#i’m on thunder and shadow right now but he’s so rude to everyone and it’s just brushed off as ‘aww classic jayfeather’

[dogrocks]

i’m reading through a vision of shadows and i want so desperately for someone to tell jayfeather to shut the fuck up

[juliusxxxxxx]

How to start your own cult

*this is more or less a crack fic

*au where Scar is trying to use Grian’s watcher power to start a cult

*2000+ words

*probably not a one-shot

Knock knock.

No one’s answering.

Knock knock.

This time Scar banged on the door.

No one’s answering.

“Excuse me?” Said Xelqua. Their face was obscured under the shadow of their ominous purple robe, appearing as a pitch-black void. “What—are you doing?”

“What are WE doing!” Scar corrected the being, then reached forward to pull on their hood. “Take it off. You’re going to make ‘em scared.”

“No! How dare you—” Xelqua clasped tightly onto the inexplicable fabric. It felt cold to the touch and almost weightless in Scar’s hand. “There’s a sacred ritual that needs to be done before we can reveal our faces to mortals—you can't do it right after you just manifested me!”

“You’re here to fulfill my wish, right?”

“Yes…unfortunately! Stop it, mortal!”

But the deed had already been done. After the shadow was lifted, there was a face.

It's just a typical face, belonging to a person who appeared to be male, with blonde hair, black eyes, and some light freckles. Their eyes didn't seem to have pupils. Just black as ink.

“Oh…that’s what you look like.” Scar rested his hand. “I thought you were going to look way cooler. Like a cyclone or something.”

Xelqua rolled their eyes. Two eyes, how disappointing. Scar couldn't help himself but sighed.

“Now, can you tell me why we are here, mortal?” They surveyed the dreadfully dull middle-class neighborhood, under the bright midday sun. All nice houses, with neatly manicured front yards. “You dragged me here without even telling me what your wish was. It is extremely rude, in case you don't know it already.”

“My wish?” Scar puffed out his chest, wearing a bright smile on his face. “I want to start a cult.”

“…What?”

They looked at Scar with clear disgust on their normal-looking face.

“Yeah. Since I had a desire strong enough to summon a literal god, I did my research and…volià, here you are!”

He put his arm around the being's shoulders. There were many things he chose not to mention in the explanation he gave, including the graphic description of too many fresh eyeballs and organs that grossed him out. But it was all worth it in the end, right at the moment this Watcher emerged in the center of the wired rectangle he had made. It was drawn with blood, of course.

Xelqua gave him an unimpressed look.

“You seem to have some doubts,” Scar gave them a tight squeeze. “Alright, picture this: a bright, luxurious convention hall with thousands and thousands of people gathering. I am the super duper charismatic orator, preaching about fighting evil and injustice in the world with the power of true happiness. Someone shouted in the crowd, ‘Scar, how are you going to convince me, a stubborn moron who’s never been scammed in my entire life because I’m so lame and boring?’”

“And?”

“That’s when you come in, and strike ‘em with the power of thunder! Everyone trembles and kneels, offering me their life savings out of their pure, heartfelt faith.”

Xelqua stuck their tongue out.

“Alright, I’m leaving.” They brushed off his arm. “Have fun with your scam. I don't want to be a part of it.”

“No, Xelqua—but my wish!”

“I don't even want your soul anymore. It’s too…morbid for my liking.”

“Please! You haven't even heard of the amazing books I’ve been planning—”

Before he could finish his wailing, the door in front of them suddenly swung open.

“Uh…hello?”

A woman held the door, looking bewildered at the pair.

“Why, hello!”

Scar pulled the being back to the porch and put on his best expression, whether they liked it or not.

“We don't need anything—”

“No, no. We’re not salesmen. Far from them, actually.” He rummaged through his blazer and found a name card, which he handed to the housewife. He was fully prepared for this moment. He had been preparing this day for quite some time, and he was determined not to let it end in vain. “Here, take my card. The first one is for free.”

“Uh…Church of the True Happyness…of the Third Watcher?” She frowned, trying to read the wordy name. “Is this a new religion or something? Why is the ‘happiness’ spelled wrong? And why are there two ‘of’? ”

“I’m not with this lunatic—”

“Yes! A new religion. For true happiness. Just ignore my spelling mistake, please.”

Scar cut them off.

“The two ‘of’ thing is trendy. Just look around the other popular cul—churches, like the one started with an M.” He then reached both of his hands toward the housewife and shook with her eagerly. “Me and this—this—” He quickly lowered his voice and whispered to this extraterrestrial being, “what’s your pronouns?”

“I—I—he him?” The being stuttered.

“This handsome young man,” Scar patted on his back and declared, “are here to help.”

“Help?”

“Uh-huh. The lady who lives down the street mentioned that you have a faulty vacuum cleaner you got from your MLM just weeks ago. How unfortunate.”

“My MLM? Excuse you! What are you talking about? My business is legit—”

“Can I take a look at it?”

He pulled Xelqua toward the doorway and squeezed past the woman.

“This is private property! You can't just come in like this!” She frantically followed them into her own house. “Get out before I call the police!”

Scar began opening each closet in the house, ignoring her warning. It didn't take him long to find the broken house appliance in question, lying lifelessly in the dust.

“Here it is! You are a big beauty.” He pulled it out from the closet and wiped it clean haphazardly. “Xelqua?”

“Wha—you are out of your mind!” Xelqua turned towards the approaching woman and then turned back to face him. “We have to leave! I don't want to deal with your mortals’ cops—they’re notorious, even in my dimension!”

“Come on—” Scar nagged. “You’re here to fulfill my wish, right? Then consider this to be it. Fix this vacuum cleaner then consider we even.”

“…Are you serious right now?” Xelqua dropped his jaw. “You’re going to waste your one and only wish…on this?”

“I don't see any reason why not, since you’re going to leave me anyways.” He said with arms crossed. “Just do it for me.”

“And you’ll let me go?”

The being widened his pupil-less eyes. It was even more eerie than usual.

“Yeah. You are one vacuum cleaner away from freedom.”

“Get out of my house! This is the final warning!”

The woman yelled in fury, rightfully so.

“You came at the right time, ma’am.” Scar turned toward her, putting on his smile again. “We just fixed it. Can you plug it in for me?”

“…Heh?”

She halted.

“Try it out. If it doesn't work right away then we’ll leave immediately, am I right?” He gave the being a nudge.

“…Yes.”

Xelqua answered unwillingly.

The housewife knelt down to plug in the vacuum cleaner, grumbling about how absurd everything was. The moment it was turned on, a spark of purple light emitted from its indicator.

It worked.

“Phew—that was close.” Scar wiped the nonexistent sweat from his forehead. He should have just lost his soul a second ago, yet he didn't feel anything. Well, maybe he really was the chosen one who didn't have a soul to begin with.

“It…it worked?” She kept pressing different buttons on the vacuum cleaner, and they all certainly performed their functions. “How—how did you do that? My hubby can't do anything about it!”

“By the power of true happiness and the third Watcher, of course. By the way, the ‘happyness’ is actually spelled with an ‘y’, I just decided it. It’s better for trademark legalization anyway.”

Then, he grabbed Xelqua’s robe as the being tried to dematerialize and slip away from reality. A small part of his body had gone transparent already.

“What more do you want?” Xelqua protested, trying to get rid of him. “I’m leaving.”

“Give me a second,” Scar whispered to him and called the woman, still in awe, admiring her newly reborned cleaner. “Could you please help me with something? As a repayment for our service?”

“Uh…I really don't want to pay you. You seem like a scammer.”

“No—not money, yet.” He shook his head. He was rather frustrated that she would think so lowly of him, but he decided to let it pass. “Do you have the business card I just gave you?”

“…Yes?”

She began searching for it as she was instructed.

“There’s a line in the back. Can you read it out loud?”

She turned it around and started laughing immediately. “How am I supposed to read this? This is gibberish.”

“Well—I should know it beforehand…” Scar took a deep sigh and scratched his neck. Guess normal people without any knowledge would definitely not be able to read it, but he had no one to test it out for him yet. “Just repeat after me, then.”

He cleared his throat and started reciting.

“Mggoka ya orr'e.”

“Mgg…oka…ya orr’e.”

The being called Xelqua let out a short gasp as soon as the words left her mouth.

“What are you doing, mortal?”

“Ng ya bthnk.”

Scar ignored him but continued the chant.

��Ng ya b…thnk.”

She was trying her best to speak the obscure language that had been long lost in this mortal land. As each forbidden word was spoken, defying all laws of nature, the being trembled by the power of a divine offering.

“—Xelqua.”

“Xelqua…?”

Right after she finished the chant, the entire room was momentarily illuminated by a cold, purple glow. It happened so quickly, too quick for her to even realize it was emanating from herself.

“Thank you.”

Scar bowed to her, then walked decisively towards the doorway without looking back.

A few moments later, he heard another set of footsteps approaching him.

“How do you know these words?” The being known as Xelqua called as soon as they stepped out of the house.

“I did my research,” he simply said. “I know you’d follow me.”

“Of course I will…you are despicable.”

Xelqua uttered, catching up to him and walking alongside him.

“You sacrificed her soul to me for a…vacuum cleaner?”

“Yeah, I guess?”

Scar raised his shoulders.

“One more soul for you to chew on in the Void. I bet mine tastes awful so—I did you a favor?”

“I don't chew on souls! What do you think I am?”

“But that’s what all you want, am I right?”

Xelqua’s gaze locked on him for a while.

He couldn't read the emotions behind those eyes; it was as if he was staring into the Void itself. They reminded him of the legends he had learned from those ancient books about how the Watcher’s eyes can see through a person's very true self. A self. He often wondered if he even possessed one of his own.

But then, the Watcher laughed.

“What are you trying to do, mortal?”

Perhaps he actually had one after all.

“I want to start a cult!” Said Scar. “I said it from the very beginning. I'm true to my words—well, sometimes.”

“So that is your plan.” Xelqua shook his head. “I get some free souls so that you can start your dream cult.”

“You’re a smart god.” He reached out a hand toward the being. “How’s the deal?

“Sounds fine to me.” Xelqua shook it. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I know. Doing the world a favor.” Scar released the being’s hand immediately. “Man, I can't wait!”

He didn't appreciate the being's lack of body temperature. He preferred interacting with real humans, especially someone who is willing to accompany him to a vibrant and dramatic apocalypse. Hopefully, cats and trees will be part of the experience.

“I’m thinking—I’m thinking we should go to a college campus next. Those students are so young and impressionable…and stupid.” He started marching down the street in victory, while the being followed him close behind. “Everyone is so anxious about their futures and—whatever the kids are worrying about nowadays. It’s perfect! You can give them some good grades or the body type of an Instagram model—or drugs, I don't care, then they will be your good little lambs.”

“Why do you hate the mortals so much, then?” After listening to his rambling in silence, the being asked.

“I don't?” Scar stopped sharply, turning toward him. “I love humanity! They are so great. So bright. So wishful and always so creative. I love them. Oh, how can I ever hate them!”

“Then why are you doing this, willing to condemn their souls for all of eternity?”

“For the money, I guess.”

“You can simply wish for it,” Xelqua said, slightly confused. “Many mortals wished for money and I granted them more than their wildest dreams.”

“Nah. That’s boring.” Scar waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll be bored to death, and nothing is more scary than that.”

Xelqua looked at him with a tilted head.

“You’re funny.”

“No, tell me I'm charismatic.” Scar continued his walk. “I need to be a cult leader after all.”

[geminmyeyes]

Chapter 5 - Beyond Light and Shadow (Tumblr Backup)

<- Previous Chapter

First Chapter (Includes Tags, Warnings, etc)

Next Chapter ->

Silence hung for a moment upon the shock and harshness of the Kenbumajin’s words, beckoning the other to come out and fight already.

Whether any of them liked it or not, there was going to be a brawl between the two, and it had to be between only them. No interfering, no support, nada. Even if it was awfully tempting when things would get dire.

“O’ great king from the sun, come forth, Kenbumajin, Karna!” Chiharu began to initiate, the full summoning call being heard loud and clear, without any interference. “Make them fear our power!”

For a mere moment, the swirl of solar flare lit up the cemetery like it was bathed by the might of a summer afternoon’s sun once more. But once the flames died down, the familiar gold plated Kenbumajin made himself present once more, those matching gold eyes tensing up as he looked down.

Usually, Karna wouldn’t hesitate to mark his presence with a rude string of words, but he held back. Perhaps waiting for the right moment, a rare bit in politeness. That or crafting something extra potent to throw the way of his younger and (in his words) snobby brat of a brother.

It was best to not waste a moment longer. Any time spent twiddling thumbs would result in everything being burnt to a crisp.

“Silvery son of the storm, please lend me your strength!” The words effortlessly flowed into Touma’s mind as he shouted, the voltaic cyan key being inserted into the Ogre Watch with a sense of power. “Possession, Kenbumajin, Arjuna!!” 

Summoned forth for the first time in ages, in a precise strike of electrifying energy, the blue haired Kenbumajin appeared. Despite the tensions, he remained poised and calm, even if there was a slight twitch in his hands.

With the first movements coming from Karna, the two quickly clashed together like thunder and lightning.

Silver bolts of lightning, golden arrows of flame, like yin and yang, night and day. A storm of two different kinds of light, the harsh rays of the summer sun, the cool, volting cracks of lightning during a spring thunderstorm, fighting over who would be the brightest of them all.

Voltaic arrows managed to hit the opposing Kenbumajin, just like as legend told, the archer that never missed.

Though, the child of the sun was no slouch either, his own infinite supply of arrows landing a few fiery strikes on the other. Each strike resulted in an unparalleled shiteating grin.

“The first time I’ve been in this form in ages, and it’s against you,” Arjuna sighed, seeming to be annoyed with the whole fight. “Can we just get this over with? I’m only doing this so you don’t hurt those children.”

“Oh, am I just a bore to you now? Mister best archer in the whole wide world sick of having to prove his worth to his own, much cooler brother?” A higher pitched, condescending string began, the solar flare Kenbumajin’s once jovial face turning into something more grim and serious.

“If you wanna end this so badly, then just shoot me clean through the neck like you did back in the Throne Wars, smartass,” Karna beckoned in an uncharacteristically cold manner. 

Keeping his composure, Arjuna stood firm, still gripping to his bow. But Touma could tell that without a doubt, the legendary Kenbumajin was nervous out of his wits end. How he managed to stay so composed, he had no idea…

“Silence!” Arjuna finally spoke out. “I can’t ever relive that moment again, not now, not ever…”

“I guess I’ll just have to end you myself then!”

But then, there was a wrench thrown into the fated duel. It got the hot headed Kenbumajin to stop with a puzzled look on his face.

Or rather, a bit of sparkly pink Yojitsu was casted, glimmers of bright pink striking the boisterous Kenbumajin.

That could only mean…

“Ayame!?” Akinori yelled, everyone looking to face the girl. Goodness, the young gumshoes hadn’t seen her in person since last year. “You probably shouldn’t interfere, this is a pretty bad fight and you could get hurt—“

“You stop hurting my friend right this instant, mister!” Ayame demanded with a shout frightening enough to make everyone go quiet for a moment. Karna turned to face the girl.

“Huh, never seen you before, didn’t know you brats networked so easily,” Karna commented. This was followed by a slight snort. “What are you gonna do next, ask me if I want to go to a tea party?”

The frilly girl took a stronger stance. “Apologies for my rudeness earlier, sir. Please stop hurting my friend right this instant, mister!”

A much larger heart was casted by Ayame, and radiated enough power that it needed to be punched rather than flicked off. It caused a greater impact as well, if it was followed by an attack name and a change of background, it would have been enough to annihilate the average monster of the week.

While the yojistsu wasn’t enough to defeat such a powerful Kenbumajin, it was enough to make him get disoriented. 

“Now’s your chance!” Ayame gestured in encouragement. “I’ll get to explaining in a bit!”

Following the encouragement, Arjuna took his stance, readying the legendary bow. An arrow pointed right at Karna, not with the intent to kill, but to get him to just admit defeat and retreat.

“Behold! Typhoon Bolt Oversurge!” Arjuna yelled, wind ramping up behind him as he fired off an arrow that was an entire thunderstorm condensed into a single arrow. Bolts of lightning, the hard hitting downpour, hitting Karna right in the arm. 

The fiery Kenbumajin seethed as the arrow hit his arm. He had to retreat, even if he hated that very idea. But not before getting the last word seething all the while.

“You might have won this time, but don’t think I’m going to lose next time, asshole. When we duel, the sun will be shining, and you’re gonna be so sorry,” Karna seethed, retreating back where he came from.

With the threat gone, there was no need for the lightning Kenbumajin to be summoned, and thus, Touma was returned. Shirogane appeared as well, looking slightly inconvenienced but accepting it with a bit of a shrug.

“First thing’s first, Ayame and Dorothea, was it? How did you two end up here?” Natsume asked. Dorothea gave a nod as Ayame, who was able to speak the same language as her friends, was able to clear things up.

“It was after school and me and Dorothea were going to retrieve a paper one of her teachers discarded rudely,” Ayame began, trying to recall the events. “Then some sort of bird-like shadow started to attack us, Dorothea ended up stumbling into this weird circular mirror with a purple frame. I followed after her, and we ended up here.”

“A mirror that sent you here…I think I remember my grandma talking about something like that,” Akinori pondered.

“But that bird, that must have been a youkai for sure,” Natsume thought, giving a bit of a yawn. “What time is it?”

“00:17,” Touma answered, looking at his phone. “Or 12:17 am I believe in the 12 hour system.”

Everyone stared in shocked silence. Gods, they were out extremely late, weren’t they? Any group discussions on the mirror and the bird could be done on phones with group chats and the like. Natsume quickly suggested that Ayame and Dodrthea crash at her place for the moment until they can get all of this sorted out. At least they had tomorrow off.

Unlocking the front door, the three girls had hoped everyone was fast asleep so they could all pile in without anyone noticing. 

The feeling of the door not opening quite right due to someone already trying to open the door was enough to turn Natsume’s blood ice cold. The least worst would be Keisuke who’s already used to all these supernatural shenanigans, and knew to stay quiet.

Panic began to beat through the girl’s heart to see her mother opening the door, still haven’t gone to bed yet but looked ready to.

“Natsume…why were you out so late?” Natsume’s mother inquired, looking even more shocked to see Ayame was there. “And aren’t you supposed to be in France? Is that one of your friends from France, how did you get here?”

“There was a purple mirror and—“ Ayame tried to explain, Natsume quickly shushed her with a look of ‘she has no idea about any of this youkai stuff and will think we’re crazy if we tell it straight’ in her eyes.

“Oh she’s just here for a brief visit with her roommate! J-Jetlag sure is disorienting isn’t it Ayame and Dorothea?” Natsume hastily tried to say, quickly leading the girls to her room to crash for the night, knowing that she would have a lot of explaining to do in the morning.

Unbeknownst to the girls, the older woman just stood in silence after closing and locking the front door after the girls crashed in. She always saw Natsume (or in some rare cases, Keisuke) with that white wristwatch. How very nostalgic.

Purple mirror, and traveling long distances so easily. She knew what that meant, it was unbelievably convenient when she was a girl, especially with the ones in St. Peanutsburg.

But those days were long gone, even giving her watch to a certain friend of hers. She was curious if repairs could be done, but it was more of she didn’t want to think about the horrors that made her no longer want to see such specters.

And yet, she’s haunted by it. Gods, even her own child is hanging around her old friends, she has to pretend to not see them. 

However, today was the day to finally face some old demons. Eyes glazed with hesitation, a nervous finger hovering over a contact that had barely been used.

The quiet rings of the phone were deafening, reminding the older woman that she was going to have to face the inevitable, and face it right now.

“H-Hey, Inaho, sorry for calling so late, it’s a bit of an emergency,”

“You know me, midnight is when I’m the widest awake. You haven’t called in ages, Fumika. What’s the matter?”

“I’m going to need my watch back if you’ve finished those repairs, one of Natsume’s friends, she got transported here all the way from France by what I presume to be an Ungaikyo.”

“Gotcha, youkai activity has been ramping up a lot lately. I think the King of A Hundred Demons is making a comeback,”

Meanwhile, Natsume, while trying to get some sleep, could hear her mother conversing over the phone. Whatever she was talking about on the other end, she could not hear a word from where she was in the house. 

But her mother’s voice sounded grave.

“What?! …I can’t believe the seal and curse forged by you, me, and Keita’s medals and summoning capabilities from our watches would break so soon…I thought it would be well past our lifetimes when it would finally break!”

“I know, we lost against the King of the Hundred Demons…But he had one hell of an army…those Four Calamity Generals that impersonated generals from the three kingdoms era…their god king that was unbelievably powerful from all the strife and conflict from the past millennia…the dragon that could cause droughts by just existing in an area…plus the guy himself and his sister were no pushovers!”

“We had nearly a decade of befriending and mastering youkai and everything…and we still couldn’t completely defeat that hundred demon king! If only…what’s her name, Hebihime, hadn’t plotted to summon him…”

“Yeah…Yeah I’m hoping those rumors are all false in the end. Maybe it’s just an impersonator to get us all worried…”

Natsume eavesdropped with quite the surprised look on her face. All along, her parents had been involved with youkai?! Not to mention whatever their final battle was, it went horribly wrong, and it may be up to the detectives to pick up the pieces?

Could they really do it? Sure, the Sacred King’s Armory are incredibly strong youkai without a doubt! But are they strong enough to face a demon king with who knows how many horrific and powerful calamities?

Trying to sleep it off would be the best bet. It was probably nothing, but it was still bugging Natsume.

She could see visions of a king so immensely powerful, one that all the top one hundred of the most vile demons flocked to. He was their king, their master, and all of them would bend to his cruel will.

As for Ayame and Dorothea, being warped back to Japan wasn’t exactly what they had in the cards for their day off. Surely with all the youkai Ayame had dealt with, they could probably hitch a quick emergency ride on Suzaku if things got dire.

Though before trying to knock out for the night, a quick post on Usuranura

 about what had happened wouldn’t hurt. However, when loading the page there was a large notice on the submit a sighting page.

Hello, we have temporarily closed the submission box for the next 12 hours due to constant spamming by a user seeming to evade any and all IP bans I impose on this anonymous user.

If you see a 21 month old girl named Moriko please send it to this email address, so I can hopefully contact her worried parents. Who, again, keep spamming (I know you’re worried, trust me I know what it’s like, but I want to make sure sightings don’t get buried!)

Indeed, there had been a spam of messages that were deleted upon refresh, showing rather jumbled writing pleading for help in finding Moriko. Small, wears pink, has fluffy, frizzy latte foam colored hair. The text of the messages seemed to be pretty scrambled, either due to panic, lack of finesse with touch screens due to long nails or inexperience, or both.

Either way, even with the panic someone had in their heart, sleep needed to come first after this long, strange, and eventful day. Even if it was only for a mere wink of sleep, everyone needed it.

Yet, despite hunkering for a peaceful slumber, the girls had a feeling another bird was looming by. 

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

Dawn’s sunlight only barely started to crack through the horizon when Ayame was woken up by Natsume’s mother knocking on the door gently, asking for her name in particular.

“Ms. Amano, what do you need? It’s really early…” Ayame asked, rubbing her eyes. 

In the older woman’s hand was a watch, a lot like the ones everyone in the detective agency had. However, instead of going around the wrist, it was tied by an azure chord, contrasting nicely with the pearlescent whites and rosy pinks that made up the watch’s casing.

“I’ve heard about how you ended up back here, and, well…” She tried to explain, Natsume joining in with her friend.

“Mom…I heard you last night talking with Saki’s Mom…What on earth happened and have you been able to see youkai this entire time?”

Knowing that it was going to be a long, difficult conversation ahead, the three got ready for the day and moved into the living room to discuss things.

“The short answer is…Yes, I’ve been able to see youkai since I was at least 11, during the most eventful and strange summer of my life,” Natsume’s mother began to weave her yarn. “Not only myself, but your father and Saki’s mother as well. We were Watchers that were able to stop just about any threat without much issue!”

“However, there was one threat that nearly wiped us…The King of One Hundred Demons. He was the leader of a faction during the Great Throne Wars long ago, with the intent of annihilating the human race. An…incident when your father and I were in our last year of high school occurred when a youkai girl with the title of Hebihime 

 “We were experienced and would not let him attempt to reach that goal again, but it took literally everything. Our medals, summoning capabilities of our watches, all of it just to seal him, and in order to ensure he’d never return again, your father gave up his memories of youkai to enact a powerful curse.”

“It seems that curse, one that would not let him reawaken until humanity was able to play god by one to one clone a deceased human to perfection, has been broken…” Finally, the woman concluded. “That demon king is no joke. Some of the strongest youkai we came face to face with were merely his underlings.”

“I never knew any of that, I’m sorry you had to go through all that, mom. I’d understand why you never brought it up until now…” Natsume answered gently, allowing her mother to hug her gently.

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but I hope the rumors of the resurrection of that demon king are a hoax,” The girl’s mother responded back, trying to hold back tears. “I cannot let him hurt you or anyone ever again.” 

Natsume was quiet for a moment, breaking away from the embrace to put her hands on her mother’s shoulders. “I know what we may face may be horrifying, but if we can beat Soranaki, we can beat this King of A Hundred Demons guy no problem. Just…trust in us, alright?” 

“Yeah!” Ayame added in. “We’ll make him very sorry that he messed with us!”. Dorothea nodded, not really understanding due to the language barrier, but tried to piece things together from body language and tone in the voices. 

“Thank you all, it’s painful to remember that time…but I remember a possible weak point,” Natsume’s mother began. “A possible weakness of The King of a Hundred demons, or better known as—“

Any overview of the demon king was cut short by a deafeningly loud screech. 

“What was that?!” Fumika commented, Natsume and Ayame scrambling for their watches to try and figure out the source of the sound, though the latter looked a bit confused.

“Mrs. Amano, how do I use this thing?” Ayame asked, fumbling with the watch until pressing a button that not only flipped open the watch’s main lid, but shined a fairly bright light and made a few radar-like bleeps.

With both watches’ lights shining, the youkai had made itself clear to be some sort of monstrous owl, aglow with blue spectral flame. It let out another horrifying sound, making the damned screams of a barn owl sound like a gentle serenade of a songbird. In terms of size, it was pretty small compared to other youkai, a bit larger than a Great Grey Owl, but was much smaller than, say, Suzaku.

“Tatarimokke!” The youkai wasted no time getting to introductions, letting the house know right away who it was and what they meant.

Even if it was pretty small, it knew exactly what Natsume was doing when she instinctively grabbed for the arc of the (mostly) reliable red feline. The feathered fiend jumped onto Natsume, trying to claw at her with its sharp talons. It was enough to make her drop the arc, but before Tatarimokke could even get a scratch in, it was met with a hearty whack of a rolled up magazine.

“Get off my daughter you overgrown turkey!” Fumika cursed, trying to keep a level head but treating the monstrous youkai like it was a small bird that had flown in by accident. “Girls, focus on getting this thing outside! I just got new tiling installed in the kitchen yesterday, I can’t afford to see you or my hard work get hurt!” 

As instructed, the girls chased Tatarimokke out of the house and right into the front yard. The further away they could get away from the neighborhood, the better given how there would be more space to do battle against this beast.

Without much or any hesitation, Dorothea grabbed a nearby fallen branch, and started smacking Tatarimokke with it.

“Dorothea! That’s not a normal owl! You could get hurt!” Ayame spoke, knowing she was the only one between her and Natsume that could speak fluent French. Dorothea kept standing her ground.

“I know, but I heard a stick is effective on fending off crows, so it must work on owls?” Dorothea admitted, Ayame being the only one who understood her French. There had to be a youkai capable of breaking these weird language barriers… “But I think with a bit of this, you guys should be able to get in after it without being swooped in!”

One hard bonk and the owl was down, it’s screechy breath wheezy and angry. It knew once it got back up, it would try to tear these girls into shreds.

Right as Tatarimokke was about to get back up to slash apart the girls, it heard a voice. A voice it recognized.

“Don’t hurt her! Moriko, it’s me!” A voice cried out, a voice with the strain of a father who’s voice had gotten exhausted and hoarse trying to find his child. 

“Oh…you must be the one who was spamming Usuranura last night…” Ayame commented, looking at the panicked and running figure calling the child’s name. He shambled to try to intervene, clearly exhausted from tirelessly looking for the individual named Moriko.

Though to one person, it rang a bell.

“F-Fukuro!? H-how are you even alive!?” Natsume gasped, absolutely flabbergasted that such a youkai had managed to survive.

But it was true, Fukurou was there, alive and mostly well. He still wore the same attire he did two years ago, though a bit more tattered and with a few stains of blood from trying to take control of Fudo-Muyoou. The tips of his feathers were permanently a dark teal, the same for his red tipped, talon-like hands. Or rather, hand, as quite visibly he lacked a right hand and part of his right forearm. 

The owl rested its face in the humanoid’s arms, tears forming in it’s vacant, soul piercing eyes. Finally, it cried out something that wasn’t a shrill screech.

“Papa…Papa I’m sorry…” The youkai cried, the ominous energy fading away as all what was left was something that was the polar opposite of the monstrous and destructive owl. It was a small child, only about the age of a toddler. She was dressed in a kimono and hifu, forged from the finest silks dyed in adorable pastels, and adorned with a few flower-like accessories. Even a few bits of teal to pop out from the pastel pinks, to match alongside her father.

“There there Moriko…” Fukurou spoke with such a gentle softness. “I know it wasn’t your fault…I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“Girls, are you alright?” Fumika stepped out, wondering what all the commotion was. Just as things seemed to end well, there was a curveball thrown in for good measure.

Appearing was a certain someone who carried the title of Snake King proudly, his blue, slit-like eyes staring down with intimidation. He was pursuing Fukurou it seems, given the older owl’s reaction to the very presence of the Han’yo. Even Fumika seemed to blink for a moment. Something about him rung a bell.

“L-Lord K-Kaira! I-I can explain! I-It wasn’t my faul–” Fukurou tried to answer, only for his daughter to stand up between the two adults.

“Don’t hurt papa!” A shrill from Moriko boldly opposed the snake king, without the knowledge that he held the title of Great King for over a year in Enma’s stead. Had Fukurou not held her back, her tiny fists would have absolutely tried to punch the half snake right in the shins. “Papa’s nice! Papa made me not angry! Dushala made me a meanie for no reason!” 

Kaira and Fumika in particular looked shocked at what the owlet girl had confessed. 

“…I see, so she’s the one behind this…all those rumors are true after all…damn the gods…” Kaira cursed, giving a sigh. His face became a little lighter as he looked at the younger youkai. A quite awkward but clearly earnest smile graced his face. “I am not going to hurt you or your father. Though with what happened to you, I got worried.”

“Don’t worry, mister snakey man,” Moriko answered swiftly. “Papa keeps me safe, new friends keep me safe.” 

With a bit of non-verbal gestures, she was allowed to wiggle out of her father’s grasp to toddle over to Natsume. Her teeny tiny clawed hands holding an arc that she was just barely able to grip. The braided girl gave a smile, taking the arc and saying “Thank you, Moriko” while ruffling the fluff of hair.

“Right, about the whole dying and coming back thing,” Kaira began to explain. “I was in charge of being the final word in a lot of punishments towards youkai that had caused trouble around when the Soranaki incident was happening. I don’t know what had gotten over me at that moment…but I somehow could feel that causing youkai to go berserk wasn’t something Fukurou was doing willingly or freely. 

“I decided that I would allow him a second chance in raising Tatarimokke, a youkai born from a deceased human infant due to any number of reasons, both natural and manmade. If the child perished or was harmed by his own hand, I would immediately take his soul to Infinite Hell myself.”

“But, you’ve been doing a good job, Fukurou. Spoiling her, dare I say, those silks aren’t cheap and you haven’t gotten anything new in a while…”

“Well, if it isn’t broken, don’t fix it,” Fukurou concluded, absolutely relieved he wasn’t going to be dragged back. “But, it perhaps may be a bit dangerous now.”

“I hope you never have to know her name,” Kaira concluded. “It is best you try to hide yourselves as Enma and I fear something horrifying could take place in this town once more.” 

Just about Kaira was about to make his leave, a voice called for him. 

“Wait! Lord Kaira, is it? We ended up here by accident due to a mirror kept by one of Dorothea’s teachers, is it possible you can take us back to France? Pretty please?” Ayame explained, Kaira pausing for a bit.

“Your teacher has an Ungiyako? I thought there was a Faerie that would serve the same purpose. I can take you back no problem, though I encourage you to try to see if there’s a way to fend yourself. Youkai are everywhere, after all.”

———————————-----------------------------------------------------

Of course the moment Goku Kyubi asks about Shutendouji leading the way, he takes her to a deserted mountain where there’s no sign of life, and even the spiritual energies are pretty low. The kitsune’s mismatched eyes looked at the oni, a displeased look in her eyes.

“So…Where’s that big fat papa you said you would lead me to?” Goku Kyubi inquired. Shutendouji shot a bit of a stone cold look back at her.

“Yeah so, about that,” Shuten answered, azure, flame-like energy starting to form around his arm. “All the stuff about Ibuki Douji, all his backstories, that was a load of crap I just made up. I’d figure such a wise goddess like yourself would pick up on all the inconsistencies, but guess not.”

If she was merely just calmly angry before, Goku Kyubi was absolutely seething and she made it clear with her high pitched rant of a voice. 

“You STUPID brute!” She shouted, a force of energy knocking her back before she could rant some more, but she still tried to stand firm. “How dare you insult AND hurt a goddess like myself, and the queen of a hundred demons herself for that matter!?”

“I may be stupid but I’m not an idiot,” Shutendouji bluntly gave a shockingly levelheaded response to the festering angry fox. “Not so much of an idiot to let you over to all that I have left.”

“Then what is it you have left, sacreligious idiot!?” Goku Kyubi kept her ranting game going and going strong. She managed to jump up and grabs her humanoid hands around Shutendouji’s neck, her expression becoming much more enraged. “You better tell me the truth or else you’ll never wish you messed with the Great Divine Almighty Goddess Goku Kyubi!”

Shutendouji merely sat silent, Goku Kyubi gritting her teeth as brightly colored red and blue energy casted from her hands, and with a simple chant, put the oni in his place, unable to move.

“Come on, speak up!” Goku Kyubi commanded, her tone becoming impatient by the second. She kept casting sparks of ember in hopes to get him to finally speak up. “Unless you were birthed from the void and nothingness, you have to have a parent!”

“Mo…Momiji…She’s my mother, and you’ll be sorry if you try messing with me…” Shutendouji managed to mutter after a bit of prodding, the kitsune roaring into laugher

“Bah! What a joke!” Goku Kyubi laughed. “You, the son of the legendary Momiji?! Don’t joke with me, just because you’re an Oni doesn’t mean you two are related! Come on, she was a scholar, leader, and warrior who wielded a youseiken, you’re merely a low ranking frat boy compared to her!”

Just then, a thought came into the Kitsune’s mind, a sinister grin appearing on her face. “Tell you what, regardless of if you’re related to her or not, I have the perfect use for you after all,”

Using her magic to make massive claws out of red and blue flame, she grasped Shutendouji to make sure this time he could not run away or lead her astray.

“W-Wait, what?! What are you gonna do!?” Shutendouji demanded, Goku Kyubi fumbling out a little portable mirror to head back to the palace lair.

“You’ll see, and perhaps if you really are related to her, I will be sorry. But I’ll outsmart her and make you actually useful for once!”

[emeraldiis]

Falling for a God

A/N: Forgot to properly post/format this fic, so here ya go ya filthy animals (ok but i wrote it so I’m filthier)

AO3 Link

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 7.1k

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Summary: “Tell me, does being touched by a god make you nervous? I can feel you quivering, are you afraid?” Loki pauses, then leans down until his lips are almost touching your ear. “Or is that arousal I sense?”You have a huge crush on Loki, there's lots of sexual tension, y'all fuck. That's the plot.

“Nat,” you whine. “I feel like you’re not even listening.” You prance to the front of her, spinning around to walk backwards.

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Wow, are you sure you aren’t pyschic?” She keeps up her brisk pace, and you nearly trip over yourself trying to keep up.

“That’s so rude!” You exclaim, but can’t hold back a giggle. Despite her cold demeanor, you know that Nat is just messing with you. Shooting a quick glance backwards, you decide that your path is clear, and return your gaze to your friend. “You’ll tell me if I’m about to run into something, right?”

With a wry grin, Natasha gives you a thumbs up. You beam at her. “Anyway,”  you continue. “I started watching this new TV show last night, and it is so, totally awesome. There’s this guy, and he has these badass powers, and he’s fighting this girl, and she has-”

Thump.

A small oof escapes from your mouth as your back collides with something solid. You pitch forward in surprise, and yelp as you try to stabilize yourself before you fall. Large, warm hands grab your waist, tightening around you to keep you from toppling over. You sigh in relief as your frantic heart slows to a normal rhythm. “Wow, thanks,” you say, and spin around to reveal the identity of your saviour.

Piercing blue eyes meet yours, and your breath catches in your throat. “Careful, pet,” Loki murmurs softly, a sly grin spreading across his lips. His hands slide off of your waist, making contact with the sliver of skin between your shorts and your top on the way. An involuntary shiver creeps up your spine, and you bite your lip.

The reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by the ever-perceptive trickster, and his eyes flash with surprise. “Are my hands really that cold?” Loki teases. “Perhaps you could help me warm them up.” His tone is playful, but there’s something deeper underneath his banter that makes you think he’s actually flirting.

You can tell that your cheeks are red, and you choose not to respond to Loki’s question in fear of making an even bigger fool of yourself. A stammered apology tumbles from your lips, and you look back towards Natasha with a look of betrayal. She grins and shrugs. “I forgot to warn you. Oops.” Your mouth drops open. That scheming little devil. She knows about your crush on Loki, and she still allows you to make a fool out of yourself?

Your interactions with Loki were sparse, to say the least. Aside from a few casual conversations in a group, you had barely even talked to him. Still, he captivated you from the very first day he arrived at the compound. He was exactly your type; tall, dark, and brooding. Aside from Thor, most everyone gave Loki a wide berth, hesitant to forget the battle for New York. You, however, didn’t see a villain. You saw pain behind those blue eyes, and could empathize with Loki’s behavior. You knew all too well that it hurt to live in someone’s shadow, and sometimes acting out was a cry for help. Granted, Loki’s outbursts were far more drastic than yours had ever been, but it was more or less the same on a base level. And, the fact that he constantly had a witty remark on the tip of his tongue never ceased to entertain you. The man liked to hear himself talk, and damn, so did you.

It takes you a second to realize that you’ve been staring. You clear your throat awkwardly and look to the floor, eager to hide your discomfort. “Um, thank you for catching me,” you manage. When you look back up, Loki is wearing an odd expression. His pretty eyes are narrowed, searching your face. The scrutiny only embarasses you further. “Well, see you around!” WIth that, you dart around Loki and scurry off. Natasha follows you, snickering softly.

When you reach the common area, you plop yourself down on the couch and groan, throwing an arm over your face. Natasha sits down beside you. “Smooth,” she says, drawing out the word obnoxiously.

You remove your arm from over your eyes and give Natasha a withering look. “So not funny.”

Nat positively cackles at that. “Oh, come on,” she says. “He’d be an idiot to not at least have a thing for you, I mean, you’re smoking! ” She looks you up and down. “Nice rack, too.”

A giggle bursts from your lips. “Nat. Oh, my god. Stop objectifying me.”

Shaking her head, Natasha replies, “Me, objectify? I would never.”

That earns her an eye roll from you. “Sure. Anyway, can we please change the subject? I’m sick of talking about my embarrassing Loki crush.”

“What does ‘crush’ mean?”

You freeze. Now that was a distinct voice. “Thor,” you choke out. “When did you get here?”

Thor walks up behind the couch and swings himself over the back, making the poor piece of furniture creak in protest. He settles next to you, effectively sandwiching you between him and Natasha. “Just long enough to hear you discussing my brother. Now, will you please enlighten me on this strange Midgardian term?”

Before you can shut him down, Nat pipes up from the other end of the sofa. “It means she likes him. Romantically. Sexually. ”

The temptation to throw yourself onto the floor wailing is high. Instead, you opt to beg for your life. Still embarrassing, but slightly more productive than throwing a tantrum. “Nat!” You screech. You turn to Thor with pleading eyes. “Please, don’t say anything to him.”

Thor furrows his eyebrows. “What an odd expression. You’d think that the word “crush’ would be associated with something negative.” He places a big hand on your thigh. “If what Lady Natahsa says is true, then why would you not tell my brother? He is quite vain, you know. I’m sure he would be delighted to know that a beautiful woman is attracted to him!”

You groan and bury your face in your hands. These Asgardians will be the death of you. “It’s not that simple, Thor. What if he rejects me? I’d never be able to show my face around him again!”

There’s a pause, and then Thor asks you in a much gentler tone, “It seems as though you care for Loki a great deal more than you are letting on. Are you really afraid of embarrassment, or is it the heartbreak you fear?”

You’re glad that your hands are covering your face, because the way the color drains out of it at Thor’s question would have given you away. “No,” you mumble through your fingers. But he’s right, you do care for Loki more than you’d ever admit. His image ran through your head at night when you were trying to sleep, and his voice was what came to mind when your fingers were between your legs and you were pretending they were-

You rub at your eyes, then look up at Thor in desperation. “Please, if you really care about me as a friend, you’ll keep this secret.” You shoot a look at Natasha. “You, too. I may not be able to take Thor in a fight, but I could kick your ass.” You know you sound like a pathetic teenager, but you’re past the point of caring. You were perfectly happy admiring Loki from afar, and didn’t want to get your hopes up just to be met with shame.

Natasha scoffs. “As if.” Before she can continue. Thor holds up his hand.

“Lady Natasha, I believe we should stay out of this. I have done a great deal of meddling in my brother’s life, and I’ve learned that even the best intentions can cause disaster when Loki is involved.

“Thank you, Thor,” you say gratefully, relief evident in your voice. With a tired sigh, you hoist yourself up from the couch and turn to face your friends. “Well, I think I’ve had enough excitement for today. I’m going to hibernate, see you next spring.”

Natasha giggles and blows you a kiss goodbye while Thor scrunches up his face in confusion at your joke. Oh, well. Maybe he’d understand Midgardian humor one day.

*

Thunder rages outside your window while you toss and turn. You roll over to glance at your clock, and scowl when it flashes “3AM.” Giving up on the prospect of sleep, you opt for creeping to the kitchen for a midnight snack. Your bare feet pad down the carpet, and you shiver slightly at the cold air of the hall. Goosebumps rise on your bare legs and you start to regret your decision not to put on pants.

To get to the kitchen, you have to walk through the common area, and for a moment you linger just outside the entryway. There’s a soft glow coming from the corner of the room, and you mentally groan, hoping it’s one of the female inhabitants of the compound. You weren’t too excited at the idea of walking past one of the guys in just a sleep shirt and underwear. Still, your mission for food is not one you’re willing to give up on. Taking a deep breath, you step out of the hallway and into the room. And nearly pass out.

Across the room, perched in one of the loveseats, is Loki. He’s sitting with his legs curled underneath him, thumbing through a book. You consider darting back into the safety of the hall, but you’re too late. Loki has already noticed you, and is now staring far too intently for your liking. Suddenly feeling very exposed, you tug on the hem of your shirt, trying to pull it further down your legs. “Sorry to disturb you,” you whisper, afraid to break the deafening silence. Loki raises an eyebrow at you, then turns back to his book. You aren’t sure if you’re relieved or disappointed when his gaze leaves you.

Not wanting to linger in the entryway any longer, you make your way across the room, keeping your eyes down. As you pass Loki, a loud clap of thunder booms outside, and already being on edge, you yelp. Startled from the deafening sound in an otherwise quiet room, you stagger, falling backwards onto the loveseat. Right next to Loki. The sofa is small, and in your splayed out position, you’re almost half on top of the god.

Loki flinches away, and you immediately begin to apologize. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what happened, I guess I just lost my footing. Did I hurt you?” As you talk, you push yourself off of Loki and cower into the other side of the loveseat. Some more rational part of your brain urges you to get up, give him some more space, but you don’t listen. As embarrassed as you are, you’re not quite ready to give up this closeness to the object of your affection.

With a huff, Loki straightens himself and gives you a cool look. “You did not hurt me, mortal. I was simply surprised.” Then, having composed himself, he smirks and sets his book on the end table beside him. “I suppose it is only natural to have weak knees in the presence of a god.”

The comment lightens the mood, and you find yourself relaxing next to him. “You’re right, Thor’s thunder does make me a tad unsteady.”

At that, Loki stiffens, obviously having not expected you to return his teasing. For a brief moment, you feel proud. Then, something changes in his expression, and he scoots closer to you. His hand finds your bare thigh, and the contact sends butterflies through your stomach. Loki senses your restlessness and gives you a predatory grin. “Is that so? Are you telling me that this,” he squeezes your thigh, and you gasp. “Doesn’t make you feel...faint?” His voice is low, and he almost purrs the last few words.

You fight hard to keep your breathing even, not wanting to give away just how flustered you are. The heavy weight of his hand feels heavenly, and you can feel your panties grow damp. God, you hope he can’t smell it.

This predatory tone is so much different than the playful teasing that you usually receive from Loki. You’ve never seen his blue eyes so dark, and the unfamiliarity of it all tightens your stomach.

Taking your silence as a challenge, Loki presses himself even closer to you. His fingers creep up your leg, closer to your underwear. “Tell me, does being touched by a god make you nervous? I can feel you quivering, are you afraid?” Loki pauses, then leans down until his lips are almost touching your ear. “Or is that arousal I sense?”

Fuck. A full body shiver skates across your skin, and despite your best efforts, a small moan breaks free from your throat. Loki’s hand feels like a brand on your thigh, sending waves of heat up your body. The warmth pools between your legs, and you can’t help but shift a bit. Knowing that your panties are the only barrier between your soaking heat and the sofa, you arch your hips ever so slightly to keep from soiling the cushion.

Of course, your small movements don’t go unnoticed. Loki’s eyes are hooded as they rake across your bare legs, and you can hear his breathing get a bit heavier. He looks up at you, pupils dilated. “Oh, pet, look at you. Barely even touched, and already-”

He’s cut off by the sound of footsteps echoing through the hall, headed in your direction. Loki curses softly and reluctantly draws his hand away, then moves as far away as the small sofa allows. Your skin aches at the loss of contact.

The interrupting stranger’s footsteps approach the entrance to the common room, then carry on past. You let out the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, thankful that you wouldn’t have to explain anything. Something tells you that, while there’s nothing going on now, sitting with Loki in the middle of the night might raise a few eyebrows.

You and Loki are alone again, but the moment has passed. Whatever spell that had overcome the two of you is gone, and all that’s left is a quiet room and a dim light. “I apologize, I believe I have overstepped,” Loki says, and for the first time, he sounds...unsure. His voice has lost that arrogant confidence that it normally carries, and he sounds like a child that has just been caught stealing cookies from the jar.

You bite your lip and risk a glance at Loki. He’s still pressed against the opposite arm of the loveseat, and is avoiding your eyes. Without the atmosphere of desire from before, now you just feel...awkward. Sighing softly, you rise to your feet and make your way to the hallway. You pause briefly in the entryway, and breathe out a “goodnight, Loki.” You don’t wait for a response, instead turning and trudging back towards your room.

As you flop back down in bed, you replay the night’s events over in your mind. It almost feels like a dream, and you’re having trouble believing that Loki, the God of Mischief, had actually come on to you. It didn’t seem plausible. You’re just a plain mortal, nothing special, no powers. Sure, your combat skills could rival Natasha’s, but besides that, you can’t find anything about yourself that would attract a god.

Eventually, you decide that maybe Loki was just horny, and you were in the right place at the right time. You did walk out without pants on, after all. No matter the reasoning, you know not to expect a repeat occurrence, given how regretful he had seemed afterwards. Tears brim in your eyes as the reality of the situation hits you; Loki regrets touching you. It seems that your crush was one-sided, and even though you weren’t surprised, that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

*

Things are tense around the compound. You creep around corners, terrified of accidentally finding yourself in the same room as Loki. And it seems that Loki is taking the same precautions, because you haven’t even seen a glimpse of him since that night. The ache in your heart from his rejection still keeps you up at night, and you still find yourself pining over him like a lovesick idiot.

Ever the observer, Natasha catches on quickly. “Are you really still embarrassed about bumping into Loki?” She asks after cornering you in the kitchen. “You’re not acting like yourself, and it is beyond obvious something is bothering you.”

You groan at her around a mouthful of a granola bar. “Are you really still thinking about it?” You counter.

Nat rolls her eyes. “Please, it’s hard to pretend it didn’t happen when you’re playing this stupid cat and mouse game. I see you check every room for him, I can’t believe you even care that much. He barely even touched you!”

A piece of your snack shoots down your throat with your gasp. You double over, wheezing and coughing. Natasha slaps a hand on your back, sighing. When you finally catch your breath, you glare at Nat. “Yeah, maybe that’s the issue.”

You immediately regret your words as a fire lights itself in Natasha’s eyes. “Want me to help?”

“Nat, hold on. No thanks-”

“Shush, trust me!” To your dismay, Natasha is already on her way out of the kitchen when she finishes hushing you. You whimper out a half-baked protest, but your friend is long gone by the time the words leave your mouth. Fuck, you’re so screwed.

LIfe  was very quickly becoming a stressful game of hide and seek. You’d resorted to spending most of the day in your room, hoping to avoid Loki, and more importantly, Natasha. You’re not sure what she has planned, but it can’t be anything good. As weeks pass by with no incident, however, you begin to drop your guard. Maybe she’s taking pity on you.

It’s around noon when you get the text. It’s an all caps message from Nat, pleading with you to at least hear her out before saying no.

That’s a terrifying text. I’m listening.

Nat: I may have bragged my way into a drinking contest with Thor, and I need a teammate to make it fair.

You want to try and outdrink Thor????

Nat: I want US to outdrink him. I convinced him that it’d be more balanced if it was 2 to 1.

You owe me.

Nat: :)

It was a terrible idea, but maybe a nice night of getting hammered is just what you need to break you out of your funk. Despite your initial reluctance, you find yourself getting excited. You hadn’t really relaxed in ages, this would be a good thing.

As the hours pass, you start to get nervous. It’s been so long since you’ve gotten properly drunk, and you seriously doubt you’ll be able to keep up with even Natasha. Still, a promise is a promise, and you have far too much pride to chicken out now.

The clock reaches nine o’clock, and you sigh. Showtime. Before leaving your suite, you set several glasses of water and a bottle of Advil on your nightstand. If you’re going to fuck over your future self, you might as well try to ease her pain. You take a deep breath and spare a glance over at the mirror against your bedroom wall. You had opted for something comfy, but cute; an emerald green dress that stopped just above your mid-thigh, and fell off of one shoulder effortlessly.

Okay, so maybe you had wanted to get a tiny bit dressed up. You’re sure Nat will tease you for it, but sometimes a girl just wants to feel pretty.

A bit breathless from those pre-competition nerves--yes, a drinking contest was that serious--you make your way to the kitchen. As you round the corner, you stop dead in your tracks. Sitting at the bar Tony had insisted on installing, is Nat and Thor, of course. But next to them, perched delicately on one of the stools, is Loki. He wears a look of disdain, as if this entire competition is beneath him. You hope he can’t tell how badly you want to be beneath him.

Natasha gives you a wicked grin as Thor waves you over, his smile far more innocent-looking than Nat’s, though you’re sure he had a part in this. Cursing your terrible friends under your breath, and yourself for falling for it, you trudge over. Naturally, the only stool left is the one on the end, directly next to Loki. You gingerly hoist yourself up and slide onto the seat.

You stubbornly keep your eyes on the counter, not daring to even glance up at Loki. It’s obvious from the way he’s angling himself away from you and towards his brother that he’s regretting that night, and doesn’t want to be near you. You don’t blame him, humans must seem like animals compared to gods. The reality is that you were a mistake to him, and you just needed to accept that and move past.

Breaking the awkward silence, Thor produces a jug of what looks like beer from god knows where. He grins and gestures to it grandly. As he opens his mouth to speak, you cut him off. “Hold up! I thought this was two against one? Loki being here makes it unfair.”

Natasha rolls her eyes at you. “Yeah, I may have bent the truth to get you to come out. It’s teams of two, but we have a handicap. Our drinks and shots count as twice the actual amount, and they’ll be drinking Asgardian mead. So,” She smirks. “No more complaints, let’s do this shit.”

You swallow nervously at the mention of shots. You could hold your liquor fairly well, but you and shots had...history. Nat knew how touchy you got when you were drunk, and how much of an oversharer you tended to be. Though you have to admit that her plan is almost flawless, you’re still unimpressed with her shenanigans. She’s pretty much set you up to embarrass yourself.

You twiddle your thumbs in your seat as Natasha grabs a bottle of Svedka from behind the bar and begins to pour the beginning drinks. Following her lead, Thor pops open his jug and splits it between two large glasses, then passes one to Loki, who sighs in apparent boredom. He shoots you an unreadable look, then grabs one of the shot glasses that Natasha filled and slides it your way.

With a mumbled “thanks,’ you gingerly take the glass, and look at Nat and Thor. Thor raises his glass. “May the better warriors win!” He announces, then tips back his glass. You roll your eyes at the word choice, but bring the shot glass to your lips and throw your head back. The liquor goes down rough, but you manage to keep your poker face and grit your teeth against any retches.

“The lady can drink!” Thor bellows, wiping at his face.

You shrug, wanting the spotlight off of you. “Um, I went to college?”

Before Thor can question you, Natasha cuts in. “Hello? I took it just as well, where’s my applause?”

“Natasha, you are not a lady,” Loki deadpans. Nat glares and pours herself another shot in response, throwing back the second one just as easily as she had the first. She then points at you. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. Despite everything, Loki was still Loki, and he still had your heart. It seems that the tension between you and Loki dissolves after you laugh at his quip, and he relaxes his stiff posture.

You sigh in relief and reach for the bottle to refill your own glass. This time, it goes down easier. That is, until the burns travels past your stomach, right down to between your legs. You squirm in place at the unexpected burst of arousal. Still, you should have been ready for it. Alcohol has always gotten you a little worked up. It was your mistake to believe you could fight it.

Despite the setback, you keep up with your teammate as the night goes on. Shot after shot, broken up by the easy conversation that emerges as the liquor continues to flow.

You’re not sure when the competition was forgotten, but you soon find yourself splayed on the couch next to Loki, laughing hysterically at some story he’s just finished telling about Thor in his youth. You look over at him, hazily trying to center your double vision to properly admire the god. His cheeks are flushed red from the alcohol, and he looks more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him.

Loki glances over, catching you staring, but you’re far too intoxicated to be embarrassed. Instead, you hold your gaze, waiting for a reaction. Loki smirks, then eyes his brother with annoyance.

“Brother,” he says, voice a lazy drawl. “I believe we’ve won this contest, wouldn’t you say?”

Thor cocks his head, then widens his eyes in understanding. “Oh, certainly! In fact, I think it would be necessary for me to walk you back to your quarters, Natasha.”

Natasha begins to protest, but it dies on her lips as her gaze flickers between you and Loki. “What a gentleman,” she purrs, only swaying slightly when she rises from her seat. “Lead the way.” Taking his outstretched hand, Natasha stumbles down the hall with Thor, giggling excitedly.

Now that it’s just the two of you, you expect things to get awkward, but find that you’re still just as comfortable. “Well, I guess I have to bow to the drinking champ,” you slur, sitting up to give a half hearted bow.

Loki throws his head back and laughs. “You,” he manages between snorts, “are far more fun to be around than most others on this planet.”

You scoff and wave your hand dismissively. “You’re only saying that ‘cause I bowed to you.” Chewing on your lip, you let your eyes drift back over to Loki. In your drunken haze, he just looks so...comfy. Before you realize what you’re doing, you slide over to lean up against him. Loki’s surprisingly warm, and you sigh contentedly, letting your mind wander back to how his hand felt running up your thigh.

The arousal from earlier that you had forgotten about rears its head, turning your sigh into a shaky exhale that is not at all subtle. The air feels thick, just like it had on that one stormy night, and you press yourself closer to Loki, unable to resist how good his body feels against yours.

Loki freezes for a moment, then seems to force himself to relax into you. His arm snakes around you until he’s holding you comfortably against his side. For one brief moment, you start to wonder if this is a good idea, given how things had ended in the past, but the intoxicated part of your brain tells the sober part to go fuck herself, and then you’re speaking without thinking. “Do you want to walk me to bed?”

Oh, shit. You can’t believe that just came out of your mouth. A wave of sobering panic hits you, and you untangle yourself from Loki and shoot up from the couch. Before you can flee, however, a pale hand grabs hold of your arm, stopping you in place.

Loki gets up, then moves his grip from your wrist to your hand. “I think that is a lovely idea. Allow me?” With the hand that isn’t holding yours, he gestures toward the hall. Well, that was unexpected. You try not to giggle in child-like excitement, and instead nod hurriedly.

Your heart speeds up at the feel of his hand in yours, and you start off down the hall, letting Loki pull you towards your suite. Caught up in trying to navigate the titling floor, you don’t notice that you’re being led the wrong way until the two of you come to a stop at a door that definitely does not belong to you. You look up at Loki in confusion. “This isn’t my room.”

“I know,” Loki growls, then opens the door and whirls you both inside. When you’ve recovered from the swift movement, you manage to pull away from Loki’s grip.

“What-what’s going on?” You say, attempting to sound stern. Loki stalks towards you. Instinctively, you back up, until you’re pressed against the wall with Loki boxing you in.

Loki presses his hands to the wall on either side of your head and sneers at you. “What’s going on?” He mocks. “I’ve craved your body under mine since long before our little nighttime meeting, and I have run out of patience for games.” He leans in and presses a kiss to your neck, grazing you with his teeth. Just like before, his playfulness has given way to a domineering aura, but you’re not complaining one bit.

You barely suppress a full body shiver. “But,” you protest weakly. “I, I thought you regretted it. I mean, you never said anything about it, so I figured...oh…” you trail off into a soft moan as Loki roughly licks up the side of your neck, growling.

“And when would I have gotten the chance?” Loki pulls away from his assault on your skin to look you in the eyes. “You have been avoiding me for nearly a month.” Those blue eyes are staring daggers at you, and you realize that there’s hurt behind all that frustration.

Your mouth goes dry. He’s right, but the eye contact from his smoldering stare is making you forget how to speak. Fumbling with your words, you cast your gaze downwards. “Yeah, I guess I have. But with what you said after we were interrupted....I thought you were uncomfortable with what happened.”

A dark chuckle spills from Loki’s lips. “The only discomfort you have caused me is the nights I have spent spilling over my own hand because I could not have you. ”

You gasp softly as Loki’s words send a wave of heat through your overheated body. Loki takes that as encouragement, and presses himself closer until his lips are grazing yours. “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll leave,” he mumbles, eyes hooded.

Your response is to surge forward, hands flying to the back of his head as you roughly pull him in to kiss you. You both groan at the contact. The kiss is anything but gentle; your fingers are tangled in Loki’s hair, tugging harshly, and you can feel his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. It was far better than you could have imagined, and the dizzying pleasure of it all has you feeling drunker and more sober at the same time.

Before long, the room spins as Loki lifts you and hoists your legs around his waist. He kisses you breathless as he walks slowly down the hall towards what you can only assume is his bedroom. There’s a giddy part inside of you that squeals with excitement at being carried like that, but it’s quickly overshadowed by lust as you and Loki reach his bedroom. He tosses you onto his king sized bed like a doll, then kneels on the floor and yanks your ankles until your bottom is almost hanging off the bed.

Loki slides your dress up and nuzzles the inside of your thigh. “I could smell your arousal the entire night,” he says, nearly purring. “May I taste?”

You sit up on your elbows and stare down at him, face flushed with mild embarrassment at his face so close to your soaked panties. Dumbly, you nod, words failing you. Loki growls his appreciation and hikes up your dress, taking a brief moment to admire the soft fabric. “You look absolutely ravishing in green, I’ve wanted to tear this off of you since the moment I laid eyes on it.” And then he’s sliding your panties down your legs and plunging his tongue into your heat.

A ragged gasp tears its way from your throat and you throw your head back. You feel the grin form on Loki’s lips against your skin, and a fresh gush of arousal flows down your thighs. Loki eats pussy like it’s an art form he’s been perfecting for ages. His lips tug at your pussy, worshipping every fold like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. You open your mouth to make some joke about his silvertongue, but all that comes out is a pathetic whimper as Loki drags his teeth lightly across your clit.

It isn’t long before the pleasure reaches its peak.You fight hard to keep your legs from clamping around Loki’s head, but you can’t help it when you crest over the edge of orgasm. Your muscles lock up, your back arches, and you scream. White hot euphoria explodes from your core, spreading through your body like venom. Loki’s tongue works you through it, slowing to wide, long strokes as you begin to come down.

You’ve barely recovered when Loki rises from his knees and crawls up your body, coming to a stop when his face is inches from yours. His eyes are hooded, and his glistening lips are parted to allow frantic, heated pants to escape. “Pet,” he hisses, leaning down to nuzzle into your shoulder. “You taste sweeter than the fruits of Asgard.” He bites at your collarbone, making you shudder in your post-orgasmic haze.

Still out of it, you sluggishly fumble at Loki’s belt. “Wanna make you feel good, too,” you mumble and lick your lips. Loki bats your hand away, shushing you.

“Darling, there will be plenty of time for that later. Right now, I need to feel you.” He grabs your shoulders and drags you up to the pillows, so that you’re lying comfortably on your back with him hovering above you.

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of ‘later.’ So this wasn’t just a one-night stand? You don’t have time to process that, however, as Loki barely gives you a moment to breathe. He sits back on his knees, straddling your waist, and with a wave of his hand, you’re both stark naked. Your hands twitch, wanting to cover yourself. Being naked in front of an attractive man has always intimidated you, but the fact that Loki was a god made it worse. As if sensing your sudden shyness, Loki leans in to kiss at lick at your breasts, and brings his hands up to pin your wrists to the bed. You sigh in pleasure, insecurity fading with every hot swipe of his tongue, not even wanting to struggle against his hold.

Loki lowers himself to grind against you. His hard cock slides against your dripping folds as his narrow hips press into yours. Both of you shiver, and you arch your hips to bring him closer. Loki growls against your skin and sits up. He lets go of your wrists, roughly grabs your waist and angles it to meet his. “Ready, pet? I can’t wait, I need to have you.” he breathes, eyes locked on yours.

Like a deer in the headlights, you’re frozen, anticipation coiling tightly under your skin. Slowly, you nod. Loki wastes no time. He smirks, then slides himself into you, the stretch burning in the loveliest way. Your heated groan mingles with his, and when Loki’s hips come to rest against yours, he falls against your chest, panting. You appreciate the time he gives you to adjust; Loki’s cock is thick, and longer than anything you’ve ever taken, and you can feel it throbbing desperately within you. Now that he’s released your hands, you bring them up to thread through his soft, black hair. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch, nearly purring.

“Tell me when, love,” Loki grits out, fighting to keep his voice steady. The shakiness in his usually smooth tone is arousing to no end, and you can feel yourself clench around him in approval. Loki’s hips twitch at the fluttering of your walls, and though you’re more than ready, you decide to torture him a bit longer.

You bring your legs up to wrap around Loki’s  waist, pulling him closer. He shivers, but keeps his composure, remaining almost statue still. His concern for your comfort makes your heart swell, but you want to see him lose control. “You’re so big,” you whimper out, the alcohol in your system quelling the embarrassment you’d usually feel when talking dirty. You press your face into Loki’s neck, grazing your teeth along the pale skin there.

With a deep growl of barely kept composure, Loki rises up to rest on his elbows, desperate eyes searching yours. It seems that being the God of Lies gave Loki the ability to see through your cruel game, and his expression turns dark, though the neediness is still blatant. You shift nervously as he stares you down, already regretting your mischievousness. “Feeling playful, are we?” Loki asks.

Your mouth goes dry at being caught and your core tightens around him again, earning you a flutter of his eyelids. “I…” you trail off, eyes drifting to Loki’s parted lips. Watching you gaze, Loki grins at you.

“Oh, pet. I think you may be confused. You are mine to toy with, not the other way around.” With that, Loki leans down to crush his lips into yours. His tongue forces its way into your mouth and you whine around it. While his tongue’s distracting you, Loki takes his chance to begin pounding into you at a ruthless pace, and you break away from the kiss to throw your head back and shriek out a moan.

You feel utterly wrecked, stomach clenching and nerves alight with pleasure as Loki continues his assault on your body. Your eyes are squeezed shut, so his teeth nipping at your jaw come as a surprise, sending a whole new shockwave of sensation down your neck.

“You feel so fucking good, pet,” Loki moans, his voice quickly losing its characteristic steadyness. He sighs out something that sounds suspiciously like a whimper, and brings one of his hands down to toy with your clit. Your legs tighten around him involuntarily. “A-ah, fuck,” Loki grits out, increasing his pace.

The pleasure is overwhelming, and the unhuman speed at which Loki’s pounding into you leaves you no time to catch your breath. Moans and whines erupt from your mouth in a constant stream, and Loki keeps his mouth hovering above yours to drink them in. “I wanna cum,” you whimper as Loki’s assault on your senses continues.

“Then cum, pet,” Loki groans, hips stuttering. “ Cum for your god.”

You keen, writhing and chasing your high. As you climb up to your orgasm, you are met with a startling realization that Loki has already ruined you for anyone else. No human man could match the fire that he’s set upon your nerves, the blinding pleasure that mounts with every thrust and kiss. With that settling into your mind, you finally reach your second peak of the night.

Your eyes try to flutter shut, tears brimming at the corners as you wail Loki’s name again and again. Through the haze of your climax, you notice Loki’s muscles begin to tense as he nears his orgasm as well, and you force your eyes to stay open in order to watch him come apart.

Watching Loki cum is almost like a second climax. He speeds up impossibly, mouth hanging open and eyes barely able to stay focused on you. “You’re mine,” he growls out. Choked moans fall from his lips as he nears the edge, and you rake your nails down his back to encourage him.

“Cum in me, please, I need it, make me yours” you ramble breathlessly.

“Oh, fuck, I-I’m so close,” Loki manages, voice breaking. You continue to coo pleas and encouragements at him, and the way his eyes roll back at your wrecked voice gives you an intoxicating rush of pride. Finally, with a whimpering moan, Loki stills, cock pulsing within you and hips twitching as he pumps you full of his cum.

Loki slumps against you, still moving in aborted little thrusts, as if he can’t quite stop fucking you just yet. The weight of him on top of you is heavy, but not unwelcome, and you take the time to bask in the euphoria of having just slept with the god you’d pined after for so long.

“That was…” you start, words failing you.

“Divine,” Loki finishes for you. He slides his cock out of your pussy, and with it comes a gush of warm cum that you’re sure will stain the sheets. He rolls off of you, then guides you onto your side so that he can pull you up against him.

You weren’t expecting Loki to be the ‘cuddling after sex,’ type, so having him spoon you was surprising, to say the least. He nuzzles his nose into your hair, and you find yourself wanting to fall asleep like that; comfortable in his bed and safe in his strong arms.

Still, there’s a nagging question that won’t let you fully relax. Not wanting to expect too much, you brace yourself for the worst and open your mouth to speak. “Loki...what does this mean for us?”

Loki tenses behind you, and your heart breaks at the assumed rejection as he begins to pull away. “Are you...are you not mine? I thought this was-I’m sorry, I must have misunderstood. Forgive me.”

This time, your heart breaks for a different reason. Loki sounds so hurt, so unsure of everything, and you can hear a scared little boy behind that velvet voice. “No!” You nearly shout, turning around to pull him back to you. “I want to be yours, I promise,” you say as you tug Loki back into your arms, running a soothing hand down his back. “I just wasn’t sure if that’s what you wanted.”

The relief in Loki is visible as he relaxes into you. “Love, I am yours as much as you are mine, do not doubt that.”

The pet name brings a smile to your lips. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you reply happily. Heart full, you roll back over so that Loki can snuggle into you again, and finally let your drowsiness overtake you. You catch a faint, ‘I love you,’ just before you drift off to sleep, and though it could just be your mind playing tricks on you, you know that you love him, too.

[siriuslyblackblog]

Professor 》 Remus Lupin (18+)

《 (4) 》

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Rose spent the whole day preparing for the task. Or that's what she was telling her roommates and the twins. In reality, she was thinking about the man. The man who looked so good in that white shirt with his sleeves rolled up. Something nobody knew about her is that she had a wild imagination. Her roommates and twins saw her as a distant but shy person. In reality, she spent many nights touching herself and keeping her mouth shut. But she would rarely bring herself release. There was nobody to fill out those fantasises. Now she finally had someone. Right now, her mind was filled with her professor taking that shirt off and revealing his body. She wondered how skilled his tongue was. She always wanted to feel so much more than just her fingers down there. She wanted to feel his tongue. Oh, how good that would feel. She needed professor Lupin so bad that her clit was aching.

Rose slowly worked her fingers on her clit, driving herself to an orgasm for what seemed like an eternity. She simply couldn't reach it. Her other hand held onto the headboard and her had was thrown back. It felt good, but not good enough. Her clit was now so sensitive that each touch became painful. It wasn't pleasure anymore. It was just pain and frustration. Her body was covered in sweat, her hair was sticking to her face and her mouth was dry. Rose finally moved her fingers from her clit and relaxed her body on the bed, letting out a frustrated huff. She couldn't do it.

Looking out through the window, she noticed that the sun was already setting. Her roommates will be back any minute and she was still laying naked on the bed. She put on her clothes, then picked new ones and headed towards the showers. As the cold water relaxed her tense muscles and washed off her sweat, she started thinking. She caught her roommates pleasuring themselves many times during the night, and they all seemed to reach their orgasm fast. So why couldn't Rose do it? Her fingers slid down to try one more time, but pain took over her body and she immediately pulled them away. That's it for today, she thought.

Casting a spell to dry her hair and dress up, she gathered her books and made her way towards her new favorite classroom. A big sigh fell from her lips and she closed her eyes. She was finally going to be alone with him. But what did she expect? He won't jump on her as soon as he sees her. She wasn't dressed the way he seemed to like. Even though it was only September, the rainy days made most students pull out their jumpers. At least her stomach was hidden under the white shirt and the grey jumper. She decided to wear the robe today too. It was buttoned up so that her legs were hidden too. It was quite cold and she didn't want to play with her health. Not tonight while it was raining and the sky was lighting up every few seconds.

Merlin, she hated thunder. Every time the hallways and her room lit up, she would wince. It was truly beautiful to watch, but her ears were sensitive and she disliked the sounds of it. That's why she begged the twins to leave her out of any pranks that involved fireworks, firecrackers or anything similar that makes loud noises and explodes. After making fun of her and receiving a few shoulder hits, they finally made a promise. Speaking of pranks, the chocolate was now forgotten deep in her drawer. She didn't want that kind of trouble with the new professor. She needed to impress him.

Roseanne entered the classroom with a smile on her face, ready to greet her professor. Her smile faded once she realised nobody was in the classroom. The room lit up once again, making her squeeze the books against her chest as she waited for the loud noise to pass. She sat down in the place where Nancy would usually sit: right in front of him. Like usual, she placed her books in the corner of the desk and took her quill. It was old and barely functioning, but she didn't have money for more. She couldn't tell her parents that she needed it. She just got it. How was she supposed to tell them that Draco Malfoy stole it from her and convinced everyone that she was actually the one to steal from him? The Malfoys and Periculums were already in a complicated... let's all it friendship. They didn't need more drama. Besides, she would still suffer awful words from Mr Malfoy and his son. Although, Narcissa and Dottie grew up together and were almost like sisters, Lucius and Vernon were enemies since day one of schooling. Vernon was just as spoiled as Lucius and the fight about popularity was still active, just with less violence and more words.

Dottie and Vernon were very young when they got married. Dottie came from a rich family and was the perfect fit for Vernon. Her hair was similar to Narcissa's. Her poliosis didn't just make her hair different. She also had different eye colours, making her stunning. That's mostly what made boys approach her when she was younger. She was always showered with presents, but she still kept her humble side. That's what she wanted for her daughter too. Both of them.

Yes, both. There were two. Roseanne and Leta. Leta was the older sister. The daughter they made a mistake with. Vernon spoiled her, showered her with love and presents and Leta grew up to be rude to her mother. Dottie didn't want to let her child drown in the materialistic world and lose herself. She wanted her to learn true values such as friendship and love. Vernon was always against Dottie's mindset and continued to make every Leta's wish come true. When Roseanne was born, the older sister was blinded by jealousy. She hated the younger one, continously hit her when nobody was watching and kept saying mean words to her. Even though the baby couldn't understand her, Leta felt better when she let out all her anger. Roseanne grew up in her mother's shadow and Leta continued to take whatever was given to her. On Leta's eighteenth birthday, Vernon gave her a single present. It was a wand. A special powerful wand and Merlin knew where the man got it. It was gold with a diamond handle, shining and almost blinding even in dimmed rooms. A few days later, it was Rose's birthday. Rose got a big cake, her own big room and a pet, her beautiful barn owl Eris. She also got a single necklace from her mother. It was a silver necklace with an owl pendant. The owl had two rubies instead of normal eyes. Scared that she might lose it, she attached the pendant to her bracelet and hid it under the sleeves.

One night, Rose heard screams and loud thuds. Outside of her window, she could see Leta on her knees, crying her soul out and holding onto Vernon's leg. The black haired man pushed his daughter away, then entered the Manor with an angry look on his face. Dottie stayed behind, wiping off the tears and placing a kiss on Leta's forehead. Then, she pulled out her wand and cast a spell through tears. In a second, Leta was gone. No, she couldn't have killed her. Her body would still be there. The sister simply vanished. Rose never really had a good relationship with her sister, but she often thought about her. Leta was somewhere alone, without a family. Was it her decision to stay away or she couldn't find the way back? Rose also noticed the big change in her parent's behaviour. They became cold and distant. They were very strict with Rose, allowed her to eat just twice a day and with limited amounts of food, which is why she used all the chances she had to eat properly at Hogwarts. Lamb and potatoes were much more appealing than carrots and cauliflower.

Her thoughts were interrupted when something soft touched her leg, making her jump. She pulled out her wand, ready to cast a spell at whatever just touched her. The creature moved towards her and Rose could finally recognise the brown ears. Coco had escaped and followed her to the classroom because she was scared of the thunder. Usually it was Dell who took care of her, but she must've had plans with Fred.

"Coco!" The girl whispered as she tried to get her pet. "Bad girl. What are you doing here?"

The small creature escaped her hands, then started hopping towards the stairs which led to professor Lupin's room. Rose gasped in horror and rushed up the stairs, trying to grab the brown ball of fluff. Coco was faster than her and reached the top immediately. Rose tried the tongue clicking sounds to call her, even pulled out a few leftover treats. But the bunny only looked back at her once, then disappeared inside the room. The door wasn't fully closed. It was opened just enough for the pet to get inside. Rose sighed in defeat, then carefully and quietly climbed up. Professor Lupin still wasn't around and she hoped he wouldn't be until she got her naughty pet out.

The brown haired girl gulped as she finally reached the door. She crawled on the floor, careful not to make any loud noises. She still had the treats in her hand, hoping that the bunny would smell them and get back. Sometimes she just wished she never got it. Coco often liked to sneak into the kitchen and steal vegetables. Once they found her in the fridge, laying on her back and just staring in front of her. She had eaten so much that she couldn't move. Rose could yell as much as she wanted, but Coco got it her way. It was late now. The damage was done. The animal was smarter than you'd think. Never underestimate them.

"Coco, I'm going to leave you here and pretend I don't know you. I'll find a different bunny. A good bunny. Not a bad girl like you."

The words and the treats seemed to have worked because Coco was back at the entrance again. Rose was still on the floor, her hands in front of her as she held the delicious treats for Coco. The bunny was soon in her hands, drowning in the sweet taste and wiggling her ears. Rose finally sighed with relief, then gave her a few pets.

"You're in big trouble, little one," she said with a smile. As much as the pet got on her nerves, she adored it. Rose pushed herself off the ground so that she was kneeling. She was still waiting for the bunny to finish eating so she could hide him under her robes during this class. Just as she was finished and Rose got ready to get up, the door opened. Professor Lupin stood in front of her, his eyebrow raised in amusement.

"May I know what you are doing, Miss Periculum?"

Rose felt her body freeze. She slowly raised her head, her eyes meeting the soft hazel ones. She couldn't move or speak. She could only watch. Her professor wore a white shirt which wasn't properly buttoned up, his hair was a bit wet and his chest was slowly rising and falling. A small smile was on his lips as he watched his student struggle to form a sentence. He looked like a hot mess. He looked incredibly good. She wanted him so bad. She wanted to pull those wet strands of hair, make him sweat and make him want her at every time of the day. She wanted him to be obsessed with her just like she was becoming obsessed with him.

Remus let out a chuckle, then stepped closer towards the girl. He hated that he was enjoying the sight of her on her knees. She looked so small, so innocent and so sweet. He wondered what that bottom lip tasted like. He wanted to make both her lips plump with kisses. He also wondered how beautifully her already red face would look covered in sweat, her hair sticking to it because of certain activities. He just adored how she currently looked on her knees. Clouds of lust hovered over his mind, his sense disappearing somewhere in the back of his head. The man got so close to her now and noticed that her head was in the perfect height as his crotch.

Rose gulped, then brought her bunny closer to her chest. Her legs almost betrayed her when her professor put his hand under her chin, slowly raising her head up and making her stand up. She could feel her skin burning as he kept his hand there. His thumb moved up and gently touched her bottom lip. Merlin, that had to be the softest thing he had ever touched. Rose relaxed into his touch and looked at him completely enchanted. He allowed himself to step even closer, closing the distance between the two of them. His head was only inches away from hers and she closed her eyes, enjoying his warm breath on her lips. If only he would kiss her. If only he would press her against the nearest wall and touched her the way he knew.

"Roseanne Periculum!"

"Rose, we know what you did! Come out, now!"

The voices were loud in the hallways, making her wince and move away. Her eyes had become glossy with lust and she could barely breathe. Remus removed his hand from her face, then moved her hair aside and moved just in time. Elisaveta and Priya entered the room, followed by professor Sprout. The blonde haired girl looked furious. Her hands were squeezed in fists and she was almost flying towards Rose. Priya followed behind, her face similar to Elisaveta's. Rose stumbled backwards, hitting the chest of her professor with her back. If there wasn't two very angry people in front of her, she would be on cloud nine.

Remus stepped in front of his student just in time and held his arm out in front of her so the blonde girl wouldn't do anything. Elisaveta angrily tried to grab Roseanne again, but Remus stood in front of her with his whole body now. The brown haired girl held her bunny against her chest, fear taking over her body. Why was her House Head here and why were the girls angry?

"What seems to be the problem, Pomona?"

The lady pulled the girls back, then stood in front of the professor.

"Miss Periculum did a prank on the girls. Or so I've been told. Is that true, Rose?"

Before she could answer, Remus put his hands in his pockets and looked at the girls. "Roseanne was here for a long time. She couldn't be the one to do it."

"She did it and she knows it."

This time, Priya rushed towards her and almost got her, but was stopped by the professor again. He simply stood in front of Rose, protecting her from their angry grips and stares. Meanwhile, Rose got a clear look on his toned back. She wished she could drag her nails all over them and mark him. That way everyone would know that he was making her feel good and he belonged to her only.

Roseanne, you hopeless, horny virgin.

"That chocolate was your idea. It was the creation of you and those filthy Weasleys!"

"Oh, no."

Remus turned around towards her with a confused look on his face.

"Oh no? What does that mean, Miss Periculum?"

Rose bit her lip and looked at him apologetically. "It is the creation of the Weasleys, professor. But it wasn't meant for them. They took it from my drawer."

"Who was the chocolate for?" Remus asked, even though he knew the answer.

"You, professor."

He looked over at the blonde haired student, then back at his favorite one. She was biting her lip and nervously petting her bunny. Oh, how he wished he could be the one biting that lip. He would gently suck it, then sink his teeth into it just enough to hear her whine and beg for more.

"And what was the chocolate supposed to do to me?"

"Well, I'm not sure about that."

"Not sure?! Fireworks were coming out of my ears, nose, mouth and–"

"That's enough information, Yakusheva."

Remus was lucky that he had his back turned towards them. He let out a chuckle, knowing how the sentence would end. Seeing that Rose was still nervously looking at him, he sent her a wink and gently took the bunny from her.

"Well, Pomona, there's only one way to solve this."

"What is that, Remus?"

"I say detention. From me."

Finally, something good came out of Weasley's pranks. Remus knew what he was doing. As soon as the girls left the class, he say in his chair and placed the bunny on the desk, giving it pets.

"Have a seat, Miss Periculum. It's going to be a long night if you don't start."

"Yes, professor."

The man let out a quiet hum at her words, enjoying the way she called him. He just couldn't wait for the detention. Will she let him touch her? Will she let him show her how good she can feel? Little did he know that Rose had wilder fantasies than that about him. Fantasies about his tongue, his fingers and his...

"The task is on the blackboard. Good luck, Roseanne."

"Thank you, professor."

[hes-a-rainbow]

Simply Meant To Be (Part Two)

Author’s note: I just wanted to say a quick thank you for everyone who took the time to read part one and give me feedback! I’m glad so many of you seem to like the story so far. Enjoy!

P.S. I also changed the names of some of Harry’s close friends/co-workers but it’s really not hard to figure out who I'm talking about. I just feel funny writing about people who are not in the limelight.

Part One

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: stress, some description of panic/anxiety attack.

~

“Rue? Rue?!”

“Give her some space!”

“Should I call an ambulance?”

Different voices started to merge together as Rue finally came back to consciousness. She opened her eyes to see Caroline’s bright blue ones staring back at her, “Hey sweetie, think we lost you there for a second.” 

“I--,” Rue tried her best to speak but her throat felt bone dry and her head was pounding. She cleared her throat multiple times but her eyes began to water. “Grab her something to drink!” Caroline shouted over Rue’s shoulder. A soft ‘okay’ from Rory followed by the clattering of heavy boots running into the back room of the store met Rue’s ears. Caroline helped her stand up and she turned to look over Caroline’s shoulders and was met with the unfamiliar faces of two strangers and him. Her soulmate. 

She raised her left hand again to make sure the mark was still there. It was still red and stung like a new tattoo.

H

“Hey, look at me.” Caroline's’ voice snapped Rue out of her reverie. “I know this is a shock, but this is the start of the rest of your life. And I’m so happy for you.” Rue could see water forming in her friends’ eye as she comprehended her words. “Okay,” Rue squeaked out.

“Rue.” A voice from behind Caroline spoke and Rue felt a flash of electricity spread through her whole body. He didn’t say her name as a question, or even a statement, but more so as if he was trying to feel the way it felt on his lips. Rue’s brown eyes met with his radiant green ones and she felt a rush of familiarity rush over her. 

“H…” She whispered. 

“It’s--,” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat as he continued, “It’s Harry.” He took a few steps closer to her, close enough for her to study his face as he studied hers. She found him extremely handsome with his tall, muscular stature and sharp cheekbones. But he also looked so familiar. Like someone she might’ve met in passing. Had they met before? Surely not, because if they had ever come this close before, they would have been marked. 

The bleached blonde man besides Harry cleared his throat and elbowed his friend in the side, nodding his head towards Rue. Realization came over Harry and he shook his head a bit to clear it, causing the brown curls on his head to flop about, “Right, sorry,” He held his right hand out towards Rue, “It’s so nice to finally meet you...Rue.” The slight change in the tilt of Harry’s voice sparked Rue with realization, “You’re British?” Harry smirked a bit at her reaction, causing a dimple to form on his cheek, “Uh, yeah.” 

She reached out for his hand robotically. When their hands finally clasped together, she felt her heart skip a beat, just like the books had said. Maybe not skip a beat per say but more the feeling of getting sucker punched right in the chest. Both Harry and Rue released gasps of air at the same time. The two soulmates stared at each other, in the middle of the music store in between the guitars that aligned the wall behind Rue and the rows of sheet music that stood behind Harry, hands still moving slightly as if to mimic shaking.

God knows how long they both stood there with dumbstruck smiles on their faces. She thought about this moment for years, she had asked Caroline nearly a thousand times to repeat the story of how she met Talia. Rue imagined a million times over exactly how she would feel in this moment. She expected pure joy, tears of happiness, a kiss from the person who was literally made specifically for her. But in reality she only felt lost, confused, and even a bit scared. What if the person she made up in her head was nothing like this man, this Harry? What if he was rude to her or didn’t think she was attractive or--

Stop being ridiculous, Her conscious spat back, He will love everything about you, just as you will with him. You are two halves to one soul. You are simply meant to be.

But the lingering fear still twisted in her stomach and she was happy she hadn’t eaten since lunch because she was sure if she ate dinner beforehand it would have just been making its reappearance. 

The sharp piercing sound of a phone ringing broke the silence that seemed to be uncomfortable to everyone but the two. Rue’s hand retracted from Harry’s and slid back into the warmth of her winter coat as she remembered exactly where she was and saw the giddy smile adorning Caroline’s face. “It’s John,” the long dark haired lanky man who stood next to Harry announced. Rue saw Harry’s expression turn to fear, then back to neutral before he turned to his friend, “I’ll talk to him later.” He spoke casually but his tone held a deeper meaning. The other man he was with silenced his phone and slipped it back in his pocket. Harry turned to look back at Rue, another smile forming on his lips. 

Caroline cleared her throat besides Rue causing the two soulmates to jump a bit at the interruption, “And I’m Caroline!” She held her hand out to Harry, who took it politely and smiled, “Pleasure to meet you, Caroline. This is Tim,” Harry pointed over his left shoulder at the older blonde man beside him who gave a small wave to the two girls, “And Matt.” Harry threw his thumb over his other shoulder to reference the other brunette man with him. A small “Hi” slipped out of Matt whose eyes continued to dart between Harry and Rue almost as if he was waiting for something. Rue’s eyes narrowed at Matt before turning back to Harry, who was already looking at her. She felt a warmth spread throughout her body and a sense of comfort she had never experienced before.

“I didn’t have any water but I do have some Tito’s left over from the Christmas party last year!” Rory ran back into the room with a half empty glass bottle of vodka raised over his head. His eyes darted towards everyone in the store as he tried to read the room, “Everyone’s good now?” 

“Everyone’s good now.” Caroline replied as she gave him a look as if to say, now be cool. He lowered the vodka bottle and approached the small group standing in the middle of his store. He wrapped his arm around Rue’s shoulder and Rue caught Harry’s expression sour for just a second. “Can’t believe our little kangaroo has finally been matched!” Rory pulled her in for a half assed side hug, “And to Harry Styles’ nonetheless!” Rue’s head snapped to look at Rory, then Caroline, and finally settled on Harry whose whole body seemed to stiffen as he heard his full name.

Rue felt stupid, incredibly dumb even for not placing the face to the name right away. She knew who Harry Styles was, even had a few songs of his on her phone, but never in a million years had she thought she would actually meet him, let alone be his soulmate.

“The singer?” Rue asked Harry but it was Rory who answered, “Yeah! You really didn’t realize?” 

Her Harry just happened to be one of the most famous and sought after people in the entire world. She felt her body becoming warm again, the hairs on the back of her neck rising. She remembered a time back in high school when a group of her friends chatted about what they imagined their soulmates’ would be like. One of her friends had basically described Nick Jonas and was met with thundering laughter. “What? He has to be matched with someone! It definitely wouldn’t be the first time a celebrity matched with someone normal!” The group looked at her as if she had grown two heads, “And isn’t it like everybody’s dream to be matched with a celebrity?” Some of the girls shook their heads no while others agreed but Rue remembered how she spoke up, “I would hate to be matched with someone famous.” Her friends’ rolled their eyes but she only continued, “I’m serious! All I'll ever be known for is belonging to them. No one will ever see me as me again, they will only see me as the girl who is so and so’s soulmate. I couldn’t imagine living in someone’s shadow my entire life.”

“So you’re telling me if you matched up with Brad Pitt, you wouldn’t be happy?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. Of course I would be ecstatic to even be matched, I just always imagined it would be with someone...normal.”

Rue hadn’t thought about that conversation for years now, didn’t even speak with those girls anymore (but knew for a fact her friend was not actually Nick Jonas’ soulmate when he was publicly matched a few years later to another actress) but now it had come back to haunt her. She would never be just Rue again, the girl who had no idea what she was doing in life, who worked as a receptionist at a tiny law firm in lower Manhattan, who wanted to travel the world but in reality had never been on a plane flight longer than six hours, she would only ever be known as Harry Styles’ soulmate.

Her stomach started to flip again and this time it wasn’t out of joy and excitement.

Rue spoke to Harry without making direct eye contact, “I--I’m sorry I didn’t realize--”

“It’s okay,” He responded immediately sensing the nervousness in her tone. He could see her confidence fading away right before his eyes.

“I thought you looked familiar but I never placed--”

“It’s fine. Really.” He gave her what he thought was a comforting smile but she immediately looked down at her old leather boots. She could feel the burning sensation of tears start in the back of her eyes. Please don’t do this, please don’t cry in front of him, she begged herself silently in her head but it only made the waterworks come faster. 

How could this be? She was nothing like him. He probably dined with rockstars while she sat cross legged on her old couch she found on the side of the road while eating day old pasta. She had seen enough about him to know that he went through relationships left and right. Every time he was seen with someone new, the speculation of ‘were they the one?’ running wild in the tabloids. It was the main reason celebrities and people in the spotlight wore rings on their left ring fingers, to hide from the media and news outlets alike if they had met their soulmate or not. This had to have been a mistake, a twist of fade that landed completely off the mark. Surely there had been people matched by accident before, right? 

Nobody moved as Rue struggled with her inner turmoil. 

“Hey, are you--” Harry reached out to touch her arm but she jumped back and out of his reach and away from Rory’s hold. She needed to be alone right now and actually figure out exactly what this meant for her. She started to wrap her scarf back around her neck tightly. Still not meeting anyone’s eyes, she spoke towards the dirty carpet that lined the store, “It was nice meeting you,” She could see Harry move closer to her, as well as Caroline, but she continued to back away and towards the door.

“Rue…” Caroline called for her friend as she saw the slight quiver in her lip that was the tell tale sign her tears were about to fall.

“I’m sorry but I just--I have to go.” Rue turned fast and leaned all her weight on the door. Her face was met with a harsh cold wind that only made her eyes water even more. She moved faster as she heard the door ringing again behind her, indicating that someone had walked out after her. Please don’t let it be him, please don’t let it be him. 

She heard her name being called out by multiple voices, all of which she now knew and could identify, but she only picked up into a slight jog and prayed that the sidewalk wasn’t icy.

“Wait! Please!” She was coming up the end of the street and through her blurry vision she could see the pixelated hand appearing and disappearing ahead of her, indicating only five seconds left until the street light turned green. She was never one to be athletic but she swore she ran as fast as Usain Bolt as she sprinted across the crosswalk. She heard a car honk behind her and a heavy Brooklyn accent scream out, “Fuck off, pretty boy!” but it didn���t slow her down. 

She was only one block away from her apartment now. Her lungs burned as she breathed in the cold air. She had made this walk hundreds of times before and knew how to get back home with her eyes closed, which came in handy because the mixture of her tears and the harsh winter winds caused her to only see blurs and blobs where people stood. Her ears started to ring as she neared her block, she could see the lobby door from here. 

She peaked over her shoulder and didn’t see anyone running behind her but didn’t stall her speed until she rushed into the lobby. The night security guard, Jerry, gave her a weird look as she hauled up the stairs five flights to her apartment. She only stopped for a split second to open her purse and grab her keys, hands shaking as she slipped it into the lock and opened the door. She opened it just enough for her to slide in and quickly slammed it shut, locking and bolting the door because she knew Caroline would show up in a matter of minutes. 

She laid her hands on her knees as she bent over to try to catch her breath. She just needed to be alone and try to gather her thoughts before speaking with Harry again. She just needed a few more minutes of being Rue before she turned into only his.

~

Thank you for reading! Again, feedback is greatly appreciated. Don’t forget to like and share!

[acahope311]

I Promise

A/N: Amari, Queen of Erebor and wife of Thorin Oakenshield, spends a day exploring the secret tunnels with their son, Arnel. But when a friendly and peaceful mother-son outing turns deadly in a heartbeat, can she keep her family and home safe? This is my first ever fic, so I hope you like enjoy it :) Also the lullabye I reference is “Hushabye Mountain” from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

Warnings: blood, angst, tears

Words: 6547 (it’s a doozy)

I wanted to say thank you so much to everyone for taking the time to look at the story and reassuring, supporting, and hyping me up through the whole process! ^-^ 

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Deep in the heart of the Lonely Mountain, in the walls of a secret tunnel, the quiet calm was broken by childish giggles and squeaks. Amari, Queen of Erebor, and her son, Arnel, explored secret tunnels that snaked in and out of Erebor with excitement. Initially, Amari was reluctant to venture into such a dangerous expedition with her son, but even she could not stand against a cherub face framed with a hint of dark peach fuzz. Preparing for this outing, she decided to move her queenly duties aside and trade her gown for a borrowed tunic and trousers from her husband's wardrobe, her bladed tonfas sheathed in her hip holsters. Although still in their home, it was best to always be prepared when entering unknown areas of the mountain. 

"Amad, hurry!" the squeal of a child reverberated down the abandoned walls of an ancient tunnel that wound around the base of the Lonely Mountain. Amari smiled fondly at her son as he pulled at her hand, urging her to quicken her pace.

"Calm down, ibinê. We have all day, sweetheart. If you keep pulling, you'll run out of energy, then we'd need to return." The queen warned as she gently pulled the young prince into her arms. Whining, he tried to pull away from her grasp. 

"Maaaa, I'm not a baby, I'm almost seven! I'm a warrior!" Arnel scowled as he fended off his mother's affection, but failing as he too started to giggle at her kisses. 

"Of course, my warrior prince. Now let's just walk a bit further, then go and save your father from those boring councilmen, hm? I’m sure your sister is there too." She gently placed him down and ruffled his hair affectionately.

The dwarf prince was about to object, when suddenly a low growl came from his stomach. Embarrassed, Arnel looked down. "That wasn't me…"

Amari laughed heartily at his expense, further annoying the child prince. 

"S’ not funny!" He whined, stomping his tiny foot. Looking up indignantly at his mother, his ocean blue eyes flashed a storm. Although a Durin worthy scowl took place on his face, little tears formed in his eyes, threatening to fall from embarrassment. Amari held her laugh in as she picked up her son again and wiped them from his face.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Of course it didn't come from you. Now, why don't we head back? I am getting a bit hungry…" Arnel took this opportunity to divert the blame to someone else; he stroked his non-existing beard mischievously and looked away for a moment.

So much like his father. She thought as she studied his face.

"Well if you are tired, it is only right for a warrior to keep the Queen safe and well fed. Right, Mama?" He asked, unsure but firm in his thinking. Amari nodded and put him down.

"Right you are! Spoken like a true prince. Now, let's head straight to the kitchen and make some pizza, then I'll tell you a story from my world while we cook. I think we will need to make a BIIIIG pizza for your father and sister. What do you say, kiddo?" Arnel perked up at that; he always loved hearing tales of your life before coming to Middle Earth. 

"Yes please! Can you tell me the story of your amad and namad? I like hearing that story." Reaching up to her, she picked him up and cradled him to her hip. 

"Of course, my-" 

Suddenly a rock tumbled across the flat ground towards them, as if kicked by an unseen being. Its sound echoing through the darkness making the hairs on Amari’s neck stand on end. Instinctively she hugged her son tighter to her chest. A menacing laugh surrounded them, thickening the air with fear and anxiety. 

"I'd like to hear that story too. Can I join you?" A deep, rasping voice came from the end of the tunnel, shattering the safe haven of mother and son. Amari turned protectively to the source. Stepping out of the shadows, a group of orcs emerged. 

Orcs?!?! Here in Erebor?! Adrenaline started to course through the woman's body. Looking more closely at the creatures, she realized these were not orcs. Uruk Hai. Amari's face paled at the realization. It was no wonder, though, she thought them to be orcs at first sight. However these creatures were taller, more muscular, and oozed evil- so much so that even the eternal torches that lined the tunnel cowered before them. She hadn't even realized that she started to back away until they moved forward menacingly. Stained with blood and hair, they gripped a black sword in one hand, and in the other… 

Oh no…

A large body was being dragged, no bigger than a dwarf. 

Frode… 

The young guard’s uniform was torn and tattered, soiled with dirt and blood. Amari had wondered where her assigned guard was that morning, but never in her life would she have anticipated this. Her flight or fight reaction kicked into fight mode, but in her arms, she could feel Arnel's shaking body, eyes brimming with fear and tears. Gently, but quickly, she brought her hand to shield his view of the carnage and threat looming over them.

"How did you get into our home? Get out!" She yelled with such fierceness that it startled both herself and Arnel. The leader chuckled maliciously before dropping the body with a sickening thud. 

"I don't think so. We like it here, you see. But even more so! Boys look, this isn't any human. The queen under the mountain has graced us with her presence." He sneered, his companions growling like a pride of lions, eyeing their prey. "And look… she brought a snack. How thoughtful your majesty." Amari tightened her hold on Arnel. Not breaking eye contact from the advancing Uruk hai, she spoke to her son softly and calmly in their secret language.

"Sweetheart. I need you to be brave. Can you do that for me?" Arnel looked at his mother, her brown eyes looking away from his, but he could see her panic. He had never seen his father, nor his mother afraid, but witnessing her fear, he let out a small whimper, but he knew that he had to be strong. Gulping audibly, he nodded. "Yes, mama." He whispered as bravely as he could.

"Thank you, my brave, brave warrior. Now, I need you to hold on tight, and hide your face to my neck. Don't look up, no matter what ok? It'll be like when we play peek-a-boo with adad. Remember? It'll be just like a game!" Amari says the last part as lightheartedly as she could, but a quiver in her voice betrayed her. She was terrified; under normal circumstances, the Queen would never back down from a fight, but with such precious cargo in her arms, she did the next best thing. She ran.

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

How did they get in?! How the fuck did this happen?! 

Deep in the heart of the Lonely Mountain, the quiet calm was broken by the sounds of quick and light footsteps, rapidly outrunning the thundering and heavy footfalls of evil. 

Amari ran as fast as she could down the tunnel, retracing her steps to break out of this hellish nightmare turned reality and back into the safety of the open halls of Erebor. 

A little more! Mahal please! The queen begged the gods for the chance to escape. She could feel her son's quivering and whimpers, her shirt already wet from his silent sobs as he kept his head tucked into her neck. 

"Amad I'm scared! I want adad!" He whispered fiercely. Her heart breaks with every word. "I know ibinê. I'll get us back safely, I promise. But please, don't look up, keep your eyes down!" she begged between each hard breath she took, her lungs burning from running for what seemed to be an eternity. However she saw the familiar light of the main hall, where they entered. Yes! 

"Oh no you don't! It’s rude to abandon your guest, your majesty" the cruel voice raked down her back, but she didn't care. She just needed to get Arnel out. At whatever cost.

"MAMA LOOK OUT!" Arnel's shriek broke her concentration as she felt a sharp pain in the back of her thigh. Suddenly the ground came up to her face, instinctively she shielded Arnel with her body as they tumbled forward. Her arms held him close, however her body tumbled further and jostled on the floor, losing her grip on him, he rolled out of her arms and into the hall. Luckily, her training kicked in and she steadied herself and corrected her stance, pulling out her tonfas. Battle ready to defend her son and herself. The advancing Uruk hai halted in their tracks and grinned cruelly. 

"Tired your majesty?" They taunted, eliciting a menacing growl from her.

"On the contrary, scum, I have never felt more invigorated." She retorted. Her mind is running a million miles a second. She knew if she left with Arnel, the Uruk hai would follow them into the mountain, truly threatening the lives of innocents. However if she stayed, she and Arnel would never make it…

No… not Arnel. Not him. 

Calling to him, she yelled in their secret language.

"Sweetheart, are you ok?" Silence. "Arnel!" She barked. More silence, just as she was about to risk a glance, she heard his little sobs.

"I want adad… Amad I'm scared…" His quiet cries were starting to grow louder as he saw his mother’s leg pierced with a silver dagger, blood dripping and pooling at her heel. Amari took a deep breath to steady her nerves. It wouldn't do anyone any good if they were in hysterics. Without looking at him, she continued talking.

"Arnel, everything will be alright!! I promise, sweetheart...I need you to do something for me. I know you are tired and scared, my love, but I need you to run as fast as you can and get  adad-" 

"Mama-"

-He is in the room where he meets with the important people. Do you remember where, sweetheart?"

"Mama I don't wanna leave you! I'm scared- "

"I know." By now, Amari's tears fell freely down her face, but she made sure her fear and sadness would not reach her words. 

She could see them inching forward, growling and grinning at the prospect of hurting the Queen herself.

"I know you are afraid, ghivashel. I am too my love… but you need to be brave and bring adad here. And then everything will be alright. Can you do that, my brave warrior? C-can you do that for mama?" Arnel sat for a second, processing what she was asking him. She was asking him to leave her… and get help. The prince stood as tall as he could but he kept his eyes on his mother’s back; he could see her shoulders shake- he hesitated. And that was all that the enemy needed. 

In that second, a dagger flew to the face prince of Erebor.

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

"Adad! Look! Troll!" Darna squeaked as she held up the King's notes to his face, obscuring his line of sight to his councilmen. She could feel his chuckle rumbling through his chest as he took the piece from her small chubby hands. 

"Hmmm, who is this supposed to be ghivashel?" He inquired, tilting his head to the side as he studied it with such scrutiny, you'd think he was looking to buy it with a whole bag of gold. Darna mirrored her father's expression and stroked her non existent beard. 

"Its Unca Dain!" She proclaimed. The King's booming laugh echoed through the room, pausing the meeting and aggravating the council. The dwarf in question strode into the room and stood next to them, looking at the picture, then nodded.

"Not bad lass, I guess you take after yer amad." Placing two glass chalices on the table that glittered and cast beautiful shapes light that captivated the princess. Thorin took them and gave Darna hers before turning his attention back to the meeting, drinking his ale. Darna, looking up in awe at her father as he chugged the liquid down in one go, tried to mimic him and did the same with her milk, only to start coughing. Her coughing fit halted the meeting once again and Thorin gently patted her back.

“It went up my nose adad…” She whined, pushing her glass away. Thorin wiped her tears and milk on his sleeve, staining his royal robes. 

“That’s why we do not rush when drinking, men uzbadnâtha.” Taking a handkerchief from his pocket- a parting gift from Bilbo- to clean up her mess. Fili smiled at the sight, never would he have thought that his uncle, Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, would be a doting father- wrapped around a little girl’s finger like a ring- then again even he could not be spared from the princess’ charms, nor her brother’s. Kili frowned, as he noted the queen’s empty seat thirty minutes into the meeting. 

“Uncle, where is auntie?” He inquired. 

“Your auntie took a break to spend time with Arnel, something about exploring.” Thorin, without breaking from his fatherly task, answered. Worried glances were thrown across the table, the silence made him look up. “What?”

Balin cleared his throat and looked nervously at him. “Laddie, there have been some reports of our people going missing in the mountain. I thought you told her?” 

“I did, and I assigned Frode to be her guard.” Thorin replied. Dwalin- who had not been paying attention to the meeting- suddenly sat up. “Thorin, Frode has been missing since last night.” 

A chill ran down his back as his mind ran a mile a minute thinking of the worst scenarios that could happen to them. Fili and Kili stood, knowing how their uncle’s mind worked, and headed to the door.

“Do not worry uncle. We will look for them and make sure they are safe” Fili reassured.

“Not that she’ll need it- You know how auntie is with her tonfas. Mahal help the assailant! Remember when the assassin at their wedding tried to- ” the dark haired prince’s conversation was cut short by the heavy door being thrown open, banging against the stone walls. The sound startled everyone in the room- Darna nearly fell off her father’s lap. In turn, the King stood- holding his daughter protectively against his chest- and angrily turned to the door.

“What in Durin’s name-” He stopped, staring in horror as the image of his six year old son, blood dripping down his face from a cut, breathlessly gripped the door. 

"ADAD! ADAD HELP!" His shrieks echoed in the room as he tried to rush further into the room to the safety of his father, but fell onto the floor, breathless. Fili bent down to catch him as the little prince’s legs gave way. Blood stained the golden dwarf’s hands as he tried to look for other injuries. Gently putting Darna down, Thorin rushed to his son. 

“Inùdoy! What happened?! Who did this!” He howled, causing Darna to whimper. 

“Adad…” The little girl walked slowly to her brother and father, fearful of her brother’s situation. 

“Do not move! Stay there... sweetheart!” He yelled, making her sob softly. Kili saw her distress and went to comfort her. “Uncle please…” But it fell on deaf ears as Thorin tended to Arnel.

The young prince gasped for air as he tried to stand again. Everyone stared in horror at the child prince- disheveled, bleeding. 

"AMAD! FIGHTING MONSTERS IN THE GWEAT HALL! ADAD PLEASE SAVE MAMA! MONSTERS COMING!" Arnel gasped as he stood up, only to collapse in on himself. He hated how he looked right now, he needed to be brave. He promised amad. Looking, pleading with his father. Without thinking Thorin ran out the room, flanked by his nephews. The company who attended the meeting raced after him. Except for one; Bofur stopped mid stride, grabbed the prince and placed him in the arms of Balin. 

"Keep the lad company, we'll be back.” Bofur ordered before swiveling on his heel and running out the room. The walls rumbled from the heavy footsteps of a Company of dwarves running down the hall. The dwarves’ protective instinct drove them to run to the Queen’s side but Thorin’s mind set on one task: Save his One.

Unbeknownst to him, two pairs of little feet followed the men, just as determined to save their mother, the Queen.

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

"Hurry up Arny!" Darna squeaked as she tried to keep a safe distance from the group of dwarrows running to their mother's aid. Her brother wheezed as he tried to keep up.

"Darny, I cant… my legs hurt so much! My chest is hurting!" The young prince whined, slowing to a halt and falling on his hands and knees. Darna stopped and worriedly toddled back to her twin. As she got closer, she was finally able to get a good look at him; his hair was sticking up in different directions and his braids, always so neat and in place, were falling out of its plait. What really scared her, however, was his cut; even though she knew it was shallow, the gash would scar and leave him and his family a lasting memory of today. The weight of the danger weighed heavily on the young princess, the reality that she could have lost her beloved brother shook her to her core. Darna kneeled next to him and gently placed her hand on his sweat soaked shoulder. 

"Nadad… are you ok?" 

Arnel looked at his sister's face but quickly turned away in shame; although young, they were told often that they were the spitting image of their parents- and it wasn't until he looked at his sister's face did he believe them- for he saw their mother's scared face in hers. Arnel looked down in shame.

"Namad… I'm so sorry." He whispered, watching as his tears fell onto the stone floor. Each drop seemed to weigh a ton and echo through the hall. Arnel hated feeling like this; he felt weak. He couldn't protect his mother, he can barely keep up with his sister. "I couldn't help amad." He hiccups as his crying increases. Darna hugged her brother tightly, her own tears cascading down her chubby cheeks. "And she could be dead. Mama… mama she told me to run and get help. I couldn't do anything else." Darna rubbed his back, starting to hiccup herself. "I'm weak, Darny…" 

"Nadad, you're not! You're able to get adad! You're hurt, but you still did it! You're so b-brave, brother. I bet even braver unca Dwalin.” Darna pulled back and watched his hunched figure shaking. 

“ Were they orcs? Were they like how adad said they were in the stories?” Darna couldn’t help but ask- little did she know the loaded question she’d just asked. A heavy silence descended on the children as memories of the recent events flashed through Arnel’s mind- huge creatures with eyes as dark as night, hands and skin stained red, gnashing mouths with sharpened teeth… their strong and lithe mother taking on the menacing evil with shaking shoulders that he knew she tried to control for his sake. A sudden wave of bravery and adrenaline washed over the young prince. Standing up, he stumbled a bit before Darna could steady him. Looking at his face, she notices the shift in his resolve- looking more like their father during his meetings on topics of war. 

“We need to go help mama, Darny.”

“But you’re hurt! We need to go back, I’m sorry I made us leave but-”

“No, you don’t understand namad. Mama is very hurt and we have to help her and adad!” His blue eyes flashing like an ocean storm. 

“Will you follow me, sister?” Darna couldn’t help but be moved by his determination. Returning his intense gaze, she nodded.

“Anywhere you go, I’ll follow, brother.” Hand in hand, they ran down the hall to their parents.

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

The mountain thundered as news of the danger spread like wildfire. Every available dwarrow dropped their task and took arms to defend their home and beloved queen- for although she was no dwarf, let alone from Middle Earth, she had been blessed by their Maker to bring hope and happiness to her people. She cared for them as though they were her kin. Amari could feel a shift in the air, as though someone opened a window to let fresh air into a stuffy room, but she could not be distracted- not when she was fighting for her life. 

Left. Right. Parry. Dodge. Repeat. 

Is Arnel alright… 

Please hurry Thorin! Fucking King under the mountain my ass! I always have to clean up the mess here! 

Amari’s mind jumped from indignation, anger, annoyance, worry, then ran her mind back to her training as she took on a mini legion of Uruk hai. Her tonfas cutting a path slowly but surely through her enemy. Her mind set on making sure none would make it through the threshold of her home- she is Queen under the Mountain, born in a modern world, a mother to two blessings of Mahal, wife of Thorin Oakenshield- if she could not defend her home and family, then the burden would fall on others and she would have failed. So lost in thought, she failed to register a pair of assailants and landed deep wounds on her back, raking down from shoulder to hips. Her pained scream echoed through the hall, suddenly she felt cold air hit her bare back as the uneasy feeling of warm scarlet liquid trickled down. Nonetheless, she persisted. Pushing back even harder, one by one they fell to her attacks until there were only two. 

“Tired your majesty? You seem to have left quite a mess in your wake.” One of the beasts taunted. Her enemy cracked his whip dangerously close to her. Dodging it, she failed to realize the feint and dove straight into the path of his waiting ally. Amari stared in horror at her mistake and did her best to regain her footing to dodge once again, but was ultimately unsuccessful. The uruk hai brought down his blade across her torso, slicing her chest open. At first, Amari thought it was the end, but upon second thought she realized her three doublet undergarments saved her life. 

Thank freaking Mahal! I knew it was a good idea to wear these!

Taking advantage of her enemy’s false victory, she took her tonfas and cut his head off, watching as it rolled to the side. Breathless, she turned to the last one standing- his face bared the anger and hatred that was unleashed upon her new world.

“Tired already?” She taunted, throwing his words back at him. The queen slowly slunk into a dangerous prowel. She exuded grace and ferocity, elegance and power. No longer was she prey, she was the predator. This was her territory and he was her victim. Quick as lightning, Amari lunged. Her eyes set for her target, no hesitation. One slice was all it took for her to incapacitate the beast. The uruk hai was wailing in pain on the ground helpless, however she did not kill him- one thing Dwalin taught her was to always keep one alive for questioning. As the monster lay on the ground bleeding, his wails subsided to malicious cackling. Amari’s fury flared again.

“What’s so funny? Does death seem like a joke to you?” She grit through clenched teeth as she painfully approached the helpless form- every step like a burning wave through her body. Her injuries finally catching up with her as the adrenaline subsided. She knew she had a little over an hour to get help before it would be fatal. The uruk hai seemed to know this too, noting her pale face and scarlet pool gathering at her feet.

“You don’t look too well, your majesty” he taunted, another cackle followed by a coughing fit echoed through the hall. “I suppose there is some prize to this whole ordeal. If I am going down, I made sure you are coming down with me, foreign queen.” With every word spoken from the vile creature’s mouth, Amari’s blood boiled another degree. “It’s just a shame we couldn’t take the half-breed down. But we will. And your husband will be none the wiser.” 

“Wanna bet.” a booming baritone voice echoed down the hall as the dwarf King descended on the evil creature- maiming him with his bare hands. After a moment, a group of dwarves pulled the king back.

“Let me go! That scum deserves to die!” Thorin roared as he fought off his kin. Dwalin pulled him back, fury raging in his eyes.

“Thorin, I know. But we need to interrogate him for information. You know this.” Dwalin growled so low, it surprised even himself. Shoving off the hands pulling him back, Thorin had no choice but to agree. Nodding, he turned to his friend. “Make sure he suffers.” 

A thud to his right brought his attention to Amari, laying on her side, facing them. Thorin’s blood ran cold as he swiftly gathered his beloved carefully into his arms. He noticed the gash on her torso but felt the wounds on her back to know that those were the worst.

“Amralime, I am here. You’ll be alright.” He softly reassured his queen. Amari’s eyes started to close, worrying the King. “SOMEBODY BRING A HEALER HERE NOW!” Thorin ordered. “Look at me, Amari. Keep those eyes open…” He begged. “You cannot leave us, my love… you cannot leave ME.” He shook her gently, making sure that she stayed awake. Amari fought with every ounce of strength she had to keep her eyes open, not because she knew she was going to be alright. But to make sure to burn into her memory the face of her most beloved. If this was to be last view, she was glad it was her husband. The thought calmed her enough to smile. Reaching up, she pushed his hair behind his ear, before caressing his cheek.

“If you keep frowning, you’ll get wrinkles, your majesty,” she teased. Even in her weakest moments, she lived to see her loved ones smile. Managing to pull a brief and soft chuckle from the distraught king.

“Thorin, Frode… he’s dead. He- in the tunnel. The Uruk hai-”

“Shhhhh. Ghivashel, please. We can look into this later but right now, we need to get you to Oin.” Thorin began to pull her up, only to stumble when she yelped in pain. His knees buckled at her pained voice

"It hurts so much, love" Amari whispered. Every word is a knife to her husband's heart. 

"I know, my love I know." Thorin kissed her forehead and brought her closer, ignoring the warm wetness staining his sleeve. "But Oin will be here, and you'll be fine. Everything will be fine, ghivashel so please…" the king's voice broke. Trying to keep face, he took a deep, shaky breath. Amari could see his resolve break. She'd only ever seen her King let his walls down in their chambers. Her heart broke at the first tear that fell from his ocean blue eyes. Amari wiped it away, smiling. 

"Don't cry, my love." Thorin leaned into her touch, "Oh Amari..." Another tear. "Please, just a little while longer, ibinê. Talk to me, my love… Don't leave me." Thorin begged, and he didn't care. He didn't care that his royal garment was being stained red. He didn't care that his eyes watered his lover's face with tears. He didn't give a damn when his body shook with grief and he whispered soft prayers to his Maker to save his One. 

"My love, our people are here… you need to be strong.” She whispered, gently stroking his bearded cheek. Thorin in turn leaned into her touch. “If not for me, kurduwe, then stay strong for Darna and Arnel.” The names of their children brought a minute wave of strength.

“Arnel…” Amari gripped his coat tightly. “Did he-” 

“Mama?” two tiny soft voices rang through the halls, like bells in a steeple. 

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

It was my fault.

Arnel looked at the small figure in their father’s arms. Frozen in place, as Darna sprinted to them. 

“MAMA! MAMA! DON’T GO! DON’T LEAVE ME PLEASE!” Falling on her knees and vigorously shaking her mother’s arm. Amari turned her head and moved her hand to caress her daughter’s face. 

“Darling, I didn’t pick your clothes today but you look so pretty.” Amari noted, smiling warmly. She was determined to make sure that she showed no pain or sadness to her cherished treasures. 

Darna looked down, a tiny flicker of pride flashed within. She always worked hard to get praises from her parents, even for the smallest task like closing the door to keep the draft out. She smiled and tugged on her garments. 

“I… I picked it myself, amad...But I don’t- I don’t wanna pick my clothes anymore, so- so you have to pick them for me forever, amad. And you promised we would go out again next time, and you said princess and queens don’t break promises.” The princess of Erebor weeps as she wraps her little pinky finger around her mother’s pinky, her fragile voice breaking every heart in the hall. “Mama you promised- you pinky swore.” She whispers, giving up and curling into her side. The whole time, Thorin tries to keep his tears at bay, keeping a mask of hopefulness and stoicness but failing as each tear drop trails down his aged face, the facade is breaking. Amari chuckles

“I did, didn’t I…” Frowning, she moves her head slightly- hissing. 

“Amari.”

“Mama no…”

“Where’s your brother?” Arnel, still as a statue, flinches. Thorin’s blue gaze reaches his own. Arnel has never seen his father so broken- he always saw him like the statues of his forefathers: grand, big, immovable, majestic. But here… Arnel saw a scared and heart broken dwarf. 

“Come, inùdoy.” To the ears of those around, it sounded just like any command the dwarven king would give. To the ears of his closest friends and family… it was the plea of a broken husband. Slowly, the young prince walked to his family. The hall was silent except for the sound of his little shuffling feet and the quiet whimpers of their kin. When Arnel reaches his mother’s side, he breaks. Falling to his knees, he places his head tucked in his arms on her belly, weeps heavy tears and wails. The cry shakes the halls that even the mountain itself seems to weep with the prince, not soon after the wails of his sister follows, amplifying the pain of the inevitable possibility that the Lonely Mountain could lose a queen, that a husband could lose his wife, that two little children could lose their mother.

“I’m sorry… amad, I'm so sorry…” a hiccup. “I should’ve been stronger. I should’ve fought with you. I should’ve protected you.” Arnel grips his mother’s clothing. “I promise I’ll get stronger but- but you have to help me, amad...I don’t wanna be weak anymore. So promise you will help me mama… A queen keeps her promises- so you have to mama!” The prince raises his little finger and wraps it around his mother’s finger. Amari is quiet. She knows what they’re doing, trying to buy time for her. As much as they can. 

Little rascals. She smiles.

“Mama…” Darna pulls her attention back to them. A soft chuckle escapes her. Thorin can see she's trying- holding on as long as she can. But even she has limits, just as he does, and right now his heart is pushing past its own to make sure to be strong for their children.

“I promise sweetheart. When I’m… better, we can train together. After, your sister and I go to Dale. Do we have a deal, my lovelies?” She shifts so that now she is leaning on her husband's strong arms- trembling arms. Not from tiredness of holding the weight of his family- Mahal knows he will hold that weight forever in his arms if could. No, they trembled from sadness and fear. Amari gathers her son and daughter in her arms, inwardly wincing at the pain, but Thorin feels her flinch.

“Kurduwe, don’t overexert yourself.” He warns, readjusting his hold. Amari ignores his warning and starts to sway a little.

“My loves, I will be fine… I did say I will be with you, no?” She asks playfully, the two whimpers and grip their mother’s clothing, placing their head onto her torso- ignoring the moist feeling on their cheeks that they know aren't their tears. Thorin embraces his queen tightly and sways along with her, he turns his head and pushes his nose into her hair- inhaling her scent. Turning to the group, he sees the Company in tears, all their heads slightly bowed, giving the family the privacy they need. Only Balin is holding his head high- taking in the sight of the Queen Under the Mountain caring for her husband and children, and sending fervent silent prayers to Mahal, to Manwe, to any of the Valar to hear the plea of an old dwarf to save this woman beloved by dwarf, man, and elf.

Amari hums a quiet lullaby that calms the room, Arnel and Darna’s cries have quieted and only the uneven breathing of sorrowed children escapes their mouths. Minutes go by and they yawn. 

“Sleep my darlings.” Amari whispers, her voice weak and light. The twins shake their heads, they do not want to lose a second without their mother.

“M’not sleepy.”

“Me too.”

Another yawn spills from them. Darna’s eyelids begin to droop as her mother strokes her hair

“How about a lullaby then?” Amari moves so both children are safe within her and their father’s arms.

“Don’t wanna sleep… Don’t wanna lose you mama.” Arnel whimpers, another bout of crying threatening to envelop him. At that comment, Darna’s little chubby hands grip Amari's clothing.

“You won’t lose me, sweetheart. I’ll be here, I promise.” Thorin exhales sharply, his heart breaks at her promise; he knows that even though she is answering their son, she is also reassuring him. 

“Promise, you’ll be here when we wake up…?” Darna asks, her eyes closed and Arnel close to follow. 

Silence.

“I promise, I will be with you when you wake…” Thorin grips his wife tighter- the implication heavy on his heart.

“Adad you too? You’ll be here too?” Arnel asks sleepily. Thorin nods.

“Yes, ibine, I will always be here with you.” A promise verbally etches into the walls of his mountain. I will always be with you. I promise. Amari sniffles, moving so her hand is cradling Arnel, and the other arm moves and caresses the back of Thorin’s neck to bring his forehead to her’s.

“I promise, I will be here when you wake.” She promises again to her king. Closing their eyes, Amari sings.

“A gentle breeze from Hushabye Mountain

Softly blows over Lullaby Bay,

It fills the sails of boats that are waiting,

Waiting to sail your worries away.

It isn't far to Hushabye Mountain,

And your boat waits down by the quay.

The winds of night sdo softly are sighing,

Soon they will fly your troubles to sea.

So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain,

Wave goodbye to cares of the day,

And watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain

Sail far away from Lullaby Bay.”

A heavy silence falls. Thorin opens his eyes and sees his children softly snoring, looking up he looks at his queen.

“Amari..” he shakes her gently. “Amari!” His voice makes Darna shift. 

“Mama…” she whispers in her sleep. Arnel is gripping his mother’s ripped tunic tightly in one hand, while his other is to his face as he is sucking his thumb in comfort. Amari doesn’t move, nor does she open her eyes, her breathing is shallow and weak, her face pale, but her grasp on their children does not falter or weaken. 

“Mahal please…” Thorin begs. “Anything, please… just save her.” The king quietly sobs into his lover’s hair. He opens his deep blue eyes and pleads to the surrounding dwarrows. In the distance, he sees two tall men walking toward the group quickly. The crowd parts and rushing to their side, Gandalf the Grey and Thranduil, king of Mirkwood, urgently looks at the queen. 

“Thranduil, take the twins. I need to look at Amari.” Gandalf orders, immediately, the elven king reaches out to the children. Thorin growls and pulls his family closer to his chest, his eyes glaring at the elf. The wizard heaved an exasperated sigh at the gesture.

“Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves! Thorin if you do not give them to Thranduil, I cannot see Amari, and she will die.” Begrudgingly, he loosens his grip and Thranduil carefully cradles the small bundles in his arms- a peaceful tenderness befalls the face of the elven king, reminiscent of when his own son was at this tender age. 

Gandalf’s hand hovers over the small frame of the queen, when he comes back to her face, he whisper’s a spell. Thorin watches the mage with bated breath, praying that he can save his beloved. After the incantation, Amari gasps a heavy breath, but her eyes stay close. Thorin had witnessed his life saving magic, he himself experienced it during the quest for his home, but never had he seen the victim not open their eyes. He started to panic again.

“Gandalf-” 

“She needs urgent help. Thranduil-” 

“Say no more, Mithrandir.” The elvish king gently deposits the twins into the gray wizard’s arms. Then tenderly, he lifts the wounded queen into his arms and without another word, turns on his heel and strides to the healer’s wing. Thorin is just about to protest when Gandalf gently places Arnel and Darna’s sleeping forms into his arms- he notes the huge change of weight in his grasps and begins to show distress. 

“Thranduil is gifted with healing- you know this. If anyone can save your queen, it will be the King of Mirkwood.”

“But-”

“Stay with your children, Thorin. They need you more than ever now.” The wizard’s eyes fall on the sleeping pair and he gently touches their head, whispering another spell. Thorin looks at him questioningly.

“To sleep soundly and peacefully, for they deserve happy dreams away from this living nightmare.” With that, Gandalf hastens out the hall, towards the halls of healing, joining Thranduil. 

Deep in the heart of the Lonely Mountain, the quiet calm was thick with the smell of blood, and sorrow as the King Under the Mountain, held his slumbering precious treasures, staring helplessly at the direction that his beloved was taken, tears endlessly streaming down into his beard as his closest friends and family reassure him of her safety, but even they are unsure. Thorin exhales a breath he did not realize he was holding and sends another endless plea to the gods.

Mahal please… Keep my One safe.... Amari, come back to me, to us...I promise I will wait for you.

To be continued?

Taglist: @cassiabaggins @guardianofrivendell  @elles-writing @lathalea (thank you so so much for reading and double checking me :)  )

Thank you for hyping me up! :D @luna-xial @fizzyxcustard   @tschrist1

[ryukoishida]

QianQiu/Thousand Autumns Fic: [Ch. 2] In which teacher!SQ and mafia leader!YWS talk for the first time.

Title: You’re a Problem I Encounter Fandom: Qian Qiu / Thousand Autumns Characters/Ships: YanShen Rating: NSFW eventually Chapter: 2/?  Summary: Yan Wushi was the proud leader of Huan Yue Group, one of the most influential syndicates in the underground world, who wanted nothing more than to see the world burn. His accidental encounter with the pure-hearted school teacher Shen Qiao was a problem he didn’t expect to get entangled in. A/N: No more touching this fic until I’m done with the finals T.T List of Chapters: [1] [2] [3] 

-

ii. No Saint

It was pitch black when Shen Qiao woke up. He blinked once, twice – endless black, deeper than the night — his breath stuttering in his throat and heart thudding against his ribcage in that strangely familiar, bitter taste of terror: the inability to perceive light, the anxiety of facing the unknown.

“You’re finally awake?”

A deep voice entered his consciousness like distant thunder, rumbling with warmth yet charged with danger.

A light to his left blinked on, cold white fluorescent flooded his peripheral vision and made Shen Qiao’s eyes sting from the sudden brightness. When his pupils adjusted to the light at last, he was able to make out a fuzzy outline of someone sitting by his bedside. The figure was mostly cast in shadow, but even in the best lighting, it would have been impossible for him to see anything further than half an arm’s length with any semblance of crisp clarity.

Driven by habit, Shen Qiao began to reach blindly to the side for his spectacles, which, of course were not there.

“Looking for these?” the man with the same deep, baritone voice asked, placing a piece of mangled metal that used to be his glasses into his hand.

Feeling the warped titanium remnants with his fingers, Shen Qiao heaved a soft sigh. He knew there was no way these could be repaired, so he’d have to endure the inconvenience of blurry vision until he could get new glasses or get his hands on some contact lenses, which had long fallen out during his rough scuffle with He Huan Group’s people.

Not that it was anything new – the cloudy eyesight – since he’d spent most of his childhood with his eyes in even worse state until he was in his early teens when Qi Fengge persuaded him to undergo surgery, which had improved his ability to see if only just slightly.  

Wandering in his own thoughts though never allowing himself to be defenseless in an unfamiliar environment, Shen Qiao suddenly sensed more than heard the stranger invading his personal space – the surrounding air becoming too hot from the man’s exhale and body heat, too stifling from how close and physically intimidating the man’s presence exuded, looming over him like a hunter anticipating the taste of its prey — and Shen Qiao tried to back up as best as he could, given how parts of his body were too numb from sleep or too painful from the fight to move promptly.

The man chuckled but didn’t advance further upon seeing Shen Qiao trying to shuffle back to keep his distance.

“Are you sure you should be moving around like that?” the man sat back down in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he continued to observe the injured man with an interested gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

Ever the polite gentleman, Shen Qiao realized that he was acting quite rude to the person who’d rescued him from a terrible situation that he very likely wasn’t going to get out of by himself. Still, his delicate frame, warm hazel eyes, gentle smiles, and soft-spoken nature all contributed to a first impression of a man who was agreeable and amiable, maybe even somewhat unassuming to the point of foolish naiveté, yet those who’d been acquainted with him long enough knew that beneath his kind and considerate disposition was someone constructed of steel bones and unyielding morals.

There was a reason why he was known to be an anomaly in the underground world, crawling with all sorts of criminals and infested with coldblooded monsters that found thrills in destruction and the fall of humanity. Shen Qiao was the adopted son of a once-famed assassin Qi Fengge, who’d retired for the last decade now but had since headed one of the largest and most formidable assassin organizations that employed the best professionals good money could hire.  

“You’re a funny one,” the man commented, hint of amusement seeping into his voice. “What are you sorry for?”

“I just… don’t like it when people I don’t know well get too close to me,” Shen Qiao explained quietly, his body visibly relaxed a little once he knew the stranger had backed off. “I did not mean to be disrespectful to someone who’d saved my life.”

When the stranger didn’t immediately respond, Shen Qiao continued with hesitation, “may I know the name of my savior?”

“Yan Wushi.”

He seemed content enough to offer that, at least.

“Leader of Huan Yue Group?”

Shen Qiao’s slight frown didn’t go unnoticed by the ever-observant mafia leader.

“You’ve heard of me?” Yan Wushi leaned in just a degree.

“My father had told me about you.”

Also, Shen Qiao didn’t think it was a good idea to say it out loud, but he knew that in recent years, Yan Wushi – and really, all of Huan Yue Group – was infamous for being gutsy enough to be striding the border between the criminal world and the political sphere, and still benefit greatly from both.

“All good things, I hope.”

“Huan Yue Group mixes with government officials – specifically Yuwen Yong’s faction – and gets on their good side either by offering them financial assistance under the table or getting rid of any political opponents that stand in Yuwen Yong’s way through any means possible,” Shen Qiao recited the information like he was memorizing it from a textbook.

“It’s a mutually beneficial relationship,” Yan Wushi admitted.

Shen Qiao’s frown deepened when he continued, “several deaths and disappearances had been suspected to be connected to members of Huan Yue, but the police never found any solid evidence to arrest or lay charges on anyone.”  

“You can’t possibly blame us for the police department’s incompetence. And here I thought you’re blissfully ignorant of how our side works,” one corner of Yan Wushi’s lips twisted upwards, his interest in this frail-looking man had been elevated from indifference to modest curiosity. “It seems Qi Fengge had taught you the basics after all, despite the fact that you’re not expected to be his successor. Fascinating.”

“Father simply didn’t wish for me to be completely uninformed,” Shen Qiao exhaled, letting his eyes fall close as if he’d suddenly become too tired. “Having knowledge is a kind of advantage, though it may not seem like it at the time. I didn’t want to take over the family business, and father respected my decision, but he said even if I have no desire to work underground, the underground world will still find its way to catch up to me eventually. He was right, of course.”

He sounded exhausted, like he’d been running and escaping for years, and every time he thought he’d gotten ahead of the bloody claws of the clandestine world, it came at him snarling with gaping jaws, a cruel reminder that no matter how far he thought he’d gotten away, no matter how hard he’d convinced himself that he wasn’t part of the bloodthirst and violence, the mere fact that he was the son of Qi Fengge, the prodigious assassin’s greatest strength and weakest link, had already sealed him to a certain fate.

Shen Qiao loved and respected Qi Fengge. When Qi Fengge found him beaten and half-starving on the street and took him in one rainy night, five-year-old Shen Qiao would have never thought he’d feel the warmth of family and safety of a home again after he’d lost his parents.

He wanted to repay Qi Fengge in any way he could, but when he was old enough to finally understand what kind of organization Xuan Du was and what Qi Fengge’s real identity entailed, Shen Qiao was torn: he could – no, should – accept the position, train hard to become Qi Fengge’s next successor, and take over Xuan Du and its commitment to only execute those who were deserving of it, if only for the sake of doing what he could to show his gratitude towards his adopted father, yet his righteous moral compass and absolute belief in humanity’s good nature – borne from his education and the teachings of his father – forced him to make one of the most difficult decisions in his life.

It was ironic, how the assassination group operated under Qi Fengge’s guidance: Xuan Du Group only accepted jobs whose targets were beyond anyone’s saving and the victims’ families’ reconciling, their crimes numerous or excessive, their sins unpardonable. But who were counting the number of lives taken away by the hands of Xuan Du’s assassins?

Yan Wushi’s baritone voice pulled Shen Qiao back to the present.

“Everyone says the adopted son of Qi Fengge is different – refined, pristine, pure-hearted, a white water lily untainted by the dirty muck that brought him up,” Yan Wushi watched him closely for any flicker of emotion, “but I don’t believe that a person can truly remain unaffected by the surrounding environment.”

Yan Wushi moved so swiftly that there was no way Shen Qiao could have dodged in his current condition, so when he felt strong fingers gripping his chin and forcing him in place while the mafia leader hovered close – terrifyingly close, breaths hot and vivid against Shen Qiao’s own lips – and the other arm trapping the injured man between himself and the wall, Shen Qiao froze, eyes wide open and the only thing he perceived was Yan Wushi’s eyes.

Dark brown, but almost glowing with the rusted red of blood.  

“You’re exactly the type of people I’d like to see battered and broken.”

Shen Qiao swallowed, silently willing himself in his mind to keep calm, and when he was certain his voice wouldn’t shake, he asked while maintaining their shared gaze, “then why did you save me?”

A short pause as Yan Wushi regarded the composed expression on Shen Qiao’s face, and then he barked out a laugh, roughly letting go of the other man and stepping back.

“Don’t think too highly of me, Shen Qiao. I’m certainly no saint. You were in Sang Jingxing’s possession, and I just happen to hate that man and want to fuck with him. Besides, I enjoy having people owe me.”

From this distance, Shen Qiao couldn’t see Yan Wushi’s facial expression, but years of living with vision disability meant that he’d trained his ears to pick up on the smallest nuances in the rise and fall of a person’s voice. He could almost picture the man uttering the last phrase with a snide grin.    

“Regardless, I’m grateful for what you’ve done,” Shen Qiao lowered his head in a nod of thanks, “if there’s anything I can do in return in the future, please let me know.”

“Anything?”

Shen Qiao could practically hear the smile in that purr.

“Anything within the legal and ethical realm,” Shen Qiao corrected calmly.

[jonspurpleskirt]

Down the Spiral

Tim Stoker & Jonathan Sims, hurt/comfort

Summary: Michael loves playing with the Archivist and so after Not-Sasha is taken care of and Jon is back at the Institute murder charge free it reveals that he has Sasha stashed "savely" in its halls. All Jon has to do to get her out is go through the yellow door. ____

Everything just kept getting worse. That thought hadn't left his mind since the confrontation with Elias. It kept him from his work, making him stare at the statement he had wanted to record hours ago. Something impatient within him tugged to finally get on with it, but his eyes just didn't see the words in front of him and the insides of his head kept resembling a barren wasteland.

There was nothing good in his life anymore. There was nothing good in any of their lives anymore. He had ruined everything. Dragged everyone into the cage with him and locked the door because he hadn't known any better.

If he had just known...

But he hadn't and now they were all trapped here. Nothing waiting for them outside and nothing but hostility meeting them inside. At least that was the case for Jon. He didn't know if Tim and Martin still spoke, still sometimes joked with each other. If Melanie had made friends with Basira perhaps, or god forbid even Daisy. The two of them shared a frightening amount of bloodlust.

He doubted it, though. Whenever he dared to emerge from his office these days the atmosphere in the shared space of the Archives was tense. One or more of them were always gone, Basira more often than not sitting somewhere reading.

Neither of them did much work these days, Jon mused. It was funny that once upon a time that thought would have made him angry.

Jon sighed, glancing over the statement for the upteenth time, saying to himself that now he would finally start and do some work, when loud cursing and several crashes made him jump out of his chair and run towards the door.

He ripped it open with the wrong hand, the burn left by Jude Perry sending a stab of pain through his arm.

Basira, Tim and Melanie were for once all there, and had taken on various defensive poses. They didn't grace Jons dramatic entrance with even the slightest of glances, but the being that called itself Michael grinned and cooed as though it didn't have a knife, an axe and a gun pointed at it.

"Archivist! Just whom I wanted to see~ It is quite hard to get a grip on you, you know. I've been meaning to have a little chat with you for a while now."

Jon squeezed his eyes together to ward of the headache Michaels multiple voices and impossible features always gave him. He breathed through the pain, before looking at the Distortion again, squinting to be able to make out something that resembled a coherent form.

The image still swam in front of him, Michaels smile literally blinding, teeth flashing with too many deeply saturated colours.

"Hello Michael. What do you want?"

"Awww you don't sound excited to see me at all! I've got more of a reaction from your assistants."

The thing pouted, but the grin reappeared fast when it heard the click of the safety of Basiras gun coming off.

"Aha I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The voice it used screeched like nails on a chalkboard and a microphone with its volume set too high. Weapons clattered to the floor as everyone scrambled to shield their ears from the sound. Jon felt a trickle of blood running down the side of his neck and winced.

"There. Better. You people are so rude." The laughter that followed was worse than the voices before, high pitched and low, aggressively amused.

"Michael." Jon hissed and it stopped.

"Yes dear Archivist?"

"Why are you here?"

"Ah." A misplaced chuckle, alltogether fake and a hungry grin. "I've heard you've dealt with Not-Sasha! Congratulations! Do you want the real one back now?"

"What?"

Tim had recovered fast and somehow had already taken up the axe again. He looked more than prepared to chop Michaels head off with it.

"Oh hello! I forgot you were here, too. How did you like my hallways?"

"Fuck you! What are you talking about?!"

Michael shrugged, or what could be perceived as a shrug. It was hard to tell when there seemed to be three sets of shoulders all in various places they shouldn't be.

"It is as I said. I took Sasha into my hallways so she could flee from the thing in the table. And now that Not-Sasha is gone I'm willing to trade her."

"Trade her for what?"

Jon had a bad feeling about this, but he let Tim lead the conversation. Better he ask the questions. Jon didn't want to accidently use compulsion and make Michael angry.

"Why for the Archivist of course! I'm terribly bored at the moment. No good prey out there. And I'd love to see how my hallways work against someone from the Eyes ilk."

"So it would be a game to you." Jon was careful to not word it as a question.

Michaels blinding smirk hit him square in the chest and left him heaving. "Yes, you could see it that way."

"Jon." Basira warned, inching toward him.

Melanies lips were pressed into a thin line, her eyes never strayed from the Distortion, even when tears started to run down her face from the strain. She kept quiet, but it was clear that she would attack if she felt it to be necessary.

"And that exchange."

"Yes." Michael dared him to ask.

"What would it look like."

"No static! My you are truly making an effort! It goes like this. You come here and step into my door and I let Sasha out."

"Jon we can't trust him." Basira hissed.

"I'm an it, actually." Michael purred.

"Whatever."

"I know. I want to see her. Melanie, you know what Sasha looks like. We'll both verify."

"Hmmm, sounds like a deal. Come here."

Jon scowled at the crooked finger beckoning him to come closer. Michaels horrible 8 bit laugh echoed through the Archive again.

"Don't be shy. I won't stab you this time, I promise!"

"What." Tim sounded about as done as Jon felt.

He'd rather not have to explain himself though. He was glad Tim wasn't directing his ire at him at the moment. So he quickly crossed the distance and came to stand stiffly beside Michael, tensing when the entity curled three of its impossible long fingers around his elbow.

"Marvelous!"

Another door that had appeared in on of the shelves banged open and out of it stumbled a woman with clammy tanned skin, big round trendy glasses and warm brown wavy hair, her grey eyes open wide.

Tim stumbled forward to catch her, trembling about as much as her. "Sasha?"

He looked to Jon for confirmation, who had to fight back his own tears. "Yes. Yes."

"That's her." Melanie whispered her own affirmation.

Before the smile on Jons lips had time to fully form he was yanked back, the yellow door slamming shut behind him. It felt like being dragged into a whirlpool while high on LSD and if Michaels realm would have permitted it Jon would have lost what little food he had eaten that day right then and there.

As it was he had to endure the minutes or hours he had to get used to the shift in reality, unsure if he was standing, laying down or sitting. When his head eventually stopped spinning and his eyes and other sensory input systems agreed to work again he found himself standing at a deadend. The door and Michael were gone, but the air was still filled with joyous laughter.

"Welcome to my humble abode little Archivist! I hope you like getting lost~"

Jon frowned at his surroundings that seemed to tilt and wobble under his every step. He was sure Michael was being extra distorting with the surroundings it had thrown Jon into. Jon didn't want to give it the satisfaction of knowing how much that bothered him. Although he doubted he could hide his terror from it.

Time didn't matter in the Distortions halls. It all melted together, turning and twisting into a bizarre fever dream. Jon relaxed as much as was possible with the horrible migraine that had formed behind his eyes. This actually wasn't so bad. He would probably just wander around aimlessly until he would either die from hunger or thirst, Michael would grow bored and kill him or he actually found the exit.

Jon very much doubted the latter. He had no real grasp of his supposed powers and the Beholding only opted to drop in a fact or two about the colours that normal humans shouldn't be able to see.

When he didn't grow tired nor hungry or thirsty in what he presumed was quite a while a new fear formed beside the pounding in his head. What if he was stuck in here forever?

But even that terror dulled over what didn't quite account for time. The hallways got tamer. They were still decorated with garish colours and wallpaper, bits of furniture strewn about here and there. But they had stopped being all wobbly and impossible.

Well they were less impossible. Jon thought as he walked through a wardrobe only to emerge from a mirror into a room with six walls, three doors, a window and a painting.

On and on it went until he felt deep in his bones a rhythm to it all. There was a spiral pattern to the twisting turns of the rooms and hallways. Inverted and containing a lot of deadends, but it was there and all Jon needed to do was follow it.

Down and down he went, even when the path lead him upward or turned him upside down. His head started to feel blissfully empty for once. No worry, no greater goal. He could just exist here in this weird home and wander. He might be as lost as he had been in the real world, but at least here he wasn't hurting anyone.

Electrical lights flickered on and off before turning to torches casting pink shadows across the chessboard walls. He startled out of his haze when he heard the clacking of heels somewhere to his right, a thought thundering into his mind, shattering all other not thoughts that hadn't resided in there.

"Helen!"

"Jon?"

"Helen! I'm here. Stay where you are!"

Jon skidded around the corner and there she was, still wearing her business dress and jacket, chin length brown hair curling around her ears. She was sobbing before he could even get to her and soon he had an armful of crying real estate agent in his arms.

They held each other tight and just weeped for what felt like an eternity, but was still too short.

"I was so scared." Helen sobbed as she drew back just enough to fix her gaze on Jon. "I thought I walked out of the Institute, but instead I found myself back in these horrible hallways and I couldn't find a way out this time, but I just couldn't stop walking, you know? I needed to find some way out. And Jon, Jon! There's an end here. It's close I just know it! You believe me right? That's why you're here? You're also looking for the end?"

Jon rubbed up and down her arms to calm her. "Yes. Yes Helen. I'm so sorry. Had I known-"

"It's alright." She gave him a watery impression of a smile. "It'll be all alright soon. I hear it whispering. Come."

"Now that was quite the show." Michael suddenly stood between them and they sprung apart. It had its arms crossed and a deep frown carved into what could have been its face.

Jon couldn't exactly make out its eyes. And yet he was sure there was a spark of fear there.

"It was nice to play with you." Michael adressed Helen. "But I feel you overstayed your welcome."

A door appeared behind her, standing in the middle of the hallway, no walls around it.

"There is the exit. Shoo."

She looked at Michael with wide, glassy eyes. "No. No I can't. I need-"

And with a sudden, horrible clarity Jon knew what would happen if she didn't leave now. A door locked from the outside. The body of Michael Shelley destroyed. Helen lost.

"Helen. Please believe me when I say that this is better. Don't heed the call. It will only cost you."

Her flitted between Jon and Michael, hesitating. "Why?"

"Michael was human once, too." Jon whispered and understanding bloomed behind her eyes.

"Oh. But can I be sure?"

"I can." Jon assured her. "You can open that door. It's save."

She swallowed. "Okay. Okay. Are you coming with?"

She reached for him, but Jon shook his head. "No. I don't believe my game is quite finished yet."

He looked over to Michael to make sure. The Distortion looked back at him, frown lightened by a pensive look. It didn't feel the need to correct him.

"Okay." Helen said again, sounding like it was everything but. "You'll be fine, though?"

Jon gave her the best smile he could manage at the moment, which wasn't much. "I think so, yes."

"Good then. I'll... see you around. Just. Not here, I guess."

"Yes. Take care Helen."

"You too."

The door clicked softly shut behind her, taking with it the swift breeze of fresh air and gentle midday sunlight.

Jon sighed. "That was... something. Thank you for letting her go."

"Hmmm."

Jon felt a deep satisfaction at how uncomfortable Michael seemed to be at the moment.

"I guess I shouldn't continue to walk down, then?"

"You were walking straight."

"It's all the same here, though, isn't it?"

"Stop that." Michael frowned harder, drawing itself up, terror apparent in the way it shook, after images pulsing off it in waves.

"What?"

"Knowing me."

"Sorry."

"You could just walk back up again, you know." Michael muttered, friendly facade all but forgotten. A near death experience would do that to you. Jon could sympathize.

He nodded, indulgent. "I guess I could."

Michael heaved a sigh that sounded more like the blare of an airhorn. "I'll show you out."

Jon didn't deem it necessary to tell it that it could just manifest a door like it had done with Helen. He got that Michael probably needed a hot minute to digest what had just happened. And for once Jon was more than content with providing some company.

It was Michael who talked first, essentially giving Jon its statement. Jon saw the fierce anger burn behind those multicoloured eyes and was reminded of Tim and his fury at Jons betrayal.

"How much of Michael is there in you, then?" Jon carefully asked, voice so soft it was barely there in order to keep any sort of compulsion out of it.

"That's not the right question to ask Archivist. Because there is no answer to that, that would stay definite. How much of you is in those tapes you record? It's your voice in there. How much of you is actually you? There's no meaningful distinction."

"That doesn't sound right."

"That's because you're too deep inside your head." Michael laughed. It wasn't as grating as usual.

"Thank you for keeping Sasha safe, by the way." Jon whispered into the screaming silence that had enveloped the two as they meandered through the endless expanse of hallway stretching out in front of them.

"You are no fun."

"Pardon?"

Slim fingers crawled like worms across his shoulder. His head spun with a sudden dizzying motion, feeling oddly light. His skin tingled with confused nerves at the points of contact. Unconsciously he leaned into the touch loosing himself in the sensations. The Distortion was less scary now that he knew it. It was actually kind of sad and he might have formed a small grudge against Gertrude for it.

Michael huffed beside him, caught between grinning and frowning. Jon wondered which emotion the Spiral wanted to portray and which one actually belonged to what was left of Michael Shelley.

"That's what I mean. You're not afraid at all! You're enjoying yourself. That just won't do."

It nudged him forward and oh, there was a yellow door there. Jon stepped up to hit and hesitated, hand hovering over the handle.

"What is it now?" Michael grumbled behind him, pout evident in its voice.

"I... I'm not sure if... I'm not sure if it's alright for me to get out."

Michael blinked at him in surprise. Jon shouldn't have been able to see it, but the motion was reflected in front of him.

"I just don't know if it's a good thing that I'm out there. Something is going on with me and at least in here I'm not hurting anyone."

"You... don't want to get out? You like it here?" Shrill, disbelieving laughter filled every nook and cranny of their space, drilling into Jons head and hollowing out his skull. Michael was bent over in a spine breaking way, arms wrapped twice around it and shaking with manic chuckles when Jon turned to frown at it.

"Two people in a row wanting to stay." It giggled, rightning itself. "I really need to redecorate this place." It shook its head, smile sharp yet soft. "No Archivist I will not drag you around as deadweight. Not when you aren't even making an effort of being afraid."

Jon squeaked as he was lifted, knife hands nicking the skin on his cheek and temple. With a heavy thump Michael kicked the door to the Archives open, startling Tim awake, who had been slumped over the desk, facing the door.

"We're baaack!" Michael crooned. "I'll leave you to decide if the Archivist should stay." He dumped Jon into Tims lap, who was barely awake enough to grab at Jon before he slid off.

"But Jon, when you next step into my door I will not let you back out again. See you around~"

Jon tried to identify the exact moment Michael had left the room. It was a futile attempt and not at all enough to distract from the fact that he was currently still inhabiting Tims lap.

"I'm sorry I'll-" Jon tried to stand up, but the arms around him tightened and he was squashed unceremonously against Tims body.

"Jon"

Oh no. What had he done now? He just got here why was Tim already so mad? Was he mad? Oh good lord he was crying. Jon awkwardly turned so he could sling unsteady arms around Tims neck, letting the man bury his head into his shoulder.

"Uhm hi?" He'd really rather go back to Michaels hallways now, please. This was already starting out to be a situation much more terrifying than wandering forever in a fever dream.

"You absolute bastard!"

"Sorry?"

Tim laughed and it was a strange sound. Too normal after who knew how long in Michaels domain.

"No you don't get to apologize. Not when you don't even know what you've done." Tim stood, Jon scrambling to get his feet under him so he wouldn't crash.

Standing on even, unmoving ground was like coming back on land after a year at sea. Tim shaking him did not help his coordination.

"You've been gone for over three months. Over three months, Jon! We had to blow up the circus without you. Elias was pissed! But Sasha managed to McGyver together a remote control for the C4 and it was amazing! Pressing that button was probably the best thing to happen in my life!"

"Wait slow down." Jon mumbled, trying to keep up with Tims flood of exposition while simultanously trying to get Tim to stop shaking him. He was going to be sick at this rate.

Tim didn't seem to hear him. "And then everything was over and Sasha was there, but you still weren't. And that bloody door stayed here all the while, mocking us. It wouldn't open. We tried everything minus blowing it up, figured you wouldn't have liked that. Tried to hunt down other Spiral locations, but no odd door would open to us."

Tim took a huge breath and stopped shaking Jon, his grip tightening when Jon tried to put some space between them.

"We didn't know what to do. And then about a week ago Helen came in to tell us about what happened in the hallways. She's fine by the way. Apologized for waiting so long before coming by. She was sad to see you still missing, left her contact details and wants you to call her when your feeling like the world makes sense again, whatever that means."

Jon knew exactly what it meant. He was sure it would take him a while to make sense of anything that wasn't strobe light effects, after images and nausea. He would have liked to elaborate on that and point out that he really should sit down oh my god everything was spinning.

"We figured if she was out you'd come back, too. And we didn't want you to stumble into an empty Archive so we took turns watching the door. Do you know how hard it was to keep Martin from hogging all the night shifts? The man hasn't slept more than a wink in months I tell you. He looks about as bad as you so if you don't let him hug you and fuss I will play the most embarrassing prank I can think of on you next April Fools day, you hear me?"

Tim shook him once and Jon had to cough and force the bile back down his throat before he could answer.

"Quite."

"Good."

There was another shaky exhale and a much more tentative hug. "You look like shit, come on you can crash at my place."

"I too have a flat, Tim." Jon felt the need to remind him, but let himself be led to the front doors and to Tims car, grateful to finally be allowed to sit again.

"You just came back. No way am I letting you out my sight and give you the opportunity to vanish again. Sasha and Martin would have my head."

Jon frowned down at his hands, flinching when the car sprung to life and grabbing for an empty take out bag, just in case. Tims behavior deeply confused him. The last time he had mother henned him like this was back in Research. Did Michael accidently drop him in a different dimension?

"We're there."

How did Tim get to the side of his door? When had they started to move? When had they gotten to Tims flat? Good lord time didn't make sense anymore.

Jon half stumbled out of the car and followed Tim into his apartment.

"Make yourself comfortable boss. I'll get you some tea, yeah? And food. Try not to fall asleep on me yet. And don't wander off."

Where would he even wander off to? Jon wanted to ask. He forgot about that as soon as his body hit the hard surface of the couch. At least the pillow was nice enough to cushion his fall. Letting out a pitiful groan he levelled himself up again to take his glasses off, rubbing at the spots where the plastic had dug into his skin.

He was glad that Tim seemed to have calmed down during the ride. Maybe doing something had helped. Tim had always been an action guy, needing an outlet for all the pent up energy.

It all felt so surreal. Here he was, out of the hallways, in Tims flat, with Tim being nice to him and the apocalypse over and done with. He would probably get an earful for missing out on that one later. Probably from Melanie. Maybe from Basira and Daisy.

Gods they were alright. He was gone for so long and they were all fine. Maybe a bit more traumatized, if Tims behavior was anything to go by, but alive. And in this economy that was probably the best outcome they could get.

"Sasha, how is she?" Jon asked as soon as Tim came back into the room.

A rainbow coloured mug and a bowl of instant noodle soup was placed on the coffee table in front of him before Tim answered.

"She's amazing. I mean she's doing well. She was in way better shape than you coming out of there. But I guess you didn't exactly go in at the heighth of your power. She said she was afraid for awhile, that Michael would keep her forever. But she was also curious how the hallways worked and she kinda got lost trying to figure them out? She chatted with Michael whenever it popped up to gloat. It kept her updated pretty well actually, which is kind of creepy. I think out of all of us she had it the easiest."

"That's... that's so good to hear." Jon breathed.

Tim chuckled. It sounded suspiciously wet. "Yeah. Come on sit up and eat your shitty soup."

Before Jon could move on his own an arm curled around his waist and hoisted him into a sitting position.

"I can move myself, Tim." Jon grumbled, leaning heavily into Tims side either way. Just for the contact, he told himself. He could totally sit upright if he wanted to.

"Of course boss."

Tim turned on the TV as Jon ate, the soothing chatter of news reporter talking about the weather filling the air. Jon was half dozing, unsure if he had eaten much at all when Tim moved him again.

"You want to clean up before going to bed?"

Jon took stock of his body, weighting his options. It was as if his muscles only now began to realize the amount of miles they had walked. His scars itched and pulled and the cut on his throat as well as the burn on his hand pounded against the confines of his mangled skin. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, a bit of vertigo still throbbing in the back of his skull, while his ears still echoed faintly with piercing, inhuman laughter.

"No?"

"Okay. Sit tight boss I'm gonna get you a blanket."

Sit tight... Where did Tim think he would go, if he wasn't even up for taking a shower?

"You got better, too." Jon said in lieu of a thank you when a heavy blanket got draped over him.

"Hm. Blowing up a building helped."

"Ah yes, arson. The best therapy of all."

Tim laughed at that. "You'd be surprised. But actually I did get a therapist at Sashas request. I blew up at her a few times in between and she didn't take it well. I wanted to be better for her."

"Good." Jon mumbled, half asleep. "That's good."

"Yeah. Sleep well."

"Hmhm."

He woke up in the middle of the night. Or was it day? It was dark, but the curtains were drawn so he couldn't be sure. It wasn't to a full body flinch like he was used to waking up with. Just a slow, disorientated blinking into wakefulness.

The flinching came later, followed by a yell when he made out a blurry shape sitting in the arm chair mere inches away from him.

"Good Lord, Tim! What are you doing?!"

"Making sure you're not getting kidnapped." Was the brightly given answer.

"That's creepy." Jon grumbled, rubbing his eyes and settling his glasses back on the bridge of his nose.

"Well you're not the only one allowed to be spooky."

"M not spooky."

"Suuure. So Martin and Sasha will be by in a bit. Wanna tell me what all that about going back through Michaels door was about?"

Jon sighed. "He- it just threatened me."

"Really? Cause it kind of looked to me like it was kicking you out."

"I have it on good authority that I can be rather annoying, yes."

Tim crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at him. "Does that mean I and the others need to make sure you take the right doors from now on?"

"No?"

"That's not very reassuring, Jon."

"Why do you care all of a sudden?" It was said out of exhaustion and Jon immediately regretted it, seeing Tims face fall. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have said that."

"No." Tim took a shuddering breath, mussing up his hair with the hand that wasn't clutching at his own shirt. "No, that's fair. I've been an ass to you before... Fuck before you literally fed yourself to the Spiral in order to get Sasha back."

"You don't have to feel guilty about that."

"I do! But that's not just it. You've missed a lot. And I got better, but I'm still so angry most of the time. But when you were gone I was also fucking terrified. For Christs sake Jon we were friends once. And I just let you barter your life away like it was nothing. I was happy. When Sasha came back and you were gone I was even happy for a while."

Oh no he was crying again. They both were. He knew because Tim had gotten up to draw back the curtains before dropping onto the couch at Jons feet.

"I... it didn't last long. Call me selfish, but after a while all I wanted was for us to be complete again. You know the original four. It took me a bit to realize that I was mourning."

Tim barked out a broken laugh. "I've probably not slept about as much as Martin."

"You should then. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere at the moment."

"I can't. Every time I try I panic that you will be gone when I wake up."

Jon mulled that thought over in his head, an odd tingle flooding his body. "Lay down with me then?"

Tim stared at him for a moment, biting at his lip and barely stopping before drawing blood. "That... that sounds like an idea. Yeah. Let me draw the couch out first."

They could have just gone to bed, but Jon just about managed to drag himself to the armchair. And Tim hadn't offered so Jon wouldn't pry.

Tim collapsed on the couch and immediately reached out an arm and made grabby hands. Jon huffed out a small chuckle and obliged, trying not to seem too eager.

"We'll have to get up again when Sasha and Martin visit." Jon noted, snuggling into Tims chest with a sigh, whole body thrumming at the none violent contact.

"Sasha has a key." Tim muttered into his hair, spitting out some of the loose strands right after.

Jon shook his head. There seemed to be quite a lot he needed to be caught up on. And as they tangled their legs together Jon found that for once the future didn't look as threatening as it usually did.

[letsgetsquiggly]

Gus and the Mirror Banshee

Its FFF time again! A great way to end my study week and begin my work week, with a splash of creative intent! Its another Gus and Bubblegum Girl story! I'm so happy I revisted these characters. The silly episode of the week format is so fun to do after a long day at work. For Flash Fiction Friday prompt #90 WordCount:1060 Warnings: Swearing, as per usual, and depictions of spooky girls.

@flashfictionfridayofficial​

As per his Saturday routine, Gus rolls out of bed at 9:00 and slippers his feet, puts on a pot of decaf, and goes to do the crossword at his kitchen table. All is calm, all is right. That is until a frantic pounding comes thundering upon his door. "Gus…Gus. Gus? Gus. GUS! Guuuuuuuusssssssss. GusGusGusGusGusGus." It's an oh no moment for Gus, trouble has literally come knocking at his door. "Godammit Mol I'm not in the mood." He calls from his table. "This is serious, Gus. SUPER SERIOUS." "I won't help you find a lawyer, Karen has every right to file a restraining order against you after the garden gnome incident." "What? No that's not it. It's my house, Gus. IT'S HAUNTED." Gus Sighs as he walks over and opens his door. "I'm going back to bed." "GUS NO! I can't go back in there. Don't abandon me in my time of neeeddddd." Bubblegum Girl, BGG, Molly, falls to her knees and begins to sob profusely on the doorstep. "Alright alright. Calm down. Please, stop. MOLLY STOP CRYING ILL HELP YOU GODDAMMIT!" The wailing and crocodile tears cease and desist almost immediately at this declaration. She springs to her feet with a renewed vigor. "Alright Gus, the enemy is…" She darts her head left, and then right, checking for any invisible eavesdroppers." "Mary Bloody Mary." "Oh for fucks sake Mol." Gus shakes his head as he goes to swap out his Saturday slippers for some real shoes "There I was," BGG begins, "on wikipedia, expanding my worldly knowledge" "You were bored wasting time on the random article link" "When I stumbled across one of the saddest things I've ever read." The crunching of gravel under their feet ceases as BGG abruptly stops and waves her hand in front of her face as if unveiling a profound revelation. "The Bloody Mary of folklore," "Uh-huh," Gus grumbled weakly "The article stated that she helps women get a glance at their future husbands. Sometimes though," Her hand darts to the doorknob and she turns her head sharply to face Gus, pausing for dramatic effect. "She murders the very women who summons her." He offers this simple reply, "Alright, so why is that sad?" "Well, she's a lady who lives in a mirror right? She's lonely Gus! She obviously just kills women because they don't want to be her friend! I understand why. It's very rude to summon a being from across the veil to just have her do simple parlor tricks" Gus gives his shoes a mindless wipe against the welcome mat at the entrance to the abode. "Right, sure." BGG was twisting the door handle at this point and stepped through the doorway into a vivid and wild technicolor interior. "So there I was in my bathroom, lights off, candles all around me, ready to summon and befriend the lonely mirror specter. I chanted over and over, "Bloody Mary Bloody Mary." In an instant, all the candles went out, the light bulbs in my vanity began to flicker, and the image of a shadow emerged in the mirror before me." "I'm sure it did Mol." Gus's idle gaze wander from band posters to Pollock-like paint splotches, to motivational kitten posters. The decorum of Bubblegum Girl's house was giving his no-nonsense brain whiplash. "Gus, are you listening?" "Ya, of course…" He trailed off as his eye caught several empty helium tanks and a plethora of un-blown balloons. "The shadow took the form of sickly skinny girl with long stringy black hair. Something seemed up with her eyes like they were missing? Or all black? Anyway, naturally, I said hello and introduced myself, and tried to make her feel welcome. I was all like "Hi Mary! It is SO nice to meet you! I'm BGG, Bubblegum Girl, my less fun real name is Molly though. I read about you on Wikipedia and your life sounded kinda sad and lonely, so I'm here to be your new best friend! We can talk about boys and I can show you all my favorite internet memes and you can feel loved and stop murdering people." BBG had led Gus up a flight of stairs and now stood outside a bright pink door with what he assumed was a stolen public bathroom sign with one of those upsidedown triangle women on it. "I figured she'd be super stoked right? I didn't summon her to just use her like everyone else. I, you known, cared about her well-being and interests and junk. We would be each others' friends from the other side of the veil. How cool is that?" As she reached out to the bathroom door in front of them she stopped to look at Gus, expecting a response. He was looking past her down the hall trying to catch a glimpse of some of the other illogical horrors that existed in this residence "I SAID, how cool is that Gus?" "Oh, cool, I guess?" "Right! It is cool, and a very nice, sincere gesture. Well, she didn't seem interested. In fact, she seemed pretty steamed that I summoned her at all. So you know what she did? She tried to STRANGLE ME. It was super uncalled for. I tried to tell her if she didn't want to be my friend she could have just said something, and that she should go back home. BUT THEN SHE WOULDN'T LEAVE. She was starting to pull herself out of the mirror when I left, so I shut the door and ran over the most intense, serious, intimidating person I knew! Your so stern and commanding Gus, she'll have to go home if you tell her too." BGG started to push the door open as she beamed at Gus as if she was dumping all the world's confidence into him. He returns her beam with a furrowed brow and a slight frown. "Look Mol, I'm sure all this is very real and actually happened. If I go in there and tell your mirror to leave you alone; you don't get to bother me on a Saturday for another month. Deal?" "Deeeeaaaaallllllll!" She sings as she flings open the door, revealing a shadowy, sickly woman with pale skin and stringy black hair. She loomed over Gus and stared at him with empty sockets. Gus drew a sharp inhale and slowly craned his head up to meet Mary Bloody Mary's Gaze. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

[sarah-writes-marvel]

Battle: Avengers x gn!Reader (platonic)

S.S: Here’s another one I wrote a while ago. Again probably a little cringey, most of my writing is to me at least, BUT I hope that you like it so enjoy!! Also I changed the perspective of the story so let me know if you like it better!!

Warnings: Mentions of injury, bleeding, a little bit of angst, fluff!

Word Count: 2,366 (its alittle longer than my others, let me know if you want longer stories!)

Author Note: f/c= favorite color, Y/n/n=your nickname

MASTERLIST

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

“Alright team, it’s basic infiltration,” Cap started. “We get what we need and get out. But be prepared for surprises. Without Bruce we don't have as much brawn, or a doctor on board so be careful. Understood?” Everyone around the table in the helicarrier nod or mummer in agreement and understanding as the plane landed.

“Alright let’s do this.” Tony said, leading the charge out of the aircraft towards the Hydra institute. 

Nat and you had made your way to the planned entrance, however were rudely interrupted by Hydra Operatives standing on the other side of the door. You were quick to form my f/c barrier blocking the bullets from the two of us.

Hawkeye had made it to his predetermined eagle eye view and helped Nat take down the Agents as you moved past to the computer room to retrieve intel from the base. Alarms had been set off, and agents were running through the halls and out the doors.

“Incoming your way boys.” you warn Tony, Cap and Thor. 

After retrieving the needed intel you were quick to remove the drive and turn down the hallway to the exit.

“Intel has been recovered. Headed to the jet.” you say over the coms before hearing the cocking of a gun. I hold my hands in the surender position and turn to face an unexpected asset. A Super Soldier.

She was buff and easily taller than 6’5’’. Her face was smudged with black, her dark green eyes staring intently at me. Her automatic rifle aimed in my direction.

“Uh, we got a problem.” you whisper through the coms, a few questions coming back.

“The drive. I need it.” her voice was gruff, as if it was barely used.

“I can't exactly do that, sorry. I’ve got orders.” you shrug.

“I’ve got orders too. The drive or your team dies.” she was persistent, petty threats and the intense stare trying to scare me into submission.

“Alright, fine.” you say lowering your arms. You reach to the pouch attached to your back belt loops, grabbing a small circular weapon. Tossing it her way, immediately letting out gas and smoke causing enough distraction for you to turn and run before she got a chance to aim again.

“We have an enhancement in the field. Female, large and slightly terrifying. Anyone copy?” you reiterate through the coms hoping that someone would come help.

“Can you handle the situation?” Cap’s voice sounded through the static, exasperated and tired.

“I’m working on it. I think I angered her. I threw a smoke bomb in her face.” you ran through the empty hallways, trying to remember the blueprints of the building.

“Why the hell would you do that?” Clint questioned.

“Hey she had an automatic rifle aimed at my head, I didn’t say it was a good choice but it was the first thing I thought of.” you defend as you hid out in an empty and rather dusty room.

The heavy footsteps of boots echoed along the hallway walls outside the door as the Asset searched. You hold your breath as her shadow passed the doorway. Once the sound faded down the hallway you took the opportunity to peek into the hallway seeing it was empty and run towards the exit.

“Alright, I think I lost her, meet you guys at the jet.” you said as you finally reached the exit on the other side of the building.

“Alright. We're almost done here.” Nat informed you.

You made your way around the building only to be stopped by the bulky female dropping in front of you.

“Are you kidding me?” you yell exasperatedly. Placing my hands on my hip and looked at her with an ‘are you serious?’ look. She didn't seem amused.

Her gun was no longer strapped around her torso, which made it easier for me, at least a little bit. Until she held her arm straight out and a gun unfolded from within her arm.

“Shit!” you exclaim as you built a force field, blocking the shot she had taken. “Hey, I could really use some backup!” you yell through the coms, hoping to god that someone could come.

“Hold on kid. We’re still a little caught up.” Tony answered. Another blast hit the teal magic blocking your body.

“I need help asap. This Asset is strong, I’m not sure how much longer I can hold my shield up.” you breath.

“Do your best, we’re almost done.” Clint yelled back.

“You said that like 5 minutes ago!” Another plasmic blast from her gun hit, causing your shield to falter a bit. A blast from where the others were caused some distraction, the Soldier averting her attention to the noise. You were quick to create a ball of energy striking her, causing her to stumble back. 

“What the hell? That should have at least knocked you off your feet!” you yell at her, obviously frustrated. She only raised her appendage, aiming again. You were quick to put up a weak shield before a blast hit.

Unfortunately, it had little effect considering the blast faltered your shield, hitting your exposed side. The pain was immense as the burning sensation overwhelmed your senses.

“Son of a -- I really need backup! Like NOW!” you demand through the comms as one hand grasp at the wound and the other held the broken force field in front of me.

“We’re trying. They keep coming!” Tony responded.

I took a deep breath, another surge of pain sent through my system. I gathered the rest of my energy, dropping the shield and focusing it on myself.

“Come on. Take the shot. I dare you.” you spit at the Soldier whose aim was unmoved. Your vision blurred with black spots and a warm liquid ran over your upper lip. The nosebleed being a result of the focus going into building my energy. “Do it! Shoot Soldier!” you challenge. 

She took it and shot. The blast hit the breast plate covering your chest, triggering an energy blast knocking the Soldier from her position. With the little amount of energy that was built up, it took out the building and knocked anyone on the ground down.

-----------

The few Avengers on the ground recovered quickly, finishing off the few operatives that were still conscious. They looked around and quickly realized what had happened.

“Y/n/n?” Cap called over the ear piece as Tony landed next to him, listening for your voice. “Y/n, do you copy?”  Static silence.

“I’ll fly up and look around. They’re here somewhere. The com probably got damaged.” Tony comforted, himself more than anyone else, before he lifted off.

“We can split up and look around too.” Nat suggested. Cap nodded. Nat and Clint broke off leaving Thor and Cap to search the opposite direction.

Tony flew to the other side of the building searching the grounds and spotting the Super soldier splaying unconscious on the ground in the middle of the grassy area.

“I found the Asset. Y/n’s gotta be here somewhere.” Tony announced, scanning the area. “Friday, do a search for Y/n.”

Within a minute the Scottish A.I. answered “Along the tree line, North west of your position Sir.” Immediately Tony flew down to the pinpoint where Friday detected you.

“I found them! They’re unconscious and wounded. Get back to the jet and start it up!” Tony commanded, scooping your unsettlingly limp body from the ground and flew back to the running jet.

“Friday, Inform Dr. Banner that we need assistance as soon as we land.” Tony instructed the A.I. as he set you down on the center table of the QuinJet. Clint took his place in the pilot seat and the jet jolted forward.

Tony stepped out of his suit and stood next to Cap while looking over your injuries. Nat was quick to grab the gauze stowed under the table and wrapped the wound on your side.

“Will they be alright?” Thor’s usual thundering voice was quiet and laced with concern.

“Ya, they’ll pull through. Don’t worry.” Cap said, lacking the confidence behind his words.

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

The QuinJet landed on the tarmac 30 minutes later and the team was greeted by medical staff. They made quick work to get Y/n onto a stretcher and into the medical bay with the team following close behind with their own injuries. Bruce met them at the double doors that lead back into the surgical hall, blocking the group from moving any farther.

“How about you guys get cleaned up and checked. I’ll keep you updated. They’ll pull through.” he comforted, urging the group to relax, even though he was tense himself. The group nodded in agreeance and went their separate ways.

---------

The rhythmic beeping noise coming from your right matched perfectly with the pounding headache that you were currently experiencing. The intense burning pain radiated from your side once again and you forced my eyes open.

You immediately identified the room as a recovery bay in the SHIELD Hospital Wing. The memory of how you must’ve ended up in this situation came flooding back. You swallowed painfully, trying to remember anything else after the second connecting shot, but nothing came to mind. 

Your hand fumbled around the bed, finding the call button and pressing it in hopes that someone came in with water. The sound of hurried footsteps were heard outside the door and it swung open wildly, revealing a disheveled Dr. Bruce Banner and equally exhausted Tony Stark.

“Oh my god. Thank god you’re awake.” Tony breathed, as he walked to your bedside. You gave him an apologetic smile as Bruce checked over your vitals, writing down a few things here and there.

“I need some water.” you mentioned quietly, trying not to irritate your throat anymore. Tony immediately nodded and left the room.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce's calm voice broke the silence. His dark brown eyes finding yours with the dim light from the hallway seeping into the room, filled with concern and worry.

“Other than being thirsty and tired and in a bit of pain I’m okay. I'm sure I could be 100x better but I’m ok.” you assure him patting that hand he had placed on the hard plastic railings of the bed.

“Alright, well after you drink some water, I’ll give you a bit more morphine to help with the pain and get you some more sleep.” He squeezed your hand as Tony came back through the door with a large water bottle filled with ice water, complete with a straw.

“Bringing out the big guns huh?” you say with a chuckle, immediately regretting the decision when a sharp pain shot through your side. “Alright never gonna laugh again I guess.”

“You’ll get to feeling like yourself in no time kiddo, Just gotta take some time to heal.” Tony stated, helping you into a sitting position to frink.

“Any idea how long that’ll be?” you wondered taking small sips from the bottle as Tony held it steady.

“A fews months, maybe longer, maybe shorter because of your powers. Not quite sure, but that means you can’t do any strenuous activities until you're cleared for good.” Bruce answered, sternly but understanding that it's always hard to be out of commission for a bit.

“Alright fine.” I grumbled laying back against the raised bed. Bruce sent you a reassuring smile.

“Alright I’m gonna give you some more morphine to help with the pain.” He warned “Itll start working in a few minutes.” The clear liquid deposited through the IV tube connected into your arm.

“Get some sleep kid. It’s like 2 am.” Tony chuckled, kissing your forehead and pushing back the hair that stuck to it.

“Why the hell are you guys awake at 2 am?” 

“We just gotta make sure our youngest avenger doesn't cause anymore trouble.” Tony jested poking your nose before turning to leave, Bruce following in his footsteps.

“Bruce, make sure Tony goes to bed. Tony, make sure Bruce goes to bed.” I giggled, carefully, feeling the effects of morphine take over.

“Goodnight Kenzie. See you in the morning.” The two chorused as the door shut leaving the room engulfed into darkness.

---------

Soft whispers and the sound of feet shuffling across the floors rustled you from your drug induced slumber. A series of harsh “shhh’s” filled the room before you opened your eyes slightly to see the group of heroes shuffling into the room, doing their best to be quiet.

“You know for the Earth’s Mightiest heroes, you guys suck at sneaking in.” you mumble sleepily, rolling ever so slightly on your side to face them better.

“Damn it. That’s your fault Legolas.” Tony accused, giving a pointed look to a Clint.

“Dude, I’m a professional spy. It was Thor and his big ass feet.” Clint slapped the God's shoulder.

“I do believe it was Natasha and Steve flirting.” Thor argued.

“It was not. We weren't even talking!” Nat defended herself and Steve while he turned beet red. Bruce shook his head at the antics of the group while he checked your vitals.

They continued their bickering, provoking a burst of laughter from you, which you had forgotten hurt so much, so consequently you groaned in pain moving your hand to the injury.

“You ok?” Steve asked joining Bruce next to the hospital bed.

“Ya, ya just can't laugh too much or I'm gonna rip some stitches.” Tony opened his mouth ready to make some joking remark before you held your hand up “I swear Stark if you make a joke I will rip some stitches and I'll be in pain and you'll be in trouble.” you warned, with a joking tone to keep it more friendly than threatening. He was quick to close his mouth but he had a smirk etched onto his features.

“So what are we gonna do while I’m on bedrest?” you question. Nat was quick to carefully crawl into the bed.

“I'm thinking of a movie marathon!” She exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. Everyone agreed, taking their own seats in the medical room and searching through the movie selection, and knowing that they were always there made you feel protected, no matter what.

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

Thanks for reading... maybe it wasnt too cringy but eh... Anyways hope you enojyed!

[elizacornwall]

Vengeance is an Idiot’s Game

So, as mentioned previously rdr2 got me so hard in it’s grip I’ve been writing a goddamn epic as my first fanfic. Here’s the first chapter, and also the link to the whole thing! There’s 30 chapters uploaded and I’ve currently got - checks notes - 51 chapters written in various stages of editing, I’m uploading weekly for now. Enjoy!

Eliza awakened with a start, the sudden feel of heavy pressure against her jaw had ripped her out of her deep, dreamless slumber. Panicked she blinked the sleep out of her eyes, as the muffled sound of her own protesting voice escaped from beneath the gloved hand that firmly sealed her mouth shut. The figure above her seemed to look down on her and lifted one finger in front of his lips, gesturing her to be silent. With a racing heart, she complied. It was hard to make out any features on the man towering above her, her room was pitch black. It must be the dead of night and no moonlight made its way through the curtains. He bent down to her and whispered; his lips close to her ear. She could feel his hair fall against her cheek. “You better stay quiet and come with us willingly, otherwise this is going to end badly.” His voice was quiet, but sharp. With a racing heart, Eliza gave the hint of a nod. She wasn’t about to put up a fight against a man that was able to intrude into her family’s home, was probably armed to the teeth and by the sounds of it, had not come alone. He gave her an intent look, the scarce light reflecting in his eyes, sending a shiver down her spine. No, this was indeed not a man she could get away from. He slowly lifted his hand off her jaw, hovering it there just a second longer in case she decided to defy his orders. When she stayed quiet, he pulled her up to a sitting position and roughly tied a strip of fabric around her head, gagging her. It tasted awful, but she wasn't going to complain. He quickly proceeded to tie her hands and feet. Eliza was shaking from head to toe now. She's had the odd intruder in the night trying to assault her in the last few years, usually frustrated men her father picked out against her will for her to marry. Thankfully, her late uncle showed her a few tricks to defend herself when she was younger, and these unwelcome attempts always ended with them doubling over in severe pain, and Eliza getting a scolding from her old Sire, disappointed in her disinterest in any and every man. This wasn't anything like those nights. Tonight, she was scared senseless, and even if she wanted to defend herself, Eliza wasn't sure her body would follow her instructions. In one swift movement, the man picked her up by the waist and slung her body over his shoulder. He did this so effortlessly, as if she was light as a feather. She let out an involuntary whimper, silenced by the gag tied around her head. When he carried her down the big, sweeping stairs that led into the entrance hall, she heard more voices whispering on the ground floor. “You got her? Good. Keep quiet everyone, let's disappear." The girl turned her head, trying to make out who spoke and how many men there were, but her kidnapper seemed to wear something like a blanket or scarf draped over his top half of the body and she couldn't peer past it. He reached the bottom of the stairs and his quiet steps quickened, making for the entrance. Where were the guards and servants? Surely they would have raised the alarm by now. There should have been at least half a dozen riflemen on duty at every hour of the day, yet the house felt completely empty. She tried not to think about what happened before these men got to her. She got carried through the big double doors now, the cold night air full of whispers. The steps set a quick pace away from the open doors, the tall pillars, the sweeping porch. Her heart was still hammering in her chest, the man would surely feel it, and for some silly reason Eliza was ashamed and disappointed in this display of her fear. The crunch of the gravel beneath his feet turned soft as his boots stepped onto the grass, away from the path that led up to the mansion in a straight line. “Over here! Bring her here, we'll put her on Moonshine”, a low voice beckoned. They had reached the outskirts of the small woods that surrounded the manor, still no sign of any guards. She swallowed hard. Tied at her hands and feet, her mouth gagged, there was no way she could fight her way out of this. “Here, I'll take her off you Javier.” A pair of hands gripped her waist tightly, and she got swung around over a different pair of shoulders. After a few steps she got heaved up and across a mighty horse’s back end, the man secured her with a couple additional ties, then lifted himself up into the saddle on her left. She strained her neck trying to identify the group, but the night was moonless and all she could make out was shadowed figures, getting on their mounts and readying themselves to set off. Hooves padded over the ground and she was being carried away from her home, as their mounts changed from a walk into a trot, and then into a quick canter. - There were about four, five horses Eliza decided, by the sounds of their thundering hoofbeats. Every now and then she caught a glimpse of one galloping next to her, but she wasn't sure if it was the same each time. It was hard to keep her head lifted, as the up-and-down movement of the horses rear end took a toll on the muscles in her neck. They were riding for a while now, putting miles between her and her home, and her mind had settled a bit to allow somewhat rational thought. A group of men invaded her house, she got stolen out of her own bed, and now she was on the way to who-knew-where, to do who-knew-what to her. Was one of her spurned admirers behind all this? It seemed the most likely case, yet she did not know how they hoped to win her favour any more than the futile attempts of (mostly) polite conversation at the dinner table and (sometimes) the following bold, drunken advances, that (always) ended in her stern rejection.Her father had tried to set her up with over a dozen men of his choosing, of course all of them filthy rich, in powerful positions and all of them blessed with the nastiest personalities. She could imagine a few of them who would attempt something so foolish as to kidnap her, the unwelcome visits at night didn't exactly paint them as gentlemen that would take no for an answer. She was pondering over which one it would most likely be – Mr. Vanderbilt, who bragged about bedding several of his cousins; or Mr. Lemieux, a middle-aged Frenchman, whose accent alone made her stomach turn in disgust. She was pondering the options when she noticed the horses slowing down. The group came to a full stop, in the middle of nowhere still, when the man riding in the saddle on her side turned around with a creak of the saddle and wordlessly fashioned another piece of fabric as a blindfold, before removing her gag.Meanwhile, a modulated voice sounded from somewhere behind her.“I apologise for this rude abduction Miss, please stay quiet for a little while longer. We're not far from our destination, where you will be residing for a few days at least, until our business matters with her father come to an end.”This took her by surprise. Business matters? Her father only moved in the highest circles, what business partner of his would kidnap his daughter to help with some deal or other? It didn't make any sense. With no further talk the group moved on, Eliza now blindfolded, although the night was so dark that it didn't make too much of a difference anyway. About an hour later the horses slowed down again. The air was filled with the biting scent of burnt wood and the soft rustling of more horses could be heard, as she was carried through the undergrowth in a trot. The group came to a halt.“Welcome back boys! Did everything go to plan?”As soon as the men started to dismount, a high, crackling voice sounded.“Naturally. It was the perfect night for it, wasn't it boys? Now, get to your tents and catch some rest, well done everyone.”The same man that addressed her earlier, apologising for being 'rude'. She wanted to tell him what she thought of his apology, but deemed it wiser to keep her mouth shut, until further notice.There was some shuffling as the men unsaddled their mounts, and then the same man spoke again."Arthur, could you please bring the Miss to the accommodations we prepared for her?”The man climbing out of the saddle next to her answered in a low, grumbly voice.“Sure, you want me to keep her blindfold on? She won't be able to see much in there anyway.”“You're right, take it off when you've brought her in. After all we don't want to cause any discomfort to young Miss Cornwall!”

[lokislytherin]

euphoria // vampire!jungkook

pairing: vampire!jeon jeongguk x human!reader 

summary: you’re scared of vampires - until one saves your life one night. 

word count: 1988 + 1808 + 2373 + 1798 + 1046 +

chapters: prologue / chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / epilogue

a/n: when you procrastinate posting a fic for your friend’s @jungkooksbish​ birthday (she already has the full fic) until it’s her bias/celeb crush’s birthday

happy jk day everyone!

"Well, I was turned year ago-"

"You’ve only been a vampire for a year?" Seokjin screeches.

"-by some weirdo I’ve never been able to track down," Jeongguk continues, shooting Seokjin a dirty look.  “I was heading home after helping out sabom at his taekwondo class – I’m a black belt, by the way,” he adds with a wink in your direction that doesn’t fail to make you blush.  You've always had a thing for taller boys who could protect you.  "-when I was ambushed." You gasp.  "Ambushed?" The young vampire stares off into space, looking a little gloomy.  His icy cold fingers thread around your warmer ones, and you find yourself squeezing his hand, trying to comfort him.  He returns the gesture, taking in a shuddering breath.  “"Not so much ambushed, as jumped from behind."

He tries to hide his flinch from you, blue eyes submerged in sadness.  "I'll never forget those red eyes.  It hurt so bad-" he chokes a little, wrapping his arms around you in an attempt to comfort himself.  "I never thought I'd know how dying feels like, but," he laughs mirthlessly.  "I do, and I'm only twenty-two." He rests his head on your shoulder, and you can feel him shaking.

"Fück, I can't even cry properly," the vampire grumbles.  "Last time I tried, blood came out of my eyes.  I freaked so hard I blacked out."

You sigh with a soft smile.  “Oh, Jeonggukkie.”

Seokjin clears his throat, lips pursed.  "Well, if you two are going to flirt all night, I'm going to head back to bed.  There's no point in me being here if I'm just going to third-wheel."

"That's f-" You're cut off by a yawn, and Jin's infamous 'mom face' switches on. 

"That's it, you're going to sleep too.  Right now.  You act like you don't need sleep, but you've got school tomorrow."

"It’s fine, I’ll just nap in class-" Your protest is cut off by another massive yawn. The older man fixes you with a glare. "You’re going to sleep, Y/N, and that’s final." "You're so bossy, no wonder nobody wants to date you," you grumble affectionately.

"Jin's right," Jeongguk pipes up.  He makes no effort to disentangle your bodies.  "You should sleep.  Both of you are mortal and require a decent amount of sleep to function properly.  I, however, am not.  I don't need sleep, but I can stay with you until you do-"

"I don't trust you two alone in the same room," Seokjin grunts.  "Besides, Jeongguk, we need to talk." His eyes narrow.  "In private."

The vampire gulps, obviously fearing the witch in mama bear mode.  "Alright, then." He pecks your forehead and tucks you in, both of you blushing as he does it. "Good night, Y/N.  I'll see you tomorrow."

You yawn, burrowing under the covers.  "G'night, Guk." Your roommate looks a little offended.  “Don’t I get a good night too? We all know I deserve one.”

You snort, hiding under the blanket to escape Jin's wrath, if any.  "Whatever." “How rude,” The witch remarks.  Jeongguk just laughs. That night, you fall asleep thinking of vampires with blue eyes. You spend the next day in a complete haze of exhaustion.  Thankfully, none of your friends question your behavior – all of you are regularly half-asleep at school anyway, nothing is unusual.  Soon enough, school is over.

Sadly for you, school isn't the only pain you have to suffer through - you still have to head to the drama studio halfway across the city and teach kids drama skills for an hour and a half so you can pay your share of the rent.  You don't even like kids, but they constantly cling to you with cries of "Miss Y/N! Miss Y/N!"

Maybe it's your face - most of the time you're not particularly inclined to talk to people, but they take you as a sociable person because of your expressions.

After grabbing a very speedy dinner afterwards, it’s already nine at night.

You laugh bitterly to yourself.  It's already nine at night, but you're still feeling groggy, and you've been off the whole day.  You can't help but regret not taking up your friend's offer of a free coffee.  You don't even drink coffee, but you desperately need a source of caffeine.

As you drag your weary body down the empty roads, things start getting weird (again).  This time, you're not even in a shady alley, but you swear you're hearing things, and possibly seeing things too.

Did that shadow just move?

You dismiss it as a fragment of your imagination: you're deprived of sleep, after all, and you haven't touched a single drop of caffeine.  Right now, milk tea sounds really, really nice...

But you can't shake the feeling that you're being followed.  You hasten your steps, panic and adrenaline clearing your mind in preparation for 'fight or flight'.  You pick flight.  Soon enough, your slow walk turns into a fast stride, and you're now jogging in paranoia.

You hear the roar of a motorbike, and the thundering of footsteps behind you.  By the sound of it, there are at least two people behind you.

"Y/N, run!" A familiar voice cuts through the night.  You whirl around in alarm.  Jeongguk is charging towards you with superhuman speed, Jin not too far behind.  Jin is riding on what looks like a flying motorbike.  Since when did Jin own a motorbike?

"Don't touch her!" Jeongguk bellows.

You turn around and see red eyes and lips twisted up in a bloody smile.  Something sharp pierces the skin of your throat, and you let out an inhuman scream as pain overwhelms your mind, pain like nothing you've ever felt before.

Are you dying? It feels like your neck is being ripped apart.

That's the last thing you think before you start to lose consciousness, feeling yourself falling, falling, falling...

Jeongguk howls, furious and vengeful, and the whole world goes black.

[soulairee]

Woman of Medicine

SasuSaku Castlevania AU. Dracula!Sasuke. I’ve been wanting to write this for ages now. While the dialogue is very much the same between Sasuke and Sakura as it is between Dracula and Lisa in the Netflix series, it was still so much fun to put their meeting into writing. If you haven’t checked out Castlevania, I highly recommend it. It’s a wonderful show.

Haruno Sakura makes her way across a vast plain of land littered with bones—the dirt beneath her boots ashen and lifeless, the air reeking of death and decay. A blood-red sun sets on the horizon, tainting the sky in hazy washes of orange and crimson.

Surrounding her, reminding her that she may very well be heading to her certain doom, is an endless forest of skeletons, hoisted upon giant spikes pierced through their skulls. 

Sakura is careful not to get too close to any. With their jaws hanging open and their limbs hanging limply at their sides, they make a horrific picture: thousands upon thousands of skeletons screaming into nothing, with no one around to hear their cries. 

Her fingers tighten around the hilt of her dagger, and she jerks back when a flurry of bats appears as if from thin air, screeching, the sound of their leathery wings a rough staccato in her ears. Sakura glares at them, swiping her dagger at one that gets too close and driving the blade of it through the bat’s small body. She shakes the corpse from her blade, allowing herself to feel just a small amount of remorse for it as she wipes its blood on her handkerchief.

Thankfully the others now give her a wide berth, and so Sakura grits her teeth and trudges forward, head high. The hood of her black cloak falls to drape about her shoulders, long pink braid swinging behind her. 

She walks through the forest of the dead—heart thundering in her chest, anticipation thrumming in her veins—until she sees a sharp pillar of grey stone rising from the earth. With each step a castle manifests before her very eyes, and she gasps when the entirety of it becomes clear to her. 

It’s massive, climbing thousands of feet in the air above her, carved of great slabs of stone and pillars of obsidian. The architecture alone steals the air from her lungs. She can’t even begin to count the amount of levels within; can’t even begin to imagine how the castle balances itself with so many uneven towers branching from its center. It’s designed to emanate cruelty and menace, the inanimate counterpart to its lone master (or so she hears). But for all its harsh lines and severe edges, the castle appears elegant to Sakura. Beautiful, even. Then again she’s always been able to find beauty in the darkest of places—this time, evidently, is no different.

Shaking the awe from her face, Sakura breathes deeply before climbing the large set of stairs leading up to the castle’s monstrous twin front doors. She places her palm flat against one, the stone cool and hard beneath her skin. She shivers, feeling its iciness in her very bones, and nearly pulls her hand away before she senses movement against her fingertips. 

A gasp escapes her lips, and she steps forward to lean her body flush against the door. Indeed there’s movement within the castle—reverberations from a great beast walking about, she thinks, or perhaps from the castle’s master himself. She closes her eyes, listening. 

No, she thinks, eyes flashing open once more. Not a beast. The pulses of movement are too rhythmic, too steady. And that’s steam she hears, pumping out between heated metal.

Machines. It has to be.

Sakura can barely check her excitement. She smoothes down the sides of her cloak, willing her smile into a diffident line. 

Then she raises the hilt of her dagger and knocks it against the door. Once, twice, almost three times—

The doors creak open, heavy and slow. 

Sakura steps inside.

If she’s to be honest with herself, she expected to be afraid. To turn tail at the last moment, sprinting back to her homeland, all her dreams and efforts laid to waste as a result of her own fear and trepidation. 

But as Sakura enters the castle and takes in her surroundings, knowing she could die at any moment, she feels only curiosity. Curiosity and wonder as she turns in a circle, gazing upon the hundreds of metal candelabras hanging from the walls, casting the great hall in warm, flickering light. 

She blinks, once again having to bring herself back to reality—she’s here for a reason, after all. There’s someone she has to meet, even if it’s the last thing she does. So Sakura continues forward, dagger clutched in her hand, eyes darting left and right, searching for any sign of him. 

She inhales sharply at the sound of the stone doors slamming shut behind her, but she refuses to look back. Instead she lifts her head and gazes upon the top of the double grand staircase before her, where a dark figure now stands, silent and foreboding.

Sakura tries to make out his features but he’s too far above her, shrouded in shadows. She clears her throat and sheathes her dagger. 

Then, mustering all the confidence and bravery her small body can manage, she calls in a voice steadfast enough to make her proud, “My name is Haruno Sakura. I am from Konohagakure, the Village Hidden in the Leaves.” A deep breath. “I want to be a doctor.” 

Within the blink of an eye the figure is gone. There’s the sound of fabric rustling behind the pillars lining the hallway beside her, but when she turns to follow the noise, he’s moved out of her sight.

Then he speaks. “You bang on my front door,” he says, his voice echoing all around her, deep and calm yet with a subtle, threatening edge that stiffens her spine, “because you want to daub chicken blood on peasants.”

This irritates her. “Don’t mistake me for a witch,” Sakura replies, indignant. “Everyone out there already does.”

Another rustle of fabric from beyond the pillars, this time on the second floor. 

“I believe in science,” she says, nerves causing her to take a hesitant step backward. “But I need to know more. I’ve exhausted all my other options, and all the stories say the man who lives here has secret knowledge unknown to the world.”

“I do not get many visitors,” a soft voice says from directly behind her. 

It takes everything within her not to show her shock—how was he able to sneak up on her so quietly, so stealthily? Indeed she feels his looming presence at her back, his words spoken into her ear so she could feel his warm breath against her skin. 

Sakura remains still, staring straight ahead as he continues in that deceptively soft tone, “What have you to trade for my knowledge, Haruno Sakura of Konohagakure?”

Finally she’s had enough. Sakura’s eyes narrow and she steps away from him with confidence. Turning to face him now, she lifts her head and says, “Perhaps I could help you relearn some manners. I’ve crossed the threshold of your home and you haven’t offered me a drink or even to take my coat.”

All this said while Sakura gazes upon the face of the most handsome man she’s ever seen. With hair so black it appears almost blue and eyes the color of onyx, he’s the very epitome of darkness and the worst of nightmares. He stands a full head taller than her, his broad shoulders made even broader by the heavy black cloak he dons. Above the cloak’s high collar and peeking from strands of black hair she sees his ears, elongated and pointed. A vampire, through and through.

Sakura refuses to be cowed by the sheer intimidation his very aura exudes. She stands proud, meeting his gaze fearlessly, and takes great joy in the small flicker of surprise that flashes in his dark eyes. 

Those eyes narrow to slits. “And what if I took a drink from you?” he asks fiercely, fangs gleaming in the candlelight. “Or have you loaded yourself with silver, crosses and garlic in superstitious fear?”

Sakura taps her index finger against her lips, thinking. “I might have eaten some roasted garlic earlier,” she admits. “Was that rude? It was all I had left.”

He begins to pace around her in circles, hands laced behind his back. “I’m not interested in superstition,” he snaps, “or assisting some muttering wise woman working tricks of entrails and pine needles.” 

“I want to heal people, with real medicine.” Sakura tries to put all the passion and ardor she feels into her words, desperate. “I want to learn. Will you help me?”

He stops his pacing and stands still in front of her. He tilts his head to the side, examining her as if she were an exotic animal. 

“You are certainly more... unusual than most humans I have met in recent times,” he finally says. “And much less afraid of me.”

Sakura grins. “You only seem a little frightening, truly. Maybe I can teach you to like people again. Or to at least tolerate them.” She pauses, thinking of her journey here. “Or to stop putting them on sticks.” 

He chuckles, husky and low. “I gave that up a long time ago.”

He turns and begins walking away from her, deeper into the castle. Disappointment begins to weigh in her gut, and for a moment she accepts the fact that she’s failed, but then he gestures with his hand for her to follow.

Sakura hurries to join him, all previous doubts melting away. 

“Where is the Village Hidden in the Leaves?” he asks inquisitively. 

Fresh courage flows through her in waves. “You don’t seem to travel much,” she teases.

He shoots her an amused look. “I can travel. This entire structure is a traveling machine.”

This little piece of knowledge he’s shared with her thrills her to no end. A traveling machine?

“But you don’t travel, do you, ...?” She trails off, raising her brows at him. 

“My name is Uchiha Sasuke. You may call me Sasuke. And no, I don’t travel.”

Sakura nods, pleased to finally have a name for this centuries-old vampire that is mysterious as can be. She can’t wait to know him better. Can’t wait to see what he has to show her. She’s been waiting for this moment for years.

“Well, maybe you should. The world is changing, Sasuke.” She meets his gaze, smiling. “Travel, like people do. You might even like it.”

Sasuke lifts a brow. She continues to look at him expectantly, and he eventually turns away.

Clearing his throat, he says with a hint of disgust in his tone, “I’ve known you for all of two minutes, and you offer for me to walk the earth like an ordinary peasant while I give you the knowledge of immortals.” He sweeps a hand before him, and a pair of doors swing open in response. “The true science.”

Sakura walks past the doors and into the room. Her mouth parts as she turns in a slow circle, taking in the room easily five stories high with books lining every wall and all sorts of golden contraptions unknown to her filling its center. Most of them move on their own, powered by some source she’s starving to know more about. Glass beakers are organized neatly on a wooden table to her right, some empty and some filled with gurgling golden liquid. To her left she’s shocked to see what appears to be a glass ball filled with lightning, the white light zapping around inside.

There’s no word grand enough to describe what she’s feeling. Awe, reverence, astonishment—all too cheap to put her experience into words. She is quite literally viewing the future right now, and she nearly forgets how to speak as a result.

Sakura finally twists around to find Sasuke standing to the side, watching her with an expression she can’t place. She’s too wonderfully dazed to care. 

“You realize,” she says, nearly vibrating with excitement, “that those humans won’t be peasants anymore if you teach them. If you show them what you’ve shown me.” She walks toward him, hands splayed before her. “And they won’t live such short, scared lives if they have real medicine.”

“Why should I do that?” he questions, genuinely curious. 

“To make the world better,” Sakura breathes, clasping her hands to her chest. “Start with me.” She gives him her brightest, widest smile, full of optimism and promises for the future. Oh, the changes they’ll set in motion. “And I’ll start with you, Sasuke.”

Sasuke stares down at her, quiet. She sees loneliness flash in those black, endless eyes, and wonders when the last time was that someone—vampire, human, anyone—treated him as something other than the monster he’s painted himself to be. She wonders how long it’s been since someone smiled at him; wonders how desolate indeed it must’ve been in this great, massive castle, alone for so many years. 

Then, finally, like the sun breaking over the horizon for the first time in centuries, showering light over a land of eternal darkness, she sees it: hope. Hope, newfound and unpolished, but there nonetheless. His eyes nearly glow with it, and he gives her a small, barely-there smile in return.

“Very well,” Sasuke says, almost in disbelief, as if he can’t quite come to terms with how she managed to persuade him but satisfied with their agreement regardless. He bows deeply, arm outstretched, gesturing to the wealth of knowledge surrounding them. “I think I might like you, Haruno Sakura of Konohagakure.”

Sakura beams.

For the future is theirs, and she cannot wait to discover all it has to offer.

[lovesickslasherapples]

hey may I request the slasher bois with an s/o who is a night owl who loves the darkness and can actually see in the dark thanks ❤

Sure! I’m a night owl myself 😅

So this should be interesting

((Okay edit...I’m so sorry I didn’t view it correctly after I finished writing it I had re read the ask and I was like 👀🤦‍♀️)) ((I hope you like this! Then again super sorry I’ll re write what you asked for and tag you on there))

Basically how I wrote reader was they were used to it kinda like they already been a night owl since young and got used to the darkness.

So sorry for that I still hope you enjoy!

Michael Myers

All the lights were on in the house for what reason no one knows but that didn’t seem to matter at the moment as the two of you basically devoured one another on the couch. Michael on top running his hand down your thigh as you two continued to kiss one another.

He gave a hard squeeze to your ass causing you to squeak. He smirked at your reaction something about it drove him nuts. Him having full power over you made him feel powerful and he loved it!

He wanted to hear you scream out his name as come undone by him. Just the thought had him really going. His hand thraveled to the waist band of your pants only to stop as the lights went out.

Michael grunted. How dare the lights just ruin his fun and right when the good parts were about to begin. Now it was pitch black not a single source of light to be seen. He doubted you could see as there was nothing happening but he missed the smirk on your face as you could clearly see him.

“Aweeee..don’t tell me we’re finished now Mikey~”He looked at you wide eyed till he glared hearing that nickname. He growled felt you over not sure how you could see him. You smirked pushing him down on the couch straddling him. Michael didn’t like this new side of you or better yet the dominance you had over him.

Even though he couldn’t see you-you could see him and if looks could kill you’d be dead by now.

The darkness never fails you.

Jason voorhees

It had been a normal day in the cabin lanterns lighting up the house in different corners of the cabin. You smiled as you cuddled up to Jason as y’all enjoyed reading a historical book. “You know this actually happened in real life!”

Jason looked at you before nodding he knew about the Alamo as his mom always educated him about the wars and other things that happened back then. You reminded him of this momma so sweet and kind never judging him for his looks or the fact that he murders teenagers that come around.

The winds started to pick up and blow the tiny fire that was in the little tube only source of keeping it alive. You shivered as Jason put his arm around you protectively and to keep you from getting cold. Jason himself was a bit cold but the jacket brought some warmth.

As the winds blew harder the lanterns started to go out one by one like in a horror film. Jason tightened his arm around you before you spoke up. “Jay..I need to turn the laterns back on”You said as Jason shook his head not sure if you even saw it. You chuckled before reassuring him you’d be fine plus you knew the cabin like Jason knew the camp grounds and woods.

As you got up you head towards some of the laterns turning only a few of them on bring some light source as you heard a thund behind you. You turned around only to see Jason on the floor with a knocked down machete and a few trinkets that were on shelves.

You laughed to yourself before helpping him up.

“I said I’d be okay..I can see you know”You said crossing your arms. Jason tilted his head not sure how someone can see in pitch blackness but wasn’t gonna question you. He believes you.

Freddy Kruger

You sighed coming home and face planting on the couch throwing your purse in the process on the floor. You sighed as today had been stressful at you work today. A few rude comstumers and then your co worker just plain messing with you for who knows what.

Today just wasn’t your day.

You didn’t feel your self falling into the bliss of sleep as it was then plitch black and at the moment you didn’t care it was sort of peaceful. Nothing to bother you or so you thought..

Then there was a sudden laugher “well we’ll well what do we have here..”He said in this very low demonic voice. You looked around and it was as if you just woken up but you were in a boiler room filed with pipes.

“Hello?”You said as you looked around in confusion it wasn’t exactly dark but it was more or less dem. You looked around for the owner of that voice only to see shadows go by. “Hahahahahaha!!”

The voice laugh as you turned to you right to see a man in the shadows he was wearing a stripped sweater with long brownish pants with a gloved filled with knives. His hat tipped slightly his skin burned.

“Why are you standing in the shadows?”You said as he sorta of froze before smriking and appeared right in front of you. “Good eye there sweat cheeks~”

Billy Loomis (Ghostface)

Nothing better than watching a scary movie right? Wrong.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

“Uhmm..imma have to go with Scream..the first one”

The caller on the other end laughed agreeing it was a great movie. “Let’s play a game..”

You smiled as you sat down on the couch “What game?”You asked as the twirled your hand with the phone wire. The caller laughed before saying it was a horror movie quiz.

“Quiz huh?”

“What? I thought you liked horror movies”

“I do..I do”you said smiling waiting for the game to begin looking out the window as it was pitch black out there. You couldn’t help but notice that a man or shadow with a white mask like ghostface was outside moving around circleing your house.

“That wouldn’t happen to be you outside?”You said knowing horror movies all too well to be fooled. The caller froze. Not expecting you to notice him..he was ghostface the most stealthy.

“What?”

You laughed “I saw you..”

Billy smirked this was going to be interesting.

Bubba sawyer

Bubba was doing the regular helping draytom doing chores as Chop Top kept you company. “Y-Yea did ya hear that song they play on the r-radio today”He said as you knew what they were talking about. Stretch.

She was one of the radio people that work at the radio station. As much as you tried not to get jealous you just couldn’t help but feel that way. Bubba always had show his affection towards you but when stretch came on the radio he was lost in another world. “Yea I did”You said swinging your legs as you listened to chop top as he used his hanger to scratch his head.

“Me and Bubba had went to go see er today”He said as he moved around and danced with nubbins. “Oh yea?”You said trying to give your best smile. Chop top nodded before slowly walking towards you.

“You aren’t jealous are ya?”He said getting a little too close for comfort. “N-no..why would I be jealous”You said as you crossed your arms. Chop top smiled before jumping around repeating the words. “Your jealous.”

You rolled your eyes and couldn’t help but notice bubba staring at the radio. This made you frown. You sighed before jumping down from your high point and taking a walk threw the tunnels. This place sorta creeped you out but luckily the Christmas lights kept the place lit up. Or so you thought.

All of a sudden the lights flickered before completely shutting off. You looked around before shrugging and continued forward. The darkness was no match for you tbh...you could see just fine and the fact that the darkness kept you calm.

As you continued walking you heard worried squeals coming from behind you. You knew those squeals belonged to Bubba. “Bubba?”You questioned stopping in your tracks as you heard some bones falling down as bubba tried to find you in He darkness. You sighed and walked towards him “Hey..”You said grabbing his arm as he hurried turned around embracing you in a hug.

Bubba made sad sounds of which almost sounded like an apology. “You don’t need to be sorry Bubs..”you said running your hands threw his hair.

All of a sudden the lights finally came back on a reliefs sigh came from bubba. “I would have been okay..I could see”You said smiling as bubba did that cute head tilt his tongue slightly coming out. “Besides..I thought you would have still been listening to Stretch...”You said as bubba looked at the You confused.

“The lady on the radio”You said plainly but sadly.

Bubba rapidly shook his head making a few sounds as he hugged you before making a heart shape with his hands and pointing to you. He didn’t get it much but he knew what you meant. He couldn’t love anyone else but you. You smiled and kissed his cheek “Thank you bubba..I love you too.”

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas and you had been working all day doing chores around the house and out in yard. Though these chores were intrupped by loud thunder and a few bright strikes of lightning. Luda Mae had already called y’all inside not wanting y’all to catch a cold.

Thunder storms were rare here..since it was always hot!!

Even though it was raining Luda Mae still passed out some cold Sweet iced tea. “Here ya go..drink up”She said as she handed everyone a glass. Monty and Hoyt were complaining about how chores didn’t get done but that didn’t last long before Luda Mae got on to them about the storm.

“It’s rainin outside! Now would boys hush!”She yelled in her country accent and not seconds later the power went out. “Great..”Said Monty as he looked around only to see nothing but darkness.

Everyone was looking around not knowing what to day but that wasn’t a problem for you though. “I’ll go turn the power back on”you said as everyone turned to your voice. “It’s pitch black..how in the heavens can you see”Luda Mae said as you shrugged “I’m just used to it”You said as you heard a sigh.

“Fine..but thomas goes with you I don’t want you running into things in the basement”She said as you nodded even though she couldn’t see you. “I think I should go too”Said Monty moving his wheel chair forward running over Hoyt’s foot. “Ow!! Dammit Monty!!”He Yelled as he dropped the glass cup shattering it.

“Hoyt!!”Luda Mae Yelled as she heard the glass shattered. You looked back before going into the kitchen to get the broom.

You swept up all the glass as everyone argued and threw it away as well as grabbing Thomas’s hand taking him with you to the basement. Tbh you don’t know why she had him go down there with you..he couldn’t see either.

Well you weren’t complaining..it was scary down here anyways. Once you found the breaker you flipped a few switches and the boom! The power was back on.

Thomas looked at you and you smiled at him “What?”You said as Thomas just shook his head. You chuckled before taking his hand again and taking him upstairs. Thomas had to admit he was a bit surprised you could in the darkness. The whole house was dark and yet you were the only one who could see now that impressed him..made him fall for you even more.

“Where’s the damn glass?!”Yelled Luda Mae with her hands on her hips. “I don’t know! It just vanished!”Yelled Hoyt throwing his hands in fustration. They kept agruing before hearing both yours and Thomas’s foot steps.

“Don’t worry I cleaned it”You said as everyone fell silent. “You couldn’t see in pitch black..”said Hoyt not believing it. You nodded your head as you told him to look in the trash. He tipped his hat before going to go take a look.

“Well I’d been damned”he said as he came back now seeing evidence since to him seeing is believing. Thomas Hugged you from behind as you smiled and leaned back into him. “Get a room”Said Hoyt as monty also commented only for them to get shushed by Luda Mae.

Chucky

It was a normal day in your apartment fixing some lunch for yourself and you sisters kid that you just so happended to be watching for her as she went out.

“You almost done!”Yelled Lucy as she held her good guy doll close to her watching the good guy commercial. You sighed and rolled your eyes “Yeeesss”You said trying not to get annoyed you didn’t mind watching for you sister but her child was a hand full.

As you cut the sandwich’s in half you made your way to Lucy who was sitting on the couch with her pink skirt and white shirt with a little cardigan. “Finally!”She says as he puts her good guy down and grabs the plate.

You watched as she ate before deciding to take a bit out of yours. “Hi I’m chucky! Wanna play?”

This caused you to stop as her good guy doll spoke out of nowhere. “Do they always do that?”You asked as Lucy looked at you . “Do what?”She said as she finished her first sandwich half. “Talk..out of nowhere”You said taking a bit out of your sandwich.

Lucy shrugged “I guess”She said as you furrowed you eyebrows staring at the doll. “Don’t stare! It’s not nice to stare! He doesn’t like it.”She yelled grabbing her good guy doll making a pouty face. “Who doesn’t like it?”

“Chucky”She said as she put the doll close to her ear acting as if he was talking to her. She then pulled him away saying that wasn’t nice and that’s a mean word to say. “Did chucky day something?” You asked as she looked at you.

“He said to keep your fucking mouth shut if you know what’s good for you”

“Lucy! That’s not nice!”

“I didn’t say it! Chucky did!”she said making you look at the doll. He was smiling having this creepy look to him. You sigh before taking Lucy to bed. As you tucked her in she held onto her good guy doll tightly telling him good night making you frown and question her.

As you left leaving the door open just a crack you walked down the hall that was nothing but complete darkness. You couldn’t help but feel that your being watched and hear little foot steps. You turn around to see nothing there as your eyes adjust to the darkness. “Lucy?” You said as you heard nothing and decided to speed walk where you see light in the living room.

All of a sudden you could hear running foot steps coming from behind you making stop for an unknown reason. “AAAAAAAAH”

You screamed as you saw Lucy’s good guy doll running straight towards you with a knife. “Get...AWAY!”You Yelled as you kicked him sending him flying.

“What the hell?!”he yelled as he didn’t expect you to see him. Sure you heard him but see him no..

“Damn..didn’t expect that”He said as you had already ran and turned on the lights facing him.

“The names chucky...but lady’s call me Charles”He said smirking. You stood there not knowing what to say. He snorted “what’s wrong..cat got your tongue”He teased.

It was true..cat really did have your tongue but at the moment you were lucky to be alive!

Slasherapples

[askthiscpblog]

Showdown: The King vs The Jack

After months of planning and hiding, everything is ready.

As viewers of the red room came flooding in eager to watch what's believed to be the grand finale of the infamous Slaughter Show. The Cutthroat sits on an old crate withered from rot and mildew that didn't appear to be able to hold his weight.

His temporary partner waited for his command to open the seal to the room that contains his attacker from a decade ago. The monster's been healing wounds from a wolfman and a stab wound he self-inflected to save his attacker from being a happy meal to his partner.

In about 5 minutes the door will open and the Cutthroat will finally have his revenge. Even though he wanted this fight to start yesterday, he's also an entertainer. His audience has been eager for this day almost as much as he has. There are no heroes in this grand finale. Only two monsters in a cage digging their metallic fangs into each other. He's not even sure if he can win after seeing him duke it out with a wolfman. It makes no difference; only one will survive and there will be one less killer in the world.

Thirty seconds left before the grand show. The Cutthroat kept fiddling with the knife in his hand, feeling the weight of it, eyes glancing up to the door every few seconds. The one thing he has trained for the past ten years is finally about to happen. Whispering to himself, “Five…..four…..three….two-” the door flies open with a loud crack like thunder as it hits the wall. Inside the room is only darkness.  

The smiling pasty man stood at the once sealed door, ears ringing from the sound of his blood pumping through his veins. On one hand, a knife and in the other a piece of paper was a notice that the final show's today. The vein on his head pulsed, his body ready to go after his mysterious capture. Although he was at a large disadvantage when he noticed there was only one way out. That means an ambush could happen once he left, and there was nowhere to hide in the room but a mattress and a latrine bucket. There were no other shadows with the lightbulb in the middle still on.

“Hmmm...oh! Now that's an idea.” The man turned to the light, closing the door behind him. Looking at it with his ever unblinking stare, he takes an empty bucket that was in the corner and swings it at the bulb as hard as he can. A semi-loud pop rings in the room as glass shatters to the floor. The light vanished in an instant to a void of black. He then hid. Ready to pounce. His fang was ever ready to taste the crimson water of his prey. Then the door swung open slamming into the wall like an angry beast and outside was a faint light. 

The Cutthroat raises an eyebrow at the blackened room knowing full well that a light should be on, but then again he did supply his opponent a weapon. His vanquishing of the light is not that hard to believe. He hops off the box, landing on the ground without a speck of dust out of place. The rotten cube he was sitting on, yet, finally gives in and crumbles, releasing the rusted scaffolding onto the ground. He looks back and sighs. “Smooth.” He grumbled to himself. Approaching the doorway with a survival knife at hand, ready to draw first blood. 

As he enters the threshold, he swings the blade to his right to strike his opponent at once. It worked! If his opponent was there. That’s when something large and heavy hits the Cutthroat and pushes him back out the door onto his ass. 

“Shit!” He screams, seeing a mattress is coming down on him fast. 

“You looked like you’re overworked. I think you need to head to bed!” A voice called from the other end.

The Cutthroat rolled back avoiding the mattress and hopped back to his feet, but was knocked right back down. He lost the grip of his blade as a white blur charged right into his abdomen knocking the breath out of him. Then there was a sharp sting at his side, white-hot pain, and the smell of iron. Out of reflex he grabs his attacker's jacket, follows his momentum, falls onto his back, and throws him backward over his head using his legs to kick him further. His opponent was stunned for a moment and that gave him enough time to melt into the shadows to regain his breath. 

Everything was quiet. The killer gets back to his feet and looks around taking in the surrounding area. It looks like an abandoned warehouse, the walls of the building covered in what he believes a black foam. He's seen this in one of his housemates' rooms; it was meant to absorb sound. The killer’s smile grew wider, liking that his so-called host was nice enough to make sure that there will be nothing to worry about. No one coming snooping around from the racket they are making made everything more fun. He holds up his blade seeing it covered in blood. His host's blood.

“You know?! With all the big talk you were doing months ago I thought this would have been fun, but I guess I’m just too good! No wonder why you wanted me as a guest star! Your show must be shit!” The killer calls out hoping to get a response, but nothing. He huffed and started the search for his wounded prey.

In the shadows, Cutthroat slumps behind an old crate putting pressure on his new wound. He's surprised at how fast the situation turned but was a bit pleased. He's worried that this would have been a bland fight and he would come out on top. His train of thought cut short by his attacker yelling for him. A smile forms behind the mask now knowing what he's up against. He gets back up and inches his way to a spot that will give him the best flanking position. Picking up one of the many knives that's hidden in the old building, he gets into position readying his new blade in hand, waiting for the right time to strike. This may not be good for his viewers, but he needs this surprise counter attack if he wants to get a leg up on his opponent. 

As he feels the bloodlust of his prey getting near it reminded him of that dreaded day. He started to look back on what made him who he is today but shook that off. The first hint of anxiety started to bubble in the back of his head. After a minute of calming himself down, he almost missed the glint of sharp metal coming for his head. Ducking as it glanced his head, the Cutthroat delivers a counter-attack to his opponent with a cut to the stomach. It landed but was too shallow to do any real harm. The smiling man hops back, feeling the blade graze him, and now has a good view of his abductor. 

Before he was a man wearing all black. Long-sleeved zipped up hoodie with the hood up, black jeans tucked in a dark brown pair of combat boots. His hands have fingerless gloves with his pale fingers revealed. It would be hard to see someone like that in a dark room if it weren't for the pure white mask on his face. That mask had a black smile and joyful eye holes that reveal his dark green eyes that seemed familiar to the pale killer. 

“Not bad Jeff. That’s twice you got me off guard, but I guess that my fault.” The masked man speaks to him in a nonchalant tone. 

The killer that is now known as Jeff replies with a cackle. “Well, that’s what happens when you go against a pro dickweed.” 

The Cutthroat scoffs. “Pro?” He looks at Jeff’s chest not daring to meet his eyes. 

“Most of your kills are stuck in beds. If you’re a pro then I’m an Olympic…..” within mid-sentence his left wrist shifted with a knife sliding out of the sleeve and in rapid motion, he threw it at Jeff’s face. The killer’s eyes widen to the sudden attack and take a quick sidestep. When he looked back to the masked man he was right on top of him. Cutthroat strikes at Jeff’s chest with an underhand side stab as he finishes his sentence in a low raspy voice, “.... Athlete.” 

Jeff was able to adjust his body right before the blade entered his body. It missed his heart by the width of a few strands of his unwashed hair. Jeff wrenched in pain and went to retaliate with a similar blow, but the Cutthroat retreats. Getting into a basic knife fighting stance, he cursed under his breath because he knew he missed. Jeff on the other hand got a look of anger in his unblinking blue eyes, but his everlasting smile grew larger. 

“IT’S ABOUT TIME I GET TO HAVE FUN!” He bellows, the blood pouring from his fresh wound. 

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

At the Slenderman’s manor, a boy in a green outfit sat drinking a large soda cup in a dark room with a monitor lighting up his face. He was scanning the deep web looking for any leads of the enemy or what happened to his housemate Jeff. He was more focused on the second part. Mumbling to himself as he runs through all the sites. “Junk, Junk, Junk, Save, Junk, junk……”

A knock came from the other side of his door. Before he had a chance to answer, it opens. Letting light pour inside the blackened room a woman in light blue nightgown stands at the threshold. Her raven black hair shines from the light. Her jet black eyes scan the room as she enters. 

“Anything yet Ben?” The woman asks the boy. 

He responded, “Noooope. Nothing. I personally say call off the search and say he is dead, also Jane wait till I say you can come in. It’s rude.” 

Sighing, the woman continues, “I would love to do the same too, but if he was dead then the boss would have known, also don’t give me that crap. You and the clown love intruding everyone’s rooms.” 

Ben looks at her and smiles then continues what he is doing. “You know. It’s not like Zel to keep prisoners, especially this long. Not to mention putting up with his ass.” He says a little puzzled. Jane nods agreeing with him. 

“Then who would want to kidnap the fuck”? she asked, more to herself.

“You”. Ben replied, knowing her relationship with Jeff it slipped off the tongue.

“Very funny, but let’s be serious. Who would want to take him? Ya I would, but not like anyone else has a bone to pick with…...hmm.” Jane had an unsure look from her statement as if she was questioning what she said. Her face tightens as she spaced out in thought. 

Ben watched her, raising an eyebrow to her spacing out. “Earth to Jane. Are you there? What are you thinking?” The woman blinked a few times and shook her head then looked at the boy in green. Finally replying. 

“....Lookup a red room called the Slaughter Show. Hopefully, he hasn’t changed it.”

Ben raised an eyebrow to the request. “You do know red rooms aren’t real. Right? It’s nearly impossible to do live streaming in the deep….and who is he?” He replied wondering what she was talking about. 

“Just do it!” She snapped at him. A worried look washes over her face. Ben rolls his eyes and does his search. It took about 5 mins, but lo and behold there it was. Sight with the title with blood font called the Slaughter Show. 

“Ok. How do you know this existed?” He asked, trying to get in the chat room with the live video feed. Jane bites her lower lip to the question. Not sure if she should say. It was like this for 30 seconds until she opened her mouth. 

“Well-" she started to speak but was cut off as the screen on the monitor changed showing a chat room with several live video feeds. Ben goes to click on one and becomes a full screen. It shows what seems to be the inside of a warehouse, filled with random large boxes scattered all about, some withered and others rotting of mildew. Two figures standing at each other one in a black hoodie with a white smiling mask that reveals piercing green eyes behind it. And the one in a bloodstained white hoodie with black greasy hair, a pure white scared face with a carved smile and unblinking glare with blue eyes.

“Oh look at that. It's Jeff…..why is Jeff in a red room?” Ben asked, then looked at Jane. She has a look of hate on her face, but with her eyes full of grief she utters out a single word in a hushed tone.

"Jace….” 

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

The two co-star killers standoff with one other, each blade coated in the red liquid of life. Not moving until the other does. The tenseness of the air thickens as seconds feel like days that lead to eternity. Both knowing that one will die tonight and the winner will walk away.

Finally, the smiling killer known as Jeff goes charging in for his opponent. He swings haymakers at him, not aiming anywhere, knowing it will land on his target. So long it connects, he doesn't care. 

The other man sidesteps the attack and goes for a stab to counter-attack, but Jeff slammed his right foot on the ground, swinging his left fist at the masked man, socking him dead in the face. The impact sends him stumbling back. A loud yelp comes from Jeff, screaming, “The fuck is that thing made of!?”

Regaining his footing, the man who calls himself Cutthroat rebounds at Jeff soon after, striking at his neck. Out of pure reflex, he hops back avoiding the attack by a few inches. Seeing an opportunity the killer Jeff slices at Cutthroat's hand. Blood spilled to the floor and he lost his grip on the knife from the sudden pain. Jeff then followed his attack by stomping down on his opponent’s foot and stabs into his left shoulder. A high pitched shrill manifested behind the smiling mask. Cutthroat tried to back away, but it was in vain. The blade exists the wound, leaving a hole as blood followed out of it and he went to stab again. Over years of honing his reflex's Cutthroat catches the arm with both his hands, stopping it. This is where he realized differences in their strengths. Jeff was overpowering him with a single-arm, it getting closer inch by agonizing inch. Jeff was staring into his opponent’s eyes, but they didn't gaze back at his. 

“Looks like we got to do it the old fashion way.” He whispered to himself as his left arm strikes like a viper at the man’s throat. Crushing the windpipe from his powerful grip, he held onto the man. No one ever thinks to protect their throat. Cutthroat was losing more and more space between him and the knife, his strength was depleting. As a last-ditch effort, his right arm lets go, shooting upward striking the ball of his palm right under Jeff’s nose. A jolt of pain goes through the killer’s nose and to his face reels back out of natural reaction. Cutthroat stumbles backward gasping for air that burns in his oxygen-deprived lungs. 

Fighting through the pain Jeff glared at him, but everything was blurry. The darkness of the building made it worse. All he can do is observe the gasping getting further away from him. He tries to chase his wounded foe, but ran into an iron column, falling on his ass cursing profanity as he clinched his face.

Cutthroat limped away holding the fresh puncture wound. When he heard Jeff cussing, he takes the opportunity to climb some of the crates until he was sixteen feet off the ground. He lowered himself down onto the large crate, careful to not make any noise when doing so. He also wasn't sure how stable it was, but he first assessed the wound while up there.

'Gah…. no way to stop the bleeding if I keep using my arm. Have I bitten off more than I can chew?' He thought to himself. Then he shakes his head, willing the thought away. 

'No! You didn’t kill all those people just so that you can turn tail and run…' He protested. As he finishes his thought a faint glow catches the corner of his eye. He turns with a sudden, swift movement and saw nothing but black. He takes a deep breath and sighs. 'Must be hallucinating. Not surprising.' Reassuring himself was easy, but it is still finding it hard to regain his confidence in this. Despite the feeling, he plans his next strike. He is no match going head-on, but if he can wear him down then the odds will be in his favor. He pulled back his left sleeve and smirks behind the mask.

Jeff sat on the ground in a painting daze. His nose is sore from the blow he received minutes earlier. The blow was not strong enough to break it but had enough to blind the pale murderer for a brief moment. Sight becoming clearer every passing second he picks himself up off the concrete floor. His breath coming out in huffs infuriated that he's hurt by something so weak in the fight he was winning. Forgetting about the stab wound he received earlier, he looked around the area. 

Despite his fuming anger, he could not shake the feeling that fighting his masked opponent felt familiar. Did they fight in the past? No. That can’t be. Jeff would have remembered that irritation. It felt like how he and Jane would fight. Like a feeling of familiarity when the blades clash, but why is he getting this same feeling from this guy? As he starts to lose himself in thought until something touches Adam’s apple of his throat. He snaps back to reality and his eyes shot down what looks to be a string of web, but thicker. He raised his imaginary eyelids and non-existent eyebrows widen of a shock to the realization that it was not a web, but a wire around his neck. The moment he reacted to it, the wire noose shrieked around his throat and started to lift him in that air. He flailed as a fish caught on a hook unable to free himself. Jeff’s eyes looked up for a brief moment and sees dark green eyes in the dark above.

The longer he was hanging the more he panicked and struggled, which lead the wire to start cutting in him, crushing his windpipe. He tries to get his fingers under the nose, but it’s far too tight. He then tries to grab the line to pull himself up to gain slack. His hand slips realizing it's lubricated. Cutting the wire does not do much because it was piano wire, something a knife can't cut through. Time is ticking by and he feels himself losing consciousness. As a final attempt starts to swing his body toward the creates that held the hangman. 

Cutthroat started to panic at this. Using rail as a pulley made it easier to hold Jeff off the ground, but now it’s backfiring. He has no control over stopping him and his struggling makes it more difficult to host him up anymore. He could drop down with the wire and use the momentum to rise Jeff up higher, but that can backfire in many ways. He was playing out different scenarios he can do within the span of a few seconds in his head. As this was happening, Jeff got enough momentum to crash into the creates. Holding on for a moment, he then pushed off as hard as he can with his legs separating both him and the box. The force shifted the heavy crate making the column of mildew coated cubes too unstable to balance on. The Cutthroat let go of the cable and leaped to another batch of creates that was lower, as his column crumbled to the ground like Jenga blocks. Jeff crashed down onto the hard floor knocking the breath out of him. 

Scrambling to undo the noose, he pulls it off to be able to catch his breath. It was painful, but refreshing as the air fill his lungs was the best thing he felt in a while. This was short-lived as the tower went crashing down near him. Noticing this, Jeff rolled away at the last second as it crashed where he was laying. He starts to get to his feet coughing for air until something gleamed from the dark and struck him. Pak, Pak, pak! 3 throwing knives embedded themselves in him. One in his right craft and two in the gut. Jeff gasped at this, the sudden pain flooding him, but before he could do anything a boot smashed right in his face from a flying kick, knocking Jeff right off his feet again and onto his back. Seizing the advantage, Cutthroat comes in with a curb stomp at Jeff’s head. The Grinning killer rolled out of the way right before the impact, the boot missing his face. Jeff scrambles back to his feet in an instant. Pulling the knives out of him, he armed both his hands with one each, letting the last one fall to the ground at his feet. His opponent's sudden change of tactics threw him off, but now this is how he fights. A good old knife to a knife fight. No more hiding and no more tricks.

Jeff readies himself in a semi sprinting pose. His muscles like compressed springs, set to release at any moment. As for his opposition, he is in a tighter pose, his left arm vertical in front of his chest and holding his knife close, pointing it at Jeff with his right hand.

The tension in the air as high as the two waited for whatever trigger would start the fight. Jeff stares down Cutthrought’s eyes, but no matter how long he looks at them they won't meet his. He suspected that he's informed that anyone who looks in his eyes becomes paralyzed with fear. This goes on for two long minutes until Jeff finally loses patience and sets off his muscles. Lunging himself forward at an inhuman speed, thrusting his right arm forward striking at Cutthroat’s chest. Cutthroat takes a sidestep in a 45-degree angle to his left, dodging the blade’s bite and making a quick stab into Jeff’s stomach. Jeff roared in pain as he took a few steps back. Cutthroat did not give him a chance to gain any ground between them. 

“What's the matter, Jeff? You started out pretty strong, but I guess that's the only way you could kill someone is catching them off guard.” Cutthroat says as he strikes Jeff’s chest. The pale man sides steps, causing it to miss and counterattacks for Cutthroat to dodge it like the one before. Jeff pressed on with another strike with his second blade at his heart. 

“But I know how to make it hurt!” Cutthroat raised his left arm to take the blow as it drove in deep with a quick turn to follow. Cutthroat screams out in agony at the white-hot pain of the wound tearing wider. Slamming the side of his right boot with his left, he kicks Jeff right in the shin. Jeff’s eyes widened in shock. He falls backward from his leg gives out under him. He grabs it as blood pours out of the new stab wound in it. 

“Oh, you got to be shitting me?!” Dumbfounded, he gritted his teeth as he saw the blade protruding from the boot that kicked him. 

“Gah! A bit overkill I admit, but agh! It gives me the leg u-up.” Cutthroat joked in pain as he goes for another kick. Jeff braced himself, his arms over his face taking the blow of the blade tipped boot. He gritted his teeth as it pierced the flesh, he fell on his back from the force. Jeff groaned as he tried to sit up, but crashed back down from Cutthroat’s boot stopping down on his chest. 

“What's the matter, Jeff?! I thought you put up more of a fight!” Cutthroat mocked, stomping down on Jeff’s chest over and over until something gold moved at the corner of his eye. He reacts to it, turning to see what it was and finds nothing. The hairs on the back of his neck stand as he pulls out the forth throwing knife of the six he has in his jacket. He then saw the gold in his peripheral again to his left. 

'Did they find him?' He thought to himself. 

“Better finish the show before it gets canceled,” he mumbled under his breath. He turns to Jeff who is now dragging himself away from him since the Cutthroat had his attention elsewhere. He's heading to a broken crate. With a single motion, the Cutthroat threw the blade at the killer’s back, embedding itself under the left shoulder blade. 

“Fuck!” Jeff yelled, not from pain, but aggravation. The masked man starts to approach his prey to finish the job until something. No. Someone whispers in his right ear, “Hello, Jason.” 

Before Cutthroat could react, a golden string looped around his neck and yanked him back. He couldn't gasp from the shock and pain as it tightened around his airway. Cutthroat’s hands shot up to free himself from the shimmering choke cord. Grasping and digging, but he couldn't find any purchase on the string. He looked all around to find his attacker, finding nothing until he looked up. 

A transparent young-looking man floated above him. He dressed in what looked to be a grey sweater with an open black trench coat over top. His legs and feet covered with black pants and a pair of untied black and white basketball shoes. The man’s head revealed gray skin with eyes and teeth shimmer gold. His hair is black and goes to the nape of his neck with a gray beanie rest on top. His hands covered with black gloves as the golden strings come out of the tips of his fingers. He smiled at Cutthroat once they made eye contact. 

“Took a bit to find you two. If it wasn't for the live feed you were broadcasting I don't think we would ever pick up your trail.” 

Cutthroat’s movement starts to stiffen as his new puppet master pulls on the strings, making sure it was slow and methodical. He tries to reach for his last throwing knife. It was impossible as his arms were now being raised over like an old marionette doll. Fear starts to creep up to the Cutthroat’s mind. Unsure what to do as he tries to break free, desperate to get out of the situation at hand. 

Jeff looks back to see his opposition and sighs with relief, seeing one of his housemates, the Puppeteer, had arrived and caught him like a fly in a spider’s web. The pale man stands up without a sound, limping to a rotten demolished crate to pick up an old scaffolding screw covered in rust. He brandished it in his hands. His smile once again grew as he turned and made his way back to Cutthroat. The walk back was slow, so very slow. Jeff’s mind wondered during this. He imagined how he would kill this man and how he would savor the moment. How he will enjoy it when he breaks his bones and tears out inners. Now standing right before the Cutthroat, he savored watching him struggle. Cutthroat was too wrapped in the fear of being restrained to realize what was going on around him. Jeff without warning swings the hunk of iron. The point of the screw impacted the lift side of the Cutthroat’s mask, causing a crack to ring through the enclosed area. He was knocked right off his feet and the Puppeteer was so busy with the new plaything that he wasn't prepared for the sudden shift in movement. 

“Shit! Jeff! You asshole!” Puppet yelled at the smiling man from above.

The Cutthroat's vision was hazy like hundreds of gnats were flying around him. His mind was to a near blank as he is fading in and out of consciousness. He could hear noises around him. It sounded like people were arguing, but he couldn't make out the words. He lifts his left hand to his mask and feels a new puncture in it with something wet on the outside. Pulling back with care, he looks at it and tries to concentrate on what he was seeing. It was blood. The palm of his gloved hand was covered in fresh blood. His head was spinning on what happened a second ago. He tries to lift himself, but the pain in his head made him drop. He knows if he doesn't do something he will die and that all he has killed will be in vain. He reached for the flare gun he had hoisted in his jacket, making sure the other two couldn't see his movements. Right, when he was about to pull it out the arguing stopped and a voice rings out. It was closer this time where he could make out the words. 

“Oh no, you don’t!” The Strings in his arms pulled and forced Cutthroat to starfish on the ground. His hand was still on the gun, but unable to pull the trigger. 

“Damn it, Jeff! You have any idea what a dumbass you are!?” Puppet cried out in fury to him. 

Jeff waved him off. “Relax. String bean.” He stands over Cutthroat and readies himself to swing the screw leg down on his head. Looking him in the eyes one last time, but is infuriated that they would not meet his. Jeff drops the blunt object and pulls the knife from his back. Limping around and dropping his knees on Cutthroat’s arms, this caused both to wince in pain for different reasons. 

“You know? I'm getting tired of this fake smile of yours. I think it's time I give you a real one.” Jeff said as he rips the mask off revealing another smile. 

“What the fuck?” Jeff whispered in disbelief as he didn't recognize the man’s face. It was almost looking in a reflection. His skin has a natural pale tone. His hair was a clean midnight black and his mouth showed distress, but that’s not what Jeff was looking at. There at the ends of his mouth was a scared smile that reached to his cheekbones. Jeff was silent for a moment, then roared into laughter over the other man. Putting his left hand on his forehead and bend himself back. 

“No wonder why you want me dead so bad! You're just like her! Another person I failed to make beautiful!” Puppet looked at Jeff with an unamused look thinking that the Seedeater without its rag in its head is still prettier than him. The thought was interrupted as he starts to feel the flow of negative energy that was increasing every second. He looks over to see it was coming out of the pined man that he learned was named Jason. The energy was sweet but was slowing turning into a spicy bitter taste. This made the Puppeteer uneasy because both are common from Jeff and Slenderman’s proxy, Masky. 

“Yo Jeff let’s wrap this up and head back. Somethi-“ Puppet started.

“Give me a moment string bean! Let me enjoy the moment.” Jeff interrupted, wanting to savor the moment.  

Jeff leans in front of Jason’s face, inches from one another. Jason’s breathing pattern is gaining speed trying to closes his eyes out of desperation, but to no avail as that too was being controlled. Then the one thing he wanted to avoid at all costs happened. Jason’s eyes locked with Jeff’s.

The smile on Jeff’s face widens even more that it looked as if it would tear his head in half. He finally got what he wanted. Now that his itch satisfied he pulls up the knife to Jason’s face and whispers three simple words, “Go.” 

Jason’s vision was melting away memories from 10 years back into the past, to the fateful day that changed and ruined his life forever. Remembering how those eyes have tortured his body, mind, and soul. How he was held down on his bed as the dark demonic figure with bulging blue eyes cut his mouth open with a sharp rusty knife as slow as he could.

As Jeff utters his second word, “To.” Puppet felt that the flow of energy turned into a torrent as if a floodgate opened. It was intoxicating to the point he felt nauseous. He side glanced at Jeff as he puts the knife on the scared smile. Puppet cries out to him. “Jeff!” 

“Sleep!” Jeff finishes his sentence and as he starts to cut a bright red flash engulfed the dark building. Puppet reared back in pain as the glow touched him from the light source. Jeff's vision goes white from the flair of the light after being in darkness since the start of the fight. He throws his hands up to his face trying to block the light then as if on cue, he's thrown on to his back from a sudden force underneath him. 

“What the?!” Jeff yelled in confusion As Jason sat up and lunged himself onto Jeff. Mounting Jeff as he did to him. Jeff’s eyes started to adjust to the light and what he saw in his blurred vision was Jace’s tear-soaked eyes that were on the face of malus. Jeff thought he had him with his paralyzing glare until he was pistol-whipped right on the bridge of his nose by the empty flair gun in Jason’s hand. Jeff’s head spun and reeled from the pain of the blow. Unsure if what happened was real. Wham! He's hit again, but this time on his left temple. The pain sends his head spinning again with the understanding of what his predicament was.

The gun comes down for another blow, stopped at the midpoint as Jeff grabbed it to keep it back. He could push it back, but this time Jason has more force in his strength that was matching his own. 

“What type of anime bullshit is this?!” Jeff howled in anger, only to be cut off as Jason started to strangle him with his free hand cutting off the windpipe with a monstrous force. Jeff strikes at Jason’s throat with his knife-hand. Jason lets go of the choking man to stop the fatal attack to avoid the fatal blow. Jeff bucks Jason off of him and stagers to get back on his feet as Jason tumbles and recovers in a kneeled position.

Jason stands up with the amazing speed and charges Jeff with his blunt weapon. Jeff goes for a side step, but his injured leg gives out from the sudden movement and the gun collides into his face, reintroducing them. Knocking him off his feet once more and landing on his right side. Jason with deft fingers pulls out another flare from his bloody jacket and starts to reload the gun and aims it point-blank at Jeff. 

The pale killer struggles to get back on his feet as the gun fired. The flair shot far to his right. Jeff looked at the flare and looks back to Jason that his firing arm is yanked away by golden strings. 

“What the hell is up with this guy? He is like a mini-you, Jeff.” The weakened Puppeteer remarked, the blast taking more out of him than he thought. That set Jason off. He screamed like gravel filled banshee and grabbed at the strings, yanking Puppet towards him. Puppet, caught off guard by this action, was a ragdoll. Jason looped around him and pulled the strings tight to the corporeal neck. This didn't concern Puppet at first because he does not breathe. Not until he was being dragged towards the light of the flare. He dismissed the strings that were holding them both and flew back out of panic. Jason loaded the third flare into the gun and fired it at the ghost. Puppet avoided the shot and retreats to a dark corner of the building to recuperate his losses. 

Seeing that the intruder fled he turns back to Jeff to meet eye to eye with only a couple of feet between the two. Jeff slams his blade into the shoulder wound that Jason retrieved earlier. Burning pain ran through Jason’s arm. He screamed out in pain letting go of the gun and lashed out at Jeff. Grabbing onto his hair he brings both his and Jeff’s into one another, headbutting Jeff’s teeth. Before Jeff can retaliate, he repeated the same action two more times before Jeff pulled the knife out of Jason and cuts his hair. Once freed from the assault he roared with rage through bloody lips as he lowered himself to Jason’s chest and tackles him with an explosive impact. Not ready for such a move both Jason and Jeff go flying to the ground. Jeff stabbed his opponent but found that it was difficult as Jason was wrestling him in a tooth and nail for the knife. Jeff socks him on the cheek causing him to screech from the pain of his scar. Jason hooked his thumb into the wound on Jeff’s chest and started to pull. This only made him scream in pure bestial rage as he bites down on Jason’s mutilated shoulder to try to tear a chunk out of the bloody meat. 

Jason shrilled in terror now seeing the monster he saw many years ago has come to reality. He throws his arm over Jeff’s head to prevent it from moving and causing more damage. Unable to shake him off and has a bad arm not able to grip the knife and his good arm holding him in place. Tears flow down his cheeks at a faster rate. He, as he was about to give up, his life flashed before his eyes. It was bizarre. How he watched memories pass by so so fast, but slow at the same time. Seeing all the past experiences shook him. How he fakes his death to his family, becoming a thing he hated and pushing Jane away. He gritted his teeth knowing that he was nothing but a failure made him grasp reality. He lets go of the knife that both he and Jeff were fighting over and grabs Jeff’s face and plunge his thumb into his eye.

Jeff spazzed out of the pain that he never felt before. He bit down harder hitting the bone in his opponent's shoulder. His screams muffled in sickening sharpish sounds. After a minute of bloody struggling, Jason’s good arm lost strength. This gave Jeff the chance to humpback like a cricket. He dropped the knife and held both his hands on to his bleeding eye socket, sitting in his blood that’s pooling around him. Jason took the opportunity to stagger to his feet. Both are now tarnished in each other's blood. He precedes to pick up the screw leg that was used on his walks to Jeff with his stimuli concealed to him. As Jason reaches Jeff he restricts the screw onto his good knee causing a sickening crack. Jeff screamed out from the new sudden pain and realized that Jason is looming over top of him. Jeff was about to lash grab the man not before has stuck in the face be the blunt weapon and knocked on to his back head first to the ground. Jason looked at the crimsoned coated construction scaffolding and tossed it to the side. He lost his balance for a moment and vision going blurry. Knowing he had lost too much blood and will die soon. He can’t help but smile that there will be two fewer killers in this world. He reached into his jacket one last time to pull out his final throwing knife. Jeff could only smile as well. A tear starts to flow down his one good eye. 

“G-good job out there…… You did a number un me.” He coughed. Jason was not expecting a response like that he thought he was knocked out. Jeff continued to speak. “W-Whatever I did to you in the past. I want to let you know. I am sorry and hope you are glad he get your revenge.” Jeff doesn’t know why he’s being sympathetic to him. Maybe this is Jeffry Woods talking to him rather than Jeff the Killer. 

Jason was lost for words. The demon that hunted him for years is speaking to him in the most somber way possible. He thought to himself for a moment. Resisting the urge to kill him outright. He smiled at the killer then finally said, “Thanks for being a part of my grand finally Mr. Woods. You were an amazing guest.” 

Jeff only laughed, coughing up blood. “Thanks for having me. Been a wild ride.” Jeff responded with weak glee.

Jason aims the knife at Jeff’s head. As he was getting ready to strike a voice in his head echoed.

'I have seen enough. Miss Angle if you please.'

Jason tries to react, but like Puppeteer it was too late. A woman with a long sword comes jumping out of the shadows and shoulder checks Jason’s in the chest knocking him back. He tries to retaliate, but she was too fast. Parrying his knife then sidesteps with downward swing chops off Jason’s arm. 

“No, NO, NOOOOO!” He screamed in a painful rage. He clicked his heels and kick into the side of the woman’s side. She hisses as the boot blade sank into her and came out. She gets into a stance with her sword at a 45-degree angle. Jason wobbles back, standing by willpower and stubbornness alone, but it was precarious at best. His vision is going in and out. Not sure how much longer he has left. He goes to take a step towards his opponent. She readies herself but drops her guard only to seeing Jason drops to the ground. Laying in his blood. Tears stream down his face. 

“I-I’m sorry. I’m s-so sorry.” The world around him faded to black. 

The woman walked to Jason’s body. “Now you will be judged,” She said readying her blade to impale him only to stop at a mental command. 

'Not yet. We’re taking him back for questioning.' She looks at the tall man that dons a black suit and red tie and bears the face of a blank canvas. He holds Jeff’s broken body in his arms he turns to walk away not before an inky black cathedral protrudes from his back and snatches Jason’s severed arm from a pestle goth clothed woman.

 'You are not eating that and are in a lot of trouble!' A voice yelled in her head. 

She throws up her arms and yells in disbelief. “I wanted the chicken wing and what did I do!?”