “That goes for all of you! No one touches her, she belongs to me.”

You take a small breath of relief before your captor grabs your hand again and leads you far from the group and into a tent.

“Sit.” The man gestures to a small cot. “What is your name?”

“(y/n).” You say as you sit.

“(y/n)…” He hums. “Interesting name. I’m Ragnar Lothbrok.”

“Thank you Ragnar.” You say lowly.

“For what?”

“Out there, protecting me from the other men…” You respond. “And I guess… thank you for not killing me.”

“Like I said to the men, you are mine. They will not harm you as long as you are with me, understand?”

You nod your head.

“What are you going to do with me?” You ask.

He smirks in response before looking you up and down, making you nervous.

“I have not decided yet.” He shrugs with a smirk still on his face.

**********

The journey back to their land was long and dreadful. You had never been on a boat before and the ride made you nauseous. Ragnar kept a close eye on you and made sure no one bothered you.

As soon as they dock Ragnar quickly sneaks you away like he is trying to hide you. He leads you to his small farmhouse outside of town.

“Am I your slave now?” You ask once inside.

He laughs at your response and you scowl.

“I have no need for slaves.” He shrugs.

“If you wish to cook or clean for me, or do other things…” He smirks at you suggestively, making you blush. “I would certainly not object, but you will not be forced to do anything.”

“So I am not a slave… but I am not a free woman?” You question.

“Yes.” He simply responds.

“Then why am I here?”

“I do not know. The gods have not revealed your purpose to me yet.”

“There is only one god.” You say sternly.

He laughs again making anger rise in your cheeks.

“Maybe your god will reveal to you your purpose then.” He says teasingly.

**********

The next couple days were surprisingly peaceful. You did not dare to try and leave the house. Although he never asked you to, you cooked and cleaned mostly to have something to occupy your time but Ragnar appreciated you either way. He would disappear for most of the day to god knows where, but when he returned you would have a hot meal waiting for him.

Ragnar would ask many questions, about your life and your god. You asked about him in return and he told you all about his adventures and of his gods.

“Are you a virgin?” Ragnar asks out of nowhere while you are eating supper.

You choke on your drink, the question taking you off guard.

“Pardon?”

“Well, you are unmarried right?” He continues. “I have heard Christians remain virgins until they are married.”

“Well, um, yes. It would be a sin otherwise.” You respond shyly.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why is it a sin?” He asks with curiosity in his tone.

“I- um, I don’t know. It’s just a sin. You should only make children with your husband or wife.”

“Well, that is a bit silly isn’t it?”

“What is so ‘silly’ about that?” You scowl.

“Because making children is not the only reason to have sex.” He shrugs.

“What do you mean?” You ask, heat rising in your cheeks from annoyance and another feeling you couldn’t quite place.

“Do they teach you nothing?” He raises his brow.

“Not really… especially us women. They keep us sheltered from everything.”

“Well,” He says, taking the food bowl from your hands and placing it down.

He leans towards you until his breath brushes your ear, sending shivers up your spine.

“Sex can provide you with the greatest of pleasures…” He says lowly in your ear, your heart races. “If you know where to touch.” His fingers graze up your knee.

“Your gods… they do not care if you sin?” You ask but it comes out as a whisper.

He chuckles.

“To our gods, it is not wrong. The gods gave us the gift of such pleasure, why would they deny us from taking it?” He shrugs.

“I guess that is true…” You whisper.

“I can show you our ways, if you want.” He says with a devilish grin, moving his hand back to your knee.

“What? No. No I- Um, no… thank you.” You stutter, taken aback by his offer.

“Well, if you change your mind you know where to find me.” He whispers in your ear before standing and cleaning up from supper.

You go to bed early, trying to hide your flushed cheeks since your conversation. Ragnar eventually begins to lightly snore from the next room that was only separated by a thin wall with gaps you could see through. His words replay in your head, “greatest of pleasures if you know where to touch.”. Curiosity gets the better of you as you lightly trace your fingers along your neck and collarbone, the feeling creating goosebumps. Without even realizing, you start imagining Ragnar’s hand as yours travels lower. You grab onto your breast before your hand continues down. Your fingers tease at the hem of your pants before slowly moving down into them. You lightly touch the sensitive skin and it sends a jolt through you making you gasp louder than intended. You hear Ragnar stir in the next room and you quickly pull your hand from your pants as you look to him, still asleep. You sigh and try to get comfortable to sleep. Everything that has happened within the last few days has left you so lost and confused. You have been praying to god every day but nothing changes, nothing reassures you and what you are supposed to do in this place. Your mind continues to race until sleep eventually pulls you under.

**********

“I would like to go into the mountain to pray.” You say to Ragnar.

“Why? So you can run away?” He gives you a teasing scoff.

You can’t hide the small laugh that escapes your lips.

“You know I would not make it very far without you.” You roll your eyes at him. “Besides, I need you to show me the way.”

“Alright then… perhaps tomorrow.” He shrugs.

“No, today.” You push. “Right now… please.”

You were desperate to have a moment of solitude and a private moment speak to god.

“Very well, we should go now while the sun is still high.” Ragnar says as he heads towards the door, you stand and follow after him.

He leads you up the hills of the forest until you reach a clearing facing the water. The stunning view took your breath away.

“I… I need to be alone.” You say to Ragnar.

“Do not try to escape.” He winks at you. “I will be just down this hill when you are done.”

You give him a grateful smile and you watch him walk away until he is out of sight. Turning back to face the edge of the cliff, you close your eyes take a deep breath as you feel the breeze brush across your face. You crouch to the ground onto your knees and bring your hands together in prayer.

“Heavenly father… Please help me to find my path. I feel so lost in this unfamiliar world and do not know what I am to do next or who I am meant to be now… And I feel… as if my prayers to protect and watch over me have gone unanswered, especially when I was taken by these people.” You pray with tears coming to your eyes. “Please god, if you are there, if you are watching over me… if you are real… please send me a sign.”

You open your eyes and watch for any sort of sign that your god is with you. Nothing happens.

“Please, give me any sign so I know you are watching over me as I have always believed.”

You wait again, and wait, and wait. The world was still, not even a stronger gust of wind to show a possible sign from god.

You drop your hands into your lap in defeat. Tears begin to roll down your cheeks until an idea crosses your mind. You breathe out a laugh to yourself feeling a bit silly for what you were about to try. You bring your hands back together but instead have a strange urge to connect to the earth. You bow, reaching your hands forward into the ground, feeling the dirt and grass between your fingers.

“Odin…” You close your eyes and begin, whispering so quietly it’s nearly silent. “Freyja… Thor… Please hear me. Hear my prayers. Help me, guide me, to who I am supposed to be now… what I am supposed to do.”

Suddenly, a raven lets out a loud ‘caw’ startling you. Your head shoots up and you look to the bird watching you from a rock to your side. Your heart races and your eyes go wide as you watch each other. A tickle on your hand makes you look down to see a white butterfly that landed on you. You lift your hand to admire it and it flies around your head before flying away, at the same time the raven flies off with it.

As your brain tries to comprehend the unmistakeable signs that the pagan gods are answering your prayers, you hear a rumble of thunder. The skies turn grey within a matter of seconds before rain suddenly begins to pour down. You stand and let out a laugh of disbelief as you spread your arms wide and look to the sky as you let out a heavy breath of relief. The rain washed over your entire being, cleansing you of your troubles. It felt like a different kind of baptism, a rebirth.

“(y/n)?” You hear Ragnar call from behind you.

You turn to him with a wide smile on your face. He noted how beautiful you were when you smiled like that, he realized he had never seen more than a faint one cross your lips.

“Are you alright?” He smiles back at you. “We should head back. Thor’s wrath may become brutal soon if we remain all the way out here.”

“No, he is speaking to me.” You smile, making Ragnar’s brows furrow in confusion.

“Your gods… the gods…” You continue. “They answered my prayers…”

“So, suddenly you believe in our gods now?” He teases. “And what of your god?”

“The Christian god has never answered my prayers. Never even given a small sign he is with me.” You explain. “I prayed to Odin, and a raven appeared… Freyja, a white butterfly landed on my hand the same moment… and Thor…” You gesture to the skies the rain continues to pour down from.

You walk closer to Ragnar.

“I want to teach me your ways…” You say lowly.

“All of our ways?” He smirks, mischief dancing in his eyes.

“All of your ways…” You say as you move even closer until your noses brush.

He traces his finger up your neck, making you shiver. His finger continues to move along your jaw before he gently lifts your chin, making your eyes meet his piercing blue ones. “Are you sure about that?” He says with his classic devilish smirk.

Instead of responding you bring your lips to his, which was answer enough. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back hungrily, a small growl escaping him. He cups your cheeks as the rain pours down on you both, the kiss is wet and passionate. His tongue demands entrance to your mouth and you let him take the lead, following along a little awkwardly. His hands move from your face down to your hips as he pulls you against him. The hardness pushing against your stomach makes you gasp.

“Do you wish to return to the house…” Ragnar whispers, against your lips before kissing you again.

“No… I want you to take me right here… under the eyes of Thor and all the gods watching over us…” You whisper back, bringing your hand to his cheek.

Your words light a fire in Ragnar as your eyes meet in an intense gaze. He reaches out and begins to slowly pull at the strings of your dress. His eyes watch yours carefully, as if daring you to stop him. You would do no such thing. Once the ties were loose you let him pull the dress off your shoulders, completely exposing your breasts. They instantly perk up in the cold chill of the rain, droplets of water falling down your skin. A moan escapes you as he leans down and takes one in his mouth, flicking his tongue over your sensitive nipple. Your entire body felt aflame. You welcomed every cold raindrop that touches your heated skin.

His sinful tongue continues to explore down your stomach until he’s on his knees in front of you. You look down at him with lust filled eyes as pulls down the skirts of your dress, leaving you completely bare for him. His gaze meets yours as he squeezes your thighs hard and gives you a smirk.

“Ragnar what are you-“

Your words are cut off when his tongue licks your most intimate area. You gasp and whine as he begins to messily eat you. Your legs shake and wobble as you try to hold onto his shoulders.

“Ragnar I can’t…” You breathe.

He could sense you were barely able to hold yourself up. In one swift movement he hooks your legs over his shoulders and you yelp as he lifts you up. His tongue does not stop working at your bundle of nerves as he walks you over to a tree. You lean your back against the rough bark. The feeling of him was so overwhelming that you hardly felt the tree scratching at your skin. He ate you ravenously like a man starved. Your hands quickly find their way into his hair, tugging lightly, he grunts against you in response. You pant as you look up to the grey rainy skies, the entire moment felt like a dream. A knot begins to tighten in your stomach and your vision starts to blur. Ragnar dips his tongue into your entrance and that is your undoing. You scream out as your thighs squeeze tightly around his head. You would be worried about hurting him but you could swear you felt him grinning against you as his tongue works you through your orgasm.

Ragnar carefully lowers you back to the ground, you feel both your body and your mind come back down to earth. You shiver as he lays you down on the cold wet ground. He removes his now soaked shirt before climbing over you and capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, you moan at the taste yourself as your tongues dance together.

He stands again to quickly remove his pants, your eyes widen at his length before he climbs back on top of you.

“Are you certain?” Ragnar asks lowly, noticing your worried expression.

“Yes but… I don’t think it will fit…” You whisper shyly.

He gives a cocky chuckle before he begins kissing on your neck.

“It will.” He mumbles against your skin.

You feel him rub his length against your core making you whine and buck your hips in response.

“So eager.” He smirks.

He slowly begins pushing in making you grimace in pain. You instantly question his reassurance that it will fit.

“Shh,” Ragnar tries to soothe you.

His lips move back to your neck kissing, sucking and biting, trying his best to distract you from the pain. You moan at the feeling before he pushes right through the barrier and you gasp loudly. Ragnar groans loudly as he feels you squeezing tightly around him like a vice. You pant heavily with tears in your eyes as you adjust to his size. He does not move until you’re ready, then he starts pushing in and out slowly. The pain soon fades and you wrap your legs around him, forcing him deeper into you.

“Please…” You breathe out.

“Please what?” Ragnar whispers directly in your ear, making you shudder.

“More…”

“More what?” He teases you.

“Ragnar, please.” You groan in frustration. “Faster. Harder. Give me more.”

He smirks before finally obliging your wishes and starts pounding into you relentlessly. You quickly begin to see stars as your second orgasm washes over you and you cry out his name. Ragnar slows his pace once you have hit your peak.

“So this is…” You pant. “This is how Vikings… fuck?”

“We fuck however we want to.” He says as he kisses your neck, still hard inside you. “Viking women enjoy riding their men like wild horses.” He mumbles against your skin, like a challenge.

“Then I shall do that…” You say as you sit up and force Ragnar onto his back.

Ragnar’s eyes widen as you move to straddle him.

“I shall ride you like a wild horse.” You look down and meet his eyes, fire in your eyes and a devilish smirk on your lips. “I shall fuck you like a true Viking woman.”

He does not take his eyes off you for one second as you start to sink back down onto his cock, causing your mouth to drop at the feeling. Being new to all of this, you awkwardly try to bounce up and down until Ragnar grips your hips and guides you to move them back and forth.

“Oh…” You moan, eyes rolling back.

You follow his direction and rock your hips back and forth, increasing the speed. The position sends tingles through your entire body. Ragnar watches you in amazement, taking in every inch of your wet naked body as your beautiful moans ring in his ears. His hands move from your hips to grab your breasts and you ride him harder in approval, earning a groan from him.

You still felt like you were dreaming. You had lived such a strict sheltered life and felt so trapped for so long… But as the grey clouds swirl above you and the rain pours down over your shamelessly naked body, as you ride this god of a man who made your entire body vibrate with life, as you cried out loud enough for the gods to hear, as your prayers had finally been answered and your path now clear, as you feel your very souls connect. For the first time in your entire life… you felt free.

Your peak hits you even more intense than any time before, zings of pleasure radiate throughout your entire being. You felt yourself cry out Ragnar’s name but the sudden crack of lightning in the distance completely drowned out the sound. Your eyes shot open and you caught a glimpse of the fast line of lighting across the mountains at the same moment you came. Ragnar digs his fingers hard into your hips as he finds his own release. A loud rumble of thunder booms as he chokes out a moan. In that moment you felt so tremendously powerful, like a you were a god and goddess.

As you come down from your high the rain suddenly becomes much lighter. Panting, you look down at Ragnar who’s grinning smugly up at you. You give him a smirk back before leaning down and capturing his lips in a hungy kiss, your tongue instantly demands entrance and Ragnar happily obliges, moving his hand to your cheek as he eagerly kisses you back.

You roll off of him onto the wet grass, the rain now stopping completely. You felt so wild and free you that had no care about the mud that had gotten all over you.

“So…” Ragnar huffs, still catching his breath. “You really believe in our gods now?”

“They answered my prayers…” You respond, also panting. “It is hard to deny their existence after all of that.”

Ragnar just grins at you.

“We should get cleaned up.” He says as he stands, lending a hand to help you up.

As you stand he pulls you into a quick passionate kiss.

“Welcome to my world, (y/n).” Ragnar smiles.

masterlist

[charliedawn]

slashers(Jason,Michael and Brahms only) with beautiful undead yet friendly bride Reader who is like Emily(from Corpse Bride) and She refers them as Her "Victor" (btw,are you fan of Tim Burton? if not then that's okay)

(Here you go ! Thank you for the request and indeed, I am a big fan of Tim Burton. Hope you’ll like it 👍)

Jason Voorhees:

Jason was scared half-to-death (see what I did there ? 😂) when he saw that rotten bride just sprang out from the very earth he usually buries the bodies of his victims in. Not gonna lie, he kinda ran back to his cabin when he saw you—‘cause if his mama taught him anything ? It was that dead people don’t come back to life for no good reason. The poor boy locked himself up twice. But, it wasn’t enough to stop you. You eventually came in and started haunting him. He tried to shoo you away at first because Jason likes his loneliness, his space. Actually, he doesn’t like people in general—dead or alive. So, Jason tried everything to get rid of you. He swung his axe at you and tried to catch you or trap you, but all his efforts were fruitless. He finally gave up and let you haunt him. But, he didn’t regret it. As you are a ghost, you could guard his home and warn him of any danger nearby. It was nice having someone watching over his back for once.

…But then, you saw it.

The machete that killed you.

On his wall.

You looked back at Jason and your undead heart squeezed in your chest. Had he…? Was he the one who had killed you ? On your wedding day nonetheless ? Wasn’t he your Victor ? And if not. Who was he ?

Brahms Heelshire:

Brahms likes to play pretend. He dreamt of having that special someone he could one day propose to and have his happy ever after moment. He was thinking about it and had one of those gummy rings he had saved from his snack time. He was in the forest and had decided to have himself a little repetition for the unforeseeable future and that’s when he saw one peculiar branch that looked like a finger. He didn’t think more about it and did his little game of pretending…and when he put the ring on the finger. Well…He certainly didn’t expect some half-rotten bride to spurt out of the earth and shout:

"I DO."

But it did. That happened. And then, you wouldn’t leave him—not that he minded. Far from it. He was happy to have a wife (even though the kisses and hugs were a lil’ cold) He wondered about telling people about his…well…new ‘bride’. But, he thought better of it when he realised how lonely and sad you were. It didn’t matter that you called him Victor. Or Marvin. Or Hector. Or Derek for that matters…He would take any name if it meant you would stay and love him. And you had said ‘I do’. No takebacksies now.

Michael Myers:

Michael was confused when he first saw you sprang up from the earth. Weird. His victims usually stayed dead. He tried to stab you but…Oops. Already dead. He quickly realised that you must be like Jack Torrance—a ghost. He also understood that stabbing you would be a waste of time. He tried to ignore you, but you would then appear at random times and tell him that you were married and that he was your Victor. As Michael doesn’t speak, he couldn’t rectify you.

Hence, he became ‘Victor’ to you.

At the end, he learnt to tolerate your presence. Especially at night when he would normally sleep alone with his regrets, he would feel your hand stroking his head and your voice singing him lullabies…Maybe having a dead bride wouldn’t be that bad…?

One day, you showed him an old picture of you. He looked at it and you could see that something was bothering him. You asked him about it, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t tell you he remembered you. He didn’t tell you he remembered your wide frightened eyes when he plunged his knife deep into your heart the day you were supposed to marry…or the way he mercilessly beheaded your betrothed.

That was a story he would rather never share with you.

[patricia-the-autism-apprentice]

reading this is like getting flicked in the ear then immediately shot by a desert eagle seconds afterward

[kat651]

Haldir x reader

You stood on Gimli’s left as you waited for the battle to begin. You had joined Aragorn and the others when they set off in search of Merry and Pippin. You had told them that you'd seen a pack of orcs but were unable to fight off that large number on your own. 

The elves had come to aid Rohan in this battle. You had been helping get the men ready for battle and hadn't been present for their arrival.  

“I cant see anything!” Gimli complained to Legolas, jumping in hopes of seeing over the wall. 

“Shall i describe it to you, or shall i find you a box?” legolas asked.

You expected Gimli to be angry at legolas for teasing him about his height. Instead he laughed. You smiled. “There isn't much to see, its too dark.” you said to Gimli, reassuring him he wasn't missing anything of importance. 

When the ladders appeared, you knew the fun was about to begin. “Legolas, two already!” Gimli shouted excitedly. 

“Im on seventeen!”

You chuckled. “Twenty!” you shouted, skewering another orc.

“Oy, ant no pointy ears outsourcing me!” Gimli shouted, swinging his ax and taking down an orc. 

You got separated from the others and ended up fighting with a few of the elves, glad to be in the midsts of your own kin even if it was during a battle. As you fought, you recognized one of the elves Haldir. You hadnt seen him in over two hundred years but you recognized his fighting style anywhere. You wanted to go and greet him, but you knew now was not the right time. 

You shot an orc and smiled. “Thirty-one,” you counted. 

“You arent participating in that foolishness are you?” a voice asked. You turned and saw Haldir. He was frowning. 

“Whats wrong with having a bit of fun?” you knew he wouldnt recognise you due to your armor. Your weapon was of Dwarvish make, you’d lost your sword and Gimli had lent you his second ax, which you gladly accepted. 

“The battlefield is nat for games.” he huffed, killing an orc.

“Oh, why are you always so serious?” you asked, killing another two orcs. “If this happens to be my last battle, i intend to go down with a smile… thirty-five,” you counded,swinging the ax.

“Haldir!” Aragorn's voice echoed over the sound of steal on steal. “Retreat!” 

Haldir called for the others to retreat and he made way back into the fortress. You were close behind. 

“Thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine…forty…”

You heard a sound of pain and turned, Haldir was outnumbered. You ran to his aid, killing the orc that intended to take his head. 

Haldir nodded in thanks. 

You went to reply when you felt a presence behind you. You spun and killed the orc that had tried to stab you. “Forty-two…” you said. 

Haldir motioned for you to fallow. “Stay close, I’ll get you out of here,”he said, helping you down the stairs. You killed one last orc before something hit the back of your skull, rendering you unconscious.

“Forty-three…” Haldir counted before catching you.

.-.-.

When you woke, you were on a bed in the medical room. You slowly sat up. A hand gently rested on your back. You looked over to see Haldir, he was smiling softly. “I wasn't expecting to see you here… let alone be saved by you…” he whispered, gently grabbing your hand and giving it a soft squeeze.

You felt it as pink ran to your cheeks. 

Haldir cupped your chin with his other hand, gently having you meet his eyes. “I owe you my life.” he whispered.

You shook you head. “You dont owe me anyth-” you gasped softly as he placed a finger over your lips.

“y/n…” he slowly leaned closer, lips about to touch yours when the doors opened. He pulled back and frowned.

Gimli ran over to where you were and legolas was close behind. “You gave us quite a fright lass!” Gimli said as he drew closer.

You chuckled. “ i am quite alright Gimli… i’ll be back to myself shortly.” you said.

Gimli smiled and legolas sat on the edge of the bed.

“What happened after the retreat?” you asked.

“Gandalf showed up with reinforcements.” legolas said. “We won.”

You nodded. “And now what do we plan on doing? When do we return to rohan?”

“We are in rohan, you were asleep the whole time.” Haldir said.

“Oh…”

“Theres going to be quite the celebration tonight, i expect you to stay here and-”

“I am fine, Gimli… i wouldnt miss a chance to beat the two of you in a competition.” you said smiling and slowly rising. “Besides i am fine…merely a wack in the head i will survive.”

“Youmust have the skull of a dwarf to be able to walk off a hit like that!” Gimli said, clearly shocked that you were walking.

“Or very thick armor.” you said. 

Gimli nodded. “Yes now come, Aragorn will be delighted to see you awake and the hobbits are here with us.” 

You gave Haldir one last glance before Legolas and Gimli dragged you out of the room.

You watched as the hobbits danced on the table. You shook your head and made your way out of the hall, the noise causing your head to pound.

You stood outside, looking up at the stars.

“y/n…” 

You turned to see haldir.

“We both know you are not healed… come, sit.” he said, gently grabbing your arm and steading you. You hadnt even noticed that your legs were trembling until he had took your arm.

He led you over to the steps and you sat, gazing up at the sky. “Where are all the others?”

“What?”

“The rest of the elves… where are they?”

“They returned to lorien, I stayed behind to be sure of your safety.”

You looked at him with surprise. “You stayed for me?”

Haldir gently placed a hand on your cheek, caressing it. “I did…” he whispered, leaning closer.

Your eyes fell shut as his lips landed on yours.

Haldir caressed your cheek anain after he pulled away. “I love you…”

You chuckled and placed your lips on his again, arms sliping around his middle. “I love you too…”

[incorrect-star-allies]

Kirby: Ya, dayaya ya da da! It is good day to be not dead!

Magolor: *Shoots Kirby with Revolution flame* Pow! You are dead!

Kirby: I AM DEAD!

Magolor: Mehehehehehe

Gooey: Dan da Dan Dan da da Dan!

Magolor: Oh shoot!

Gooey: Oh! The Kirby is dead.

Kirby: Yes, I am dead.

Gooey: Why is the Kirby dead?

Magolor: I dunno.

Kirby: I think It was-

Gooey and Magolor: Shh! You are dead!

Kirby: Ok. *Clips through the floor*

Dedede: Heh, what's up ya Losers! Who's up for a- *Notices Kirby dead* Wh- What the Bloody Hell just happened?!

Gooey and Magolor: That Kirby is dead!

Dedede: The Kirby is dead?!

Gooey: Correct!

Dedede: :D

Gooey: So, did you see the Murderer?

Magolor and Dedede: No, sorry mate.

*Gooey slams a table that wasn't originally there*

Gooey: I will find them. I will capture them. And no-one will ever die again!

*Dedede and Magolor clap fast*

Magolor: Oh, well that's nice.

Dedede: Damn proud of ya!

*Kirby's skeleton Joins in, the clapping is faster, camera shifts to Fransisca; Flamberge; Zan partizanne and Hyness*

Hyness: Ateeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeention! *Zips to the 4* The Kirby is dead!

Gooey: We know!

Hyness: who killed him?

Gooey: We don't know!

Hyness: I will find clues! *Sniffs across the floor towards a gun* what's this? *Picks up gun* A weapon? *Shows it to the rest* That thing is why the Kirby is dead!

Gooey, Magolor and Dedede: THE KIRBY IS DEAD?!

*Hyness slams an Axe attorney table*

Hyness: Yes! *Whip Noise* He died!

Dedede, Magolor and Gooey: Oh!

*A faint car noise is in the distance*

???: Incomiiiiiiiiing!

*car crashes into Hyness*

???: Raus Raus!

*??? Reveals himself to be Elfillin, as they fly out of the ambulance*

Elfillin: *Pushes the others away* Move, now!

*Elfillin gives Kirby a Maxim Tomato*

Kirby: Ah ha ha! Ki- *loses all HP*

Elfillin: In my Medical opinion that KIRBY IS DEAD!

Dedede: Doc, what happened?

Elfillin: My professional opinion? *Slams another Ace attorney table and another whip noise when they point* THE KIRBY WAS KILLED!

Dedede: Oh god!

*Dedede, Magolor and Gooey turn around to converse with Mr L (Super Paper Mario), Sonic the Hedgehog and Pacman, while that is happening:*

Elfillin: I don't think it's anything to worry about!

Gooey: Well, now what?

*A jump noise comes from the distance, it was Marx*

Marx: Clippity Clip, Ya big losers, Boom!

As Marx says Boom, Gooey: Oh come on!

Marx: Look at this, the Fricking Kirby's dead! What do you think of that? *Awkward silence* Uh...

Gooey: Yes, yes, Marx?

Marx: Ye-

Gooey: GO HOME!

*A car is now here, the driver was Daroach*

Marx: Oh come on! *Runs to the Car* Pfft, Fricking unbelievable, no seriously; YOU ALL SUCK!

*Daroach drives to a wall different to what Elfillin drove into*

Gooey: Right, let's get back to *Picks up a Sign that had an arrow on it* the point!

*Dedede nods his head aggressively*

Kirby (He had extra lives): *Pokes the old Kirby's corpse* I think Kirby is dead.

Elfillin, Dedede, Magolor and Gooey: THE KIRBY IS DEAD?!

Elfillin: Marx! *Runs towards the burning car* I will heal yo-

*Elfillin dies in an explosion*

Kirby: Oh! Seriously? WHO KILLED KIRBY?!

*Keeby drink 1*

Keeby: It was Meh!

Kirby, Magolor, Gooey and Dedede: Oh!

Keeby: Yes! *Keeby drink 2* I did it *Pulls out ranger ability* Like this!

*Keeby shoots Dedede*

Keeby: WOOP DE DOOOOO!

*Kirby, Magolor and Gooey mourn the death of Dedede*

*Keeby drink 3*

Keeby: That's a Joke lads!

*Kirby, Magolor and Gooey go from crying to laughing*

*Keeby drink 4, Keeby Big Burp!*

Keeby: It was, you- *Burps then points at Magolor* Him!

Kirby and Gooey: OH!

Magolor: How did ya know?

Keeby: I didn't *Big Burp 2, electric boogaloo* That was a joke, too!

*Keeby keeps drinking, pans to Magolor laughing*

Keeby: Oh, I'm dead!

Magolor: That's right it was me!

Gooey: You monster!

Kirby: But why?!

Magolor: Cuz your fat Boy!

*Kirby and Magolor argue*

*the words 'Its Tradition' pops up under Gooey*

Kirby: MAGOLOR!

Magolor: Oh, Dammit Kirby! Screw off! You are dead!

Kirby: No, You! *Kicks Magolor into a dimensional rift* Pow; haha! You are dead! Not big surprise!

Gooey: Well that was idiotic, off to crush myself, watch and lea-

*gets crushed by a moving platform*

Kirby: I am Alive! Is nice.

...

Kirby: Yes, this is stupid.

[patricia-the-autism-apprentice]

'you motherfuckers' is getting slept on

[sillylotrpolls]

(Relevant reading below poll.)

This poll is one of my favorites, because I love every possible option. When it previously ran, voters determined Legolas had dyscalculia. I'm eager to see if that result holds up in this "extended edition," or if tumblr will find itself swayed in a new direction.

Excerpted from The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, Chapter 7: Helm's Deep and Chapter 8: The Road to Isengard

'Two!' said Gimli, patting his axe. He had returned to his place on the wall. 'Two?' said Legolas. 'I have done better, though now I must grope for spent arrows; all mine are gone. Yet I make my tale twenty at the least. But that is only a few leaves in a forest.'

(Rest of the relevant text below the cut.)

...

'Twenty-one!' cried Gimli. He hewed a two-handed stroke and laid the last Orc before his feet. 'Now my count passes Master Legolas again.' 'We must stop this rat-hole,' said Gamling. 'Dwarves are said to be cunning folk with stone. Lend us your aid, master!' 'We do not shape stone with battle-axes, nor with our finger-nails,' said Gimli. 'But I will help as I may.' They gathered such small boulders and broken stones as they could find to hand, and under Gimli's direction the Westfold-men blocked up the inner end of the culvert, until only a narrow outlet remained. Then the Deeping-stream, swollen by the rain, churned and fretted in its choked path, and spread slowly in cold pools from cliff to cliff. 'It will be drier above,' said Gimli. 'Come, Gamling, let us see how things go on the wall!' He climbed up and found Legolas beside Aragorn and Éomer. The elf was whetting his long knife. There was for a while a lull in the assault, since the attempt to break in through the culvert had been foiled. 'Twenty-one!' said Gimli. 'Good!' said Legolas. 'But my count is now two dozen. It has been knife-work up here.'

...

'Things go ill, my friends,' he said, wiping the sweat from his brow with his arm. 'Ill enough,' said Legolas, 'but not yet hopeless, while we have you with us. Where is Gimli?' 'I do not know.' said Aragorn. 'I last saw him fighting on the ground behind the wall, but the enemy swept us apart.' 'Alas! That is evil news,' said Legolas. 'He is stout and strong,' said Aragorn. 'Let us hope that he will escape back to the caves. There he would be safe for a while. Safer than we. Such a refuge would be to the liking of a dwarf.' 'That must be my hope'' said Legolas. 'But I wish that he had come this way. I desired to tell Master Gimli that my tale is now thirty-nine.' 'If he wins back to the caves, he will pass your count again,' laughed Aragorn. 'Never did I see an axe so wielded.' 'I must go and seek some arrows,' said Legolas. 'Would that this night would end, and I could have better light for shooting.'

...

Suddenly there was a great shout, and down from the Dike came those who had been driven back into the Deep. There came Gamling the Old, and Éomer son of Éomund, and beside them walked Gimli the dwarf. He had no helm, and about his head was a linen band stained with blood; but his voice was loud and strong. 'Forty-two, Master Legolas!' he cried. 'Alas! My axe is notched: the forty-second had an iron collar on his neck. How is it with you?' 'You have passed my score by one,' answered Legolas. 'But I do not grudge you the game, so glad am I to see you on your legs!'

[coffee-and-cake]

Transformers one x Soul Eater (sorta? I haven’t seen soul eater in forever): where being able to have a weapon alt mode is considered uncommon and due to sentinels rule out right banned weapon transformation unless he himself or who he deems worthy can be their mister (aka: his most loyal followers)

- weapon alt modes are different from vehicle modes and have a separate transformation system. So Cogless bots can have a weapon transformation.

- while weapon alt modes are super powerful there just isn’t a need for the transformers. after all most already have built in weapons of their own. Main reason for some transformers having weapon alt modes to begin with was to encourage close bonds with one another.

- Cogless bots can transform into their weapon alt but doing so is setting yourself up for instant demotion to waste management… or even lower

- if a bot is caught using their weapon alt or allows someone without the authority to wield them they are forcefully suppressed into their weapon. In the words of sentinel prime “If they want to be in their weapon alt so bad who am I to judge? They get what they want and I get a new weapon of choice for my wall.”

- while any bot could be a mister War frames are more likely to have a weapon partner

Orion Pax: Hatchet - Orion of course makes sure his weapon alt is never found out. Only D-16 knows and has on the rare occasion practiced fighting with Orion on the rooftop (after Orion begs him) having a mister just feels so right to Orion especially if it’s D-16.

B-127: knife hands! - Bee is a rare duel weld weapon and many transformers belittle Bee cause he would have been an amazing weapon to weld. However due to Bee having Zero control over his weapon mode and the fact his weapon mode can cut through metal like butter… yeah it was just safer for everyone to keep him in sub-lvl 50

Cogged Orion Pax: Battle Axe - after getting his transformation cog and immediately falling into their first fight Orion calls out to D-16 who wastes no time in grabbing Orion and turning him into his new weapon alt form. The drone didn’t stand a chance as it’s cut cleanly in half. But even though the battles over D-16s servos tighten on Orions handle. Before he’s suddenly lifted back up and smashing the drones already split head in. Orion immediately forces himself out of his weapon mode and pulls away from D-16 in a panic.

When it finally comes time to battle sentinel Orion can feel the hands on his handle become possessive. There’s a moment where D-16 is looking at him in his alt form and Orion feels scared of his best friend.

When sentinel is defeated and begging for mercy D-16 raises the axe over his head ready cut the false Prime to pieces. But Orion falls out of his alt and tries to shove D-16 away.

“I will not be used like this D!”

The ending is pretty much the same as Orion gets blasted through the chest. But as D is holding onto Orions hand over the abyss he says something that shakes him to his core.

“I- it’s ok Orion I can fix you we can still be mister and weapon like you wanted remember? I took your weapon for granted and I never want to do that again. We can cleanse this planet together, tear everything down with you in my hands.”

Orion knew it was better to use the last of his strength to rip himself out of the mechs hand and fall into the abyss.

Optimus Prime: When he came back to life and looked at D-… Megatron. He could still see that obsession in his eyes even when he was prime now. When Megatron was banished the mech vowed that it wasn’t over and that when it was he would be Optimus’s mister. After that the idea of turning into his weapon alt made Optimus uneasy.

The thought of someone using him for anything even if it was to help someone felt wrong. All he could feel was Megatron gripping him tightly and using him to kill.

B-127 and Elita-1: on a happier note - Bee loves his new mister Elita she uses Bees weapon alt to its full potential and even indulges him in some needless destruction of property. He was giddy when Elita used him to cut the door to the broadcast station too bad she wouldn’t use him to tear the place apart though. But it’s ok she promises to destroy plenty of Sentinels property with him later.

[hellfire--cult]

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader {Dark fic}

wc: 4.5k

+18 MDNI kissing, pining, gore, mur*der, blood, vom*it, weapons, knives, guns, axes, traps, fear of getting kill*ed, panic attacks, sex mention, creepyness in all of its glory - Do not read if you are not comfortable with one of the above.

Plot: You and your friends go to Steve Harrington's summer home. Your goal is to make Eddie stop seeing you as a friend, but it seems the night has other plans for the both of you.

A/N: read end of the chapter for my comment.

please reblog thank you.

DON'T LEAVE ME

It was all decided by Steve. 

They would all go to his summer house, which was on the nearest edge of Lake Jordan to his actual home. It was just a 30 minute drive from his backyard to that other house that had a dock of its own and a speedboat for two. 

Robin, Nancy, Chrissy, Eddie, Steve, Billy and you. You were the newest one in the group, having moved to Hawkins by yourself to escape an abusive mother. You were quiet, but outgoing if engaged properly. 

There were times where you felt out of loop from the group as they told stories to one another, stories you never participated in, but there was one person in this group that always made you feel welcome, and explained to you in extreme detail everything about those stories. 

Eddie Munson.

He was always on the lookout for you, being charming, and always ready to grab your hand if you needed help. He had this goofy side you found endearing, beautiful even, and then his harsh persona. The other quality Eddie has. A protector. A guardian, of some sort. So protective of all of you.

You were instantly in love with him. How could you not? Robin and Chrissy have been teasing you about it since you met him, telling you that your eyes were in the shape of hearts. But you knew that Eddie didn’t look at you in the same way you looked at him.

You were hoping that this trip would change that. 

“Okay, so, there’s four rooms, so let’s split up, I’ll take the main room, obviously, Eddie and Billy?” Said men nodded to each other after a roll of their eyes towards Steve’s commands. 

“Why do you get the master bedroom?” Eddie asked him with a mocking tone and Steve just scoffed at him with a smirk to the face.

“I am the owner of this house Munson.” Steve then looked at all the girls and just waited until you all looked at one another.

“Robin can go with Chrissy.” Nancy immediately answered and you turned to see Robin’s face turn into a deep red, and you stifled a giggle in your throat. Chrissy played it better and looked away so that no one could see her face.

“Then it’s settled.” Steve smiled as he opened the door to his house and you all stepped into the living room, amazed by how spotless it all was. The Harrington’s probably hire a maid for both houses, or two maids. He really is a show off. 

You looked at Nancy and she was with a smile on her face as she looked around. She didn’t seem phased that Jonathan couldn’t come, and you would have to be dumb to not notice it. She is sleeping with Steve, cheating on Jonathan. You shared a knowing look with Eddie, who only sighed at the situation.

You both didn’t like what they were doing, but Eddie even more so because Jonathan is a friend of his. His best friend is Steve though, so even if he hurts him to hide this from Jonathan, Steve comes first. 

“Damn Harrington. Way to show it off.” Billy finally talked as he put his bag on the floor. You licked your lips as you stared at all the pictures on the wall, until you felt someone stand right next to you.

“You’ve been awfully quiet.” You jumped up as you turned your head to look at a dimpled smile that was directed your way, making you flush all over from nervousness as you heard your heartbeat right in your eardrum.

“I-I… It’s the first time after many years that I… spent a weekend with friends…” Was your short reply, to which Eddie hummed. He put his arm around your shoulders, surprising you completely with a gasp as he pulled you to his side.

“Well! I’m gonna make it a memorable one! We’re gonna sing around the bonfire, singing Kumbaya, and if we are feeling feisty… Burnt marshmallows.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you and you couldn't help but giggle at him. He would always do this for you, loosening up your nerves before you explode.

“That sounds thrilling.” You replied to him which only made his grin even wider.

“You have no idea.” 

“Do yall think people get murdered here?” Everyone immediately spat whatever they were drinking, and looked at the culprit of the question. Robin looked up from her can to see you all staring at her and she shrugged her shoulders, “What?”

“I don’t think it’s the appropriate question to ask in the middle of the woods Robin…” Nancy reprimanded her friend as Chrissy sighed, taking a long sip of her beer.

“It’s the perfect place for killing though.” Billy was the one that talked now and Steve slapped him on the arm, making Billy glare at him. Eddie, though, saw everyone’s faces and continued with a smile on his own.

“A long lake too… maybe very, very, very deep. Just one heavy stone on their body and poof.” You shivered at his words because he sounded just way too casual about it. Billy laughed at his friend as Nancy just stared wide eyed at both men while Steve pinched his eyelids with his index finger and thumb. 

“You’re both insufferable.” Steve said as he took a hit from his joint and you were feeling uneasy now. You pressed your side against Eddie’s to be able to whisper into his ear. 

“There… There are no killers around… right?” Eddie looked at you with a regretful expression on his face as he whispered back.

“Oh sweetheart, no, I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to scare you…” He frowned in worry and you nodded at him in understanding but still biting on your thumb in fear. Nancy is most likely going to leave you alone tonight to sleep with Steve. You really don’t understand why they keep it secret when all the group knows about the two of them.

“Alright…” Is all you mustered to say. You were fidgety and Eddie could see it in the way you played with your fingers. You jumped when you felt his hand wrap around both of yours, and then sneaked in between to be able to hold one of them.

Your heart was thumping in your chest, and you looked down in case he could see any indication that you were growing flustered and nervous because of his touch. You were afraid he could see your real feelings for him with just one look to your face.

Your eyes dared to look up, only to see him looking towards Chrissy’s way, making your heart just fall right down to your stomach. Robin told you that Eddie had confessed to Chrissy last year, but she had rejected him. They both took some time off from each other but then remained friends after the feelings were supposedly gone.

You really didn’t know if Eddie’s feelings were completely gone. You were certain he would never look at you the way he looks at Chrissy, and maybe he is also hurting because Robin and Chrissy now have feelings for one another, even if they are oblivious about it.

“Okay kitties, if you’re going to bed, remember to shut your windows.” Billy joked and everyone else, including you, groaned as he stood up with a smirk on his face and walked inside the house.

You were making coffee the next day as Robin whined about not having been able to sleep for a long while.

“They just tried to keep quiet and failed so much. I could hear Nancy go ‘Harder Steve!’ every second!” She sighed and took a sip of the mug you just gave her as you kept making more for everyone else in the home. You did hear the moans as well, but then they abruptly stopped. 

“Well, at least they got tired at some point.” You replied to her with an understanding frown and a smile to your lips as she kept sipping on her caffeine. You heard footsteps coming down followed by some giggling and you felt your stomach flip as you saw Eddie and Chrissy laughing with each other as they walked downstairs.

You are never going to be able to compete against her. There really was no use in trying to do so when Eddie looked at her like that. You were never going to win, not when Chrissy is right next to him.

“I smell coffee.” Eddie grinned as he walked over to the counter, grabbing onto one of the mugs you filled and you stopped him from taking it to his lips. You felt your body heat up as well as your cheeks as you pointed onto the red mug.

“That’s– That’s yours… I put milk in it…” You looked back down to the coffee pot and you turned to put it back into the machine. Was it too weird you knew how he takes his coffee? It is, isn’t it? He is not saying anything. You shouldn’t have stopped him–

“Wow, thank you darling…” Eddie smiled towards the back of your head as he grabbed onto the red mug as Chrissy sat next to Robin, giving her a kiss on the cheek. That made your hopes rise up again as you watched them. Maybe they’re together now? But Eddie– You don’t dare to look at Eddie’s face, just in case you see a face that shows pain, jealousy…

“Are the other three not up yet?” You heard Chrissy ask, making you turn around and tilt your head in confusion. You look up at the clock and see it was already 11 AM and you had all planned to go to the lake today at an early hour. 

“I’ll go wake them up! I will fucking yell into the room to get them back for yesterday!” Robin yelled excitedly, making you giggle along Chrissy as you saw her jump up from her seat and rush upstairs. 

“She is such a dork.” Chrissy blushed as she took a sip of her own mug and Eddie nodded at that and took a sip of his. You took a deep breath onto your own coffee, taking a long chug of it after a sleepless night as well, and you almost choked when there was a guttural scream coming from upstairs.

The three of you slammed the mugs onto the counters and looked at each other as Eddie was the first one to run up the stairs towards where Robin was. Steve’s room. Chrissy and you followed right behind, fear striking your whole body as you finally reached the scene.

On the bed, Nancy’s naked body laid on top of Steve’s, but there was an ax cutting through Nancy’s neck, all the way down onto Steve’s neck, decapitating the both of them in one single swing. The blood was sipping into the mattress and it had saturated so much that it started to drip onto the floor. 

Your eyes filled with tears as you slammed a hand over your mouth and that’s when you felt the gag coming to your throat. You couldn’t keep it in and you rushed out of the room in order to be able to throw up the contents in your stomach onto one corner of the hallway. 

Robin was sobbing loudly as she grabbed onto her hair while Eddie ran his hand through his. Chrissy was frozen and was feeling nauseous at the gorey scene, fear and uneasiness filled the group and Eddie ran out of the room to go check on you.

Your hand was against the wall as you balanced yourself, still bending your body forward as you gagged once more. He put a hand on your back and you snapped your head to look at him in fear. His breathing was heavy as he looked into your eyes and you knew that he was just as scared as you were. 

He raised his head up as if remembering something, and then he turned in a frantic motion and almost fell on the hallway as he rushed towards his room. He started cursing into the air as he paced back and forth, his hands running through his hair. You heard him and followed him as Chrissy and Robin followed behind you in order to not be left behind with the rotting corpses of your two friends.

“B-Billy… He wasn’t here at night! I woke up to go to the bathroom, and I thought he was out having a smoke, and I woke up today– And he is still gone!” He yelled at all of you and you shakily grabbed onto Eddie’s hand, looking up at him.

“D-Do we– look for him?” Eddie looked down at you and then back at Robin and Chrissy who were still holding onto each other as Robin bawled her eyes out, screams coming out of her lungs. 

“W-What if he was the one who did all this?” Chrissy asked and Eddie and you snapped your heads towards her. It might be a possibility, but what if it isn’t and Billy is suffering somewhere in the woods all by himself?

“We have to look for him, we can’t leave without him– We– We don’t know if it was him!” Eddie stated and Robin nodded at that, wiping her tears away. Even if filled with fear, she wants to avenge her friends, try to save one of them, and then go to the police so they find the murderer.

“Let’s look for Billy. We need weapons.” 

And that’s how you found yourself holding onto a gun, while Eddie had a machete, and Robin and Chrissy had hunting knives. These were all found in one of the rooms inside of the house, probably for Steve’s father and his hunting trips. 

You all walked out of the house and looked forward into the woods. You shared a look with Eddie and he gave you an encouraging nod. You turned your head to look forward and saw Chrissy and Robin already walking ahead, making you gasp slightly in fear of being left behind.

“I’m here. Don’t worry… I’m not gonna let you walk alone.” You looked back at Eddie as he grabbed onto your hand, and you could feel how sweaty he was. He wasn’t going to admit how scared he was, how frightening everything was, and how he cannot even grieve for his friends that were murdered a few hours ago. 

You both walked a few meters away from Robin and Chrissy, who were yelling for Billy. Chrissy turned her head to see something moving in a bush, and she rushed towards it only for something to snap on her calves, as if she had cut a string of some sort, walking right through it. 

Robin’s eyes widened as she screamed Chrissy’s name, when from the top of another tree, a sharp thick branch, like a spear, came falling down like a pendulum thanks to a rope. Chrissy turned her body, only to be pierced by the branch right on her sternum and sent her flying, slamming her body against another tree, nailing her to the bark of it as her feet dangled in the air.

You screamed at the sight and Eddie followed right after as the two of you saw what had just happened to your friend who was coughing blood while her body trembled in shock. Robin ran towards her, wanting to get to her body, only for you to see her disappear with a scream and then it stopped. 

Eddie was stunned as the blood drained from his body, and he used his machete in front of him to swipe around as he guided you both towards the scene. You looked at Chrissy’s still body now against the tree, slamming your hand against your mouth as tears filled your eyes, only to then be stopped by Eddie’s hand as he looked down. You wished you didn’t look down like he did.

There was a hole. A trap. And Robin fell right into it, and at the bottom were many knives  that stuck out from under the dirt, sharp points up. One in particular had pierced her neck, killing her instantly. A sob escaped your lips as you grabbed onto Eddie’s arm, making him look at you.

Your eyes widened when you saw the tears coming down his eyes and you noticed just how frightened he really was. The need to scream and run away was apparent in his features and you just wanted to hug him, even if you were shaking as well from the whole ordeal. Someone had to think straight in the situation–

“Eddie– Eddie– Listen to me…” You licked your lips as you held onto his face with both hands, and you looked around the woods with a desperate look and then back at him, “Here’s what we’re going to do… We’re gonna go back to the house, we’re gonna call the cops, and we will wait there– I– I don’t know if the woods have more traps or not Eddie–” 

You were trying to hold the sobs in and Eddie felt like dying right then and there. There might be traps in the woods, so now, they are stuck in the house. Stuck in a house that has two rotting corpses on the second floor. And the worst part of it all… Billy was still missing.

“God– Fucking damnit, lets go…” He managed to choke out his words and the both of you returned to the home, and immediately rushed into the office room, where you both knew there was no place for hiding in case the murderer had come inside the home when you two were out in the woods.

The second you two locked the office door, you rushed towards the phone only to find it disconnected, no tone on the other side of the tube. You felt tears burning your eyes as you slammed the phone down, hands running through your hair in frustration and fear. You looked at Eddie with a dejected look on your face and he sighed as he took a seat on the floor.

Gladly there was a water dispenser inside the room and some plastic cups. Eddie let you serve the water as his eyes were distant, stuck to the ground as he hugged his knees while sitting against the wall. Of all the things that could have happened, losing his friends in such a way was not something he expected. 

He just wanted to have fun this weekend, smoke a joint, have a few beers, and now his life is in danger because there is a murderer outside of the house, or worse, inside. You turned around as you sat down next to him, handing him the cup of water. 

“I just… I just wanted to have fun– How did it end up like this?” Eddie asked out of nowhere and you looked at him and then back at the water in your hand. 

“I– I have so much I want to do… So much I haven’t done.” You managed to mumble out of your lips and Eddie turned to look at you. 

“Like what?”

“My first kiss…” You can’t even flush in embarrassment now. You don’t have time to have the delight of feeling embarrassed about that fact of your 20 year old life. “I know– I just… I am not a very outgoing person… so…”

Eddie was stunned at your confession. He always thought you were pretty, so he can’t really imagine you not getting a kiss in some part of your life. Regardless, he nodded in understanding at you, and scanned your face for a while.

“Shit, I was going to say I never tried Arabian food, but yours is way more important than that.” He made you snort out a giggle and he took a sip of his water. He scooted closer to you as nervousness filled him, but there’s really nothing left to lose now. “I can give you your first kiss if you want.” 

Your eyes widened at that, head turning to look at him and he was surprised to see the excitement and the sparkle in your eyes as if you were looking at him with complete adoration– And you were.

“You would… do that for me?” 

“Of course. Just close your eyes sweetheart.” Your heart was jumping out of your chest as you closed your eyes, anticipating his touch. He noticed how right you were, which made his heart skip a beat as his cheeks flushed red. He leaned down towards your face, and you gasped slightly when you felt his lips flush with yours.

It was a very minuscule movement of lips because he didn’t want to overwhelm you. He didn’t want to go forward any more than that, so he pulled away and opened his eyes to scan your face. You looked dazed as you slowly opened your eyes as well, looking into his. A smile broke on your face as you got hold of his hand that was pressed onto the floor for support.

“Thank you Eddie.” He smiled back at you and then sighed.

“You don’t happen to have Kebab or Shawarma in your pocket, right?” You laughed at that and he joined soon after, only to feel his eyelids start to feel heavy. He knew sleepiness was going to catch him soon, and by how you pressed your head on his shoulder, he knew it was getting to you as well.

And he couldn’t help himself when he closed his eyes, drifting completely away as darkness consumed him. He dreamed he was back in his trailer, sharing a coffee with Wayne in the morning light before he went to work. All was good, all was fine. Maybe the trip was the dream and he was in his trailer, on his bed, strumming his guitar and tuning it.

But dreams sometimes are cut short.

“Eddie…”

“Eddie…”

“EDDIE!”

He jolted awake, and he turned to see you standing, gun pointing at the door. He saw you shaking as you kept guard on it and that’s when Eddie heard it. Footsteps. Very heavy footsteps. They were coming closer, and closer and he quickly stood up, getting hold of his machete as he pointed it at the door. 

His hand was sweaty, and his lips were trembling in fear, very much like yours. You were filled with dread, wondering if you could come out alive from this. Wondering if everything was going to be okay. You looked to the side and saw Eddie was starting to sweat, and you knew he was about to have a panic attack. 

You turned to him, and grabbed his wrist, that was holding the machete and you raised it up in order to stabilize him. He was breathing heavily as he looked at you. The person behind the door stopped walking and the both of you kept staring at one another.

“What… What if he has a gun?” He whispered to you and you kept grabbing onto his wrist when you still felt him shake. You were afraid he would accidentally swing it towards your face but you kept him in place as best as you could while your other hand held the gun.

“I have one too… Just– focus Eddie–” The door suddenly slammed open by an immense force that the two of you didn’t think was possible. Your heads turned to see the person that came in, as he panted, huffed, and his eyes screamed anger, murder.

Billy.

His blue irises went wide and he raised his hand to reveal a kitchen knife. He instantly went for Eddie, charging at him with a yell, and Eddie couldn’t react fast enough as his eyes widened. He was shocked at the revelation that his friend was the culprit of everything.

Eddie might not have had a quick reaction. But you did. You immediately pointed the gun at Billy, and shot him right in the chest as you let out a whimper through your lips at the sound. Billy stumbled back as he looked up at you, a frown displayed in his face as he touched the wound that was now leaking blood all over his white tank top. 

Your hand was shaking as you still pointed it at your friend. Tears started running down your face as you saw him take another step forward towards the both of you, and you pressed the trigger again, this time the bullet going through his stomach. He coughed blood out of his mouth and that’s when he tried to talk, to say something, but only a groan came out before he slumped to the floor. A last breath could be heard, and then it was all over.

You were breathing heavily, walking towards the body and crouching to touch his pulse. The gravity of your actions settled in and you dropped the gun to the floor, jumping back up as you took many steps back. Eddie was still staring down at his dead friend, and then his eyes turned to look at you. A wave of relief washed over him as he pulled you into a tight hug, his weapon also dropping onto the floor.

“We’re safe– You saved us…” He couldn’t contain the tears any longer, feeling a wave of relief washing over him as he held onto you. He started sobbing onto your shoulder as you wrapped your arms around him, your own tears staining his shirt.

“I– I– I killed him– I killed someone–” You were huffing, trying to get air into your throat and lungs and Eddie only pressed his body against yours even closer.

“I’ll be here… I’ll be here for you– Just, please don’t leave me… Don’t go away, please–” He was afraid for you. He doesn’t know how the two of you would handle the trauma you just went through, but he knew that he doesn’t want to go through it all by himself. He needs you with him. 

“I promise… If you promise me you won’t leave me as well…” You sniffed against his shoulder, calming down from the events and you felt him nod very quickly.

“I promise.”

You two were now in the back of a police car as the men looked all over the home, and the ambulances started taking each body one by one.

“Why do you think Billy did it?” You asked Eddie who was holding your hand tightly in his.

“I… I have no clue…” 

“I’m glad you’re here with me Eddie…” You said to him as your grip tightened around him. He looked over at you, scooting closer as his head rested atop of yours. 

“We should start checking our bucket lists together…” He tried to make the mood less somber and you let out a scoff, but a smile was drawn to your lips, your finger intertwining with his.

“Even if they take forever to tick?” You asked him and he nodded.

“Yes…”

Your smile... turned into a creepy wide grin, showing all of your teeth.

You finally made Eddie’s feelings change, making this trip a success.

But you will never tell him the truth.

You won’t ever tell him that it was you the one who sneaked into Steve and Nancy having sex and slamming the ax over their necks.

You won’t ever tell him it was you the one who set the traps in the woods at night after murdering your other two friends.

You won’t ever tell him that you also slipped some of the smashed sleeping pill into the water, just enough for him to doze off.

You won’t ever tell him that you had drugged Billy and locked him in the basement with a note that said ‘It was me - Eddie’.

That’s why Billy had charged after him that night… and you won’t ever tell Eddie that when you went to take Billy’s pulse, you had snaked the note out of his back pocket, to then eat it up without him noticing as the police questioned him.

You won’t ever tell him it was you.

Not even when you both got married. Not even when you had your first child. 

The trip will always remain a success.

All according to plan.

a/n: oh yeah, yandere!reader, killer!reader, but I wasn't going to put that at the top because ofc, the plot twist would have been revealed too early.

I hope you liked this creepy little thing I wrote, woohoo, happy halloween I guess

[patricia-the-autism-apprentice]

i jus made this at 2am lol

this shit is gonna be the cover of a new playlist