#is it really an AU if your mother was murdered by your dad and then was resurrected as a half-vampire?

[gattaxa]

Kate Bishop & Yelena Belova Vampire!AU

"She looked so pretty like the Devil."

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the butchery of the beloved, the boulder, the bimbo and the brilliant

kinktober, day twenty-five

a/n: ahhh, it's finally time to share the kinktober fic you all helped shape!! it turned out so fucking unhinged and i love it. happy halloween, folks!

polls for this fic: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

summary: “they–… they were right…” the warnings your now deceased friends had given you since the moment you got involved with the frat boy buzzed in your mind, though when they’d light-heartedly called him a psycho, you never in your wildest dreams thought that they would have been correct in their choice of words, “I can’t believe they were right…”

warnings: dark!rafe cameron x innocent!reader, smut, dark content, noncon/dubcon, slasher au, final girl!reader, 00’s slutty horror movie vibes, found family, nonverbal, murder, violence, blood, gore, crying, alcohol consumption, smoking, possessiveness, jealousy, mask kink, kissing, size kink, belly bulge, manhandling, dirty talk, just the tip, pussyjob, oral, spit kink, impact play, pain kink, choking, bondage, dacryphilia, orgasm denial, overstimulation, squirting, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, references to anal/painal

word count: 7400

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masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2024

It all started at a lunch table, as so many friendships do. 

The first one to sit was Hana, the nurturing soul of the group who had been a genius even back then. The next to join was Brian, the blonde bombshell whose smile brightened any room he entered. Then came Oliver, the guy who at twelve years old had stood up to the bully you couldn’t face yourself and swore from that day on he’d do so for each and every one of you till the end of your days. And lastly, there was you, in many ways the glue of the little pack. 

To say that the four of you were thick as thieves didn’t even begin to cover it, as you’d been there for each other in every up and down in each of your lives since adolescence. Even when your mother passed, especially when your mom passed, that’s when you truly knew that they weren’t just your pals, but your family. 

“Oh wow,” you breathed as you gazed out the window to the destination you’d finally reached, “is this really your dad’s cabin?” you glanced over your shoulder at the man behind the wheel, a proud smirk ever on his lips.

“Yep,” Rafe nodded and reached down to put the car in park. 

You’d met him at the beginning of this semester and it hadn’t taken you very long at all to fall embarrassingly and completely head over heels for the guy. 

Though he wasn’t the first boyfriend to grow to be a part of the tight-knit clique, he hadn’t been welcomed with open arms as you remembered Jerome, Brian’s partner, had two years ago. The gentle giant of few words had melted into your dynamic so naturally that none of you remembered any longer a time before him. But it wasn’t like that this time, not with Rafe. For some reason, your friends just couldn’t warm up to the frat guy you loved so dearly. 

As you heard the other car roll to a stop behind you, the vehicle where the four remaining resisted, your fingers dipped down into your pocket and fished out your phone to snap a photo of the luxurious lake house and its breathtaking views, though that’s when you noticed the lack of bars up in the upper corner of the screen.

“Oh, damn it…” you squinted down at your phone, “is there seriously no service out here?” 

“Yeah, sorry I forgot to tell you,” Rafe snatched out the keys, “this place is pretty off-grid, you have to probably walk half an hour or something to get any signal.”

The dry leaves on the forest floor crunched beneath your shoes as you stepped out of the car and tipped your head back to glance up at how high the surrounding pine trees stretched up towards the cloudy sky. 

As Rafe hopped up onto the wide porch and fiddled with a bundle of keys to unlock the place, your gaze kept finding him as you hung back a while and helped your friends unload their car.

“Can you all please promise to play nice this weekend?” you quietly asked them. 

“Yeah,” Oliver huffed, yanking out a heavy duffle bag, “I’ll play nice if he does, which I sincerely doubt since I haven’t yet discovered one kind bone in his body.” 

“Oh, come on,” you defended your beau, “he’s the one who suggested this trip so that you could all finally discover what a sweet guy he actually is,” before you all ascended the short steps and filtered into the abode. 

Not soon after you all crossed the threshold, Rafe’s arms seized your waist and drew you back against him, whispering in your ear that he wanted to give you the grand tour of the house. 

However, when you reached the room that was to belong to the two of you for the rest of the weekend, his ulterior motives for the journey around the cabin became crystal clear. 

At first, when he wrapped his arms around you from behind as you gazed out the tall windows at the foot of the bed, a giggle bubbled in your belly as you felt his desire poke the small of your back. Though it was already during his palm’s swift voyage under the hem of your shirt and up towards your boobs that he let slip what crucial item he’d neglected to pack. 

“You didn’t bring any condoms?” you twisted around to glare at the persistence that still sparkled in his eyes.

“Oh, come on, don’t let that fact spoil our fun,” he pulled you back into his arms, “don’t you want me to dick you down this weekend, huh?” he murmured in your ear.

“Well, I don’t wanna get pregnant,” you slowly pushed him back, “so it’ll just have to be another weekend.”  

But then he seized your hand and brought it down to the palpable tent in his jeans, “babe, come on. Just feel how hard I am. You can’t just leave me like this, not when it’s your fault to begin with.”

Your mouth then fell open as a shy scoff rolled off your tongue, “I literally haven’t done a thing, how is it my fault?”

“Come on, don’t act like a prude,” his grip around your wrist shifted and it slid down to rub your palm against his hardness, “be a good girl and at the very least get down on your knees.”

“No,” you chuckled lightly and pushed yourself off of him enough to stumble closer towards the bedroom’s exit, “if you’re so desperate, then take care of it yourself.” 

Even though winter was creeping ever nearer, each one of you still dared to go down to the lake’s small pier and soak up the mild rays of autumn sun that peeked out behind the clouds. Both Hana and Oliver even gathered enough courage to take a dip in the cool water, though weren’t successful in any of their attempts at talking the rest of you into the same. 

Though when your friends in the water began to splash at one another, Oliver teasingly let some splatter upon Brian as he sat on the edge, eyes closed and face turned up towards the sky as he relaxed back against his boyfriend. 

“Oh my god! Don’t!” he tensely straightened up, his tone startling Jerome enough that his palm that rested on Brian’s waist tightened, “stop! You’re giving me flashbacks to summer camp!” 

As you heard your grinning friend in the lake apologise, you opened your mouth to note, “that’s right, I forgot you went to camp when we were kids.”

“Yeah, it was honestly revolting,” Brian recoiled slightly at the recollection, “mosquitoes, terrible food, even worse people. Had a big old lake just like this one,” he gestured to the surrounding landscape. 

“Actually,” Rafe then spoke up, his voice booming to your ears as he sat directly behind you, his legs slotted on either side of your frame as his chin rested atop your shoulder, “this place used to be a summer camp too back when my dad bought it.”

“Really?” Hana glanced up from the water, their childish game now halted. 

“Yeah, I mean,” Rafe cast a glance over his shoulder at the structures on the bank just behind him, “it had been abandoned and completely deserted for a long time, but a lot of the buildings, the main house and the shed and stuff, they’re the original cabins just renovated.”

“Your dad bought an abandoned camp?” Oliver scrunched up his face, “okay, creepy…”

“Oh, hell no, I’m out,” Brain began to unravel, “babe, if we wake up in the middle of the night to a ghost child standing at the foot of our bed, it’s your job to take care of it,” he glanced over his shoulder at Jerome, “I’m too delicate and pretty to deal with the paranormal, especially if it’s kids,” to which his boyfriend simply hummed in agreement and soothingly let his palm run down his partner’s arm.

“Oh, this place isn’t haunted,” Hana said after she’d swam up to clutch against the side of the pier, “calm down.”

“Well, you don’t know that, it might be,” the blonde man behind you shrugged, “especially with what apparently happened here back in the day…”

“What are you talking about?” you looked back at him. 

“Well, back like forty years ago or something, when this was still a camp, there was this one counsellor who one day just went nuts, like snapped and murdered every single person there,” Rafe told, purposely making his tone more ominous the further into the story he got, “that’s why the place was shut down and abandoned, why no one ever wanted to return it to its former glory. It’s one of the most gruesome unsolved cases in this entire corner of the country.”

“Wait, unsolved?” Brian clutched his imaginary pearls. 

“Yeah, the guy was never caught, supposably never even left these woods…” he then leaned in and attempted to truly spook you all, “at night if you listen closely, you can still hear him sharpening his blade, getting ready to hunt his next prey…”

Hana, assuming that he was only joking, let out a dry laugh to cut the tense silence that had fallen over you all, “okay, very funny, ha-ha.” 

“Yeah,” you gently rubbed your boyfriend’s arm as you tried to shake the tale off of you, “let’s maybe not joke about psychopaths running around a rural area when we actually are in a rural area,” though goosebumps still pricked and tingled every inch of your skin. 

“Wait, how did it go?” your giggle mingled with Oliver’s as you both leaned against the kitchen counter, nearly bumping your foreheads together from how hard you were laughing, “was it…” and you began to hum a faint melody. 

“No because, remember, at the end it went,” your friend cut you off and then made his own attempt, though much more accurate than your own, causing your eyes to promptly light up with recognition before they crinkled together in laughter as he tried to hit the high note at the end. 

Once the woods surrounding the cabin had succumbed to darkness, the group of you all decided to wrap the day up in a bit of merriment, going through Rafe’s father’s liquor stash and turning up the music. 

During your and Oliver’s secluded moment in the kitchen away from the rest, your laughter caused you to sway even closer to one another, your palm naturally planting itself on his chest as your faces nearly touched. 

Though just as the pair of you were doubled over, a figure appeared in the doorway.

“Oh,” your grin continued as you spotted your boyfriend, “hey baby,” though your laughter finally began to fade. 

Staring daggers at the man beside you, Rafe then uttered coldly, “hey,” before his feet carried him straight towards you, seized your waist and twisted you away from your friend and towards himself to capture your lips. 

“Okay, right,” Oliver exhaled as Rafe kept marking his territory, kissing you way more passionately than he needed to, “I’ll just see you guys back in the living room then…”

You tried to tilt away enough to utter your friend a reply, though your boyfriend didn’t allow you, only let you go once Oliver was long gone and Rafe returned to his original plan of cracking open the fridge to get a cold beer for himself. 

Walking back out into the living room while your boyfriend scavenged for a bottle opener, you plopped yourself back down on the couch, on the opposite side to where Brian and Jerome were snuggled up. Next to where the lit fireplace crackled sat Oliver in a chair and not far from his feet on the fuzzy carpet rested Hana, legs crisscrossed as she held up her wine glass to stare through it. 

When Rafe rejoined you all, a freshly glowing cigarette trapped between his lips as he sauntered out of the kitchen, he situated himself right beside you, making space for himself where there hadn’t really been previously. In his hand, he didn’t just balance his own drink, but also a stout glass filled with an amber liquid, one he swiftly handed off to you even though you hadn’t asked for it, yet that had still been the routine of the evening, and after the first one was sloshing on your belly, the others became harder to deny and not accidentally sip absentmindedly, especially when he’d playfully help you along by tilting the glass the remaining distance up towards your lips. 

“Sweetie,” Hana soon leaned closer to utter for your ears only, “don’t you want a glass of water instead?” 

Though your boyfriend beside you unfortunately overheard and grasped his cigarette between two of his longer fingers, a puff of smoke accompanying his words as he answered before you got the chance to, “she’s fine.”

From across the couch, as Hana scooted back to her spot on the carpet, having not caught the quiet interaction, Brian then suggested, “why don’t we play a game or something?” 

“What, like truth or dare?” Hana leaned back against an unoccupied armchair. 

“No, this isn’t a slumber party. Isn’t there like board games here?”

Brian’s glance then drifted to Rafe as he smothered his cigarette in the nearby ashtray and, without warning, pulled you into his lap and caught Oliver’s eye from across the room as he shamelessly let his hands wander across your frame.  

“Uh, yeah. There should be some in the cabinet over there,” Rafe vaguely gestured before his lips began to nip at the side of your neck, making your eyes flutter and only half watched along as Brian then got up to skim through the aforementioned cupboard. 

“Okay,” he glanced through the options, “there are cards, so we could play poker or something,”

“No way,” Oliver swiftly shook his head and shot a glance at Jerome’s bulky form, comfortably slumped on the couch, “I’m not repeating that fiasco again.” 

“Aw,” Brian glanced back at his friend, “but it was so cute seeing my boyfriend fucking demolish you,” and Jerome, the quiet man he was, just let out a grunt in agreement.

“No, pick something else,” Oliver waved a hand. 

“Well, we’ve got monopoly, scrabble, cards against humanity–, uh! There’s clue!” he excitedly picked up the box and spun around, “oh, work! Let’s play that!” 

With his kisses still dancing along your skin, they then suddenly ceased as Rafe announced, “you guys go ahead, I think Y/n is ready for bed.” 

Shooting a concerned glance at how your intoxicated form wobbled slightly as your boyfriend helped you up on your feet, Hana uttered, “oh, are you sure?” 

“She is,” Rafe’s touch clung to you, “aren’t you babe?” 

“Oh, uhm…” you hadn’t really noticed it before, but now that he mentioned it, as if he himself planted the thought in your hazy mind, all of the alcohol had in fact made you pretty sleepy, “yeah, I guess so.” 

“Alright, well then,” Hana’s voice stayed slightly hesitant, “sleep tight.”

“I love you guys,” you blew the group kisses as Rafe helped you over towards the stairs. 

His kisses made you even more dizzy than you already were, so when you stumbled over the threshold into your shared room, you flopped down onto the mattress, though you weren’t quite sure if you’d just fallen or if Rafe had manhandled your intoxicated and pliant frame, giving you a push before his form was atop of yours. 

Though now that you were horizontal and with the weight of a frat boy squishing you further down into the bed, that was when you truly noticed just how much you’d had to drink that evening. 

The room was spinning as Rafe made out with you, his palms raking across your body like a wild storm, squeezing every soft curve he could get his hands on. As one hand disappeared up your skirt, his kisses wandered down and over your throat to the bit of your chest that was exposed in the neckline of your top. Wasting no time at all, he then yanked down the hem, catching one of the cups of your bra as well as he unwrapped your tit like a present. 

As his face was buried in your boobs, surely giving you hickeys from the way that he sucked at your pebbly nipple and the surrounding sensitive skin, a breathless attempt at halting his affections left your lungs, “baby–” 

Though he didn’t take the whimper as you’d intended it and simply continued, “shit, you’re so fucking hot,” he yanked down the other sliver of mesh fabric covering your other boob, “god, these tits are just insane.” 

Weakly, you ran your fingers through his buzzed hair and gasped as you felt his hardness grind into your covered core, “Rafe, I–” 

“Yeah?” his lips began to flutter back up to your own as he let himself rock against you with more intent, “you want this big dick, huh?” 

“No, we can’t, we don’t have a–”

“Oh come on, baby,” he shifted, slipping a hand down under the waistband of your skirt and into your underwear, not hesitating to sweep his fingers through your wetness and bully your little button, “I know you want to…” 

“Stop, that feels too good,” you tried, but couldn’t yank his strong hand away, “you can’t–, I have to get up and brush my teeth.” 

“You know, all my exes let me tap it raw,” he purred in your ear and attempted to guilt you, “why won’t you? Don’t you trust me?” his touch then suddenly disappeared, but only to tug down the zipper on the side of your short skirt.

“Of course I do, I just–”

“Then why won’t you let me make you feel good, huh?” he yanked both your skirt and panties down your legs, so fast it nearly gave you whiplash. Crawling off of your jelly-like form, he stood tall and loomed at the foot of the bed. Wasting no time, he yanked your core closer to the edge before he desperately freed his fat cock. The taps he then offered your glistening cunt, letting you reel in the weight of his length, “doesn’t that feel nice, baby?” he smirked at the way your mouth fell open, “because it sure seems like your little pussy thinks so, just look,” you followed his command and glanced down to spot how his intimidating girth nudged at your weepy petals. 

Even after months of dating, you still hadn’t gotten used to the daunting size of him. 

“Oh, fuck…” your brows knitted together. 

“Just listen to that,” he flicked the bulbous tip through your slick folds with more vigour, causing the melody of your want to echo even louder throughout the bedroom, “you’re so fucking wet. You want it so bad…”

You then felt yourself fade away into the intoxicating sensation, letting him continue to fuck your fold and make your pussy drool even further till your eyes fluttered shut. 

However, it didn’t take very long at all, through all of the hazy motions, before the very tip of him caught your entrance and slipped inside. 

“Rafe!” you gasped, eyes snapping back open as your spine lurched off the mattress just an inch. 

“Fuck,” he let out a loud groan, “sorry, babe. You’re just too soaked, it slipped in,” though didn’t move at all to pull it back out, since it had secretly been completely on purpose, “christ, you’re so tight…”

As he slipped his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side, you pleaded once more, “Rafe…” quietly begging for him to take it out through the conflicting haze as the familiar sensation of him stuffing you full always shut your brain completely off.

“This doesn’t count,” he claimed as he began to move, pumping just the bulbous head of himself in and out of your little hole, “not really. I can fuck you with just the tip, right?” a few of his fingers then lowered to strum your clit and summon a loud moan from deep within your soul, “yeah, that’s what I thought…”

As he removed his fingers from your clit, he then stuffed them in your mouth, muffling your soft whimpers and letting you suck them clean of your juices. As the taste of yourself coated your tongue, your own hands came up to clutch his, holding it near as you soon let your pecks wander across his palm and even down to plant a soft kiss to the gold ring that never left his finger.

“Oh–,” a gasp then left your lungs as he suddenly pushed in a bit more of his length, “Rafe, that’s too deep,” selfishly letting himself feel more of your warmth. 

“No, that’s not too deep,” he began to fuck you properly, making you lose your breath, “you wanna know what is too deep?” a purposefully harsh thrust then buried itself so far inside of you that a tingle of pain joined the pleasure, “that’s too deep,” he then retracted just a tad, though still filled you up completely with each long stroke, “this is just right.” 

“We can’t–,” you foggily tried to shake your head. 

“Yes, we can. Just look how good you’re taking me, baby,” the palm you’d been clutching then escaped your grasp and scooped behind your head to tilt your neck and lock it there, directing your glance down between your bodies and forcing you to spot the faint bulge that appeared at each one of his mind-melting thrusts, “you don’t wanna stop…”

Feeling that all too familiar high begin to fuzz up your periphery, you trembled, “o-oh, fuck…” 

“You feel so fucking good…” he grunted as your pussy began to clench around his fat girth, “just let me use you for a bit, yeah?” 

“I–, I–,” gasps of air expanded your lungs as his pace then thrust you over the edge, “holy shit…” and your cunt helplessly clambered around him. 

In your orgasmic haze, Rafe then abruptly flipped you around for you to lay on your stomach, and you barely managed to process it before you felt the weight of him settle atop of you, smooshing you down into the mattress as he slid back in. 

“Ah!” you yelped at the way he didn’t hold back, “Rafe, it’s too much,” not even bothering to grant you a chance to recover, but simply fucked through your soreness, “I can’t–”

“Oh, shut up, you can take it,” he growled in your ear, his feet hooking your ankles and spreading your shaky legs further for him, “take it like the good little slut you are.”

It was strange how he’d taught your body to love the pain he inflicted. Even if the source was just his god-given gift of a girth, or curse, all depending on your point of view, and not the roughness he occasionally let slip out of the dark depths he tried to hide his jagged sides in for you and you alone.  

“Fuck,” you soon heard him groan as his heavy sack slapped against your cunt at each one of his furious rocks, “I’m gonna cum!” 

“Pull out–,” you managed to mumble into the sheets.

“What?” he kept on pounding your poor pussy. 

“Not inside,” you tilted your head a bit to beg, “please!”

“Oh my god, fine,” he then begrudgingly pulled out and with one hand flipped you back onto your stomach as the other wrapped around his cock and he began to fuck his fist. Pushing himself up onto his knees, he crawled further up your body till his thighs caged you in, denting the mattress on either side of your face. He didn’t even wait for your lips to part before he shoved his dick down your throat, making you gag as he groaned loudly above you, “fuck…” and fed you his load.  

When he soon flopped down on the bed beside you, the both of you catching your breaths, you instinctively gulped down what he’d given you before you curled your frame into his side. 

As he wrapped an arm beneath your head, his glance then flickered down to you as he caught your chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting you up to him before he asked, “did you swallow it?” digging his digit slightly into your skin and making you open your mouth for him, letting him discover the answer him himself, “fuck… that’s my girl…” he groaned before dipping down to kiss you. 

The peck however didn’t carry on for long as his warmth then suddenly disappeared. 

“Where are you going?” you watched as he got up, reaching out your arms to him in a silent plea for cuddles. 

“I’m thirsty,” he zipped his pants back up, though didn’t bother with his shirt, “you just try and fall asleep, I’ll be right back.” 

Flashing him a drowsy smile, “okay,” you then tug the duvet over your form and let your gaze shadow him as he made his way out of the room. 

You thought you hadn’t managed to fall asleep, but evidently, you had as when the door to the room suddenly burst open, you were jolted awake, Rafe as well stirring as he was now settled behind you with an arm draped over your frame. 

As three of your friends rushed to slam the door behind them, Rafe propped himself up and mumbled, “hey, what the fuck–”

But Hana then cut him off, a downright terrified look plastered not only all over her own face, but the rest as well.

“Oliver’s dead,” she uttered through the tears that thickened up her voice. 

Still groggy, you slowly sat up and murmured, “what?”

Snapping her bloodshot eyes to lock with yours, she bellowed, “Oliver is fucking dead!” 

As your gaze flickered over the group in search of any sign that what she claimed wasn’t true, you heard Rafe behind you exhale, “okay, this isn’t funny.”

“Oh shut up, you dick!” Brian shot back, doubled over in the corner, hyperventilating as Jerome kneeled before him, trying to calm him down. 

“Hey, hey,” you gently raised up a hand, “don’t talk to him like that. What the hell do you mean Oliver is dead?”

“I mean that he’s dead as in dead, dead,” Hana explained, her words causing the world to suddenly crumble all around you, “Jerome went outside to get something from the car and found him on the porch, not moving and with his head stuck under the water in the hot tub.” 

With tears now stinging the corners of your eyes, you struggled to suck in a breath of air, “what?”

“It’s that fucking ghost story you told us,” Brian panicked in the corner, “it’s real, isn’t it?” 

“Okay,” Rafe uttered as the both of you leapt out of bed and scrambled to get some clothes on, “let’s all just calm down.”

“We gotta call the police,” Hana said, to which Jerome swiftly pulled out his phone, only to then curse quietly as he discovered what Brian too noticed when he glanced over his shoulder. 

“Fuck, we can’t, there’s no signal!”

Hana then glanced around at everyone, “well then one of us has gotta drive and find some, right?” 

“Hell no,” Brian shuttered, “if there’s some psycho out in these woods, then I’m not staying behind to get murdered. We’re all going.”

So that’s how, after you’d all scurried downstairs and filtered out through the sliding door to the porch, that you saw the truth with your own eyes. 

Even though his head was obscured beneath water, the unmoving corpse of your dear friend still caught your eyes and stopped you in your tracks.

“Oh my god…” you sobbed, your blood running cold. 

But before you could let your feet carry you closer to the scene of the crime, Rafe seized your arm and uttered, “baby, come on,” before pulling you along the last short distance towards the cars, “I’m sorry, but we gotta go.”

Though when you did reach the vehicles and attempted to start them, neither one of them would as they’d seemingly been tampered with, forcing the panicked lot of you all to run back inside. 

“Shit…” Brian clutched onto the back of the couch in the living room for support, “what do we do now?”

“We can’t go on foot, not in the dark through this forest,” Rafe spoke, “so we gotta stay here till morning.”

Glancing around the space, Hana uttered, “then we gotta make this place safe. Lock all the doors and windows, find somewhere to hide.” 

“Yeah, good idea,” your boyfriend nodded before suggesting, “let’s split up, it’ll be faster that way. Y/n with me, we’ll take that side of the house, and the rest of you stay over here.” 

And before anyone could protest, he’d yanked you down a dark hallway.

You nearly stumbled twice as Rafe dragged your shaking visage through the lake house, only stopping once you’d reached a large closet. 

“In here, baby,” he shoved you inside, though began to shut the door before he nuzzled himself in as well. 

“No, what are you doing?” tears streaming down your face, you attempted to stop him. 

Though he only halted his efforts a second, grasping your face as he uttered, “please, just stay here.”

“No, it’s too dangerous,” you clutched onto his dark t-shirt, “you can’t–”

“Babe, I can’t let anything happen to you. I can’t lose you,” he then collided his lips with your own, a sob escaping your lungs as he briefly kissed you, “please, just stay right here, hide, for me.” 

Slowly, you loosened your trembling grip on his shirt and cried, “I love you.” 

“I’ll be right back!” he promised before shutting the closet door and bathing you in darkness. 

You had no idea how much time passed, if it was only a few seconds or hours that you stayed in the dusty and dim abyss of that closet, but then when a loud crash and a shrill scream suddenly found your ears, your shaky hand pushed the door back open.

You’d never in your life been as terrified as you were when you found yourself tip-toeing down that long, dark hallway. Though, as you sneaked past the ajar door to the study, your entire body suddenly froze up at the massacre that met you within. 

Unmoving and slumped over the threshold, there lied Jerome, his face beaten to a pulp, rendering it nearly unrecognisable as blood slowly trickled into the tight curls on the top of his head. 

Past where Hana was lying in the middle of the room, battered and coughing, in the corner you saw as a tall figure, masked by a dark motorcycle helmet, crouched over the still form of Brian and landed the last few blows to claim his life. 

“Please,” Hana’s words were gurgled by blood as the killer slowly straightened back up. Twisting ever so slightly, the assailant plucked out one of the clubs from the gold bag that leaned against one of the tall bookcases, “just let me go,” your last living friend begged as you watched the murderer wrap his long fingers around the handle and take the few steps to where Hana lied, “just let me–” 

As he took a wide swing and hit your friend right in her temple, the loud crack that echoed throughout the cabin made you shutter in terror and let out an uncontrollable scream, causing the killer’s head to snap up to spot you in the dark hallway. 

For a second you both just stood there, frozen and staring at one another, like two deer in headlights. But then, as he began to move, taking his time as he stepped over the bodies littering his path, you stumbled back and collided with the wall directly behind you. 

You tried to run, but even though you managed to slip out the wide glass doors and escape a good distance into the dark forest surrounding the house, the masked man still caught up to you and flung you against a tree. As he had you cornered, you felt him drag the cold tip of the golf club up your right leg and over your shuttering skin, drawing a crimson line of your beloved’s blood across your goosebump-ridden flesh. 

“P-please don’t kill me, please–,” you cried, but just then, the moonlight that streamed through the dense treetops caught in a glint of gold that adorned the hand that clutched the club, a recognizable ring that caused your heart to drop. 

As your eyes then flickered up to the dark helmet, that too seemed oddly familiar now that you truly looked at it. 

In some sick and twisted way, you hoped that the killer had just stolen the jewellery from your boyfriend as a trophy of the night’s conquest and not the horrifying alternative. 

But when you then tried to slip away and the man pushed you back, your hands defensively shot up, though only managed to knock the helmet off his head and let it tumble to the dark forest floor below, unveiling the earth-shattering truth. 

“Oh my god…” you gasped, eyes wide as you now stood face to face with your boyfriend. 

“Shh,” he took a step closer to you, caging you in even further, “calm down, baby. Don’t do anything stupid now.” 

“They–… they were right…” the warnings your now deceased friends had given you since the moment you got involved with the frat boy buzzed in your mind, though when they’d light-heartedly called him a psycho, you never in your wildest dreams thought that they would have been correct in their choice of words, “I can’t believe they were right…”

A low sigh then escaped Rafe’s lungs. 

“You really should have just stayed hidden like I told you to… I didn’t want you to find out this way… it would have been so much simpler if you’d just bought into the story I made up…” 

“You killed my friends…” your chest ached with every painful gasp of air, “how–… how could you?” 

“Oh, honey…” his head tilted slightly as the corners of his lips twitched, “do you really think this is my first time?” 

Staring back at him in horror, you sputtered, “w-why?”

“Because of you,” he uttered as if it was obvious, “it was all for you,” his feet shifted him even closer to you, “they were a bad influence, so this was the only way.”

“They were my family!” 

“They were like a poison, all of them, trying to control you, trying to take you away from me,” he inched in even closer, making you wish the harsh bark that scratched up your spine would simply open up like a portal and let you escape, “I know Hana was trying to get you to break up with me… Oliver always followed you around like a lost puppy, just hoping you’d one day spread your legs for him… and Jerome and Brian? They were just plain annoying,” his hot breath fanned across your skin as he petted the edges of your features with a knuckle of the hand clutching the golf club, “I did it all for you, for us, because I love you… fuck, you have no idea how much I fucking love you, baby…” he uttered before bringing the bud of the improvised weapon down upon the side of your head and knocking you clean out. 

When you came to, the flicking light from a lit fireplace was the only source of light in the dim room you found yourself in. Arms folded up behind your head, a long rope was tangled around them and stretched up to a beam in the ceiling above. Your legs too were tied, keeping your naked frame upright and locked in place in the middle of the room. 

“Fucking finally,” a low voice echoed from the chair across the chamber, causing you to wince as the tone pierced your soul and worsened your splitting headache, “you really took your sweet time waking up.” 

Blinking back at your boyfriend as he leaned back in the seat, pants undone and his hard length tight in his fist, a murmur escaped your lips, “…you knocked me out…”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” he got up and walked towards your suspended form, “but you didn’t give me any other choice.” 

As he slowly neared you, your glossy eyes flickered up to meet his.

“Rafe, please,” you heard your voice break as you tried to keep your tone soft, “you don’t have to do this. Just untie me, I promise I won’t be mad at you.”

“Oh yeah?” a small scoff slipped through his smirk. 

“Yes. I’ll do whatever you want, just please let me go,” you begged, “please don’t hurt me.” 

“Shh, shh,” his palm rose up to stroke your hair before letting it rush down and over the curves of your exposed body, “but you’ve been such a bad girl. I think you deserve a lesson that hurts a little bit,” his palm then slapped your pussy, still soaked and sore from earlier, rendering you to let out a shrill yelp, “it’s okay, you can cry…” he briefly leaned in to kiss your cheek before he shifted, though still staying so close that his nose ghosted along your skin as he made his way around to stand directly behind you, “you look so pretty when you do…”

You then squirmed as he reached down to grasp his cock and nudge at your sensitive entrance, “Rafe, please–, ah!” a cry then left your form as he ruthlessly rammed his way inside, plugging you up so completely that his balls nuzzled against your slick skin. 

“Fuck!” his moan tickled the shell of your ear as he tangled his arms around your torso, “you’re so perfect…” he began to move, finding a selfish pace to wreck you with, “so perfect and all mine…” 

As his thrusts caused your tits to jiggle, one of his wide hands soared up to grasp one while the other one snaked up to wrap around your throat. He then squeezed it fiercely enough that all your noises eventually faded away and he kept you completely quiet for a good moment before his hold slackened and he once again granted you the privilege of gasping for air. 

“This is all you need, just me, only me,” he grunted, “just like this, using your pretty little hole for exactly what it was made for… you were made for me and nobody else… no one…”

His grip then drifted down to dent your hips before he lifted them, raising your bound frame till your tip toes were barely grazing the cold floor. Your back arched slightly as he repeatedly brought your hips back to him, his balls sloppily slapping against your swollen clit each time he manoeuvred your body and treated you like a toy. 

When he then hooked an arm around your front to keep moving your body greedily against him, it granted the other one the grace to roam your frame freely. 

As his fingers found one of your nipples in a harsh pinch, he let out a groan at the way you began to clamper down around his fat girth, “are you gonna cum, baby? Huh?” his palm then slapped your tit, “because it sure fucking feels like you’re close,” before he suddenly retracted completely, slipping out of your drooling cunt and causing a shy whimper to slip from your lips, one he swiftly cut off when he smacked your cheek, “too bad. You’re not allowed to.” 

As you shakily struggled to stay on your unsteady feet, you panted, “Rafe, my legs, I can’t–”

“Oh yeah?” he mockingly pouted at you as he sauntered around to your front, “do they hurt? Are you tired?” and as you offered him a nod, his fingers grasped your chin, “well,” his thumb slowly stretched up to trace your bottom lip, “if you promise that you’ll be a good girl for me, then I’ll give you a little break.”

“Yes, I will,” a tear rolled down your still stinging cheek. 

“You will what?” his palm briefly slapped the side of your face once again before returning to the same hold. 

“I’ll be your good girl, I’ll do whatever you want,” you begged and as he then sank down to his knees, grabbed a pocketknife resting on a nearby table and held up his end of the bargain, slicing through the ropes at your legs and cutting them loose. A new wave of sobs tumbled out of your form, “thank you! Oh, thank you so much!”

Tossing the blade far away before he rose back up, “you’re fucking welcome, baby,” he then caught you off guard as he suddenly plucked your lower half up into his arms. 

“W-wait, I thought you’d give me a break!” your legs trembled in his grasp as he slide you back onto his fat cock. 

“Yeah, your legs were tired, so I’m being nice and giving them a break,” the wet claps of your skin roughly colliding once again filled the dark room, “your pussy doesn’t deserve one yet… unless of course, this is you begging me to fuck your ass…” a wicked wish that he’d been begging you for ever since the very first time he banged you. 

“No! No, not there, please, I’ve never–”

“Oh, I know you haven’t,” he smirked, “that’s what makes it so much more fun…”

“Please, Rafe,” you blinked back at him, “don’t.”

“You told me I could do whatever I want…” he angled his bucks right against that spot that caused your teeth to dig into your lower lip, “you promised to be a good girl for me and just take whatever I give you…” 

“I will,” your eyes couldn’t help but flutter, “just please not that.”

He then let a dollop of his spit splatter directly against your face, “alright, but only because I love you,” before he dipped down to plant a feverish kiss against your lips, “tell me that you love me too.”

“I love you,” you murmured against his mouth. 

“Huh?” one of his hands let go of you and he shifted to balance you with only one, letting the other instead drift down between your forms to bully your puffy pearl, “what was that?”

“I lo–, a-ah!” you suddenly whined as he pressed one of his fingers inside your pussy, not caring in the slightest that you were already completely filled up as he forced his digit in alongside his fat cock. 

“Come on, baby,” he stared down at you, “tell me you love me,” and kept up his ruthless pace as he hooked the finger inside of you, “tell your soulmate just how much you love and adore him, how you want nothing more than to worship him at his feet.” 

“I–, I–, Rafe,” you gasped, feeling as if he was splitting you in half, “it’s too much–”

“No, it’s not too much, it’s exactly right, you can take it, baby.” 

“I can’t–”

“I don’t fucking care,” he continued to fuck you without remorse, slamming his intimidating length so deep inside of you that you nearly couldn’t breathe, “I wanna feel you cum, just like this.”

“Rafe–”

“Do it or I’ll get a lot meaner,” he warned you before he finally got what he wanted. Your squirt drizzled down on the floor as the intensity caused a scream to erupt from your form, “there you go, fuck,” he groaned as he watched your pussy gush around his girth, “that’s it,” before the way your cunt clambered down around him caused him to let go as well, “shit,” and pump you full of his cum. 

Rafe pressed a peck to your forehead before he pulled out of your warmth and you breathlessly glanced down to watch as his hot load began to leak out of your quivering hole. 

“Alright, baby,” he exhaled and then uttered words that caused a shiver to trickle down your spine, “foreplay’s over. I think you’re ready for your punishment now.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[777heavengirl]

spill your guts

sirius black x reader one-shot ! warnings: miscommunication? (apparently, that’s all ik how to write), friends to lovers, mentions of injury, no war AU! word count: 6,730 masterlist a/n: sorry I've been MIA uni is BEATING my ass and i rewrote this like 35 times, enjoy!

“I have this dream that I am hitting my dad with my quidditch bat” Sirius's clammy skin and the breeze that flew in from the window you had slightly cracked open when he awoke hyperventilating, caused goosebumps to crawl up his skin. You stayed quiet at his confession, your eyes trained on his face but his burned holes into your baby blue duvet. “And all he does is scream and cry for help-“

He took a sharp breath, this was one of those rare times when everything rotting inside him tried spilling out. For many years it was just James and Remus, Peter occasionally, but now he found that he couldn’t help but want to spill his guts to you. You stayed quiet as he spoke, scared to say anything that would cause him to shut himself in again.

”And maybe halfway through, I realized that it has more to do with me killing him than it ever did protecting myself.” Sirius never spoke of his father. His mother usually plagued his nightmares and it was the abuse he was more inclined to share.

Not his father's.

”He was really pushing his luck-“ His dry laugh, seemed cruel, but you could see how his fingers fidgeted, playing with a small thread on the edge of his boxers. The need to light a cigarette flashed in his mind. 

You knew the man was dead. You were with Sirius and the rest of the marauders the day he was buried. After everyone else had left the funeral, the brothers stared at the coffin on the altar of the mausoleum the rest of their family rested in. Regulus didn’t speak a word but gripped Sirius’s arm with white-hot knuckles. Sirius put his cigarette out on the shiny, polished wood, one last act of defiance. His brother nodded, almost as if in approval, but not quite, and apparated away with their family house elf soon after. Sirius linked his arm with yours. You didn’t ask how he died, nor did you ask about the brothers' relationship now that both of their abusers were dead and buried. Now that everything between them rotted away.

You never wanted to push the boundary more than he’d let you. Your relationship, if that’s what you could call it, was already precarious as it was.

Tonight had started like many others, Sirius knocking at your door. The flat you shared with Dorcas in front of the one he shared with Peter and Remus. And you answered, you always did.

“you look good tonight-“ You thought the way too small sleeping shorts were the reason he said so, it wasn’t the mismatched socks or the oversized muggle band tee you had stolen from their dorm fifth year. Definitely not the messy, bed-ridden hair. He had only seen your face, the glint in your eyes, and the pull of your smile. That had been enough for him to decide you were the most beautiful creature on the planet. “can I sleep in your bed?” You said yes.

You always said yes.

You didn’t have sex. But you slept together, his fingertips digging into the supple skin of your waist as he slept with his face buried in your neck. You often played with his hair, tracing spirals on his back until he snored softly. You wouldn’t have guessed that tonight would end up with him waking up, in a cold sweat and gasping for breaths, much less confessing his dreams of murdering his already deceased father.

You didn't hold that against him.

You took a hesitant hold of his trembling fingers, he seemed to welcome the touch as he intertwined his fingers with yours.

He pulled you close to him again after he laid back down. The window remained open with the nippy night breeze flowing in, but his skin eventually lost its goosebumps and his grip ultimately loosened, he was soft and warm and moldable now. He melted onto your side and you couldn't help but stare. At his perfect nose and perfect lips, the weight of the world that he held on his shoulders faded away when he slept, even if just for a few hours. 

You reveled in the fact that it was your bed he felt this comfortable in.

You hoped it was only yours.

-

Even the mornings where he had crawled out of your bed and your flat, the ones where you awoke alone and cold, he stayed in your head. He had imprinted himself on your mind, he had made it his home. Sirius Black, the man you were not dating, but the man you shared your bed with, occasionally made breakfast with in between fits of laughter. The man who had declared very loudly, and very drunkenly, that you'd make the perfect girlfriend at a party four months ago, and yet continued to ignore any hint that there might be something else between the two of you. Your bed felt cold the rare nights he didn't knock at your door, at this point your entire apartment called for his presence. Dorcas joked that he was your third roommate.

You always wondered if he had found some muggle girl to woo for the night, sleep in her foreign bed, and disappear in the morning. You wondered if he ever stayed 'til the morning in their beds, if he enjoyed them more than he enjoyed you. If your bed and your embrace weren't enough.

Until there was a knock at your door, the clock marked 1:27 am.

"A long time ago, my great-great-great-great-grandfather took something that did not belong to him," You wondered if this would also become ritual, him baring his heart naked. Baring his family's sins, his sins, to you. As if your divine acceptance would tip the scales, and that it would weigh his heart as pure. Your skin was the one riddled with goosebumps this time, as the cold that seeped through the window nipped at the thin material of your shirt and you duvet stayed discarded at the foot of the bed. You didn't mind it. He blew the smoke of his cig out the open window and turned to look at you again, unapologetically staring into your eyes. "And that is why I kind of look the way I do, 'm part Veela," you wondered if his confessions were a new level of intimacy you had gained access to. 

"As if I couldn't tell," he gave you a crooked smirk, the type he gives you when he's about to make some obscene, dirty joke. He didn't this time though. You visibly saw his shoulders relax when you made a quick quip, ignoring the heavy atrocity of his ancestors. It wasn't him after all, why would you hold it against him? He hummed, reveling secretly in your compliment. Maybe you genuinely did think he was beautiful. Regardless of the tattoos that now littered his body, or the scars of abuse that would never leave him, or even the random bruises that sometimes stained his porcelain skin, from his bike, from Moony's transformations, from everything. Maybe you even saw past the commitment issues, and unspoken words, or the fact that he left you to wake up to an empty bed often.

Maybe, somehow, you were able to look past all of that. All of him.

Sirius knew it was wishful thinking.

-

“Don’t look at me like that Moony,” Sirius said with a groan as he stood at the door, still holding the handle from closing it. Remus glared at him from the top of his cup as he sipped his tea, Sirius really wanted to skip the whole lecture, you woke up early meaning he also had to, and had to make the treacherous journey across the hall. He glanced at the clock on the wall, it glanced 6:30 am back at him. Why was Remus even awake?

“you’re a prat Padfoot-“

”I needed some sleep, it's not like we're-“

“It doesn’t matter, what you’re doing to that poor girl is horrible, if you really can’t sleep drink some tea, go to a physician” Remus turned his back to Sirius, angrily cleaning his cup in the sink, although he couldn’t see him, Sirius knew Remus’s face was twisted into one of disappointment and anger. “you know she loves you, and you use it instead of telling her there will never be anything between you-“

”I love her”

”You’re not in love with her, are you?” He turned the water off, turning around with a glare as Sirius stayed quiet. “She is.”

Sirius didn’t know what he felt for you if he was honest. He loved you, though. He had always loved you. From the days you ran around with the four of them around Hogwarts, when you passed notes in class, when you accompanied him on secret trips to the kitchens, when you helped clean his wounds at Potter Manor the summer he ran away. Sirius has always loved you.

Remus might think that’s worse.

”Stop sleeping with her and having breakfast with her the morning after, Merlin-“ he took a deep breath, his fingers coming up to rub his temples in frustration and the Welsh accent seeped into his words, “What the hell are you thinking Sirius?”

Remus knew he was being tough, but he felt bad. He felt bad about the way your eyes always trailed after the boy, and how you always stared at Sirius’s closed bedroom door when you were over for tea. You needed to be able to move on with your life. It didn’t help you and Dorcas lived right in front of them.

”Alright Moony,” 

“You’ll leave her alone?” Sirius refused to meet the taller boy's eyes.

”I’ll try”

- 

Sirius did not listen to Remus. 

He never did really, but he felt guilty now. He stared at you from your bed, you paced around stripping away the day, being a healer at St Mungo's was an arduous job most days. Some it was just kids with dragon pox and their mothers who came with worry stitched in their souls, doing rounds with residents that had been there longer than you, the older ladies always gave you candy. You didn't know where they were getting it from. Most nights you dragged yourself into your apartment late enough you might as well say it’s morning, and dropped, ruined and exhausted, on your bed. The worst days, it was back-to-back shifts of trying to heal curses, creature attacks, and mysterious maladies that left you drained and hopeless. Ones that made you fear the magical world that surrounded you. These nights you would've sought Sirius out, the way he did you, but you didn't need to. He was always there, somehow knowing and waiting outside your door. Sometimes, he was just exiting his apartment, going to knock on yours when you came up the stairs, other nights, like this one, he waited for you. He sat on the floor with his back against your door and his eyes closed until he heard your footsteps. He stood and greeted you silently with a kiss to your temple.

He trailed after you, into your room and onto your bed. So he sat, his back against the wall and the bottom parts of his legs hanging from the bed. He didn't say much, he observed as you sighed and sniffed, wiping your eyes as you muttered to yourself. He watched in awe as you took off the green healer robes they made you wear, your buttoned shirt coming off with it. 

“I don’t understand how hard it is to keep your kid away from places like those, the kid was barely five and now he has all these welts-“ you huffed in frustration as you stripped off your pants and walked into the bathroom, the door open so you could continue to ramble “how does a five-year-old get cursed? I had to call the Ministry-“

Sirius didn’t think he could deny the fact that he reveled in these moments, he couldn't hide it for the life of him. The ones where you were so comfortable with him, walking around in your mismatched underwear angrily rambling about negligent mothers and how now you have to testify at the Ministry next week. It was laced with domesticity and a cloying sweetness that covered his skin. He wanted to stop you and kiss you silly. To sleep with you, in all your naked glory, and not care because you’d be together. He shook away the need to keep you for himself. He shuffled close to the edge of the bed, his feet finally touching the floor and he picked up a trinket on your nightstand. He bought it for you when he visited France last summer. He promised Regulus he'd gone to see him a few days. It went well, he realized. He also thought of the fact he didn't tell you that's what he went to do.

”Sirius?"

"Hm?" he finally focused back on your words, his eyes flickering back to you and the small smile that formed on your lips when you saw what he had in his hand. 

"I said, what'd you reckon will happen to the kid?" your smile faded, and you picked nervously at your cuticles as you thought about him. Would they take him away? Would he be put in an orphanage? It was protocol you had no other choice but to call... and yet you couldn't stop thinking about it. You started moving around your room again, like a bee collecting pollen from flowers. Bees were cute, right? Sirius hoped you wouldn't think he was silly, Bees were cute, he decided. You grabbed a couple of items of clothing, collecting them in one arm as the other one massaged your scalp. 

"I dunno," he remembered to answer now, "I had never thought about it,"

He could hear you turn on the shower, but you padded back into the room as the water warmed. You looked at him, still in your underwear, the eye bags underneath your eyes were visible, your makeup long faded by now. 

"You never went because of your mum?" He shook his head, and you shuffled closer, the side of your leg pressed against the bed and your knee knocking with his as you looked down at him. Your hand went to caress his hair instinctively, his soft glossy curls sliding through your fingers easily. "I'm sorry no one noticed Sirius," this part was a whisper now, you feared overstepping a boundary you weren't aware of. He smiled at you, his hand coming up to pinch your naked side. 

You yelped and batted his hand away with a laugh. 

"She's good and dead now, I reckon it doesn't matter anymore-" He gave you a saddened smile, his nimble fingers grabbing a hold of your hand pulling you closer to him again. It was private moments like this, that confused you. The intimacy of it all, the way his lips pressed against the back of your hand and looked at you through half-lidded eyes. You were suddenly hyper-aware of how naked you actually were. You had been friends for the majority of your life, shame was long gone, but when you were so close you could feel his breath across the stretch of your tummy, it felt different.

"I reckon it does matter," You pressed a small kiss to his forehead and unpeeled yourself from him, "don't bury it all inside you, Mr Black"

You floated away now, in the sea of your anxiety over your actions, closing the bathroom door behind you. 

Sirius had a lot of destructive behaviors, he knew that. The smoking since he was fifteen, the reckless way he rode his motorcycle around, the growing collection of tattoos on his body, the tumultuous relationship he had with his brother, Merlin definitely the excessiveness in which he drank, not to mention the way he showed up at the Potter's every once in a while seeking James's comfort and unconditional love, ignoring the fact that the man was a father and had a million things on his shoulders. Lily didn’t seem to mind. At least he was a decent godfather, took care of Harry to perfection, it took a few tries but he got it. Loved him with his entire heart. But you, Sirius, thought you might be the worst of it.

The worst thing he’s ever done to himself is allow for this domesticity between you.

You came back from your shower with your hair slightly damp and smelling of your signature body wash scent, sweet and enveloping. The oversized shirt that covered your torso was almost long enough to cover 'til your upper thighs. It made Sirius’s lips curl into a lopsided smile that he tried to repress.

He was lying down now, starfishing on your bed as he stared at the ceiling.

”Are you coming to bed?” The clock blinked 3 AM at you, and Sirius reached his hand out. You walked closer to him, a small smile playing on your lips. You sent the towel you had been using back to its spot with a swish of your hand. Basic handless magic was a difficult skill to gain but Merlin so gratifying. 

“I forgot my pants silly,” he shook his head no, and reached for your hand with a bit more effort, grabbing a hold of it and pulling you down with him.

”Let’s just sleep, you don’t need those-“ He covered the two of you with your heavy duvet as you laughed, he leaned over you to turn off the lamp on your nightstand.

Yes, Sirius thought as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and threw one of his arms over your torso. You were the worst thing he had ever done to himself. He would never be able to let go, your hands stroking his hair until one of you fell asleep, the small ‘night that slipped past your lips just as your eyes fluttered shut. He'd never get enough of your saccharine scent that enveloped him like a blanket, comforting and warm. All-encompassing and suffocating, in each other’s arms every night, in the comfort of your room. 

Sirius knew it deep in his heart, what he had been afraid of for so long. Maybe Remus had it all wrong, maybe he was in love with you.

Because what else could this feeling be?

-

You tried to ignore the ache in your heart when you woke up to an empty bed. You tried to forget the fact that you’d probably do it all again tonight, and the next night too, all to bear the fruit of nothing. 

Dorcas shook her head and she pushed a cup of coffee towards you. 

“Don’t look at me like that Dorcas -“

”I love Sirius as much as the next guy but-“ you picked up the coffee and sighed at its warmth “He’s being a prat honey-“

”It's not like we’ve been having sex, he just needs some sleep” You shook your head and looked away, afraid that your eyes would betray you, “hell I needed sleep too”

”It doesn’t matter, Y/N you’re a healer get him a stock of sleeping draught and yourself some too while you’re at it…” She furrowed her brows but you stayed quiet, not daring to meet her gaze “I know you love him, but I’m not so sure he sees you that way-“

” I’m not in love with him”

“I didn’t say you were in love,” Dorcas sighed now, placing her cup on the sink and walking towards the small chimney in your flat. “Promise me it won’t happen anymore, that you’ll try to break it off”

”I’ll try Dorcas,” she didn’t believe you much, you didn’t believe yourself either, the Floo Flames engulfed her body.

It was hard to, separate yourself from him that is. Sirius Black was addicting, simply from the way he moved. Just watching him is entrancing on its own. Speaking to him, with his suave words and low tone. Everything about him, everyone craved to have a simple conversation, have even an ounce of his attention. Sleeping in his arms though, heart to heart? Now that was in a league of its own. 

-

You dragged yourself into your building, the day bearing down on you. You half hoped that Sirius would be waiting outside your door again, sitting waiting for you to lay in his arms. Disappointment added to the sack of bricks you felt like you were carrying when you turned to see the empty hallway. You sluggishly made your way up to your door, hoping to see Sirius's head pop out of his apartment door. Giggles came down your hall, as you fiddled with your keychain trying to find your key. The drunken whispers got louder and just as you grabbed a hold of your key you heard your name echo softly down the hall.

You dropped your keys in surprise as you took in the sight. Sirius stood rather close to a short woman, her bubbling laughter and her roaming hands didn't stop when he let his arm drop from her shoulders. All color drained from his face and his drunk, loose smile fell quickly from his lips. The girl that clung to him like gum to a shoe hadn’t noticed your presence nor how Sirius seemed to sober up at the sight of you.

You scrambled to pick up your keys as the blonde started whispering in his ear, starting to pull at him again. He called out your name one more time, moving towards you now, dragging the poor girl down the hallway with him.

“have a good night Sirius-“ 

You miraculously managed to get your key in the hole swiftly, turn it, open, and lock yourself inside just in time. Pressing your back against the door, your heart felt like it might leap out of your chest. You had always hoped that he wasn’t seeing other people, or meeting anyone else. And the absence of encounters just like this one had solidified that thought, you were properly convinced. Now though. You had just been lucky enough to not encounter them. You thought back, it was impossible not to feel like Sirius’s look had been one of guilt. Like he got caught. But the two of you weren’t anything.

You were painfully reminded of that fact tonight.

You hadn't noticed how fast or how hard your heart was beating. You felt like it was ready to break through your ribs, leaving you shattered and with a void in your chest. But it didn't do such a thing. No, you stayed perfectly intact, even as you felt the panic batter your chest and the notion that you were definitely not the only woman in his life torturing your heart.

"What's wrong?" Dorcas said in a whisper as she looked up, her large glasses sliding down her nose. The yellow lamps that decorated your apartment gave Dorcas's dark skin a low golden tone, like the type you'd see in paintings of candlelights and sultry lounges. Marlene was over today, her short, bleached blonde strands fanning over her face as she slept with her head on Dorcas's lap, her arms wrapped around the girl's waist.  If it had been any other time you would've run for the muggle Polaroid camera Lily bought you, flashing a picture of the two of them.

"Sirius was just outside with some girl," Dorcas gasped now and shot up, dropping Marlene's head on the couch. The blonde groaned awake and asked what was wrong.

"Sirius brought home a girl" The blonde shot up as well and the girlfriends ran to the door, trying to look through the peephole. "Well this whole thing has gone arse over tit hasn't it?" Marlene pushed Dorcas off for her turn at the peephole. 

"There's no 'thing' between us anyway"

"Well, shit" The blonde outside kept pawing at Sirius, trying to reach his face, to eat it Marlene guessed. He stared at the door, trying to hold the girl who stuck to him back. Marlene felt as if she was in a staring competition. She knew Sirius couldn’t see her but she still liked the thought that she’d win.

Dorcas was the first to peel herself off of the door and pull you into a tight embrace. Her hand rubbed circles on your back and Marlene followed, embracing the two of you. They smelled coconut-y and sweet, even the remainder of Marlene's stronger perfume wafted over you ever so slightly. It was grounding, really, to be hugged tightly by your closest friends, the smell of home, the comfort of knowing that you were loved, even if it wasn't by him.

"I'll hex him for you if you want" Marlene's suggestion, although serious, wasn't necessary. You shook your head sighing. 

"He didn't do anything-" Dorcas flicked your head now, a frown forming on her face as the three of you parted. 

"Like hell, he didn't-"

"He doesn't owe me anything 'Cas don't be harsh"

"He's been sleeping in your bed for the better part of six months I reckon he owes you a lot" Dorcas gave you a look of pity now, like you were a wounded abandoned animal.

"I say we set his motorbike on fire," Marlene suggested casually like she was talking about the weather. You slowly peeled your layers off, as you dragged your feet towards your room. You knew the girls felt bad for you, but it was your fault. Who in their right mind would let Sirius Black so into their hearts, knowing that no commitment would ever come from it? 

You. 

You would. 

From his muscles softened under your touch, his warmth spreading to your body, to the way he mumbled in his sleep. It was something your soul craved to see, to feel, to hear. He had bewitched you, without you wanting him to, without meaning to allow him. You threw yourself on your bed, starfished and in your underwear, freshly showered. The water did not wash away the regret nor the hurt. They only made you think of coming back to Sirius in your bed, smiling and pulling you into his arms. Your sheets were cold, and tucked in neatly, very unlike the cozy mess Sirius usually made of it. So you stared, long and hard at the white of your ceiling. You prayed sleep would take you, you were exhausted. Like your body had been beaten, like your heart had split in two. 

No such sleep would overtake you. Instead, you could hear frantic knocks on your front door, your muscles twitched but you didn't dare move, like if you breathed he'd know. You heard Dorcas rip the door open, the force of it reverberating through your small flat. 

"You got some balls coming here," It was muffled, but you could still hear the venom in her voice. She didn't let him speak. "You're going to die cold, sad, and alone Black— don't you ever forget it" She threw the door closed now, the bang shaking your room again. It was jarring to hear that, especially from someone as sweet as Dorcas was, and she meant it. Hell, you felt like she would make sure of it, no matter the cost. 

"Sweetheart-" Dorcas spoke through the door, her knuckles grazing the wood but not quite knocking. You didn't answer.

A muffled she must be asleep, and you felt like you could breathe again. You knew Sirius wouldn't end up alone. If he did romantically, the friendships in his life would fulfill that void anyway. He had a family. Most of your friends were his, and you knew, that you could never ask any of them to walk around the uncomfortable wall that seemed to form between you, or god forbid pick sides. It was stupid, you knew there was no reason you should be upset. You were not together. You weren't anything to him, and he wasn't supposed to be to you.

But oh he was. He was everything.

-

On nights like these, you thought you might reach your limit and have to be admitted into the psychiatric ward of St Mungo's yourself. You felt sweaty, and the stuffy healer robes didn't help to ease the heat that crawled up your skin. Your hair felt frizzy and out of place, and your buttoned-up shirt felt like it was choking you, but you couldn't stop. You couldn't afford to nor could the patients that kept coming in. The St Mungo's emergency room was nothing short of a battleground, it was vile and the worst turn to get. Especially during the overnight shift. These were the types of shifts that made you second guess your career choice, the ones that made you want to throw in the towel and drag yourself back into your apartment and never come out. 

"Y/N come on, they're bringing in a flying vehicle accident-" you frowned as you let your turn partner drag you towards one of the newly entered patients. For the first time that shift, you felt dread crawl up your throat, your heart skipping a beat as you saw Sirius lying unconscious on the bed. For a second you thought you had forgotten how to breathe, your fingertips felt numb and your ears rang. His perfect nose was bloody, his perfect lip bruised and split. There were scrapes on his cheeks, and his jeans had been ripped and stained red. It wasn't noticeable at first, but the metallic smell and the caked-on blood on his black jacket became visible as you approached, it all made it clear, it had been bad.

You couldn't understand what your partner was telling you, the ringing in your ears too loud for you to make out the words, but as they moved Sirius onto a proper bed, it all came crashing down again. Repeated prayers of no's rang through your head along with pleas to a higher power to let this be a nightmare, one you'd wake up from cold and sweaty but knowing he's safe. No such relief came, and your fingertips buzzed with electricity once again, moving so fast it was like you moved at two times speed. You couldn't think of anything but prayers, to what? You didn't know, but you did so nevertheless. To the stars, and the heavens, or the magic that ran through your blood, through his. You didn't know. But you muttered words of hope and love, as you cleaned his wounds, hoping he'd hear you.

You busied yourself and basically assigned yourself to his care, after they moved him out of the ER, into one of the beds in the rows of other patients divided by sheets. You barely left his side, just to shower and change into the spare clothes Dorcas had brought you reluctantly, mildly upset you were taking care of Sirius. You ate next to him, talked to him, read your favorite poems, and hummed his favorite songs. He mumbled here and there, and his eyes would flutter sometimes which you took as a good sign but the tension didn't leave your shoulders, and your prayers never ended.

James, Remus, and Peter passed by, dropping some baked goods off and comforting you with teary hugs. 

"I told him that bloody bike would kill him-" Remus said as he shook his head and sat next to Sirius for a bit, his hand on the boy's knee.

"How's he doing doc?" you rolled your eyes, amusement played in James's eyes at the pull of your lips. He had always secretly been a worrywart, but he played it off well as if his heart didn't almost beat out of his chest when he got the call.

"As long as he wakes up he'll be fine-" He smiled genuinely now, "Few broken bones," He hummed, looking at Remus and Peter huddled next to Sirius's bed.

"few broken bones hm? wouldn't be the first time." You talked for a while, each one of you ignoring the nagging feeling of worry. Sirius's boisterous laugh was poignantly missing from the conversation. But soon enough, James's father's duties called and he pressed a kiss on Sirius's forehead and one on yours very fatherlike and apparated away, Remus and Peter gathered themselves up as well not long after.

"Call if anything, okay doll?" Remus pulled you into a tight hug, his lips pressing against your temple as well. Peter gave you a small hug, his eyes trailing over Sirius's form sadly. 

You were left alone again, the window panes that surrounded the hall letting some moonlight in. Time felt like a thick jelly, your eyes staring at the clock as you ran your hands through his hair, the exhaustion was quickly catching up to you. But the thought of another coffee made your stomach churn and your eyelids felt heavy like lead. So you gripped his hand tightly and laid your head against his arm.

If he woke up, you'd be there.

-

Sirius felt like he might be in heaven, the second his eyes fluttered open you were there. Your face pressed between his forearm and the bed, your hand tightly clutching his. He could feel the ghost of your lips on his skin and goosebumps threatened to crawl up his spine, his thoughts straying to your pout. Your closed eyes and your steady breathing made it clear you were sleeping, Sirius couldn't help but smile. He very rarely got to watch you like this, by some miracle he always fell asleep first and woke up second. You were so lovely, with your soft skin and the angelic glow from the light of the moon glaring against the curve of your face. If it wasn't for the stinging in his face or the way his ribs felt like they were collapsing in on themselves, Sirius would've sworn up and down he had died and gone to heaven.

He squeezed your hand, and the weight of the realization that you had been taking care of him fell on him. Guilt clawed at his throat, he had broken your heart and you still took care of him. He'll never forget the look on your face, the surprise, and the tears that threatened to fall. There was no other word to use besides heartbreak, and it had been his fault. He didn't know why he had brought her home, he didn't particularly fancy the girl, but the alcohol made his veins feel warm and she smiled at him and the impulsiveness and self-destruction within himself were a shoot-first ask-questions later duo that ruled his brain. He realized that you deserved more. More than him, more than the empty bed he left you with, or the avoidance of feelings. Sometimes Sirius wished you'd forget him. It would be better for you.

To forget his face, forget his name.

Your eyes began to pry open, and he couldn't help but spill his guts again. 

"For so long I hoped I'd fall asleep at the wheel and crash my motorbike on the ride home-" Your heart jumped to your throat, your head shooting up at the realization he was awake. His words were raspy and as much as he tried they were barely a whisper. "But then you came back from your apprenticeship, and moved right in front and it felt like-" he looked away now, his fingers fidgeting with yours. "Like you were that light at the end of the tunnel." Your hand was still pressed against his. 

"I stopped wanting to fall asleep on the bike, I just wanted to fall asleep with you"

"You are an idiot Sirius Black" The frustration gathered over the last two days flushed your system, tears threatening to fall over "you are so reckless and so utterly stupid-" tears flowed down your cheeks but you wouldn't let them fall, furiously wiping them away with your sleeve. He looked at you heartbroken. 

"I know love"

"No," you shook your head now and stood up, his hand falling back to the bed "You don't know, all I do is worry and care, and you don't!" your laugh came out crueler than you meant but it came out nonetheless "You never care Sirius- Oh and imagine when I don't see or hear from you for days, and suddenly you're dragged in here looking like you're seconds away from dying-" you paced around as you went on, your hands running through your hair in frustration.

"I didn't think you wanted to see me" he stared at you now, hoping to catch your gaze. Hoping to see if you meant it, hoping to see, something. Something that would tell him what he so desperately wanted to know. 

"I always want to see you" You locked eyes with his, his stupidly gorgeous stormy eyes. And he knew, from the pain in your eyes, from the way your pupils blew the second you looked at him, from the way you softened, anger dissipated when you looked at him. You didn't understand how anyone could look like that, how even scratched up he looked like he had been carved out of marble. "All I want is to see you," you were close enough for him to reach for your hand, even with pain shooting down his ribs, he did.

"I'm sorry,” you sat on the edge of his bed, closer than you had intended, as he spoke, looking at your intertwined hands. “and I’m sorry about the lass too-“

You scrunched up your nose, “I reckon that is none of my business” and he wondered how long you had to tell yourself that until you believed it.

”I sent her home, nothing happened-“

“you can go out with whoever you wish”

”I only want you” 

You looked at him again, into his eyes, into his soul. Hoping to catch a flicker of truth. His eyes looked at you with hope and want, and you knew. Sirius would never lie to you, he might be a drunk, and emotionally unavailable, and Merlin knows that he’s a mess, but Sirius Black was not a liar, especially to you. He squeezed your hands, pulling them close to his chest, pressing them against his heart.

”I’m so in love with you, you drive me mad,” he said this last part with a laugh, pulling a teary giggle out of you. You couldn’t help yourself, the wetness of your eyes and cheeks coming without you meaning it to. He swiped a thumb under your eyes, a nervous laugh threatening to spill from his lips, a watery smile forming instead.

“I am regrettably, in love with you as well” You smiled now, looking away from his scoff. His lips curled into a full-fledged smile now, as did yours.

“Am I that awful?”

”I fear so Mr Black,“ you glanced at him teasingly, the glint in your eye he loved so much returning. 

“I reckon you wouldn’t want to kiss a tosser like me then,” You couldn’t help but smile, as the both of you subconsciously leaned closer. His hands cupped your cheeks as your foreheads pressed together. “Can I—“

You didn’t let him finish, finally closing the distance between you. He kissed you shyly, a trait you didn’t know he possessed. You kiss him soft and open-mouthed, a small hum coming from his chest. His fingers hold on to your face, desperate to keep you close, and and you revel in the fact that his kiss turns hungry like he’d never get to kiss you again. 

You part with a small satisfied sigh, foreheads pressed against one another and eyes fluttered shut. Sirius thought about the many times he wondered what this would feel like, to press his lips against yours. He had dreamt of this for months; when you walked around your room in your underwear ranting or every time you opened the door, he dreamt of kissing you in the mornings and late at night.

Sirius realized, as he pressed another kiss to your lips, he had dreamt of kissing you for years.

[enigmaris]

Reading a lot of DPxDC fics lately, heres my take on the Danny is Damian's twin AU:

Danny was injured to near death and left for dead by the League as a young boy. Ra's only wanted one heir and Danny was less bloodthirsty than Damian, so it was decided that Danny had to go.

Danny is found and taken to a hospital in Illinois, barely alive. He is saved and wakes up with basically no memories of where he was from and speaking a rare dialect of arabic that none of the cops investigating his case can identify. What words Danny does know in english are concerning so the cops figure Danny was being held by some sort of murder, death cult.

The investigation runs cold and Danny is sent to foster care once his injuries heal. He is then adopted by the fentons and moves to Amity Park. As he grows the only clear memories he has of his past is another boy his age who he felt safe with. He knows the other boy is important to him but not why. He cant even really remember his face, certainly not his name. Danny always felt shitty that he couldnt remember the other boy because if he did, then the cops would have rescued him from the murder death cult too. Instead the other boy is presumably there and getting hurt all the time like Danny was.

Danny gets his powers like normal at 14 and decides that now that he has superpowers he absolutely has to save that other boy. Sam and Tucker help him gather clues, he starts to remember a bit more. He remembers the word ahki and realizes that the other boy is his brother!! Which just really enhances Dannys need to save him from the murder death cult. Eventually Tucker finds a picture of Damian Wayne and Danny is like thats him. Thats my brother.

Wait.

Bruce Wayne is his brothers dad???

Bruce Wayne is a rich fruitloop like Vlad obviously, so he is probably a member of the murder cult. Danny has to rescue his brother from the illuminati.

Cue Sam going to a socialite dinner in gotham much to her parents delight. Getting close to Damian by talking about animal rights, slipping him some sleeping pills in his vegan food. Tucker hacking into the gala and causing a commotion. Danny lugging an unconscious Damian out of the Gala and into the GAV ( no, his parents dont know why he borrowed the car or where he is).

Damian wakes up and immediately tries to attack Danny thinking hes a clone. Danny is like woah shit no its me! Its your brother. Damian is like Danyal is dead. Danny is like obviously not. Now chill out im rescuing you from the cult.

Damian, who has been secrectly mourning his twin for years, has never heard anyone call the League of Assassins a cult. He has to reevaluate a lot of things while Danny drives the GAV out of Gotham as fast as he can. Danny explains his whole backstory and how he is sorry he didnt come to save Damian earlier, his memories were gone but he had never forgotten how important Damian was to him. Damian doesnt do emotions on a good day and is unable to handle that like a normal person.

"Father isnt part of the cult, Danyal."

"Hes a billionaire from Gotham, of course he is!"

Damian who has fought many rich people from gotham, all of whom were evil, tries to find an explanation that isnt 'our dad is batman'. Danny isnt listening to any of it, promising Damian that he will be safe from the murder cult in Amity.

Damian eventually gets out that their mother was in the cult and their father didn't know about them. Danny pulls the GAV over and looks at Damian.

"Did i just kidnap you for no reason?"

"It was a kind gesture at least Danyal."

"Fuck. I just kidnapped bruce wayne's kid in the middle of a gala, am i super villain now?"

"Not if you take me home. Father will understand Danyal."

"I dont want to go to jail!"

Damian gives Danny the address to Wayne Manor and Danny drives to Bristol.

When they walk inside Damian now has to explain the whole 'had a dead brother i never told you about' thing to a less than amused batfam.

Danny introduces himself to Bruce and says that he has an adopted family back in illinois, but that he would be happy to get to know Bruce, also sorry about the kidnapping i dont normally do that i thought you were part of the illumimati and i had to rescue my brother.

Bruce just hopes this kid is normal.

(Hint: he's not)

[luvyeni]

LUCIFER ✦ ( 02z series masterslist & intro )

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ demon!02z x female!reader

𓄷 warnings 𓈓 murder (sunghoon has a back story and your grandma had some problems). death. supernatural themes. pwp. some angst. some fluff. will add more if needed...

genre. smut mdni. supernatural au. demon au.

nia's notes. a few weeks ago i got an ask to do a fic based on lucifer— so why not make it a series? the song gives me demon vibes idk why, but i hope everyone who reads it will like it,, all the fics will have bits and pieces from each other, but you can read stand alone if you want. ENJOY!!!

(🎧) ...playlist: lucifer ( 02z ), fatal trouble ( enhypen ), bite me ( enhypen )

TAGLIST. ASK TO BE ADDED !

THE DEMON IN MY CLOSET ...

wc. 6.1k+

synopsis. a week into moving into your deceased grandmother's mansion; everything goes smoothly; you've gotten most of your grandmothers things out of the house; still wearing the necklace you found everything is going good— except the door to your closet that won't stay closed.

𓄷 warnings smut mdni. mentions of abuse. mentions of death. oral (f. receiving). unprotected sex. softdom jake.

STATUS: READ HERE

THE DEMON IN THE KITCHEN ...

wc. 5.2k+

synopsis. sunghoon didn't want anything to do with you really; the only reason why he agreed is because jay had the upper hand on his vote. he hated your grandmother, he wished he could avoid you forever— so why is he currently sitting in your kitchen wondering why you've come home late?

𓄷 warnings... smut mdni. mentions of murder. sunghoon actually hates you. attempted murder ( twice ). reader likes some weird stuff. sexual tension. oral ( m. receiving ). rough sex. degradation.

STATUS: READ HERE

THE DEMON IN MY MIRROR ...

wc. 4.7k+

synopsis. he watches you through the mirrors of the house; watches how you interact with the boys, even sunghoon. he's enchanted by you; you're meant to be his; theirs, he can feel it— knowing that your time is almost up here, it's time he finally introduces himself.

𓄷 warnings jay is half human. mentions of a curse. jay is guiding her in her head. exhibition kink? mutual masturbation. oral ( m. reciveing ). unprotected sex.

STATUS: READ HERE

FOREVER OURS ...

wc.

synopsis. it's your last week here; you have a decision to make; will you put the necklace away leaving them behind— or will you start your new life in the city; not with your parents but with three new demons???

𓄷 warnings foursome, oral ( m & f receiving ), unprotected sex, breeding kink, rough sex , double penetration, lots of cum, heavy degradation

STATUS: READ HERE

you were freshly graduated from college; you should be spending your last summer as a non working adult having fun with your friends— hell doing an internship for your future company; anything really, anything would be better than this. because instead of doing any of that; you were stuck going to the middle of wherever emptying out your dead grandparents mansion.

“I didn't know the lady.” you tried to complain about it to your parents. “Mommy, this was your parents, why can't you do it?” your mother and her mother; your grandmother, never really got along growing up; your grandmother never approved of your father, so it put a strain on their relationship, which resulted in your mother moving out and moving to the city. She then married your dad and had you a year later.

you met your grandmother; well your grandmother met you, because your eyes were barely open, having been on earth a month when your mom came back home so your grandparents could meet their only grandchild, your mom told you that was the last time you saw your grandparents— they did send christmas presents, and birthday cards with a hefty check in it. “I didn't know anything about her except she was extremely generous when it came to money.”

your grandfather passed when you were five, that was the last time your mother went back, for his funeral. Instead of going into a home, your grandmother chose to stay in the huge home; by herself and live out the rest of her days, which she did; she died in her room, being found by her caretaker in the early morning.

The funeral was small; and you were being nice by saying that— it was only you and your mother; your father didn't bother to show, the lady didn't like him. Why would he bother? After putting her in the ground next to her husband, your mother was ready to put that part of her life to rest finally… that was until you got her will in mail.

“Everything?” your mouth hung open. “She's giving you everything? I thought she hated you?” your mother scoffed. “she didn't really have a choice, she cut all her family off; and she would rather be buried with the money than to give it to a charity.” your mother said. “at least she left you some.” she pointed. “to my granddaughter— she couldn't even remember your name.”

That's how your parents were able to retire early, with the huge settlement of money and new house, they decided to settle down and live out the rest of their days in solitude. “So why can't you do it?” you said, your mother turned to you as seriously as ever. “she died in that house, she was a spiteful woman, the type to find a way to become a ghost just to haunt me just in case I brought your father in the house” she said. “I want you to go up there and clear it of all her things and then we'll be up there in the early fall.”

That's how you found yourself driving up the extra long driveway to the huge mansion; the vines growing up the walls really added to the ghostly aesthetic. “she had a caretaker but not a gardener?” you parked right in front of the house, getting out of the car. “This house is scary.”

“Girl, we're having so much fun!” Your friend, Yeji, yelled into the phone. “really?” you said sarcastically. “I could totally hear you over the blasting music in the background.” you heard her giggle, before she told you to hold on. “Okay I'm alone.” The low music confirmed that. “Did you make it up there safely?”

You settled on a room, it was huge much like the rest of the house, unpacking the clothes you would need for the rest of the summer. “Is the house nice? Does it come with a pool?” You scoffed; “this house was made in the 1600’s , no it doesn't have a pool.” you said. “and it's okay, if you like creepy dim lighting and cold hallways even though it's 84 degrees outside.”

“Yikes.” she said, you nodded. “Yeah, this lady was loaded, but god did she not have any taste.” your face turned up in disgust. “Hopefully my parents will brighten this place up when they get here.”

After talking to yeji a bit, you let her go back to the party; at least one of you could enjoy the summer— meanwhile you had to find someone to eat. You weren't stupid the town was like a 30 minute drive out, so you made sure to pick up enough groceries to last you at least a week on your way here. Looking through the options, you settled on ramen; cause there was no way you were cooking anything else after a 5 hour long drive.

taking your bowl of noodles, making your way back to the room, you pass the many portraits of your mother as a child and a teenager— for your mother and grandmother to never get along, there surely were many; after making it back to your room, sitting the bowl on the nightstand.

Unfortunately there was no wifi, but you had data so that was good; you'd definitely had to change that wifi situation soon though, your mother was just obsessed with the Internet as you, there was no way she was coming here without it. Eating your noodles, scrolling through the stories with envy in your eyes, of all your friends enjoying their summers.

After finishing your food, and making yourself depressed; you decided to just go to bed, and start fresh in the morning— where you actually had to clean out her things.

The next morning you woke up at 11:30 feeling a little better than before, starting your day with a shower since you didn't have one in the morning; stripping yourself of your clothes, stepping into the warm shower, letting the water hit your skin, you let out a sigh of satisfaction; at least the water made you feel better.

after cleaning yourself; getting rid of yesterday, you stepped out of the shower, the foggy mirror in front of you. turning around to turn the water off— you turned around to face the mirror again. “what the fuck.” squinting your eyes, you rubbed them. certainly that wasn't a fucking person in the mirror. You quickly wrapped a towel around your body, wiping the fog off the mirror, your own reflection still there. “Great, not even 24 hours later and I'm already going nuts.”

You got dressed; deciding to finally tour the house— it was beautiful, despite the haunted nature of it; the furniture a bit outdated for your taste, but your parents will love it. you made your way to her bedroom; almost scared to go in— she died in there anyone would be scared. you pushed your worries aside, pushing the door open; walking inside.

The bed had been made after her passing, but everything else was still in the same place according to the caretaker. You started by stripping everything from the bed, throwing the sheets in the trash, emptying all her drawers; your mom said you could keep any jewelry she had, and she'll give the rest away to your cousins on your father's side. you then moved to her closet, separating all the clothes that you were keeping and the ones you were giving away, and finally the ones that you were tossing.

About 2 hours later you were done separating everything, putting the donation boxes in your car to take into town, throwing the clothes in the trash at the end of the long driveway. you kept a lot of things, turns out she kept a lot of clothes and her style wasn't that bad. “I’m gonna need a new suitcase.” you said to yourself.

You scrubbed everything down in her room; per your mothers request. “Yes mommy, I got rid of her ghost.” You rolled your eyes when she called to ask. “Great, is everything else okay?” you hummed. “Well despite the no wifi and being completely alone, yes.” You said. “Well we're still trying to sell here, we've found a realtor.” you let her go on and on, until she'd managed to talk for 2 straight hours— your stomach rumbling being the thing to interrupt the conversation. “Gosh love , have you eaten today?”

“I had some yogurt for breakfast.” you could hear her sigh. “It's 5:30 y/n and all you've eaten was yogurt?” She questioned. “Well I've been busy cleaning up your mothers home.” You said, she laughed. “Thank you, my daughter.” you mocked her. “Seriously honey, get yourself something to eat, I will call again.” you hummed. “And don't leave those clothes in your car, take them to the goodwill.” you nodded. “okay.” you hung up. “Really let's get you something to eat.”

After showering for the nights— luckily your eyes didn't create delusions this time, you settled on ordering take out, luckily someone was willing to bring you a pizza. “Thank you.” You handed the delivery guy the money. “Is this your new house?” he looked up. “My parents.” you said, he handed you the pizza box. “Scary.” was all he said before walking away. “Yeah.” You closed the door.

Taking your pizza back to your room; you almost made it back to your room— when you noticed the door to your grandmother's room was still open. “Hmm?” You were certain you closed it, you went to close it— but something caught your eyes on the dresser. It was a jewelry box. you don't remember putting that there; you don't even remember seeing it before.

You picked up the box, taking it with you to your room; sitting it on the nightstand. You finished your pizza; making an appointment on your phone to have wifi installed. “Sorry grandma, you might've lived in silence, but I need tv.” You finished the last bit of pizza, taking the box to the kitchen, returning back to your room, climbing under the covers; the wooden jewelry box still sitting on the nightstand.

You reached over, grabbing the box; it looked pretty old. You stopped admiring the details on the box; opening it. A thin silver necklace with a red and black pendant sitting in the box; it was the only thing in the box. You picked up the necklace, examining it. The necklace was beautiful, probably the prettiest piece that you took from your grandmother— yes of course you were gonna keep it, you wouldn't dare let your destructive ass cousins destroy something as beautiful as this. “Thank you grandma.”

You sat the box in between your legs, unhooking the necklace, placing it around your neck, snapping it. “Let's see.” you picked the box up, looking into the mirror. “So pretty.” You smiled, closing the box, sitting it back on the nightstand, yawning.

reaching over; you turned the light off; pulling the covers over your body, touching the pendant one last time before you fell into a deep sleep…

So unaware of what you had just done; who you just awakened, what you just invited into your life…

©️LUVYENI

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Miller's Christmas Tree Farm

Part One - Driving home for Christmas

Summary: Wanting a fresh start after your husband died, you and your nine year old Step Daughter Ellie move from San Francisco to Noel, a small town in Colorado where you, looking for a job are found by Tommy Miller, who offers you a place to stay and a new job at his family owned Christmas Tree Farm that is in dire need of some fresh ideas to make some money. There is only one problem, his brother Joel Miller, who, judging by the google reviews of the Christmas Tree farm, is an asshole. But you like a challenge. And Joel? Joel can only try to pretend to be grumpy for so long until he finally realises that you might just be what he needed.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Rating: G

Wordcount: 3.4k

Warnings: no outbreak AU, major Hallmark movie vibes, fluff, working through grief and heartbreak, character death, a lot of Christmas planning, a Husky called Edward (after Edward Cullen)

Co- written with @jennaispunk 💜

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Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist // Miller's Christmas Tree Farm Masterlist

“So you’ll start on Monday?” Tommy was looking at you with a bright smile. 

You were new to town and looking for a new challenge. 

Which apparently came in the form of Tommy Miller.

He had overheard you talking to the lady at the bakery that you were looking for a job, as he waited behind you in line.

And Tommy not only had a job but a place to stay. A small apartment on his brother's farm that would need some work, the kitchen having to be remodelled. 

For you and your Step Daughter Ellie.

You needed a fresh start, having lost your husband, her dad, in an accident at the beginning of the year. An accident that almost took Ellie from you too, with her being in the car with him. This year had been the most difficult one of your life. Taking care of Ellie had become your sole focus, even more that it already had. The hospital stay, physical therapy and countless doctor appointments had taken its toll on you, physically and emotionally, but it had made you realise how much you’d come to love Ellie and what was really important. 

It took months for her to get better and once she was she asked you if you could live somewhere where there’s snow. 

Which led you to this tiny town in the middle of nowhere. Far away from the big city of San Francisco. You weren’t cut out for city life. You were like most small town kids, convinced that there was something better out there in the big city. You left for college with big dreams but those same dreams faded into a reality that was cold, harsh and nothing liked you’d envisioned. As the years flew by you found yourself longing for the quiet of a small town, like the one you grew up in, one where you really knew your neighbours and you could count on them if you needed a hand. You’re mother had been right all along. 

Tommy did not give you any red flags. He let you ask as many questions as you wanted and after an hour you felt like you had known him all your life. 

Sure, moving in with a him and a man you had not met yet on a farm outside of town could be a recipe for disaster. But continuing to pay for the hotel until you found a place to stay would end in bankruptcy for you so… you chose to trust Tommy. 

And you were about 98% sure he and his brother weren’t axe murderers. 

That all the people around you greeted Tommy with a warm smile was a plus too. 

He and his brother were known all over town, he couldn’t be an axe murderer, right?

“I’m excited. Are you sure it’s going to be okay with your brother?” you asked and Tommy hummed, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. 

“Let Joel be my problem. We need help. The last two years worked somehow but we need… He needs a bit of fresh air. Even if he doesn’t see it this way yet. It also helps that he’s my brother and his only remaining family so…. Yeah. It's gonna be fine,” Tommy winked. 

He also told you that you could just stay for a trial week or two and if you didn’t like it you could still get back to the hotel or he would personally help find you a new place to stay. When you asked him if his brother would be okay with a child staying in his home he assured you that he would be okay. 

He might need a couple days to warm up to her and you, but he wasn’t a monster. He was just…. A grumpy asshole. His words, not yours. 

“You sound awfully sure of yourself,” you chuckled, taking a sip from the tea he had ordered for you after inviting you to the cafe.

“Joel is…. All bite but no teeth. He’s… a little rough and… complicated but I think you can handle him. Plus deep down he’s a softie, but don’t tell him I said that.”

“You’ve known me for an hour, how would you know that I can handle him?” you asked with a laugh. 

“I just do,” he shrugged, emptying his cup of coffee. 

You huffed a laugh. 

“All right. I’ll be there at 9 tomorrow after breakfast. I already have a few ideas. I mean, selling Christmas Trees? On a Farm? With this much snow? Sounds like a dream to be honest. I’m thinking snowman building competitions and a… snow maze…. Or something like that.”

“I think you’re just what we needed. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Tommy smiled and got up from his seat. He got into his thick jacket, putting his hat and gloves on.

“Thank you for the tea. And… for the job and place to stay?” you smiled, standing up and taking his outstretched hand to shake it. 

“Let’s see if you’ll be thanking me once you meet Joel,” he winked and you rolled your eyes. 

“I will,” you smiled and he chuckled, nodding once before he turned around and left you to finish your tea. 

Already plotting ideas in your mind, how to help Miller’s Christmas Trees out of the red numbers. 

“Come on, get the damn ball,” Joel nodded towards the ball he had just thrown, Edward, his trusty Husky just stared at him in disinterest. 

Sarah had named him, being in her Twilight phase before she… he took a deep breath, looking up at the sky. He remembered it like it was yesterday. They had been out in the woods, Sarah collecting pine cones. They were on their way back home when she changed the direction, having heard something. 

And she did. A tiny husky puppy hiding against a tree. 

Joel did not think it would survive the night, but once Sarah had put her mind to something….

Edward looked at Joel and looked as if he was sighing, making Joel roll his eyes. 

“Stubborn dog,” Joel grumbled to himself, before he nodded towards the truck, making Edward get up slowly before he jumped up on the open hood. He closed the back and leaned against the truck, looking up into the darkening sky. 

It smelled like snow.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. 

Joel would never admit it, but he was scared this would be the last winter he spend here. On this farm where he had spent so much time of his life at. 

He came here almost fifteen years ago when Sarah was born and his parents were still alive. It had been easier to have some help with a new born while his wife had left them without a word.

His father had made a name out of this farm. 

Miller’s Christmas Trees. 

And Joel had tried in the last years to keep it as best as he could but…. After his father and mother died and shortly after Sarah died…. Something inside of him died too. 

At this point he didn’t even know how his life would look if he wasn’t here. 

He heard his phone ring and he muttered to himself before he jumped into the truck, seeing Tommy’s name light up on his phone. 

“Yes?” he barked.

“Hello sunshine. Come home. I made dinner,” his brother said.

“You sound like my wife,” Joel joked.

“Ha Ha. That would require you getting out to actually meet a woman. Get your ass here. I have…. News.”

“I don’t like your kind of news.”

“You are not going to like this one either.”

“Great,” Joel groaned and ended the call before he started the truck.

Joel knew something was up, but the longer he sat at the table, his favourite dish cooked by his brother Tommy sitting on the table, the more suspicious he got. 

“So,” Tommy began, after he had sipped on his beer. 

Joel only raised his left eyebrow. 

“I hired someone to help us out at the farm. She’s starting on Monday and she’ll live with her daughter in the apartment on the other side of the house.“

Joel tilted his head at his brother, processing the words he just heard. 

“And you did not think I should have a say in this?” Joel asked after a while, irritated. 

“What would you have said?”

“No! Of course I would have said no you annoying little…” Joel’s fingers rubbed frustrated between his eyes, already feeling a headache approaching. 

Tommy rolled his eyes as he watched his brother scowling at him. 

“See? This is why I didn’t ask you. She just moved here from the city with her stepdaughter and is staying at the inn. She was looking for a job and we kind of had one.”

“We can not pay anyone. You know about this,” Joel stressed. Deep down he knew they needed… something to help get the farm back on track but he was out of ideas and more importantly, money. 

“She agreed to work for a place to stay and food.”

Joel frowned. 

“Why would someone do that?”

Tommy shrugged. 

“Did you check at all who this woman is? Maybe she’s running from something or the police are searching for her.”

“Of course I ran a fucking check on her after I got back you idiot. Who do you think I am? She’s been living in San Francisco for the last ten years, married for six of those years. Husband died earlier this year in a car accident that almost killed her Step Daughter too,” Tommy said and Joel’s expression fell, his heart breaking for you. 

“Joel. We need help. I don’t want this to be the last winter this place exists. And you’re not really…” Tommy searched for the right words “known to be the festive type anymore.”

“I put on Christmas lights last year,” Joel grumbled.

“I am not talking about the decoration, though this has to change too. We sell Christmas Trees, it should look more festive around here.I am talking about whatever your face is doing when you talk to people.”

Joel rolled his eyes. 

“I am perfectly nice to people.”

Tommy laughed. 

“In your own… way you might be but you don’t like people.”

“Who does?”

“People tend to notice it when you look like you want to murder them when they ask you if you could help chop down a tree.”

“They didn’t pay for it. And they didn’t want to pay for it either, what was I supposed to do? Work for free?”

“They were in their eighties, Joel! Be nice for a change! You do want to save this farm, don’t you? It’s what she have wanted. Sarah was happy here,” Tommy said.

„Don’t,“ Joel warned him and Tommy sighed. 

Joel took a deep breath. 

“Then at least listen to the woman. She not only has ideas for Christmas but all around the year. And she did some PR work back in San Francisco. So she should know what she’s doing.”

Tommy got up from his seat to grab another beer, getting one for Joel too. 

“And try to at least be nice when she gets here. Maybe…. Tame whatever is going on with that beard and hair so you do not look like you live in the woods.”

“Fuck you, I am living in the woods,” Joel called after him, hearing Tommy laugh. 

“Love you too, asshole.”

Practically abandoning your whole life and starting over in a tiny town where everyone seems to know everyone was not an easy decision, but it was looking more and more like the best decision you ever made. 

You had been here for four weeks and you were already loving the small town life once again.  

The baker already knew you by name, the barista always grabbed your favourite tea when you came in, the owner of the inn you were staying at, shared town gossip with you. Which was why you were excited to tell her that you got a job and a place to stay at Miller’s farm. You did not miss the surprised look on her face. 

“You are gonna work at Joel’s?” she asked, seemingly in disbelief. 

“I mean yes? He does not know about it yet, but Tommy assured me he will handle it.”

The inn owner, Donna, an elderly lady sighed. You were sitting with her in the big kitchen that was open for everyone who stayed at the inn to use, a mug of hot chocolate in front of you. 

Ellie had went herself upstairs a little while ago, wanting to read. She had started school at the beginning of the week and already joined a book club. It made you feel better knowing that she was settling into this new life you were trying to build so far away from everything you both had known before. 

“Tommy is a good man,” she said with a fond smile on her lips.

“What do you know about the farm? And the owner?”

She sighed. 

“Ernesto, Joel’s father came to town almost 20 years ago. He came here from Texas. The farm had been abandoned for many years but he restored it. He was a good man, Ernesto Miller.”

“What happened? To the farm?”

“Ernesto died of cancer almost five years ago. I don’t think Joel ever really worked through his grief. He changed a lot in the last couple years. But he decided to stay and take over the farm. But… It’s not working.”

“Why do you think it’s not working?” you ask. 

Donna chuckled. 

“You haven’t met Joel yet,” she said and you shook your head. 

“He changed a lot, can’t blame him. He came here almost fifteen years ago. Just him and his little one. Apparently his girl back in Texas wasn’t interested in being a mom so Joel grabbed his little girl and everything he owned and came here to raise his little girl”

You brought the mug of hot chocolate to your lips as you listened to her. If Joel had a kid, maybe Ellie would find a friend?

„In the last five years Joel’s father and mother died. And then his girl, little Sarah, got sick close after her twelfth birthday. She passed before her thirteenth,“ Donna said sadly and you felt your eyes water, thinking about the amount of loss the man, Joel had went through. 

„If it wasn’t for Tommy I don’t know if Joel would still be around," she added quietly, before she took a deep breath. 

„I don’t think I have seen Joel smile once since before the funeral. He comes in weekly to get some of the bread I bake. I used to own the local bakery before my daughter took over. I always pack him a sweet treat. He’s nice to me, but I heard a lot about him arguing with other shop owners. Only last week he almost got into a fight at home depot,“ she sighed. 

“Grief can change you but he also sounds a bit like an asshole,” you mumbled and Donna chuckled. 

“I will keep your room for you, if you like,” Donna said. 

You shook your head. 

“I dealt with assholes in my job all day. I can handle Joel Miller. And I need is a place I can settle down with Ellie in. She’s been through so much, she deserves to be happy.”

You did not tell her that the biggest asshole you had to deal with had been living in your apartment with you for six years, cheating on you in your bed with probably every intern his company ever had before he got into drunken accident, almost killing Ellie who was in the backseat with him.  

You had been in a meeting with your divorce attorney, finally having decided to leave him and sue him for custody of Ellie when you got the call about the accident. You had never been as thankful as the moment you stepped into the hospital that you had adopted her a year before.

“I will be rooting for you,” Donna said, before she got up, squeezing your shoulder once. You watched her go.

Joel Miller seemed to be known all around town, which should be good for his business. But he seemed not to be the friendliest person. Something you could understand with the amount of shit he had to deal with in the past. 

You felt a strange urge to help him and his family.

You sighed, emptying your mug before you put it in the dishwasher to make your way up to your room. 

„Hi Ellie Bellie,“ you smiled as you unlocked the door, Ellie sitting in the armchair near the window, a book in her lap. She didn't look up as you entered, giving you just an acknowledged hum and you walked over to her, seeing her sketching into her notebook she had on top of the book, sketching the landscape in front of your window. 

For a nine year old, she was incredibly talented. 

„Ready to move tomorrow?“ You asked and she looked up at you. 

„Do I get my own room?“ She asked and you smiled. 

„According to Tommy we will get our own little apartment, so chances are high there’s a room for you,“ you winked and she nodded with a small smile. Her hair fell out of her messy ponytail, her hair finally long enough to put it back into one after the doctors had to cut of some of her hair after her injuries. Part of the back of her head had to be shaved in order for her to get surgery. It had been the longest four hours of your life, waiting for the doctor to tell you that she would be okay and survive. 

„I like this town. It’s…. It’s quiet,“ she whispered and you leaned down, hugging her carefully. 

„I like it here too.“

Once Ellie was asleep you packed her stuff together so you could be out of here first thing in the morning. It would be the weekend so she would not have to go to school tomorrow. 

From what she told you she loved her first week in the new school and already had made some new friends. You hoped you would be able to invite them over to your new place once you had settled in. 

Something you had to talk about with Tommy. And Joel. 

You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little anxious to meet Joel Miller. You had spent a little time researching him and the farm after dinner, the reviews on google making it sound like he was an absolute nightmare to be around. 

You just hoped his brother Tommy was right and Joel would see that he needed some help with the farm. 

Your bags were already packed for the big first day tomorrow. Deciding to take one last bubble bath in the old bathtub you got out of your clothes, not knowing if your new place had one too. You sank into the hot water, sighing loudly as the heat seeps into your skin. This had to work, for you and for Ellie. This was the chance you needed to make a real life for the two of you, one where you could be finally be happy. You had some great ideas for the Christmas tree farm, you could make it into the thriving business that Joel and Tommy wanted it to be. Tommy seemed to have your back, you just had to win Joel over. 

Which left you with nothing but anxious excitement for the days to come. 

Meanwhile Joel was sitting on his porch on the other side of town, looking up at the night sky, the stars flickering in the far distance where he imagined his little girl watched over him. 

He knew that whatever he was doing with the farm wasn’t working. He knew he needed help. And he knew he would never ever search or ask for help himself. 

He was a big part of the problem and if he wanted to save this place, he needed some change. And maybe that change could be you. 

So he decided to try to meet this woman with an open mind the next morning. 

Not knowing meeting her would be the beginning of something that would change his life forever. 

[bananadramaaa]

I really like your art and your way of thinking about what Alastor's family and the duo of assassins would be like when they were human, it's a shame that the creator of Habzin Hotel doesn't explore this part much. Throughout your AU I had some questions, if you don't mind asking, are you going to delve deeper into Alastor's family history? Or even Mimzy's? Just my curiosity, hehe. I wonder what his sisters' lives were like, or even how his parents came to meet. But as I said, it's just curiosity, you don't have to answer if you don't want to, sorry if I seemed rude. Have a good afternoon! :)

I'm still hopeful that we'll get more Al and Mimzy interactions! After all 4 seasons are waiting XD

That's ok to ask these questions. That means that you're interested in my AU which is really flattering. The only problem is that I don't have enough time to draw everything I planned. I wanna dive deeper into the story of Al's family since these characters caught people's interest. The same applies to my headcanons of Mimzy's past (I briefly wrote about it in this ask). I'm currently working on a few comics. The first ones are episodes of besties' first murders. The other comic in the work is an episode with Al's family (dad's death).

I'm planning to write a separate post about Alastor's sisters' lives after their parents' death. It's gonna be a long one 😅 So stay tuned for that.

The story of their parents' first meeting though. Their father (Jean-Marie Beaupré) was a 25-year-old musician, an immigrant from Europe. After cutting ties with his parents, he traveled to America in search of a new life and opportunities. He was able to find a job as a court musician (a violinist) for a wealthy family. Their mother (Eugénie) also served there as a governess and kid's nanny. She was 21 at that time.

Eugénie was drawn to the moody, brooding musician for some reason (maybe she wanted her life to be like a romance novel she secretly read). In short, she initiated the first conversation with him. In turn, JM was fascinated by the young lady's optimism and her ability to see the good even where it seemed to him everything was meaningless. After a series of secret meetings and quiet conversations in the garden, they began to fall for each other.

[slxshrfvcker]

~𓆦Caught Like A Fly𓆦~

Request by @ashllleyyy !

~ “I had an idea for Billy and Stu x fem reader. Billy and Stu got away with their plan, and now they have daughters who are friends with the reader. Reader is in her 20s and dads are in their 40s. Billy and Stu live together but there is nothing romantic between the boys. One day reader came for a sleepover at her friends house (aka Billy and Stu's house), and Billy and Stu’s daughters went to supermarket to buy something and reader was alone with the dads there. So she was snooping around and heard Billy and Stu talking about there next victim and they caught her snooping. There would be also smut part where they found her and can you add aftercare at the end??” ~

I love this idea sm, I really hope this is what you are hoping for!!! 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Content Warnings: Age Gaps, Fem!Reader, AU!Scream, toxic friendships implied, Scream’s usual themes w/murder and violence, SMUT //oral fem & male receiving, teasing, sub/dom dynamics, f/m/m pairing, sir & daddy kink, light choking, clothed sexual activity (dry humping & clothed orgasms), p in v sex, aftercare// lmk if there’s more!

Listen to: Caught Like A Fly by Falling In Reverse!

NSFW // 18+ CONTENT UNDER THE CUT

24 years ago, Billy and Stu would have no clue they’d make it this far in their lives. Here in this town still even after all they’ve accomplished in their still short lives.

Billy moved out of his dad’s house after graduation and spent his college savings on his very own house, a little bit smaller than what he was originally living in with his dad, but it was still his home nonetheless. He had gotten a stable enough job to keep him upright, and went on by his day-to-day life, seeing Stu often too was another thing he enjoyed about his life situation. And then Stu’s parents kicked him out after his 18th, leaving Billy’s best friend on the streets with nowhere to live; until Billy offered for him to move in with him too. Billy and Stu were happily sharing the house together now, having their movie nights almost every night and having the most fun they’ve ever had.

Eventually the news that Billy was a father came back to him. At first it was a shock, confusion and doubt about it was all he could think about. But when that little girl was left on his doorstep, a note addressed to him and the mother nowhere to be seen every again, Billy vowed to his young, naive 19 year old self and his daughter that he would never leave her and do the best he could for her, promising he would be a better father to her than his own dad ever could be to him.

Stu, seeing how well Billy was as a father so far and the interactions between the two caused him to have the worst baby fever in existence, risking everything by running around and sleeping with multiple women in hopes of ‘accidentally’ knocking one up so he too could have this experience of fatherhood. And he got just what he so desperately craved, but double the trouble. Stu was blessed with twin girls, and he couldn’t have been more elated to take them under his wing and raise them himself (though Billy helped out a lot too, since his daughter Sam was already two years old at this point in time).

For about 22 years, Billy and Stu (who are now both 45 and 46 years of age) raised their girls, protecting them from the world of harm and their past (best they could), the girls still lived with their dads (via guilt-tripping or the sorts from Billy and Stu telling them ‘your dear old dads would be so lonely without you, are you sure you want to leave us??’ And the likes) and were currently enrolled in a local college where they met Y/N.

Y/N was young and naive, yet shy around everyone else besides the three daughters of Billy and Stu. She often went over to the girls’ house for movie nights, sleepovers and just whatever they wanted to do. She grew accustomed to the two dads always hanging about suspiciously, eyeing her in a stalker-ish way before the two went to talk in the office about ‘work’.

And tonight was no different. Y/N could feel their burning gaze on her as she hung out with the three girls, laughing away at the dumbest of things before the twins stood up and went to go get something from the kitchen. The older twin sister groaning loudly and leaving her sister in the kitchen as she looked at Sam with a cross of her arms. “We’re out of popcorn and soda.” She said. “Me and Jessie are going to go get some more if you wanna come Sam? Y/N, can you stay here in case our dads need something or we need to text you for something?” The twin asked.

Sam nodded and stood up as the other girl came out of the kitchen with her keys and bag. “Yeah yeah, let’s go. Y/N we’ll be back asap!” She said as she and the twins waved goodbye before they walked out of the front door and to their car, soon they were gone. Y/N sighed and looked around the place before standing up and walking about the house for a few minutes, glancing around and grazing her fingers along some photos and random things.

She was walking past the office when she heard some faint talking from behind the door, curious she leaned her head against the door and listened in on the dads’ conversation. She only caught a few things through the muffle of the door, ‘victim’ ‘murder’ and ‘plan’ being some of the few words she could process. Her eyes fluttered wider as soon as it stopped and she heard footsteps get closer to the door, she pulled her head back as quick as she could before the door swung open, and Billy stood there with a questioning gaze on his face.

“Were you listening in on us?” Billy asked, eyeing her suspiciously as she looked up at him like a deer caught in headlights. “I… I uh, no I just,” she couldn’t get her words out and she mentally smacked herself for it. “Mhm, sure… how much of it did you hear?” He questioned as he moved closer to her, enough to get her to back up against the wall in a bit of fear. “N-not much,” she squeaked out, gazing up at the tall man with widened eyes. Stu made his way over as well, standing beside Billy, but not as close to her.

“You know we don’t really like when people snoop around our house, especially someone we trust so much.” Billy pointed out, gazing down at her with his piercing brown eyes. “So that means we have to punish you for this,” he added, leaning closer to her, close enough where his chest was pressing against hers, lips close to her ear. “And I have a feeling you won’t like how,” he whispered huskily in her ear, causing her to swallow and press her thighs together. “‘M sorry, Sir… I didn’t mean to upset you two…” she whimpered out in fear.

The fear in her whimpers only heightened the feeling of blood rushing to Billy’s cock, he let out a breathy chuckle as he pulled back enough to note the fear in her eyes, smirking and biting his lower lip. “Jesus,” he rasped, looking at Stu for a second as if to gauge his reaction to Y/N as well. “You hear her? She sounds like a fuckin’ mess,” Billy said, his hands moving and finding their way to her arms. “Cmere baby girl, let us show you what happens to those who snoop around our shit,” Billy grinned as he pulled her into the office with Stu following behind.

Stu closed and locked the door behind him, standing by it as Billy pushed the young girl to sit down on the desk, his body closing in on hers as he gazed down at her in such a sultry way. His hands closed around her thighs and he yanked them open while dragging her closer to him, his groin pressing against hers, bulge prominently pressing to her clothed heat. She let out a soft gasp in surprise at the feeling of his hard-on, looking up at him with widened eyes. “Mr. Loomis… w-what…” she was cut off by Billy tutting at her. “Ah ah ah, it’s Sir from here on out, got it, princess?”

She nodded as she shyly looked away, which only caused her to get her head turned to look at him again. Billy gazed down at her, eyes flicking to her lips before he leaned down and pressed his own lips to them, enjoying the feeling of her soft warm lips against his. His hands grasped her hips, pulling them closer as his own grinned against hers, pulling a small pathetic whimper to leave her. Billy pulled back, a cocky smirk on his lips as he pressed his lips to her pulse point, biting down harshly and marking her before soothing the bite with his tongue. She was a whimpering mess at this point, gazing over at Stu while Billy’s face was pressed into her neck, his hips grinding slowly against hers.

Stu was smirking, his hand palming himself through his trousers as he watched Billy have his way with her. Billy pulled his head back and smirked at her again, sitting down in a chair while dragging her with him, settling her down onto his thigh. Billy started guiding her hips along his thigh, forcing her to grind herself down on him. She let out soft mewls and moans as she worked herself on the older man’s thigh. “Mmm!” She whined out as he bit down onto her throat again, marking her some more before he pulled away and brought his veiny hand up to her throat, pressing his index and thumb to her pulse points to restrict a little blood flow to her thrumming head.

Her hands went up and grasped his arm, moaning and gasping for air as she worked her hips faster, clit brushing her own jeans that shifted with each roll of her hips against his own jeans. She was losing her vision until Billy took notice and let go, she moaned as he let his grip up, feeling her body crash with the feeling of euphoria as her orgasm flooded into her, she squeaked out, eyes rolling back as she fell forwards onto Billy’s chest as her pussy fluttered around nothing. She whimpered weakly and moaned, rolling her hips slowly a few more times as her thighs trembled and closed around his own.

Billy shh’d her, his hands rubbing the globes of her as as he praised her quietly for the orgasm she brought herself to. “Good girl, you’re doing so fuckin’ good for daddies.” He praised, his hands caressing her sides now as he gently lifted her up off his thigh and back onto the desk. She whined out, wanting to go back to him but he simply shushed her again and lifted her shirt from her form, tossing it to the side. He licked his lips as his eyes raked over her naked top half, eyes focusing on her bust. He reached behind her and unhooked her bra, sliding it off her and putting it to the side with her shirt.

Stu watched this while still palming himself, slowly approaching them as he did so. “My turn.” Stu grinned, as he replaced Billy’s body with his in between her parted thighs. Stu pressed his lips to Y/N’s spit slicked ones, delving his tongue into her mouth as he licked around her teeth and tongue, battling with her for dominance. His hands grasped the buttoning of her jeans, undoing them swiftly and dragging the zipper down. He pulled her jeans off, and pushed them to the floor, before pushing her panties to the side. Stu ran his finger through her folds, groaning as he felt how absolutely soaked she was from her past orgasm and arousal. “Fuck, Billy she’s god damn soaked.” Stu pointed out as he dipped his middle finger into her heat, listening to the way her breathing picked up.

Billy watched as he undid his own jeans, pulling them off of himself and putting them to the side, sitting down in his chair and lazily stroking his length. “Fuckin’ hell Stu, she’s so fuckin’ hot, huh?” He gritted out, hand working himself a bit faster. Stu grinned and nodded as he added a second finger into her tight cunt, curling them in search for her g-spot. The way her breath hitched and she clenched on his digits signaled to him he found it. He chuckled as he started abusing the spot while the heel of his hand brushed her clit, working her up to her second orgasm of the night.

Stu continued his assault on her pussy as Billy watched, hand jerking faster as he watched it go down. “F…fuck, Stu you better hurry the fuck up and make her cum already so I can fuck her tight little cunt and fill her up myself.” Billy rasped out, as Stu cackled a bit and finger fucked her faster. She was trembling and whining before the orgasm hit her harder than the first, she cried out Stu’s name and slouched against him, her hands clasping onto his arms. “Mmmm, s…stop, s’too much,” she slurred, before feeling Stu pull his fingers out. “Good girl,” Stu purred, leaning back from her as he brought his hand up to his lips and cleaned them off with his tongue. He groaned out at the taste, “fucking hell, tastes as good as I thought she would.” Stu said as he stepped back a bit to let Billy step in now too.

Stu was quickly discarding his clothing now too, as he watched Billy slowly jerk himself right in front of her. “Lay down baby girl,” Billy commanded, brushing things off his desk to the floor, not caring what broke and what didn’t. He made her lay on her back as he grasped her thighs and parted them for her as much as she could, spitting in one of his hands and bringing it down to take a hold of his cock, lathering the spit all over his thick length before he grasped the base and brushed it through her folds and against her clit. He pulled back to fully remove her panties before he quickly started pushing himself into her, the tip of his cock breaching her entrance and eliciting a moan from her.

Billy groaned out, his hips continually moving forward until he was fully sheathed into her dripping, tight fluttering cunt. His breathing picked up as he pulled out a bit and slammed brutally back into her, and doing it all over again. Stu watched Billy fuck her in a slow yet hard rhythm, his hand going to his own dick as he jerked himself off slowly in time with Billy’s thrusts. Billy started to pick up the pace eventually, her whines spurring him on as he thrust into her at a bruising speed and hardness. He grinned as he felt her little hands wrap around his wrist and bring his hand up to her throat, her silently begging him to wrap it around her delicate flesh. “Fu…fuck,” Billy managed as he put pressure on her pulse points with his fingers, his hips snapping against hers harshly. Stu let out soft noises as he fucked his own hand, watching them. “Fuck, Billy when can I…?” Stu rasped out, aching to feel her cunt around him too.

Billy grunted, ignoring Stu as his free hand went from her hip to her clit, pinching it before flicking at it, then his thumb started brushing it in tight fast circles in time with his hips movements. “She’s fuckin’ squeezing me like a god damned vice,” Billy croaked out, listening to her breaths get more labored and squeaky. He let his grip on her throat up and replaced it with his lips, the hand that was once on her throat tweaking and twisting her nipples. “Cum for me princess, I know you’re almost there,” Billy coaxed, his fingers going back to their pinching and flicking movements before the rubbing again.

Y/N let out the most pornographic moan she could ever believe herself to manage, pussy contracting and squeezing Billy’s cock, causing him to tumble over the edge into pure bliss as well and milking him of all he had. She arched up against him and whined as she felt his hot ropes of cum shoot past her cervix and into her womb, filling her up with his seed as his hips slowly started to stop their rhythm, stilling deep inside her as his breathing was heavy and quick against her shoulder. “F..fuck,” was all Billy could manage, slowly slipping his softening cock out of her. The two failed to notice Stu making his way closer, until Billy felt Stu’s hands grasp onto him and push him out of the way for his turn to fuck his cum into her. Billy licked his lips and stepped back for Stu, watching them from the chair again.

Stu was quick to push his dick into her; though a bit smaller than Billy’s it still felt wonderful. She moaned out pathetically, her hands grasping onto Stu’s shoulders as he started to fuck into her at a harsh and fast pace from the get-go. She was reduced to a drooling and whimpering mess as Stu fucked into her at fervent speed, chasing his own high now. His hands were resting on her hips moved to her clit and roughly rubbed against it, causing her to immediately fall into another orgasm. She basically screamed out, pussy fluttering more now as she felt an odd feeling fill her veins. “Ah! S…stop! Something’s w…wrong I feel like I’m gonna…!” She couldn’t do anything about it but let go, an extra wet feeling flooding from her pussy and coating her ass and thighs, as well as Stu’s thighs and hips. Her face burned red as she thought she pissed herself, but when Stu let out a choked groan and came deep in her as well, he pointing something out. “Fuck! She just fucking squirted, Billy!” Stu said as he pulled his length from her, watching as all three of their arousals and juices flowed from her still-contracting cunt.

Billy grinned widely as he stood up and made his way over to both of them after he had dressed himself, moving to kiss Y/N deeply. “Jesus, if I knew you were a squirter then I would’ve fucked you sooner,” Billy said with a cocky grin on his lips. He looked at Stu and nodded at him as soon as he noticed how sleepy Y/N was getting. “Oh, princess…” Billy cooed, pulling her into his arms. He carried her to the bathroom across the hall as Stu got dressed again and went to go get some water and crackers for her to hydrate herself and eat a snack for energy. Billy set her down on the toilet, silently asking her to use it as he got the bath started. Billy made sure the water wasn’t too hot and poured some bubbles in for her, before picking her up once she was done and gently put her into the water. Stu made his way to the bathroom and smiled softly at them, kneeling next to Billy and giving her the glass of water and a couple crackers.

They made sure she ate and drank enough water before they helped her wash her body and hair, helping her out and drying her off. Billy carried her to his bedroom and laid her down on his bed, pulling the blankets over her. “I’ll get you a change of clothes for when you wake up,” Billy said as he moved to press a soft comforting kiss to the top of her head. Stu smiled softly and went to leave with Billy but they both stopped when she whined out. “Don’t go…” Y/N whined softly. Billy and Stu exchanged glances before they turned back around and got in beside her. Billy wrapped his arms around her and pressed another kiss to her head, rubbing comforting circles on her bare back. “You did so well baby,” Billy praised, and Stu smiled, humming in agreement as Stu’s hand gently rested on her hip. “We’re here now so you can sleep, okay princess?” Stu mumbled lovingly, exchanging another look with Billy as she fell asleep in their arms.

~

It wasn’t long after before the twins and Sam got back, calling out for Y/N and their dads as they set the snacks and groceries on the kitchen counter, going around and looking for them. Sam gasped as she opened her dad’s door to see her dad, Stu and Y/N all cuddled up and asleep together in the bed. “Oh my god,” she whispered in shock before closing the door and spinning around to go back downstairs and tell the twins what she had just saw, they were so going to confront the three of them later on…

♡︎likes are appreciated, comments are wonderful, reblogs are gold and follows are greatly welcomed!♡︎

♡︎Ilysm, take care of yourself and have a safe and great day/night!♡︎

[bella-goths-wife]

Post sex conversation and assassinations on the side

Content: this is kind of just an introduction to the new au im creating basically

Warnings: mentions of sex, cigarettes, murder, drug overdose, terrible plot building, murder in exchange for money, drug use, alcohol use, gore

^first time making one of these so tell me if it’s trash

Butcher and Becca both let out a long sigh of relief as they enter an embrace and enjoy their post sex glow, laying together in the back of the truck that butcher had used to sneak out and meet her in.

He holds her lovingly as he gazed down at the woman he had thought to dead for so long, memorising the details of her face that had previously become blurry in his mind during her absence. Though, this lovers bliss he was temporarily experiencing was forever dulled by the knowledge that she’d have to return to her glorified cage and he would have to return to his hideout to avoid having her killed by homelander and his happy families delusions.

Butcher goes into his pocket and takes out his cigarettes before lighting one and taking a drag, becca looks at him with a disapproving gaze before taking it from his hand and puffing out the smoke in his face in an almost playful gesture. Butcher only smiles, falling into their old post sex routines already.

“I still can’t believe that you were here all this time” butcher says in a low, almost regretful tone “all by yourself”

“I wasn’t all alone” becca comments with an absent mind as she enjoys the heat of laying with her lover.

“Well yeah, you had the kid an’ all” butcher says with a slight scoff at the mention of homelanders spawn “but you can’t have much conversation with a bawling baby”

“No, there were more people than just Ryan and I” Becca explains calmly as she looks up at her lover

“There were?” Butcher says with a confused look “who?”

“Homelander has more than just Ryan” Becca explains “he had another kid”

“There’s more in there?” Butcher asks with a scoff as his head motions to the secluded neighbourhood that becca was being kept in

“Not anymore” Becca says with a shake of her head

“What happened?” Butcher asks with a slight bit of morbid curiosity

“I don’t know” Becca admits with a sigh “one day they were here, the next they’d gone and vought refused to explain”

“Who’s they?” Butcher asks curiously

“Never met the mom, she mostly stayed inside so I only saw her from her windows” Becca explains “but I met her kid, a sweet little girl who’d visit me most days”

“Homelanders kid being sweet?” Butcher asks with a scoff of disbelief

Becca elbows him in the side at the indirect insult to Ryan, butcher lets out a groan and shields himself from any future blows.

“Yes, she wasn’t like her dad, she didn’t even know who he was” becca says with a scoff “she was just a hyper little girl who wanted company, she was the only one I really talked too since Ryan was only a baby and her mother never left the house”

“How old was she?” Butcher asks curiously as he takes a drag from his cigarette

“She was eight when Ryan was born, she would have been around nineteen by now” Becca says as she does the math in her head

“Would’ve been?” Butcher picks up on the undertone of her words

“Last time I saw her she was thirteen, her and her mother just disappeared into thin air” becca says with a sigh “all their stuff gone and no trace of them ever existing”

“So you think vought killed them?” Butcher assumes with a scoff

“I don’t know, maybe?” Becca says with an unsure tone “I hope not”

“Why, she’s not your kid?” Butcher says with a confused expression “and she’s homelanders daughter”

“That doesn’t matter, she was just a kid” Becca states defensively before sighing “sometimes I just sit and wonder where she could be, if she’s safe and happy or if she’s buried somewhere here”

“Vought probably killed her” butcher states bluntly “that or they are milking her for whatever she had in a lab somewhere”

“Maybe” becca says with an unsure look “I just wonder where she is now”

———————————————————————-

“Your whiskey, sir” you offer the man with a smile as you place his drink on the coaster next to him

“Yeah, yeah” the man waves you off and takes a sip of his drink before turning back to his associates “Mike, you have to think about this, this is a big deal”

You keep your forced smile on as you return to your position next to the miniature bar set up in the hotels meeting room, holding your tongue and all the things you wanted to scream at this up his own ass executive.

“I’m hearing you joe, but it’s too much of a risk” the other executive states with a scoff

“But think of the money, we could profit if we just let homelander run off the script a bit” the man tries to reason

“And have him spout off a racist comment within the first five seconds of being on live TV? Yeah no thanks” the other executive shuts down the idea.

Their tedious conversation is interrupted suddenly by the loud blaring of the hotels fire alarm. They look at each other in shock briefly before spouting off complaints on the lack of professionalism.

The other executive tries to get up and unlock the door before quickly realising it’s locked from the inside.

“Give us your damn key” he demands with a scoff and an open palm, his irritation only growing as the hotels sprinkler system activates because of the fire alarm.

You simply shake your head and remain still as a statue next to the miniature bar. The executive practically growls as he begins charging towards you with an infuriated expression.

“Listen here, you little bitch” the executive yells out as he storms towards you “give me the fucking key, now-“

He’s interrupted by his own gurgling as his head slowly slips off of his shoulders and on to the floor and his body collapses. Your custom made metal bartending tray with razor sharp edges has embedded itself in the wall in the other side of the room on its journey through the executives throat.

The man lets out a scream as he looks at his friends now headless body before scrambling for the door and trying his hardest to yank it open.

“God, you people don’t know how to ask nicely for anything huh?” You say with a chuckle as you undo the bow tie and rolling up the sleeves of your bartending uniform, you scoff when you notice the man’s attempts to open the door “no point in doing that, even if you somehow managed to open it, you’d face two of my men who have been standing guard since we got in here”

The man stares at the door as he contemplates his options before he backs away from the door and arms himself with a cheese knife from the cheese board and stares at you. You almost chuckle at his sad attempts at self defence.

The man looks at you before arming himself with the knife and charging at you with the intent to kill you to escape.

You smirk as you make eye contact with the man while he’s charging at you, your pupils expanding to almost fill the entire eye.

The man stops suddenly and stands there in silence for a few tense seconds before dropping the knife and gripping his throat desperately, clawing at it like a feral cat.

Sweat accumulates on the man’s body as he feels it harder to breath and his body begins to fill with pains extending from his chest.

“They always go for the attack approach” you comment to yourself with a laugh as you go to the door to unlock it and let the other men enter

They give you a nod as they go to take the headless man’s body away, the man crawling desperately to them in a silent cry for help.

“They aren’t on your side, stupid” you say with a laugh as you crouch in front of him “they get the same payout as me, it’s unlikely they’ll give that up to help a fat slob like you”

The man claws at his chest before looking at the drink you handed him earlier. He then tries jamming his fat fingers down his throat

“What are you doing?” You ask confused before following his line of site and laughing “you think i poisoned you? Please, I’m not that sloppy”

You let out a laugh as you sit cross legged in front of the desperately dying man who looks at you with a mix of fear and confusion.

“Your overdosing” you say calmly as you grab his hair and lift up his head and look into his wild eyes “slowly and painfully”

The man lets out gurgled sounds of pain and confusion as he claws at your legs as if asking for mercy.

“Now we both know a good Christian man like yourself doesn’t do drugs, that’s the message you spread to the press anyway” you say with a smirk “so let me explain, I’m currently giving you the effects of cocaine which would usually be a pleasant experience but I’m making sure you get the effects of too much cocaine”

The men who had removed the body come back in and began to set the scene in the hotel meeting room, trashing things and laying out lines of coke on the table and around the room.

“I could have chosen a more pleasant drug to do this with, a less painful one” you explain with a chuckle “but you pissed off the wrong people and our client has asked that we do this as painfully and humiliating as possible”

You get up and you get a small bit of coke on your fingertips. You grip the man’s jaw until his mouth opens and you let out a huff of disgust as you put your fingers in his mouth and you spread the cocaine on his gums to leave physical residue for the post mortuary exam to uncover and the press to exploit and use.

“This isn’t gonna look good for you, a good Christian man found overdosed on coke” you say with a grin “what will the wife think?”

The man’s eyes well up with tears as he sobs out in pain. You laugh with a grin as you get up and use your heel to tip him on his back.

“Sugar” one of your friends call as he finishes dressing the room for the press pictures “we only have five minutes to leave before the supes get here, hurry up and finish it”

You sigh before giving a thumbs up to your two friends who were becoming increasingly more anxious as the time goes on, you think about making them experience the effects of a Xanax to get them to chill out but you decide against it with a shake of your head.

“Well then, guess our time has ended here” you say with a grin as you look down at the dying man “Edgar sends his regards, don’t piss off people with connections like he has if you want to stay alive next time”

You increase the dosage mentally as your eyes connect which pushes him over the edge and the life slowly drains from his eyes.

“Sugar” your friend yells again as you go over to where your tray had embedded itself in the wall “two minutes, hurry the fuck up”

“One sec” you say with a huff as you grab the tray and pull it free from the wall.

You pull the tray free with a groan before cleaning the blood from it. It shines as you hold it up to your face and you stare into your own eyes while you recite the chemical makeup for the cocaine and the dosage in your head, you watch as your pupils dilate to the large size again before feeling the familiar sensation of energisation fill your body pleasantly.

“Okay, ready” you say with a excited grin as you grab your friends hands and begin to run out the room “let’s get out of here”

You and your friends leave quickly and run free, leaving behind the slumped over dead body of the executive who had been making challenging decisions within vought.

You hoped Mr Edgar would be happy enough with your job to leave a hefty tip.

This is probably super stupid but I’ve had the idea for this kinda of power for ages and I just needed to write it down.

Let me know what you think :)

[moriitis]

Knight!Toby Rogers. HCs. Medieval AU. 18+

¬ Comes from a very poor background, lived in the poorer district.

¬ His dad a drunk, his mother passed away during childbirth. Lyra had found work and gotten married, thus leaving him with his father.

¬ His dad nothing but a low life farmer who used what money he got on alcohol. Claimed he fought in the 'big war' but Toby never believed it. ¬ Finally snapped one night and killed his father in a fury of rage. When his fathers taxes weren't paid, the local guards discovered the murder. ¬ Toby is now labelled as a criminal and is sentenced to death. ¬ But the day of his execution, the King's Knight decides that Toby deserves a chance and convinces the King to send Toby to Knight school for the rest of his childhood; serving his sentence to be trained as a Knight. ¬ At the age of thirteen, he narrowly escapes the death sentence and is sent to Knight school. ¬ Knight school is rough and brutal and Toby faces countless bullying from the fellow boys due to his tics. Finds himself getting beat up a lot there, chased out into the woods or even spat on as they walked past. ¬ 'You'd never make it as a Knight.' They would sneer at him. ¬ Six AM starts, running until his lungs could collapse. They'd deny breakfast if you couldn't complete the laps around the fortress, which was perched atop a mountain. ¬ Many boys fell to their death, each morning a boy missing from the treacherous paths and rocky climbs. ¬ Three hours of learning the art of combat. Swords, axes, fist to fist. Each wound nothing but a lesson to become better. ¬ Toby finishes Knight school at the age of eighteen. ¬ He's immediately employed by the same King that spared his life, now finding himself in chains of loyalty to the crown. ¬ Toby is devoted to the crown and the King. ¬ He's put on wall duty, executions at first and ensuring safety within the kingdom and its citizens. ¬ But really proves his worth when he takes an arrow that was meant for the King, saving the King's life. ¬ Ranked up to now Knight for the King himself, attending high court meetings, the feasts and following him on horseback when needed so.

¬ Becomes nothing but a loyal dog. ¬ Upon his rank up, Toby shaves his head. A sign of his devotion to his king and a renewal of his vows as a Knight. ¬ A quiet, dead, brown eyed boy that lost his innocence young. ¬ Doesn't speak unless spoken to, but as the years tick on he will begin to advise for the King. ¬ Adding inputs in council meetings, helping avoid another great war. ¬ Becomes witty, smart and dangerous the more he works alongside the King. ¬ A small part within him desperate to be loved, looked after. ¬ A very broken shell of a man. ¬ Does not attend chapel as he is not religious.

Scenario...

You are the Princess/Prince. HCs.

¬ Loving you is strictly out of the question. It's forbidden, you were due to be married off to another. ¬ But Toby couldn't deny the feelings he felt each time you looked at him. Like he was being.. noticed? ¬ You looked through his armour, you saw nothing but a touch starved mutt. ¬ Each time he was instructed to guard you or accompany you, he'd feel such a sense of duty that weighed on him, greater than any other.

¬ Being near you, near your presence, it did things to him in a way he couldn't describe. ¬ Was it the lack of sex? ¬ He'd spent some nights in the brothels, but the idea of you, how wrong it would be. It lulled him in more. ¬ Each time you grazed fingers, he'd look at you in a way that longed for desire and you felt it too. ¬ He spent more time alone with you, even in the chapel. ¬ And he wasn't sure what happened, but now you were pinned against the chapel wall and he was helplessly attacking the flesh of your neck. ¬ And it wasn't just that instance where he'd taken you helplessly. ¬ The empty armoury, hell with it, the stable even. ¬ And it was wrong, so wrong, but the thought of it only encouraged him more. ¬ He'd watch in jealousy as your hand was given away, the thought to kidnap you and make him his own becoming a thought that kept him awake at night. ¬ How he could make it work, how he could be a good husband, how he could protect you.

[loveandmurders]

The Sun of Ambrose V (lost Sinclair!daughter reader AU)

Hi everyone, this is the final part of my Sinclair!daughter AU in which the reader is Bo's daughter and she has been taken away and adopted by a new family.

You can find part I here.

Hope you'll enjoy! <3

Warnings: no proof reading, killer!reader, mentions of guilt, violence, murders, blood, some sort of dark angst/comfort

You quite enjoyed your summer break in Ambrose. You loved to sculpt with Vincent, you loved to watch your dad work on a car and to have him show you things, you loved to wander around with Lester. You loved to play with Jonesy as well. Everything felt good. You never slept so well in years, because you were finally feeling safe enough to fully relax.

You hadn’t asked about the tourists anymore because you didn’t have enough strength for more drama for the moment. And whenever people were coming around, the brothers made sure you were busy somewhere else in the town or with Lester. You pretended you didn’t notice anything. You just wanted to be happy. 

And for the moment, your own desire to kill has quieted down. You were still feeling sick from the murder of your mother.

The brothers didn’t notice anything amiss; apart from the fact they still hadn’t heard the sound of your voice, you were once again their ray of sunshine. You were making them so full of joy. The twins were talking, late in the night, about the legacy once again. They hadn’t thought they could resume their plans on this matter. They were so relieved.

However they were a little bit concerned about your adoptive father. They were certain that even if the man wasn’t doing too well for the moment, at some point he would want to get “his daughter” back. The twins had no idea how to cut him out of your life without killing him. Bo would love to murder him - out of jealousy - but he knew that you would know it one day, and he didn’t want to upset you that way. Both your mothers already died after all…

You were having a snack in Bo’s garage while he was taking care of a new car. You were sucking on the chocolate that dripped on your fingers, as you were listening to the music your father put on. You were both enjoying each other's presence even if you weren’t interacting directly. Bo was always a lot more at ease when you were in the same room than him or at least in his line of vision. He was still traumatised; he lost you once, and he promised himself it would never happen again.

You slightly jumped when you felt your phone buzzing next to you. You grabbed it and frowned when you saw it was your adoptive father. Bo noticed the look on your face.

“What’s up, baby?” he asked you as he came closer to you. You put your phone on your lap so you could sign

“He is wondering where I am.” you replied, knowing Bo would understand who was the “he”. You father rolled his eyes and groaned

“Oh so he remembered he's supposed to look after ya?” he ironized and your crossed your arms on your chest “Don’t pout” he hummed and kissed the top of your head

“I’ll have to tell him I’m here. I can’t lie to him about that. Just be nice to him, okay? Things are difficult and… And he won’t be happy about the situation because…” you trailed off

“Because what?”

“Well before mom got sick, she discovered I was chatting with you and Vince and Les, and she was worried about me. She wanted to call the cops on you” you explained. Bo didn’t show any emotion but you read in his eyes that he was quite concerned about such news

“Luckily she got sick then” he commented out loud before realising it “Sorry, love, I didn’t mean it like that” he quickly added as you looked away. Luck had really nothing to do with it, you thought.

“Anyway, I will tell him I’m here. And he’ll probably come get me. I’m just gonna make sure he doesn’t call the police or anyone” you promised as you got up and left the garage

You needed to be alone to write to your adoptive father: “Hey dad, are you feeling better? I didn’t really have anywhere to go so I went back to Ambrose. Everyone is very nice to me and Bo is inviting you over (so please don’t call the police, they really didn’t do anything wrong!). Will you bring me back home?”

The answer was almost instantaneous: “Yes, I will. I won’t call the police because I shouldn’t have asked you to go away in the first place. Love you, I’m sorry for everything”

You were relieved, knowing he wouldn’t be lying to you, not after what happened, not when he had failed his mission of taking care of you.

You came back home and settled at the kitchen table, thinking about what to do next. You didn’t want to leave Ambrose but you wouldn’t be allowed to stay here. You tried to busy yourself on some silly games on your phone but soon enough you grew bored. You were feeling quite upset as well. For the first time in weeks, you wanted to kill someone. You needed to express yourself in another way than sculpting or drawing. You needed to take out your frustration on someone, but there was no one to kill here.

Vincent opened the basement door, in need of some water when he saw you. He quickly saw you weren’t your usual happy self. He put an hand on your shoulder for you to look up at him before signing:

“What’s wrong?”

“My adoptive father will come get me. I think he should be here tonight” you replied

“Do you want to go?” Vincent tilted his head to the head, you quickly shook your head

“No, but I can’t really do anything about it”

You could tell that Vincent wanted to say something but didn’t dare and he simply sadly nodded his head at you.

“How about we make something together? Would it cheer you up?” he offered, which made you smile

“I’d love to”

As you focused on the art you were making with Vincent, you forgot about your adoptive father and you forgot about the time. Your need to kill quietened down, but was still there, waiting for you to be on your own to eat you up alive once again.

You were about to finish a sculpture of Jonesy you intended to offer to Lester, when you heard two vehicles coming into Ambrose. You looked at the window, but didn’t recognise your adoptive father’s car. There were lost “tourists” who were following behind Lester’s truck. Vincent tensed and looked at the clock before asking you:

“When do you think your adoptive father will come here?”

“I’m not sure, soon I guess” you shrugged but you saw the panic rising into Vincent’s eye

“Alright. I let you finish the sculpture without me. We have work to do. Stay here, please.” Vincent replied

“What work?” you frowned

“Promise me you will stay here” Vincent asked, firmly signing each work. You understood he was pretty serious about it

“Of course, I promise you, uncle” you finally replied as you sat back down and watched Vincent leave the room and go back into the basement.

You were about to go back to your sculpture when you heard people violently arguing. The “tourists” didn’t seem to be too happy with Bo. Lester was quick to intervene as well. You watched the scene of a man pushing Lester to the ground, and Bo hitting the said man. Your eyes widened at such a display of violence. You nibbled on your bottom lip. Were your family killers, or was it just bad people disrupting the peace of Ambrose?

You saw that things were getting pretty rough between the three tourists and your father and uncle. You wondered where Vincent was, and almost got into the basement to look for him… Until you saw your adoptive father’s car coming into view. He really couldn’t have arrived at the worst moment. He stopped in front of the garage and tried to put himself between Bo and the man, and to appease the situation. Bo asked him to go away, you guessed, according to his gestures. And your adoptive father refused.

You were too far away to see everything, and even more when they seemed to come more into Bo’s garage. You just knew that at some point someone screamed. Two tourists ran away, Lester ran after them with what seemed like a knife, and Bo was covered in blood. You had to stop yourself from leaving the house. You wanted to help, and you wanted to be the one covered in blood. However, you never broke a promise you made to your family before, so you had to be better, you had to stay inside. You didn’t know where your adoptive father was anymore and you grew worried. How could things go so badly after such happy weeks in Ambrose?

Bo grabbed a rifle and was about to go after the tourists when he received a massive hit on the head from behind and fell on the ground. You saw your adoptive father with some mechanic tool in his hands.

You couldn’t stop yourself this time. You took the gun Bo was hiding under his armchair and ran to the garage. You had to stop them, you had to do something about it. You couldn’t scream or you would have. Your legs brought you in front of the two men with such speed, as the adrenaline was pumping into your veins. Before you knew it, you aimed at them.

Your adoptive father who was ready to hit Bo stopped his movement as he noticed you and he brought his hands in front of him. Bo was still on the ground, pretty disoriented by the hit he received on the head. He looked up and saw you. You had never looked so much like a Sinclair before. He knew you were his daughter then; he wouldn’t even be disappointed if you decided to kill him.

You were perfect.

“What are you doing? Shoot him, shoot him! He killed the guy, and he wants to kill us all. Your mother was right, they are murderers!” you adoptive father yelled as you eyes moved between him and Bo

“I won’t hurt ya, baby” Bo whispered to you “Everythin’s alright” he continued, trying to sooth you. And one thing was certain, you wouldn’t stand to never hear him talking to you like that anymore.

You looked back at your adoptive father, tears in your eyes. You wanted to tell him how sorry you were about what you were going to do, about what you did to his wife, but with the gun in your hands, you couldn’t.

You shooted and closed your eyes. His body loudly fell to the ground and you shivered. You looked down at Bo and helped him to get up.

He quickly hugged you before gently rocking you, so you could calm down. You didn’t cry in his embrace, you felt at peace. You felt like everything was as it always should have been.

“Ya alright?” Bo whispered to you as he cupped your face into his bloody hands. You nodded and sniffed.

Screams resonated from the House of Wax and you moved from Bo. You were ready to help, you were ready to kill some more but Bo grabbed your wrist. He softly took the gun from you and kissed the palm of your hand.

“Don’t worry, baby. Les and Vince are taking care of the two others. Ya can rest now. Ya did amazin’. Ya saved me, ya saved the family” he hummed, pride shining into his eyes. “Told ya everythin’ was gonna be alright,” he added as he brought you back against him once again.

You couldn’t fully relax, not knowing if your uncles were doing alright. You kept your face towards the House of Wax, waiting for them. Soon enough, you saw them pulling two bodies out of the museum and you felt the adrenaline leaving you.

“I need to sit down” you signed to your dad who quickly nodded. He opened Lester’s truck and sat you down at the passenger seat, as it was the most comfy place he could offer for the moment. He didn’t want you to see the body of your adoptive father either.

“Stay here, I’ll be back soon” he murmured. He needed to let his brothers know about what happened. 

Soon enough, they were all around you. You quickly scanned them, to make sure they were unharmed. They didn’t really know what to tell you. They were happy, of course, but they weren’t too sure how you were feeling. You killed the man who raised you for years, after all.

Truth to be told, you used to feel guilty because of the death of his wife that was driving him crazy, but now they were back together. You felt free. You felt ready to kill again, to kill for the family business.

“Bo told us ya did the right thin’” Lester told you and you gave him a soft smile “Feelin’ all good?” he asked and you nodded.

“You don’t have to feel bad for having… killed him, you know. You protected your real father, you protected us. You did what you had to do” Vincent signed to you, even if Bo and Lester weren’t too sure that reminding you you killed him was a good idea. To their surprise, you relaxed into the seat and nodded again.

“I am a Sinclair” you said in a rough voice you hadn’t used in years.

--

Taglist : @murder-hobo - @lacychick ; @magical-sass ; @limehaspassed ; @loveinglymessedup ; @bloodmoon-bites ; @iwantsleepplz ; @kawaistrawberry21 ; @12gaugefalls ; @kriston1210 ; @slushi-chan

[jessi4fanfics]

~Absolutely Perfect~

|BROPPY AS PARENTS!!! I have writers block and usually parent broppy aus help me keep up with my oneshots CUZ THEY WOULD BE CUTE PARENTS:33 Its costly centered around Branch tho:) Ivy and Oakley are ocs by @spooky-pop ⭐ (btw, Spooky, if you want me to take this story down, feel free to tell me and I will do it right away❤) Pwease enjoy✨|

It was a quiet and chill morning. Ya know, those kinds that just only seem to happen on your birthday or Christmas or even a lucky Saturday when you go "ah, no work, no worries, and I get to sleep in. Perfect".

Branch could feel the sun shining through his eyelids in a more comforting way than annoying through the window, and the plush soft and cool covers and sheets covering him, his right foot being slightly cooled by the breeze coming from the fan above them.

He wasn't moving though. Heck no. He was half asleep still anyway, and he was already trying to make himself fall back asleep.

Branch smiled through his drowsiness, eyes still shut. Despite how comforting his bed was, the feeling of his wife's hand holding his underneath the covers, her head laying over his arm, her crazy morning hair brushing against his cheek as she leaned against him was more what was making this morning seem so perfect.

Her slow deep sleeping breaths were enough of a song to drift him back to sleep...

"DADDDDDD!!!!"

 A pounce, a bounce, and Branch felt his leg crack as a child landed on top of it.

 "Owww!!" He bolted up, knowing sleep for the morning was gone. He felt his leg. "Ivy!!! Please don't break my leg!!"

 His daughter gave him that grin he only knew too well, a grin her mother gave him often as well.

It meant affection. But it also meant destruction.

 "Your leg is finnnee. It gave the same kind of crack my fingers give when I do this!" Ivy took her right hand and started pulling the fingers on her left hand with it. After each pull came a pop!

 "Ivy! Stop!!" Branch covered his ears. "That sound is disgusting and probably unhealthy!" 

Ivy chuckled and climbed up to him, wrapping him in a hug. "I love you, Dad."

 Branch gratefully returned the hug, but have her a skeptical look. She definitely was up to something.

 "I love you too, Ivy," he sighed, eyebrows still raised.

 Ivy looked up at him. "And you know what?"

 "Hmm?"

 "It's time for your birthday noogies!!!" Ivy shrieked happily.

Birthday--?!!

Before Branch could process this, Ivy jumped up, standing on their bed, wrapped her arms around his head, and used her right hand to scrape her fist hard against his already ruffled morning hair, into his noggin.

 "Ivy!! Ow, stoppit!!" Branch tried to push her off, unsuccessfully.

Ivy cackled, continuing.

Branch heard a giggle from beside him. Poppy had sat up now, and she was watching her husband get attacked by his own daughter with so much joy in her eyes--

 "Oh sure - ow! Just sit there and enjoy the show! Ivy!!! That's a knot, owowow!" Branch winced from the pain.

 "I'm sorry," Poppy croaked sleepily, still giggling . "Ivy, honey, get off of your dad, please."

 "But I have to do a boogie for each year of his life!" Ivy groaned, taking a small break. "And- whew! That's gonna take awhile," she murdered jokingly, patting him on the head.

 "Oh, really??" Branch scoffed, reached out, grabbed his daughter by the waist, pulled her down and began to tickle her.

 Her laughs were exactly like her mom's. Branch loved to hear them.

When her laughs became more like shrieks, he stopped. "No one calls me an old man." He sat back smirking proudly.I

 "You did that yourself," Ivy shot back smartly, grinning and out of breath.

Branch lifted an eyebrow threateningly and reached out once again.

Ivy shrieked and fell off the bed trying to avoid him.

 "You okay?" Branch peeked over.

 Ivy just laughed from the floor.

Of course she was fine. She was Ivy.

Poppy laughed and took Branch's arm gently in her hands. "Honey, quiet down, you're gonna wake--"

In came Oakley, his hair just as disheveled as his parents. He was carrying his blankie and his eyelids were still dark from sleep. He said groggily, "What's happening?"

 Ivy shot up. "I was noogie-ing Dad."

Branch rolled his eyes.

Oakley frowned, disapproving. "Noogie-ing is not very nice, sissy."

"PFFTTT!" Ivy waved her brother away and stood back up.

Poppy laughed and held out her arms. "C'mere, pumpkin."

The young orange troll scuffled over to his mom. He climbed into her lap and she wrapped her arms around him, rocking him back and forth.

"You see, Oak, it's some trolls' traditions to give people noogies on their birthday. Uncle John Dory does it to your daddy all the time, which is probably where your sissy got it." Poppy looked at her daughter, who nodded proudly.

John Dory was only her favorite uncle.

"Birthday?!" Oakley sat up, his ears twitching. He looked at his dad, who was now massaging his scalp, which he believed was now completely red under his crazy hair.

"Yup." Poppy grinned and turned to Branch affectionately . "It's your dad's birthday. And he has absolutely no work today, Mommy made sure of that." Her eyes twinkled excitedly.

"Whoa, no work?" Branch looked at her, alarmed. "You aren't about to do all of my jobs, Poppy. It's a crazy list of king duties, and your list is already long, and I wouldn't want--"

"I have no work too." Poppy beamed happily. "The leaders told me  they have it all under control." 

Branch watched her, surprised. No work? He had been doing his king stuff and his boyband work combined since the day after he and Poppy returned from their honeymoon.

"Wow. Poppy, honey, that's so sweet, I can't believe you--" he began, leaning closer to her.

"BIRTHDAY PUNCHES!!" Oakley shrieked. He jumped out of Poppy's lap he hurled himself at his father, and gave him a form punch in the side.

"Ow!!!" Branch wrapped his arms around his torso. "Oakley!"

Poppy laughed. "Branch, you're so sensitive!"

Branch scowled. "I'm not sensitive, I-- ow!!! Ivy! Stop encouraging!"

They were both punching their dad now.

"Uncle John told us to punch you as many years as you have lived, " Oakley stated importantly. "He said I had to do this otherwise you would explode!" He continued punching while Ivy laughed.

"Of course he told you that, " Branch groaned.

"How old are you, Daddy?" Oakley asked.

"I'm sure you've punched me at least fifty times already, Oak!" Branch grabbed their fists and held them away from him.

 "Fifty? Hmm." Ivy pretended to think. "Only thirty more punches to go, Oakley!"

 Oakley cheered and got ready to punch again.

"What?! Nooo, I'm not eighty!" Branch said, holding him back.

"You're not?!" Oakley gasped. "Wow, you must be ancient!"

Poppy was full-on belly laughing now. Branch glared at his son.

"I'm younger than fifty," he told him.

"How much younger?" Ivy teased.

"Alright! That's it! " Branch stood up, grabbed Oakly and hurled him over his shoulder, grabbed Ivy and did the same, and dragged them over to the couch in the living room where he plopped them. "Stay."

They both giggled.

"Or what?" challenged Ivy.

"Or your mom and I can't get dressed and take you out for donuts, " Branch said casually, walking away.

"DONUTS!!" the kids shrieked with excitement. They rushed to their dad and hugged him before he went into his room. Then they dashed off to get dressed themselves.

Branch marched into his room, a slight smirk on his face, and shut the door firmly behind him, locking it. And he plopped back in bed beside Poppy, who was still sitting there, smiling, and pulled the covers over his head.

"So?" she asked, rubbing her hand over his stomach through the sheets.

"Apparently we're taking them out to donuts, " Branch said through the blanket.

Poppy frowned. "You hate donuts."

 "And?"

 "You aren't about to take us to a donut place on your birthday, Branch."

 "Says who?" Branch sat up defiantly. "You guys love donuts. I think I can gift myself with seeing you guys heavily enjoy yourselves, thank you very much." He pecked her cheek tenderly.

Poppy smiled even bigger. Then the smile got a bit wobbly.

Suddenly, looking away quickly, she gave a sniff.

Branch immediately was on alert. He turned her chin to face him. "What's wrong? Poppy are you...crying??!"

What had he done, what did he do--?!!!

Poppy's smile got even more wobbly as she felt the tears slide down her cheeks. She giggled. "I know it's stupid for me to cry over," she sniffled, "but you are such an amazing part of this family, Branch. You don't realize how lucky we are. Even through your mistakes, you are our rock. Great fathers aren't just amazing people, they are also great examples. Sometimes of what not to do," she chuckled.

She leaned her forehead against his. "But that's what you are to us. Everything we could ever need."

Branch smiled, wiping her tears with his thumb, swiping it across her cheek.

"You know-- you made me like this."

The chuckle that came from him made her melt inside. "Well, it was a team effort."

"DONUTS! DONUTS!" the kids shrieked from outside their door. "DADDY WE'RE READYYY!!"

Branch laughed and got up. "Just a minute!!" He turned back to her from his closet. " You're sure nothing else is bothering you?"

Poppy shook her head happily from the bed. "Everything is absolutely perfect."

You are absolutely perfect.

Happy Birthday My Rock.

MWHAHAHAHA CHEESYYYYY (again) I need to work on my cheesy endings😭. But hope you enjoyed, I loved writing it! I hope it cured my writing block!💀 Hearts!!

[howlsofbloodhounds]

What's your opinion on Dadmare aus?

I don’t think much about Dadmare aus, or not very often. I don’t have anything against them and whenever I come across content i usually think it’s cute and like the post before moving on, but i don’t seek it out and hardly engage in it.

This is mostly because i haven’t found an interpretation of dadmare aus ive been able to get invested in, most interpretations ive come across just aren’t for me.

My biggest “issues” (but not really) with most interpretations is that nightmare is almost always portrayed as a perfect dad who can do no wrong, all the other sanses are infantilized to hell and back, and as @/signanothername said in their own post, none of the characters feel like their own people.

Their relationships to eachother and Nightmare all feel very one note and cut from the same mold most of the time. All the same reactions, all completely trust Nightmare and kiss the ground he walks on.

I don’t mind found family, but I don’t like it when the found family is shoved into little boxes and cannot differ from them.

Nightmare is 500+ years old, did not grow up with any significant parent figure in his life despite winging it on taking care of Dream, and spent his 6 early years of life being routinely abused by all the adults around him. And then he was horribly transformed and corrupted.

Why would he take on a parental role again when the last time he tried something like that he was also a child, he had no other choice, and everything went to shit despite it? Wouldn’t he also struggle like any actual parent would.

If he spent 500+ years isolated and only interacting with others when forced to, or needing something from them like negativity, wouldn’t that life experience translate into trying to care for this group of traumatized men.

And they are men. They aren’t boys. They’re adults. Unless they’re supposed to be actual children when they meet Nightmare, or one or all of them are age regressed, then I don’t see the point in infantilizing them or treating them as if they’re children. None of these guys are looking for a father figure.

Adults can be found family, there doesn’t need to be any dad or child or siblings boxes to me.

Especially not when Horror already has a brother, Killer’s concept of family dynamics is also very likey screwed to hell and back (just look at what he thinks about any relationship, there’s no such thing as “equals” in his eyes, killer in dadmare dynamics would probably just view it as another role and game he has to play and “dadmare” is his new Chara), Nightmare killed his mother and his currently trying to kill his brother after trapping him in stone for years.

Dust killed his brother and is constantly haunted by his hallucination, Cross destroyed his entire AU and also came from an entirely different AU with a completely different life from the others. (Alphys being his sister, for example. Horror having lobotomized his Alphys and Killer having likely killed and tortured his many times and Dust having murdered his.)

So tldr: I don’t mind dadmare, but it personally isn’t for me. I like found family bad sanses, but not if there’s roles assigned and not if it’s not earned.

I don’t like Nightmare being the perfect father somehow and the sanses being treated like children even though they’re 30-40+ adults and aren’t looking for a father figure.

I prefer dysfunctional found family dynamics with the bad sanses.

Also that some people aren’t likely to be overly emotionally involved or invested in these dynamics for a very long time if at all, even if he plays along as if its all a game or some elaborate test being played on him— either because he thinks he has to, or because it’s something new and he’s curious. He may even get bored of the dynamics eventually, and start asking Nightmare when it’s game over.

Which could lead to something very interesting if he realizes it was never supposed to be a game or a test.

[for-a-longlongtime]

Little Beast

Written for @perotovar 's writing challenge 'An Offering of Frith'. The P Boys they had planned were already taken, so I asked for Santiago Garcia and got Fenrir assigned! Pairing: Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x Francisco 'Catfish' Morales Word count: 18.5K Warnings: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI. 🏳️‍🌈 (DDDNE) DARK fic, AU. Extreme angst from A to Z. Lots of violence (guns, knives, beating, kicking), swearing, hate crime, homophobia (repeated use of a slur), abuse, repeated assault and murder, kidnapping, many mentions of blood and injuries, raiding, (body) horror, nightmares, substance use/abuse (alcohol, cocaine), smoking, arms trafficking, sex work, mental health struggles, trauma. M/M pairing, frotting, masturbation. Norse mythology meets Santi + P Boys meets magic realism in Colombia in the early nineties (so: Narcos related references like Escobar, the Castaño brothers and the Cali cartel).

A/N's: Written in Second Person - not reader insert, but Santiago's POV (aka you are Santi). Not gonna lie, this one is A LOT; writing it turned into some out-of-body experience. More about the gods & characters (and thank you’s) in foot notes.

main masterlist | read on AO3

Bogota, Colombia. 

You’re five years old and your name is Santiago. The house you share with your brothers and parents is small, deep in the comunas, and most people know where to find it. Lots of them will stop by, because of papi’s work, sometimes very early in the morning or really late at night. When you ask what kind of work he does, mama hushes you, and your brother Jay looks away. Your brother Joel however will quietly stare at your dad - too calm, while his eyes are so angry.

You’re seven years old and you still don’t know what your father’s job is. Not a teacher, or someone at the market. Not one of the guys who cleans up the trash on your corner. For a while you thought that maybe he was a butcher, because mami was often cleaning the blood from his clothes. “It stains so bad.” But you’d never seen him in the market, selling his wares.

Every few weeks he is gone for a long time, and often the police will visit the house, which always makes your mom cry.

Every now and then a new face will show at the house, asking to speak to your mother. The girls are always very pretty, dressed in bright colors. The guys often have shiny guns; some of them will let you hold it when mami isn’t in the room.

You see your father all the time when you’re waiting with her at the store. Often he’ll wear a funny looking hat, and sometimes his face looks different. But you know it’s him, always, by the smile and wink he gives you. When you tell mami, she never sees him and starts crying again, so you stop telling her about it.

Jay doesn’t come home often anymore. When you ask Joel if that is your fault, if you made him cry too, he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. You’re okay.”

You’re not sure if you are.

When it’s your eighth birthday, your father suddenly shows up with presents that make you the envy of your friends. Boxing gloves, a large pocket knife - that your mom right away tries to take away from you -, and you all eat so much dulce de leche cake.

You wake up in the middle of the night because you hear your father arguing. The loud bangs that follow are unmistakingly gun shots, and you find one of the casings the next morning near the front door. When you ask your mami about it, she gets so angry that you run away from home for the afternoon to hide, until it gets dark and she’s had the drinks that make her happier.

When you got the boxing gloves, you didn’t know that they would also give you more time with your father - but they do. He teaches you how to throw a punch, how to avoid an attack, read someone’s body language. When to attack someone if you need to defend yourself. Which parts of the body are most vulnerable, and where to stab somebody to make them bleed out quickly.

He’s proud, always, as he tells people about how good of a fighter you’re becoming. “Takes after me.” You don’t - not really, but you do your best to make him continue to believe that. Until you start to believe it too and knock out a guy who is twice your age.

When you’re ten, they try to burn down your house. You don’t know exactly who ‘they’ are, but you’ve heard the name El Gran Señor Lorenzano often enough to know that you should fear him.

The first time it happens, your dad is just in time to stop the fire from escalating. The second time, he’s not home, so you do put out the flames together with Joel.

The third time starts with a flaming bottle being thrown through a window, and as you all stare at the sight, the door gets knocked down and men with masks on their faces storm into the house

Your father runs away, seems to escape the men somehow. Your mom is hysterical and won’t listen to anyone, not even when the tall guy hits her in the face, and you want to beg her to not cry because you know it makes men more angry at her. Not even with your fight training do you stand any chance, and all you hear when somebody shoves a bag over your head and drags you outside and into a van, is your brother’s voice - Joel yelling at you to not fight the men and just protect yourself.

You’ve been away from home for almost a year when you turn eleven, to the point that you don’t think of it anymore as an actual place you can go to. You think you’re still in Bogota but you’re not sure. Sometimes they make you get in a truck again, or a car. Almost always you have to hide; you know that they don’t want people to see you. Sometimes there are other people, or even kids, and you’re pretty sure that you’ve seen at least a dozen dead bodies over the past months.

It’s when they send you to training camp that you realize there’s no way they’re ever going to let you go. The training unit is not the army, but it feels like a military group somehow. Maybe this is like the guerilla fighters you’ve heard about, defending your country.

This time you fight without the boxing gloves, using only your hands or sticks, just like the other kids your age are also being trained.

There are five of you, and Ramiro explains to each of you how to get to the location. The white powder isn’t heavy, tightly packaged in plastic, and every step of the way to your contact person you’re terrified of losing it somehow. You know the consequences - have seen the boys who were shot in the head, and the ones who weren’t lucky enough to die so quickly.

The man who is waiting for you is tall, fat and smells like grease and blood. You don’t remember much of what he says, your heart thumps so loud that it feels like it’s inside of your ears as you accept the package he hands you in return.

You’re one of the four boys who make it back.

Gustavo, the fifth boy, shows up two days later. His lifeless body is covered in bruises and blood, and when someone dares to ask what happened, the answer is that rats will be dealt with accordingly. “Exterminated.”

After three nights of solid nightmares and another mutilated body that’s found outside as a warning, you stop trying to think of ways to escape.

You’re almost twelve when you meet Francisco.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He’s quiet and keeps to himself, but he’s not shy. When some of the older boys mistake that for fear, deciding to taunt him, he doesn’t respond initially. Only once the biggest bully steps right up to him, a sneer on his face, does Francisco lift his eyes to him and stares him down - and you can feel the tension.

You see the twitch of Francisco’s jaw, and even before the other guy takes a swing you know this is not going to end well for the bully.

It’s impressive how fast the new kid tackles his attacker to the ground, blood streaming from the boy’s noise as he scrambles to get away. But Francisco’s hand closes around his throat, keeping him pinned down. In a flash you see a piece of glass held against the boy’s neck, and that’s when you know for sure Francisco learned to fight the way you did. Your father’s voice echoes in your head, “If you stab someone there, it’s all over.”

You want to be his friend.

Not because he’s a good fighter; he’s far from the only one around here. It’s because he seems to be one of the few kids who doesn’t want to fight, just like you.

By the time you’re twelve, you and Francisco - Frankie - have become inseparable. You know that he’s never known who his mother is and that his father was recently killed by Pero Tovar, one of Lorenzano’s most feared men.

While the other kids try to get their hands on cigarettes, or booze, Frankie is just interested in books.

You like watching him read. On the very rare occasion that nobody else is around, he’ll often read something out loud for you. Mark Twain. Something about going to heaven for the climate, and hell for the company.

The first time Frankie reads that aloud, you have your eyes closed while listening to his voice. It makes you think of the ‘business’ your dad would do, or the way Lorenzano’s men would refer to ‘the company’ and ‘the big boss’. Bullet casings and dried up blood, the smell of your mami cooking beans with pork, and how some nights you fell asleep listening to her cry when your father still hadn’t returned home.

The second time Frankie read those words to you, about a year or so later, you realize it isn’t about going to hell for the work you do. It’s about not being alone in hell since you’ve got someone by your side.

The runs you’re sent on to drop off the product are not that bad at first. It’s a relief to be able to walk the streets, not be holed up inside or be in training.

Most of the kids that work for the cartels still live with their families in the comunas. You, Frankie and the others don’t have that freedom.

There are curfews to follow, gun practice, different kinds of training. It’s not the army, but it might as well be.

There often is discussion about the ACCU, Autodefensas Campesinas de Córdoba y Urabá run by the Castaño brothers. But when one of the other boys mentions FARC, he’s immediately silenced with a hard slap to his face by the instructor. “Those fucking communists. They’re the problem, you understand me?”

Pablo Escobar, however, turns out to be one of the few topics that’s welcomed for discussion by your instructors. Sometimes you have to think of the prayer candle your grandmother would light at the small altar in her living room, the framed picture of Escobar on the wall almost as large as the one of your late grandfather.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Frankie is the only person you confide in, and you listen to the stories he tells you about his father. In return, you tell him about your brothers, Joel in particular - but the nightmares you have that night are enough to stop you from bringing them up again. It’s better not to think of your family; keep them locked away in small boxes in the back of your mind, where you can pretend they’re okay.

You’re both still not sure how you ended up here. When Frankie points out Tovar one time in passing, you recognize the man with the scar on his face as one of your dad’s frequent visitors. And the person who tried to kill him that night they took you away.

You’ve been getting some attention from the girls, but it’s nothing to the amount that is directed at Francisco - not just the girls in your group, but even during a drop-off in the brothels at times.  That’s how you’re both urged to ‘take some time with a girl you like’ when you join Juan for a drop-off. While you’re fucking a brunette who is a few years older than you are, Frankie is getting busy with a pretty red head on the other side of the room. You try to sneak a peek every now and then, but you know you have to be careful. If anyone catches you looking, you’ll get your ass beaten up - but you still can’t keep your eyes off him. 

The girl - Rosa? - under you moans, calls you ‘papi’ as she asks you to fuck her harder, and you do so. She’s tight and wet around your cock, and pretty, and you like her small tits, but your head is too focused on not openly looking at Frankie, making it hard to come. Once you do, Rosa kisses your cheek as she gets up, gives you a towel and she tells you she’s gonna clean up. Frankie finishes up not long after that.

When you’re both waiting in the dark alley out back for Juan to wrap up business inside, sharing a cigarette with Frankie, you can’t help but ask him. “Was it good?” You’re hoping he says no - that you’re not the only one who barely got off. Because maybe you’re not the weirdo if there’s at least one other person who feels the same, who isn’t thrilled like you know the other boys would be. “The girl.”

Frankie shrugs as he inhales the smoke, closing his eyes. “She was friendly. Nice.”

You wait for more words, but they don’t come from Frankie. So you try to force your own words out. “Yeah. Friendly.”

When Frankie opens his eyes again, he looks tired and conflicted. Unsure perhaps. He lifts the cigarette to his lips again, and your guard is down too much to stop your eyes from following that movement. 

His mouth.

Fuck, now you’re really hard. 

“We’re friends, right?” Frankie’s voice is hoarse, and somehow that sound makes your dick throb even more. 

You nod, then clear your own throat when you realize it’s not really all that clear in this dark street. “Yeah, of course,” you manage, trying to remember how long it’s been since you two met. Four, five years?

More of Frankie’s lips around the cigarette, and more tiredness in his eyes. Perhaps the uncertainty in his expression is more like the fear you’ve had beating in your chest now for half an hour already.

“Good.” Frankie nods, and before you can ask him why, he pushes you back against the brick wall, covering your mouth with his. You groan softly, your breathing suddenly so fast as he kisses you in a way you’ve never experienced before - in a way that, until now, you’ve never wanted to kiss anyone.

The sigh that escapes from Frankie’s mouth into yours is quiet, but you can feel the relief in his body when you kiss him back, feel how he grabs your hips and presses closer against you. You’re so hard that for a moment you can’t think straight, not until you feel him grind his cock against you, and then everything just goes electric in your head, because he’s just as hard as you are, and there is no time, because anyone can walk in on you two right now. It’s such a fucking dumb thing to do here - or anywhere.

He whispers your name, making it sound like a question, and when you nod and suck on his tongue, his hands slip from your waist to your ass, grabbing you tight and oh - fuck. Fuuuck. 

It’s not even a minute of desperate kissing, panting, the uncomfortable but so fucking good rub of his cock against yours through your clothes, and before you know it you’re whispering his name too, the word turning into a plea, because please, Francisco, please - and then it’s no longer just rubbing against each other, it’s Frankie actually fucking you against that wall, right through your clothes, neither of you breaking the kiss until you both come just like this. Right in your pants, not even having put a hand on each other’s dick, just pressed so closely together while you’re drowning in the taste of his mouth.

“Hey, assholes. You ready to go?” 

Juan’s loud voice booms through the alley, and Frankie immediately lets go of you like he’s been burned by fire. He moves several steps away, nearly tripping over his own feet, and the fear in his eyes is as loud as the fear beating inside of your rib cage. 

You drop down to one knee and tug at the laces of your sneakers, pretending you’re tying them, giving you just a few more seconds to catch your breath before you need to look Juan in the face, who seems completely oblivious about what he almost walked in on.

“Shithead. Took you long enough to keep us waiting.”

You’re both eighteen when someone catches the two of you. Your hands and mouth on Francisco in places they shouldn’t be, and his hands and mouth all over you. The fact that you’re both still fully clothed is probably the only thing that saves you from a much worse treatment. 

You beg them not to hurt him, tell them to give you the beating twice, even swearing that you were the one forcing yourself on Francisco. 

Somehow you manage to convince them, and it’s the comfort of knowing Frankie isn’t hurt that helps just a little against the abuse. Against the ringing in your ear which lasts for almost a week, the bruises on your ribs where they kicked you. You let it happen, know that it would be better if you didn’t fight back even though you could probably take out at least three of them. It would be one thing if it were just some guys bothering you - but a few of them are part of the leadership, and there’s no going around that. 

You see the anger and helplessness in Frankie’s eyes, the way he balls his fists and looks like he’s ready any moment to tackle the guys. But you know there’s no point in letting him get in between them and you, because you know better than to show any sign of weakness.

It is only once the tallest and older guy grabs you by your jaw, his other hand undoing his dirty pants, that you fight back. In less time than it takes him to growl “let’s see how good you suck my dick”, you kick out another guy’s legs from under him and swipe his knife, knocking your assailant down in the same move. 

“You want me on your dick?”, you yell as you grab him by his balls, jerking his pants down roughly so his dick and balls flop out. Your knife is against the base of his cock before he can even blink, and you stare him down, pressing the razor sharp blade against his skin and not caring if it draws blood. “Dare me,” you hiss at him as you spit into his face. “I’ll fuckin’ cut it off you right now.”

The other men jump you before you can slice into the man’s sweaty pale skin, just a hair away from cutting off his pathetic excuse for a dick and shoving it into his mouth to choke on. Frankie meanwhile has had enough, now launching himself at the biggest men who are holding you back - and if these were any normal circumstances, you’d welcome the help. Instead you just shake your head, begging for him to see that you’re dead serious about not wanting him to interfere.

“No,” you mouth wordlessly, then gasp out loud as you bite your lip until you taste blood, working hard to swallow your cries as someone pulls your arm behind you and breaks at least two of your fingers. There’s no way you’ll give them the satisfaction of hearing you cry, so you just stare at Frankie until you trust your voice to not crack. “Fish, get out. Go back. I’ll be-...”

“Fuckin’ fag.”  

Someone’s steel toe boot lands in your stomach, startling you with the hit of pain, and this time you yell at Frankie as they drag you away - that it will be okay, that he has to lay low and look after himself. The same way Joel had yelled at you when they had ripped you from your home and thrown you in the back of a van.

“You need to be smarter.”

The voice is suddenly so close that it makes you wince. Especially after having been locked up in silence and darkness for two days, without anyone coming to let you out or even say a word to you. “Please, just stop, okay?”, you manage as you get up to your feet, leaning against the cement wall as your head won’t stop spinning. “I haven’t done anything since. Can you…”

“They feed you?”

You stare at the man who interrupted you, trying to focus on the vague outline of his body as you can see - no, feel - him move closer through the darkened cell. “What? Who are…”

“Esdras-... Ezra. I asked you something, boy.”

“No. They didn’t.” You raise your chin up in defiance, even if he can probably not even see it. “I’m fine.”

The stranger hums, pushing some food into your hand. “You need to stay strong. Get stronger, and smarter.”

You can’t help but shove it right into your mouth, and by the time you’ve swallowed all of it your stomach is already hurting. It was a stupid move, and you usually know better; small, slow bites are the best way to eat after having gone without for a while. But the hunger and loneliness had gnawed at you these past two days, making it hard to think straight.

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You’re locked up for a week, but Ezra keeps showing up daily with food. With conversation, too, even if it’s mostly him talking. It remains unclear how he fits into the organization you’ve been with for years now. When he mentions ‘El Gran Señor’, you suddenly remember Lorenzano, the fires at the house, your father as a fading face in the crowd. 

After they took you away, your father never showed up anywhere again for you. Not in your dreams either. You wonder if it’s because you failed him, because you didn’t fight well enough - even though Joel told you not to fight, keep yourself safe. Maybe if you’d been more like Jay, this wouldn’t have happened. 

You only get a decent look at Esdras’ face once. 

His eyes remind you of Francisco.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Once you’re finally released and sent back to the barracks, it takes just a few hours for you and Frankie to sneak off somewhere. When he kisses you, both of you pretend to not notice the tears that are flooding your eyes. 

Out of that cell, his warm body under yours, it really sinks in what you’ve known deep inside already for months, despite knowing the risks and consequences. 

There’s no way you can ever give this up. Give him up. Not even if they try to beat it out of you.

When Ezra shows up one night, standing at the back of the communal dining area, Frankie tenses up in the seat next to you. He nudges your leg with his foot as he continues eating, then draws your attention to the other side of the room with a barely noticeable flick of his index finger. 

Even when you tell him this is the guy who gave you food when you were locked up, he won’t take his eyes off Ezra. Frankie has always been taller than you, broader, and when Ezra passes your table you can tell by the way he sizes him up that Frankie has already considered at least three ways to take him out.

“Santiago. Tell your guard dog to stand down.”

Slowly you close your fist around the fork you’re holding, your anger right under the surface, but the smirk tugging at Ezra’s lips makes it clear that his words were a test rather than a challenge.

“I can train you. An hour every night. You’re good - but I can make you great.” Ezra nods at Frankie without taking his eyes off you. “If anyone besides him finds out, we’re done and they’ll probably take you away.” 

“And do what?” Francisco is still staring at Ezra, and you’re sure he’s figured out at least one more way by now to take him out. 

“Kill me,” you say, with zero doubt about that outcome, at the exact moment Ezra also says, “Kill him”.

Frankie’s eyes narrow immediately, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he tries to control himself. “What if he says no?”

“He won’t,” Ezra replies simply, at the same moment that you nod and tell him you’re in.

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Ezra is a study in contrasts. He speaks like someone from Francisco’s books, with a slight accent that makes him stand out as much as his blond patch does, and often more candidly than most people are expecting. It’s only much later, when you hear him speak to an American guy, that you realize he’s likely not from Colombia.

“The origin of my story is fairly irrelevant, Santiago.” He waves off your question when you ask him about himself. “Besides, people are never quite so hard pressed to go find Parson on a map.”

He’s worked for Lorenzano for many years now, initially a mercenary who became one of the people highest up in the system. The nickname most people use for him is The Judge, or, if you are to believe the most wild stories about it, La Venganza - The One Who Brings Retribution. 

Lorenzano and Tovar primarily run the organization, neither of them shy about the opulence and violence around them. But Ezra is a third pillar whose sober green-brown clothing often makes him blend in anywhere. Anything but quiet, but focused on other things than his two partners. He’s not keen on having a public face as he prefers to move quietly, getting both the impossible and the unspeakable done.

Most people fear him and it doesn’t take you long to figure out why. The man moves and fights like a killer, striking without hesitation, and you can’t help but wonder if he has had military training. He was right about what he had told you at the start - he did make you better and stronger, in physical combat as well as verbal expressiveness.

Frankie notices it too, even only a few weeks in. “When you get back here, you always look like you’ve been fed,” he remarks one night as you sit on the rooftop with him, gazing out over the thousands of city lights sparkling in the dark sky. “He said yet what he wants in return for all the teachings?”

You shake your head. “I’m sure that’ll come later.” And see, that’s something you still haven’t learned in all those years. It’s hard to look ahead when you don’t know what to expect and don’t have something specific to look forward to.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You’re still eighteen - or so you think, because it has become impossible to keep track of the days - when you realize that you actually love Francisco. 

As you slice the throat of the guy who tries to attack him, you know that you would do anything for him. It doesn’t matter that it takes you hours that night to wash your blood soaked clothes.

Your mother was right all those years ago. Blood stains are hard to get out of fabric.

Once killing becomes a regular thing of your work for the syndicate, so do the nightmares. It’s not like you didn’t have them before; they’ve always been there, ever since Lorenzano’s men took you away from home. But this time you keep seeing the faces of the men you’ve killed; sometimes one by one, other times all of them together in a room. 

They keep coming back, unwilling to let you rest. 

Sometimes they try to speak to you, other times they can’t. Occasionally you need to kill them again, but their screams get drowned out by Frankie yelling for him - but you can never find him, see him.

You see your brother Joel every night that you dream of the people who died by your hand. 

Half of him looks normal, even though he’s older now: a man instead of a boy, still several years ahead of you in age, and you wonder if this is really what he looks like now. The other half of his body he keeps out of your sight if he can help it, turned towards corpses or soon to be dead bodies that are bleeding out. 

You know he tries to not show you that side of him because it scared you the first time; it was still Joel, but mostly just bones and muscles and tendons, someone who stands half in the world around you and half in the underworld. Worse than a ghost. But still Joel.  

Every time you see him, he tells you to keep yourself safe. “It’s not your fault.” But unlike when you were little, he doesn’t try to tell you that you’re fine. You both know that you aren’t.

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Others also notice how good you’ve become over the past year. How training exercises are a breeze for you, how much faster you are at tactical planning than most others. Now you’re eighteen, both you and Frankie are being watched carefully to see if you have potential to move up in the ranks - something Ezra had already mentioned and prepared you for. 

“Beat them at their own game, little beast. You’re smarter than almost any of them.”

At first you hate the nickname, because it feels like he is mocking you. But that was not Ezra’s style; he is always upfront and open, at times to a fault. Too many years in this place have made you hyper vigilant and protective, quick to attack with bared teeth and intention to take the other person down. But around him that’s not necessary. So you reluctantly accept the nickname, work to do justice to it.  

Once they start sending you off on serious engagements, you find that Ezra tends to be in charge of many of them - the raids, the more undercover missions, occasionally dealing with conflict among stakeholders rather than just being there to clean up a mess. It’s not surprising that you and Frankie work well together in the field whenever you’re teamed up; you both know each other so well, including limits and strength, to the point that you can easily anticipate each other’s moves, and that puts you front and center for effectiveness. 

On the rare occasion the two of you are split up in different teams, Ezra is always assigned to Frankie’s group - something none of you comments on. They’re not exactly on friendly terms with each other, particularly to Frankie always being cautious, but then again they don’t need to be. The mutual respect is reassuring, especially because you’re sure Ezra knows there’s more going on between you and Frankie than the syndicate allows for.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The next time you dream of Joel, there’s a black wolf cub playing at his feet, gentle and even tempered, playfully nipping at Joel’s fingers. When he sees you, he immediately bounces over to smell you, then happily paws at your legs - just like he’s just any other stray puppy, excited to get your attention and become familiar with your scent. His joy is contagious, and it’s not long until you’re sitting down on the ground to play with him, where eventually he falls asleep in your lap.

When something in the darkness catches your eye, the pup stirs almost immediately from his sleep, picking up on your body language. In the blink of an eye he’s put himself in front of you and Joel, suspiciously eyeing the wisps of smoke that curl from the darkness. He growls low, baring his small fangs as he tries to make himself bigger than he is to face the unknown.

Joel hushes it gently, assuringly. “Little Beast, you’re okay.” When both you and the cub simultaneously look at him, you wonder which one of you two he is talking to. 

Even if the days have become more bearable and lighter since you met Francisco, you still don’t think you’re the one who is okay - and sometimes you wonder if you ever will be again.

Ezra fights dirty. 

Knives, guns, hand-to-hand combat; he always has an extra card up his sleeve somehow. But it’s not the moves or weapon mastery you learn from him that make you better and faster. 

It’s the resilience he teaches you. Clearing your mind, striking without hesitation. Thinking ten steps ahead and not giving away what your next move is. You’ve seen him out on the streets or during raids, and unlike Lorenzano and Tovar he tends to hang back, take a moment to take in the scene. While they go in guns blazing, often blasting an actual path through people to get what they want, Ezra is more deliberate. If he can take out just a single target to get the job done, he’ll opt for that - he knows that other syndicate members will deal with the rest of a DEA team, guerilla fighters or a competing cartel. 

He’s also one of the few in leadership who makes calculated decisions regarding the location that he will take out a target. You’ve seen Gilberto kill more than a few sicarios by simply showing up at their houses - no regard for any wives, children or elderly people who either get into the crossfire or are witness to it. But Ezra will always opt for a much cleaner kill; out in the street, in a bar or at a roadstop when it’s least expected. If it didn’t all come down to the same thing - killing people and moving coke or arms -, you would almost call it more ethical.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

One night, you hear the pup whining before you see it - a low, unhappy sound that chills your blood. It takes too long to find him in the darkness, and you’re tripping over things in front of you, something telling you it’s probably for the best that you can’t quite see what or who they are.

You finally find the pup when his eyes open and look right at you, the golden pupils and white of his eyes a stark contrast to the darkness around you. As you kneel down to examine him, you see the golden cords wrapped around his fur, and a wave of terror washes over you. He didn’t just get tangled up in them; somebody deliberately put those bindings on him. 

You hush him softly as your fingers slide over the cords, trying to find any knots or weak spots where you can start prying them off him. “I’ll help you, okay? We’ll get you out of this.” But as you do so, the wolf starts wriggling around, his sharp teeth snapping at the cords around until they all break and disappear into the darkness, along with the rest of your dream.

“I’m moving to Cali in a few weeks.” 

Ezra offers you a cigarette, and you take it from him, your head working overtime as you digest the news dropped on you. “Shit. Alone?”

He shakes his head, sharing his lighter with you as he brings his own cigarette to his lips. “There are some relocations happening in the structure of - well. You’ve seen it out here,” he gestures at the city you’re overlooking from the hill you’re standing on. “The Army is withdrawing support from ACCU. Some new government people are acting surprised about the Field Workers Self-Defenders ties with the Castaños, which is bullshit. But dynamics are changing in Córdoba and Urabá, which also affects Cali.”

“Does that mean-...”

“Do you want to come along, Santiago?” Ezra blows out the smoke before he looks at you. “You can stay here, of course. Nothing much should change aside from my… influence.” You both know that means Lorenzano will make the decisions, and that without Ezra’s influence, life becomes a lot more unpredictable in the syndicate. “But Cali will give both of you the opportunity to move up. Be in charge of operations, eventually.”

You don’t miss the casual reference of ‘both’ that he uses, and you feel relieved that you don’t have to ask the question out loud - if Frankie would be able to join you, too. Part of you wants to say no, because leaving Bogota would also mean leaving behind the scraps of life you remember before the syndicate kidnapped you that night and roped you into their organization.

“Think about it,” Ezra interrupts your thoughts before you can respond. “Your choice to make, your consequences to bear. I know you never asked for all of this - neither of you did, of course. But owning your choices and what results from them makes all the difference.” 

When you ask Frankie later that night, he doesn’t hesitate for a second. “I’m in.”

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The move to Cali is uneventful in a good way, and the new living space is both brighter and larger than Bogota. Some things don’t change though: there are still about ten of you per sleeping quarters, but at least the beds are better and the facilities aren’t as old. 

It surprises you how it feels a little easier to breathe. You hadn’t expected it, but there’s a relief in just seeing the city as it is - not thinking about who had died on that corner, which house is a drop off spot or a brothel, or where you’d gotten beaten up. Even when you know it won’t last long.

The warmer weather means longer evenings outside, too. New spots that you and Frankie discover, where there’s just enough privacy to be together for a few minutes. You kiss him in new alleyways, let him press you against the wall behind a quiet church. Let your hands roam and grab when you’re on the rooftop and you’re sure that nobody is around. 

It’s never enough, and the waiting in between opportunities is torturous. Sometimes it takes weeks until you can take him in your mouth again, have him slide inside of you, or when you can fuck him - rushed and hard and frantic -, leaving marks that were made within minutes but that last for days as dark bruises on your hips and shoulders and thighs.

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Your nightmares remain the same in Cali as they were in Bogota. A constant every single night, at times in different settings than before, matching the buildings and streets of this new city. 

You dread all of them, but Joel’s presence in those dreams makes it manageable. Even when he’s not around, the wolf cub is always there with you. Protective and affectionate, at times bigger than you - but never intimidating.

Part of you wants to tell Frankie about your dreams. Not just about the cub, but Joel too. You just don’t know where you’d even begin to explain it without sounding insane.

Ezra gives you more space those first couple of weeks in Cali, training only every other day with you, then informs you that you and Frankie will be joining him on an assignment out of town. You’ve done this before and know that lodging is always together with leadership in the same room. Except this time that seems to be different.

“It appears there has been a miscommunication. They didn’t have any rooms with two beds, only singles,” he informs you, his face uncharacteristically neutral as he hands you a room key. “You two are across the hallway from me and will have to share a bed.” 

Your jaw nearly drops as you stare at him, and you can feel the disbelief radiating from Frankie, too. But Ezra pretends to not notice it as he turns away. “I trust there will be no disappearing, Little Beast. You know the fatal consequences of that.”

The room is shitty, there are only three channels that work on the tv, and there’s a concerning smell coming from the toilet if you don’t close the lid completely. The bed is a full size though instead of a twin, creaks every time you move, and has some threadbare sheets and two thin pillows.

It’s perfect.

It has never happened before that you and Francisco had more than half an hour of privacy to yourself in a locked room - let alone nine hours in one that also has a bed.

You fuck so, so very much that night. 

It’s deliriously intoxicating, having each other in every possible way you can imagine - and a few more ways you hadn’t even considered before. By the time it’s 5:30 am, neither of you can move anymore. Sore, exhausted and beyond spent you fall asleep, curled up against each other.

For the first time in eight years you don’t have any dreams, let alone nightmares.

The newness of Cali lasts about three months. By then, the city has gained the same marks and blood all over it that you had left behind in Bogota; the drugs, fights, but this time there are also bombs. 

It’s a lot more damage than you’re used to, the number of victims making your stomach turn when the news reports on it later those nights. Some of the other guys are thrilled when they see the result of their work on tv, bragging about it, but it sickens you every single time.

It’s bad for you, but it hits Frankie even harder. He has lost family and friends in the past because of bomb attacks, and you know that when he wakes up at night screaming, it often tends to be exactly that which replays in his mind.

You’re both used to helping each other through hard times, but you see his eyes become more distant as the weeks pass. You do what you can, from stupid jokes to trying to find him new books, but you can’t help but feel it’s your fault.

Maybe he wouldn’t be in such bad shape if you two had stayed in Bogota.

Maybe you did this all wrong.

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Frankie is fast. Really fucking fast.

Not when it comes to running, although he does well if needed. But it’s when you see him behind the wheel of a truck, with Ezra, you and a handful of other guys, that you realize just how good he is. Driving a getaway car, chasing down another truck through the city, diversion techniques. You don’t know where he even learned them, because it’s not that often that any of you get to drive. 

It’s Ezra who decides that this is going to be a regular thing for Frankie. “I want you as our transportation guy next time we venture out on an endeavor,” he says, eyes sharp as he observes Frankie switch gears, avoid a child who runs out into the road, then rev the engine to catch up with the other vehicle in your party. “Are you interested in cars?”

Frankie just nods affirmatively, his eyes locked on the terrain in front of him. You can’t help but chime in, also realizing this could mean that the two of you won’t be assigned to different teams anymore. “His uncle had a garage, so he grew up in it. Learned how to work on cars before he was eight,” you offer. 

It earns you a warning look by Frankie, who is clearly not thrilled about you offering that information - but you know it only helps his case. Ezra only asks things for a reason, and you know it would not be to fuck Frankie over. “He really knows his shit.”

“Good. That will get you far.” Ezra pulls out two guns, checking the ammo, then suddenly looks at Frankie like he just got a bright idea. “Francisco. Did you ever fly a helicopter before?”

This time Frankie actually takes his eyes off the road, and you can tell by the twitch in his jaw that he’s very hard trying to not show his enthusiasm. You know him well though, and his eyes suddenly look more radiant than you’ve seen in a long time.

“Not yet. But I bet I can with some training.”

The first time they put you in charge of a raid, you end up puking behind a bush once everything is over. More than just a few bodies are scattered across the property that’s about to be set on fire, and that’s not new - but being the leader of a raid hits so much harder than any time you had to merely participate. The only relief you have is that you don’t need to deal directly with the losses, or gather the money and drugs. 

When one of your men calls you over, he points his rifle at the three kids huddled against each other on the back porch, and you can only get yourself to look right at them once you feel Francisco’s hand on your back.

“Not worth the trouble,” you inform the guy who called you over, ignoring the way your stomach turns, and you turn back to the children once he has left. A six year old girl is the oldest of the kids, her eyes blank as she holds a baby in her lap and a four year old boy pressed against her side. Something about that look in her eyes reminds you of Joel - not the brother you grew up with, but the one in your dreams with that side he tries to show you as little as possible. 

“Are they dead?”, she asks you, still not showing any emotion despite the crying boys clinging onto her, and you nod. Whether it’s her parents or someone else she’s referring to, none of the adults in the raided house are still alive. 

She nods back at you, no sign of surprise on her face. “Please don’t hurt the boys,” she then says, sounding so much older than her age. “They didn’t–...”

“We won’t.” 

You breathe in deeply when Francisco speaks for you, then reach for the wad of money that you had put into your pocket a few minutes earlier. Stealing from El Gran Senor always ended badly, but these raids were the only options you had to get your hands on anything of value. 

The girl flinches when you reach for her, and once again it’s Frankie who reassures her. “We’re not gonna hurt you.”

“Do you know how to get to the village?”, you ask her as you put the money in her hand. She nods, and for a moment you could swear that you see a wolf cub staring at you from the trees. “Find someone to help you. Don’t show them the money.” You bite back the words of apology that are on your tongue, knowing that they won’t help or would even be believed. “You can do it. Be brave.”

“We have to go.” Francisco’s voice is tight but decisive, and you nod as you let him tug you along, back to the men who have loaded up their cars with all the valuables they could gather. Drugs, money, guns. 

Like the next raid will be. And the next. And the next.

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“You exceeded expectations, little beast. A mission well planned and executed. Congratulations are in order.” The look on Ezra’s face is one of pride as you debrief him. As he scribbles down some more notes to wrap up his report, you hesitate for a moment, considering one last thing.

“There were three kids.”

Ezra’s eyes flick up at you much faster than you expect, but then he shakes his head. “It appears that you are mistaken about this,” he says as he resolutely puts away his paper and pen. 

“I saw them. I…”

“You’re exhausted.” Ezra’s voice cut you off sharply, the tension in his jaw suddenly clear and reminding you of Frankie. “I appreciate you doing the debrief at this late hour, but you should probably rest. There’s nothing more I need for the final report.”

You know when to take a hint; know that the walls have ears, too, so you take the dismissal in stride. The walk back to the barracks is short, and most of the other guys are already fast asleep as you get in.

Francisco’s bed is only a few feet away from yours, one of about a dozen in the room. The moonlight offers just a small stream of light into the room, and as you start to take your clothes off, you can feel Frankie’s eyes on you. You’re both showered and cleaned up hours earlier, but somehow you still feel the smoke in your lungs and ashes on your skin, like some kind of phantom feeling.

Frankie watches you quietly as you strip down to your underwear. He knows that you’re aware of him looking at you, and you swallow hard when you see him shift under the blanket - see his hand move down to touch himself.

There’s no privacy here - there never is, maybe even less so than there was in Bogota. But at least there’s this, knowing your bed is just a few feet away from his. Being able to see glimpses of him in the moonlight. His hand moving further down, still under that blanket, and when his eyes close momentarily you know he’s got his hand on his cock. 

You get into bed and pull the sheets up over yourself, laying on your side so you can still see Frankie. When his eyes flutter open again, you slip your hand into your underwear to touch yourself too, and you see his eyes flick over your body as he realizes you’re joining him. 

It’s hard to control your breathing, especially when it’s so quiet at night, but you’re both experts at this by now. Hungry eyes focused on eachother in the mostly dark sleeping quarters. You pretending your fingers are his - him pretending his fingers are yours. It’s not much, but it’s something; anything to make you feel alive during nights like these. 

Frankie is in your dream.

And Joel is looking at him. 

Right at him - both Joel’s living half as well as the one that is in decay. It chills you in a way that’s so startling that the fear grabs you by your throat out of nowhere.

This isn’t supposed to happen. Frankie isn’t supposed to be in any of your dreams that are also occupied by Joel. It happens all the time that you hear Frankie scream in your dreams, but it is always separate from where you are - like he’s in a different space and the sound just happens to carry.

Not now. At least he’s not screaming, but he and Joel are looking at each other from a distance, before Frankie’s glance meets yours. Full of questions. 

You try to keep your voice calm, but you hear the trembling when you speak. “Don’t take him from me.” 

You don’t know how you would do it; prevent Joel from taking Frankie with him the way he does with the other people, the other bodies. All you know is that it can’t happen.

“I never would.” Joel shakes his head. “Besides, he’s a warrior. And she wouldn’t allow me to. She’s the one who owns his head.”

“What does that even mean?”, you ask, suddenly noticing the woman behind Frankie. She’s taller than he is, dressed in a style that seems very out of place, not in the least because of the brown fur that’s a prominent part of the outfit. But something is familiar about her.

When she puts her hand on Frankie’s shoulder, he glances at it for a second before he brings his eyes back to you.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” Joel says, and you shiver from the cold wind that blows past you.

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By the third raid you lead, you understand why Ezra assigns you to these missions. You’re good at planning, leading your team, getting the work done, taking down the people that need to be eliminated - but you’re pretty sure that it’s really about the children. 

There never is any mention of them in the information you get beforehand; those reports are only about the adults, the snitches, dealers who don’t hold up their end of the deal, or the sicarios who have taken wrong steps. And you’ve seen what happens at other raids. Many of the others won’t hesitate to shoot a child, use them as collateral, and you don’t doubt that there are situations that end even worse than those two options.

You quickly develop the habit to let the others chase the targets while you - and most often Frankie too - will explore the premises to find any children. In some cases, they’re barely teenagers, the fear in their eyes clear enough to indicate that they are in the wrong place at the wrong time. Other times, they’re infants, toddlers, held close by siblings who are barely older than them.

Getting them out becomes a priority for you, particularly when after every mission you see Ezra’s relief when you make a subtle remark about any kids. There’s a lot he can’t say out loud, not just because of his position in the syndicate, but also because wiretaps have become frequent these days. So you keep it very brief, often will only mention it when the two of you are alone - a quick update on what happened to the kids.

“She was brought to her older sister.” 

“They ended up at the neighbor's house.”

“Someone knows where her other relatives live.”

You always swipe money from raids when given the chance, stashing it away in an air vent in your sleeping quarters that only you and Frankie know about. But as the raids occur more often, each leaving behind an even bigger impact than the one prior, you start to put most of the money in the children’s pockets before whisking them off to safety.

It never stops feeling like you’re trying to fix a broken dam with a band-aid, but it feels like the best possible option. Especially when you think back of how you landed in this position, and how you’d been taken away from your home. In an ideal world, you could decide to defect – find a way out for you and Frankie, take the money and run. But throughout the years you’ve seen that almost every single person who attempts to get out of this world will end up dead; not just murdered, but tortured first, before it’s all inflicted on the people closest to them, too. 

So you run the raids. Find a way to get the kids out. Have nightmares - then repeat. And repeat. And repeat some more.

The problem is that you’ve gotten really good at this.

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The next time you see the tall woman covered in furs, you’re not dreaming. 

It’s the middle of a raid, and you and Frankie are chasing down a guy who is trying to escape from the rooftop. He jumps over to the next building, and Frankie is about to leap the same distance between the roofs, when you suddenly see that woman right next to him. 

Calmly she puts her hand on his shoulder and Frankie stops abruptly, turning around to look behind him with a bewildered expression. “Santi, we-...”

A terrible scream sounds from the other roof, and when you look over, you see your target scrambling to hold onto something, while the roof shingles under his feet are slipping away. With a loud noise, the foundation of the roof falls apart, yanking the man’s body down with brute violence and you hear him scream more until a loud bang silences him.

“Fuck,” Frankie croaks, staring at the destruction, and you grab his untouched shoulder tightly, needing to feel him under your hands, that he’s really still here by the grace of not having made that same jump as the man did. “I think he’s impaled.”

The tall woman on his other side looks right at you, then nods as she steps away, disappearing into thin air in that same move. 

These days, when Tovar and Lorenzano make a stop in Cali, it happens more often than not that one or both of them will talk to you; an extremely rare occurrence for somebody in your position. 

Sometimes they’re there for a debriefing with Ezra, other times one of them will remark that bigger things are waiting for you in the near future. Trying to find a balance between doing the work that’s expected from you and keeping your head straight has become increasingly difficult, and you’re not the only one struggling with it.

Francisco oscillates between extremes most of the time. As a co-pilot, he’s mastered skills that very few in the syndicate actually have to offer, not to mention his skills when it comes to engineering and fixing up vehicles. Flying clears his head, grounds him in his body in the best possible way it seems. But once he’s back on the ground, especially when they need to go on raids and he’s dealing with anything but transportation, you often see him shut down and try to dissociate, something that’s hard to bring him back from. It gets even worse during moments when he decides to partake in the cocaine that’s always easily available.

A year later, you still haven’t figured out a way to get the two of you away from all of this. The money in your stash isn’t enough, and you know Lorenzano has men everywhere across the country - there was no way to make it anywhere without being shot in the head sooner or later. So you work. You learn from Ezra. You take the praise. And the nightmares - during the nights and during the days - keep getting worse.

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Leaving Cali happens in a rush, with none of you expecting it - including Ezra. ‘Reassignment to a rural area’ is the official message, which in practice means a camp right in the middle of the jungle. 

“We’re here to take out those fuckin’ communist guerillas,” was the more extended explanation that everybody who relocated from Cali to officially join ACCU. Also known as ‘Peasant Self-Defenders of Córdoba and Urabá’, the group had been founded by the Castaño brothers after their father was kidnapped and killed, in retaliation to the left-wing Marxist guerillas. ACCU was knee deep into the drug trade, and, as you had discovered years earlier, a lot of people fighting for them got here the same way you and Frankie had.

FARC, the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia known as the guerillas, stood out because they did employ tactics like kidnapping, but weren’t involved in the drug trade. Instead they fought for ‘social justice and the rights of the poor’, which in practice meant a whole lot of enemies.

“These aren’t the usual raids,” Ezra told you in the first couple of days on the ground, as he’d been filling you, Frankie and the others in on the different stations, people in charge, and what to expect. “This is a lot of combat, sometimes involving hostages.”

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‘A lot of combat’ is an understatement, as you and Frankie find out right from the start. The amount of assault rifles was overwhelming, as were the number of casualties per week. No more flights for Frankie for the time being, now mostly driving trucks of various sizes. What perhaps is the worst of it all is the complete and utter lack of privacy, even by the low expectations you already had.

With all the communal areas even more exposed than in Cali, there barely was any opportunity to sneak off. Here, finding a good hiding spot meant doing so in the jungle, risking death, because the odds were too high that you’d run into FARC members.

At times there were reports coming in from the major cities. Whispers about a pact between the DEA and some narcos, competing cartels. American reports on what was happening in Colombia, which often had barely anything to do with what was really going on. Rumors about the commies having grown massively in numbers. Everything is urgent, all the time, but now with a constant threat of being hit severely worse than would be the case in the city. 

Sometimes you wonder if you and Frankie should’ve stayed in Bogota all along.

The second time you dream of the wolf cub in bindings, you immediately notice something is wrong - even before it cries out for you. This time they look like proper chains, the metal scraping against the cub’s fur and skin, and your first thought is that these are going to be much harder to remove than the first ones.

They’re also not merely restraining the wolf; this time it has properly been captured, the chains secured to a palm tree like the ones you see every single day around you. The pup howls, clearly more agitated this time, and you hush it gently, petting his fur while examining the restraints. “What keeps happening here, buddy?”

“Trusting the wrong people has consequences.”

You look up when you think you hear Joel’s voice from nearby, except it’s not him - but your father leaning against another palm tree, his face solemn as he looks back at you.

Your FATHER?

The wolf cub growls, and this time it’s not the usual angry growl of caution that he tends to make — it’s more like a snarl, layers of rage and destruction underneath. It yanks hard at the chain that has him tethered to the tree, sharp teeth biting at it until the chain breaks, and before you can do anything, it bolts over to where your father is standing, leaping up to attack him viciously.

You wake up screaming so loudly that you wake up all the others in the sleeping quarters, only calming down somewhat once Frankie physically shakes you out of it.

Going back to sleep turns out to be impossible, and it’s only after you try to skip sleep for the next two nights that your body finally caves in, knocking you out into a deep sleep, while you’re exhausted and scared of the dreams that might come back to you.

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Choices have never been an option with the syndicate. Either you do what you’re being told, or chances are that someone puts a bullet into you. That’s how you find yourself leading a team that is much bigger than you’re used to, not to mention with more challenging missions than you’ve done before.

Running drugs or arms in a city is pretty easy - even collecting it by force, or dealing with money. When raiding a building, there’s always a clear plan beforehand: assign people to specific spots, have a backup plan, keep the escape routes in mind, and make sure there’s enough ammunition.

Taking over a small FARC outpost is an entirely different thing. The unpredictability of the jungle, poorer communication methods, and with sightlines often being blocked, it’s not all that straightforward to take out a group of guerillas.

If it hadn’t been for Ezra’s training over the past years, you wouldn’t know where to start. But as always, you adjust - particularly with Frankie by your sight. The outpost gets conquered, another group of armed fighters elsewhere is taken down. But the guilt you were sort of able to remedy in Bogota and Cali, by helping to get some of the kids out, gnaws at you constantly here in the jungle. When twelve year olds are as heavily armed as you are, and even more eager to put a bullet in between your eyes, there’s not much of a chance to find some redemption.

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Just because Ezra is a good killer doesn’t mean he’s comfortable with it, you’ve noticed. You can see it eating away at him, just as it does with you. He still talks plenty to you about everything, but you can tell the isolation out here in the jungle is getting to him as well.

“I did a lot of work as a freelancer, Little Beast,” he replies when you ask him one day while you’re training with him. “I’m a floater, and some might say a merch, but I’m not merely a hit man. To be completely candid, this situation out here has… proven to disappoint.”

You want to ask him if he’s ever thought about getting out, but you don’t dare to - not with the lack of privacy around you. It’s not like you expect him to just offer you a way out; you know it’s not that simple, but throughout the years you’ve considered every possible option. Being here in the jungle has led you to consider defecting and joining FARC’s side, but you’re not naive enough to believe that will be a solution in the long run.

The one thing you’ve been able to keep secret out here is the money you’ve saved throughout the years. You carry it on you most days, as there is no proper hiding spot out here, carefully folded into a small pocket bible as that’s the one thing that won’t get searched during inspection.

Sometimes you try to remember the prayers your mother would say as she’d ask for help and protection. Even when you’re pretty sure none of her saints would listen to you, after everything you’ve done.

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Something snaps inside of you when you find Frankie doing coke.

He swears it’s not a common thing, that it has only happened ‘two or three times’, that one of the guys - that bastard David - just offered it to him to be able to make it through a mission he was dreading. You know Frankie has been struggling, has just as many nightmares as you do, and the complete lack of privacy here is making it so much harder to find moments to sneak away and find a moment of peace together. But you also know it always ends very badly when anyone starts doing coke to be able to make it through the days.

The next day it’s hard to control your anger - not at Francisco, but at everything regarding ACCU. You make him stay back in the camp, despite his protesting, leading your team on an afternoon attack, and the blind rage that takes hold of you in the heat of the battle is all consuming. It takes less time than expected to carry out the siege with your team, with more casualties due to wrongly estimating how many rebels you were attacking, and just when you shoot their leader you suddenly realize David is on your left, fighting someone else.

Fucking David who gave Francisco that coke.

You aim your gun without even thinking twice and shoot him straight through the head.

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Tovar is not amused when he finds out David didn’t make it. “He was one of our best. What the fuck happened?”

“I’m not sure. Didn’t have eyes on him.” You calmly look at him, giving him an opportunity to respond, and you know that you’re too good of a liar to give anything away. When he doesn’t say anything, you continue with the rest of your briefing. News spreads fast through the camp, and by the time you catch up with Frankie that evening, you can tell by the look in his eyes that he knows. Of course he does. He’s the only one you’ve never been able to lie to.

Ezra also doesn’t ask you what happened.

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When you were younger, running around with Joel and Jay in the neighborhood, your grandmother would always be the one to tell you boys to get home before dark. “It’s not that I don’t trust you - I don’t trust others to not get you into trouble,” she’d say.

You trust Frankie when he told you he wouldn’t take coke again. But now, you understand what your grandmother meant.

David’s buddy Arturo is the next person who offers some coke to Francisco, clearly hoping to make a deal. When Frankie turns it down, he keeps pushing, then eventually tries to persuade you.

You give it six days. Then, when you’re out in the field, you send him into a situation that you know is going to get him killed. He gets ambushed by two kids who take him out with their knives. Even though you could’ve taken down both of them with your rifle, you don’t shoot, and you see the relief in their eyes as they run away.

Arturo is still breathing when you check on him, but your own knife quickly deals with that before anyone else finds him.

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This time when you dream, you don’t see the wolf cub in chains. It’s you who is tied up, and after struggling in disoriented panic, you realize that you are the wolf. Thick dark fur where there should be your arms and legs, claws instead of your fingers, but the overwhelming feeling are the bindings wrapped around all of your limbs and the rest of your body - so thin that you can barely see the golden shimmer, but so sharp that it feels like it’s made from razors, pressing into your skin. 

You can’t scream - or howl -, you can’t even move. And all you see in front of you are Lorenzano and Tovar, each heavily armed, dragging your human body along with them up a mountain, leaving a trail of blood on the rocks.

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“I want them all DEAD.” Tovar nearly spits the words out at the group of you, banging his hand on the table with the map that has several FARC camps drawn onto it. “All of them. I don’t know how the fuck they got their hands on the product, but if it doesn’t all come back here…”

He’s terrifying like this, especially because you know he won’t hesitate to act on his threats. Somehow FARC had gotten a hold of internal intel, it seemed, not only being able to avoid being attacked for almost a week now but also having confiscated a massive amount of Lorenzano’s cocaine that was being packed and processed at a nearby facility.

The first two missions that week are done from the sky, and unsurprisingly Frankie is the co-pilot. You have a select team that goes up in the air with you and Ezra, two of your crew each armed with a M60E4 machine gun and one person with a Mk 153 SMAW launcher. It’s not your first time running an attack with this kind of artillery from the sky, but it still makes your stomach turn to see the damage that’s inflicted, the only small relief being that at least it’s not happening up close like would be the case with a ground attack.

On the third day, it’s back to the ground with your team, and you manage to overtake a building that holds at least half of the missing cocaine. At least half of the FARC fighters that are assassinated are still practically kids, who had been repackaging the drugs in the building. You and Frankie, as always, try to focus on the adults rather than the young teens, and at the end of the day you see Ezra’s expression is similar to how you feel: not just empty, but hollowed out.

Whether it’s the exhaustion setting in or bad strategizing, you’re not sure, but on day four the mission goes awry, and your team barely manages to pull through. Tovar is with the group though and aggressively moves in on the remaining cocaine that someone finds, but seeing how a large amount of it got shot up during the attack makes him absolutely furious. Eventually, he splits the team, sending half of your crew back to your camp with the repossessed drugs, while you have to do another sweep of the premises to make sure everything got covered.

It’s when Frankie pulls open a side door that seems to have been overlooked, and you step in with your gun ready, that you stumble into her. She’s young, younger than you, bruised and bloodied, but what stands out the most is that she’s pregnant - and very far along, it seems. It’s extremely unusual to come across someone in her position, here out in the jungle, because you all know that FARC does not exactly allow any of their fighters to start a family.

You see the hysteria on her face as she realizes that she’s been discovered, know she’s about to scream and fight, so you move on instinct, putting your gun behind you as you hush her and urge her to not yell. “You’re okay, you’re okay- I’m not gonna hurt you, alright? We’re not…”

She stares at the both of you with wide eyes as she nods, and you hear Frankie curse behind you. “Fuck, Santi, no – they’re gonna fucking see her, man. This place is going to get torched in five minutes from now.”

“Please, don’t hurt my baby, I’ll do anything.” She’s sobbing, on her knees now, and you turn to face Frankie as your head is working overtime.

“But we can’t– she’s pregnant,” you say to him, and he nods sadly, his jaw clenching as you can see him think. You curse, peering outside to check if anybody is watching, then close your eyes as you say a quick prayer. Please let this work. Not for me, but for her. “You need to get to the others and tell them it’s clear,” you tell Frankie as you nod to the front of the building. “I’ll get her out of here and to the back of the premises. Just tell them… something, okay? I’ll join you soon.”

“I don’t fucking like this.” But Frankie nods and disappears back outside, while you help the girl to her feet and explain to her how you’re gonna get her out.

“You can’t make a sound. You can’t trip. If they catch us, we’re both dead, okay?”

She nods as tears are rolling down her face, then tries to take a few deep breaths to calm herself. Meanwhile you listen closely to what’s happening outside, hear Frankie’s voice louder than usual - but not exaggerated - as he’s calling out to some of the team members. There’s no time to overthink matters, so you grab the young woman’s hand as you tug her outside, making sure to keep her covered with your own body as you rush her towards the trees that are at a small distance from the building.

Your heart is thumping so loudly that you feel like everybody in the vicinity must be able to hear it - but finally you get her there, pushing her behind a palm tree as you press the handle of a small knife in her hand. “Stay out of sight until we’re gone. Not a fucking sound,” you hiss at her, and she nods again at you, tears brimming in her eyes. She mouths a silent thank you before you turn around, and you don’t look back as you rush back to the property.

Somehow you manage to make it back to the front without raising any questions. Tovar is directing some people around, distributing gasoline, and mere minutes later the whole place is on fire. You’re exhausted, and not fully aware of how you all get back to the base camp, where you do a quick briefing with Ezra, then go find your sleeping spot in the tent to pass out even though it’s still early.

You wake up by Frankie sitting down on your makeshift bed, his hand on your back briefly as he hands you a plate with food. “Told them you got hurt getting back here and needed to rest,” he says, and you’re so grateful that you could almost cry. “Good job.”

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The next two days Ezra puts you, Frankie and the team on rest, giving you the opportunity to catch up on sleep and deal with the bruises and injuries most of you have. Then there is patrol duty, and you’re separated into pairs to guard between your camp and the other ACCU location. It’s hot, as always, but the vegetation mostly offers some shade which makes it more bearable.

Once you’re at least twenty minutes away from your camp, you tug Frankie behind a large tree and kiss him, unable to go on any longer without feeling him against you. You can feel him sigh in relief as he returns your kiss, his tongue eager as he takes over your kiss and presses you against the tree trunk.

“I thought this week was gonna fuckin’ kill us,” he whispers, and you nod as you brush his curls back, twirling a few around your index finger. You want him, in each and every way, but at the same time you feel so utterly drained that you can’t even imagine doing more than kissing and letting your hands roam for now - and you can tell he feels the same way.

You stay like that for a few minutes, just kissing each other, glad to have the slightest bit of time together. The tiredness ebbs away eventually, comforted by the touch of his body against yours, and just when you start to feel his hands drift lower, you realize that you need to stop this now before it gets to the point that neither of you can dial it down anymore.

“We gotta get going,” you make yourself say, and he groans softly, not happy about it, but he lets go after giving you one more deep kiss.

The path to the other camp is mostly easy to follow as you’ve walked it so many times before, a few tree trunks in the way here and there, and eventually the scenery around you changes, going up a hill to higher ground. Francisco talks about the helicopter maintenance that’s scheduled later this week, and you’re glad that they’re keen on keeping him in that aviation position - he really is good at it and still enjoying it, a welcome change from most of the field work.

You halt when you suddenly hear a sound that isn’t common around these parts, and you look around at you try to locate the sound. “Did you hear that?”

Frankie shakes his head. “What?”

“I heard a… Almost like some kind of howling.” You stop abruptly at the edge of the path, grabbing Frankie’s arm as you stare at the sight thirty, forty - maybe fifty - feet away from you, at the bottom of a steep slope. Surrounded by the lush rainforest vegetation stands a large adult wolf, eyes locked on you but not showing any signs of intending to approach you. You blink repeatedly, for a moment wondering if you’re making things up. “You see that?”

You stop abruptly at the edge of the path, grabbing Frankie’s arm as you stare at the sight 30 or maybe 50 feet away from you, at the bottom of a steep slope. Surrounded by the lush rainforest vegetation stands a large adult wolf, eyes locked on you but not showing any signs of intending to approach you. “You see that?”

Francisco gives you a questioning look, then follows your line of sight. “No. Somebody there?”

“The wolf, Frankie.” You have a hard time taking your eyes off the animal; you’ve never before seen one in real life. Meanwhile Frankie is looking at you as if you’ve grown three heads.

“A wo-… Santi, there are no wolves in Colombia.”

“Yes there are, look.”

Frankie smacks the back of his hand against your cheek, the frown on his face growing deeper. “Oye, pendejo. There’s nothing over there. You sure you’re okay?”

“No,” you say absentmindedly as the wolf tilts his head, and for a moment you wonder if it will attack you. Then you hear it; the sound of branches breaking behind the two of you, several pairs of footsteps, and you realize the wolf is not a threat but a warning. And for some reason you can’t explain, you just know that one of the guys behind you will be Tovar.

You take a deep breath as you take one more look at Frankie, drinking in every detail of his face and presence next to you. You wish that you could kiss him one more time, but you don’t dare to risk it.

“Something is very wrong, go back and find Ezra,” you say quietly, and you see his eyes widen as he reaches for his gun, but you stop him immediately as you shake your head. “No. You can’t win this, I’m so sorry - I love you.” Then you shove him, hard, so he trips over the edge and falls down the slope of dirt and vegetation, towards where you saw the wolf moments earlier.

You turn around while you pull out your spare gun, shooting down the guy closest to you without even blinking, then aim at a second and third person. You’re determined to do as much damage as possible to give Frankie a chance to get away.

Tovar’s eyes are dark and furious when they meet yours, and within moments he has overpowered you, dragging you away from the edge of the slope as he bangs the metal of his gun against your fingers. The pain is so sharp and hard that it makes you scream, and you drop your guns involuntarily, blindly reaching for your knife.

“You son of a bitch,” he hisses at you, but your fingers close around the hilt of your knife and you sink it into his leg with all of your strength, before you get hit over the head and lose consciousness.

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When you regain consciousness again, there’s arguing, loud banging against things, and yelling happening all around you. It takes effort to focus when you open your eyes, but finally you can make out some of the faces around you. Tovar, unsurprisingly, a gun in his hand as he’s leaning against the wall. Lorenzano, also armed. And surprisingly - Ezra. On the floor, half kneeling, and with Lorenzano’s gun pressed against his head.

“You made him this way!” Lorenzano practically spat at him, looking like he’s about to have an aneurism out of rage, but Ezra merely looks at him all calm. “You… you conspired. With those faggot boys. And now you’re trying to take me-…”

Tovar cleared his throat. “Us,” he said sharply.

“Yeah, and now you’re trying to take us down,” Lorenzano continued, moving the gun from Ezra’s temple to his forehead.

“I’m afraid I must interject. I did no such thing, boss. Neither did Sant–” Ezra’s words are cut off as Lorenzano hits him hard across his face, and you wince at the sound of what possibly is a broken nose.

“Don’t. Lie. To. Me.”

Ezra takes a moment to compose himself, then shakes his head again, wincing as it seems to hurt him. “I am not a greedy man. You of all people should know that after all this time.”

“Then how did those fuckin commies get their hands on that stash?” Tovar speaks up, looking irritated. “They clearly had intel. Not to mention that ambush the other day.” He wanders over to you, and you groan as you try to sit up on the floor, but your hands are cuffed behind your back and your ankles also tied together. “And you. You let that whore escape the other day. Did you really think you could get away with that?”, he sneers. “Did you deliver Esdras’ messages to her or something?”

Your head is spinning as you’re trying to follow the conversation even though the pain is making it hard to listen and speak. “I didn’t do — I never tried anything like that,” you manage, trying to keep your eyes open. “Please. You have to believe me. Ezra never…”

Tovar grabs you by your neck, pressing his gun up against your chin. “We found your money stash,” he hisses. “Do you know how many of your comrades were eager to speak about the shit you pulled in Cali and Bogota? Letting people get away from raids while they should’ve been six feet under?”

You fight the urge to argue that it wasn’t just people, that it was mostly children and some women, because you know that’s not gonna help your case. “I’ve done as I’ve been told to do. All of my missions. Every single one of them was successful and profitable…,” you wince when you hear Tovar take the safety off the gun, and you close your eyes as you speak faster, trying to focus more on convincing him. “Ezra was just training me so I would be better working for the syndicate. That’s all, I swear. He never… we wouldn’t.”

“What about your faggot boyfriend, huh?”

“What about him, gentle man?” Ezra speaks up before you can even begin to think of an answer. “He didn’t do anything. Neither of them did, nor did I. If we had, you’d have concrete evidence, my friend.”

Tovar ignores his words, and you feel the gun barrel press even harder into your chin. “Where is he? That pilot boy.”

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. Clearly that’s not a good enough answer, because a moment later you’re kicked in the stomach and collapse, gasping for air. “God, I swear, I don’t…”

“Are you religious, Santiago?” Lorenzano walks over to you with slow, menacing steps. “Because you’d better pray to your god that they won’t carry you out of here in a body bag.”

Nausea rolls around your stomach, and you brace yourself for what you know is going to be another kick or punch. You manage to hang in there at first, but when another blow lands on your head, your dizziness quickly overtakes you while the sound of an electric tool whizzes in the background. You hear Ezra scream as the smell of burnt flesh fills the room, and then everything goes dark again.

It’s so dark.

You’re not sure where you are, but you know you haven’t been here before. It doesn’t feel like a dream either, not with the briny ocean air that you smell all around you.

Painfully slowly the darkness begins to clear eventually, showing that you’re standing somewhere high up on a cliff. There’s a man near the end of the cliff, his back turned to you, dripping wet like he just got out of the ocean. 

It’s your brother Jay.

This is the first time you’ve ever seen him in a dream. You know it’s him, even from the back, and even if that looks nothing like how you remember him. When he turns around to face you, something wells inside of your chest and crowds your throat - tears of fear or relief, it’s hard to tell. You just know you’re exhausted, and in pain, and bleeding profusely.

Jay reaches out to you, seemingly offering something he’s holding, but when you take a step closer to him you see it move and realize it’s an animal. A snake, or - no, a sea serpent, biting its own tail, immersed in water that Jay is able to hold in his hands somehow. 

“Brother. It is time. Come join me.” You hear Jay say the words, even though his lips don’t move, and you notice that his eyes are swirls of blue and white. Like waves in the ocean, or a stormy sky.

You know this is Jay, but none of it feels like when you’ve been seeing Joel in your dreams. Something is seriously wrong. 

All of a sudden the choked up feeling in your throat turns into a sharp, blinding pain. It’s like someone jammed a knife into it, or a sword, that goes all the way up to the roof of your mouth. The taste of blood takes over your senses as an alarming amount of it begins to pool into your mouth.

“Were you not looking for me?” Jay’s voice grows louder while the serpent in his hands grows bigger, wriggling in the water. Again offers it to you, stepping even closer, and the ocean smell grows stronger. “Come. Take its tail out so he can breathe and live.”

The words are a bitter irony since you’re nearly choking on your own blood. You feel delirious, your head spinning as you’re already nauseous from the pain. Right when you’re about to reach out and grab the creature from Jay, you hear someone screaming behind you - loudly. 

It’s Frankie. And it’s not even the screams that you would normally hear in your dreams with Joel. This is much, much worse. It reminds you of raids gone wrong, sicarios going after you, and that time the both of you almost died falling off a roof. It’s the kind of screaming that’s full of despair instead of just fear, only rivaled in intensity by the sudden sound of a helicopter that you can’t see. It’s so foreign in this setting that it shakes you out of your delirium, just long enough to see three men step out from behind Jay’s back. 

Tovar. On the right. Teeth bared, the scar on his face looking an angry red color, a M16 in his hands that’s aimed at Jay’s head.

Lorenzano is standing behind Jay, the expression in his eyes dead and vacant as always, with a barely concealed sneer on his face. There’s a Beretta in his hand that’s aimed at the back of Jay’s head, and for some reason you know that if there’s anyone who wants to kill Jay - it’s gonna be Lorenzano.

“Little Beast.”

Your attention gets pulled to the left of your brother, where the third man stands: tall, a familiar shock of blond in his hair, green brown clothing. Ezra. Unarmed and chillingly calm in contrast to Lorenzano, Tovar and your brother, he extends his left hand to you.

"Every moment of our lives is filled with choices, Little Beast. Your choice and your consequence to bear."

“BROTHER.” Jay’s eyes flash in anger at you, the blue of his pupils turning almost black. “Do not ignore me. Come join me. Kill him as it has been prophesied in word and song.” 

Somehow you know ‘him’ isn’t about the men on either side of him. It’s about Lorenzano, still behind Jay, now staring at you as his finger rests against the trigger of his handgun. But before you can respond to Jay, something soft pushes firmly against your leg, followed by the low warning growl of your wolf cub.

You can feel the bindings around the cub before you even look down. It’s like they’re chaining you too, the pressure thin and sharp around your chest and legs, feeling both impossibly delicate and permanent in how strong they are. For a second it shifts your focus of pain away from the blade that’s still lodged into your throat and mouth, but as the wolf cub looks up at you, you can tell that you’re not going to be able to help him with these bindings - and it feels like the biggest failure.

The cub isn’t deterred though, his eyes locked on Jay as he grows loudly at him, and you wince when you feel the wolf’s claws scrape over your leg - you know it doesn’t intend to hurt you, it just wants to protect and be close to you. 

Jay furiously yells at you, the expression on his face asinine and enraged, and Lorenzano suddenly no longer standing behind him. So you don’t think - you just reach out for the hand Ezra is offering you, clutching on to him for dear life as you also swoop up the wolf pup in your other arm. 

The screams of your brother turn into the roaring sound of the ocean, overtaking all the other sounds around you, and you watch in horror as water starts pouring from his mouth in excessive amounts, in the same way you feel blood pouring from yours.

Jay’s fingers wrap themselves around each side of the serpent, scraping over its scales as he pulls and pulls and pulls with all his might. It doesn’t work initially, nor the second time - but the third time proves to be a charm at last. He forcefully rips the snake’s tail out of its mouth, releasing a loud hissing sound from the creature as it contorts and starts to grow bigger.

Several claps of thunder sound in the air at the same time, and as Ezra’s hand closes around yours and pulls you over to him, you see the assault weapon in Tovar’s hand has turned into a massive hammer.

When the hammer hits Jay, the flash of lightning on impact is almost blinding, cracking his skull, and Jay screams as he throws the serpent at his attacker. The creature immediately wraps itself around his calves, and when its teeth sink deep into Tovar’s leg, it pulls a scream from him that rivals all the other deafening sounds around you. 

Tovar stumbles away from Jay and the snake - four, five, six steps, and when his eyes meet yours, you feel another wave of nausea rolling through you.The rage in his eyes when he sees you with Ezra is terrifying, and his path abruptly changes and he moves towards you, one step followed by another. But as he takes one more step, he suddenly pales, grabbing at his leg where the serpent bit him moments earlier. 

The creature still has its fangs sunk into Tovar’s leg, acidic looking venom now dripping out of the wound, and it seems like all of a sudden Tovar realizes that this is not something he can beat. 

He is a tall, broad man, his right hand still gripping tight onto the large hammer - but when he falls, you can tell there is no way that man is getting up again. The massive hammer hits the ground, making everything shake as a crack forms into the ground, zipping from left to right as more additional cracks happen faster than you can even count.

Then, the tip of the cliff just… breaks off. A moment of complete destruction, happening much faster than seems possible, because within seconds it just plummets all the way down, dragging Tovar and Jay along with it. So fast that you don’t even hear them scream; the only sound you hear is the massive thud as everything crashes down into the ocean, being swallowed up whole by roaring waves that pull it down into its depths to never be seen again.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

This time you're not sure that you are even fully conscious when the room around you comes into focus for a moment. The air smells metallic, like blood and burnt things, and the floor around you is red.

"Little Beast," you hear Ezra gasp, and you want to look at him, but the darkness pulls you under again.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Everything around you turns red. Dripping with blood, which then turns into bright orange flames, leaping up to the sky like it was their only purpose in life. But the wolf cub is now taller than you, wrapping its tail around you and Ezra as he tosses you onto his back.

You scramble to hold onto his fur as you grab Ezra’s shirt, making sure he won’t slide off. But then you see his right arm is missing, he’s bleeding out all over the three of you - and you don’t know what to do.

“It’s the consequences, Little Beast.” Ezra is calm as ever as he looks at you, the blond streak barely visible in his hair as it’s also covered in blood. “The choice was mine to make. Certain actions ferment the threat of appropriate reactions.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Somewhere there’s the sound of guns. There’s screaming, and then you hear a voice that you’d recognize anywhere. 

Francisco.

“Is that…” Ezra’s voice is shaking, unable to talk without wincing and gasping from pain. “Fuck. Frankie?”

More gunshots sound and just when the door is slammed open, you once again lose consciousness, your head hurting so much that you wonder if this is the end of it all.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You’re cold.

Everything is white, but you can still smell the flames.

You know the fire is finally gone when the white begins to weigh heavy on you like snow.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When you open your eyes, brought back to consciousness by the sound of the wolf cub whimpering against you, there’s a large wolf standing across from you two. Not black, like your cub - brown, like the color of trees, and Frankie’s eyes and hair.

Francisco.

You black out again. 

When you finally come to your senses again and open your eyes, there’s a small arctic fox standing next to the brown wolf in the snow. It raises its head when it sees you move, then looks at something behind it in the distance.

It’s only when you see the bloody knife in the crisp snow in front of you that you realize it’s no longer lodged into your throat, and that there’s no blood pooling in your mouth anymore.

Heaven for the climate, hell for the company. 

“Frankie.” His name slips from your lips as you start to cry, and the wolf cub whines softly, now  curled up against your chest. His paws are bloody, and you’re not sure if it’s his blood or yours, nor where the large piece of bloody meat came from that’s staining the snow between you and the brown wolf who is still standing in front of you.

Brown fur.

Brown curls.

The tall woman in front of you is covered in brown furs, keeping her warm against the snow. She kneels down in front of you as she picks up the piece of bloody meat and puts it in her pocket. Then she reaches out of you, and as you feel the wet brush of her hand on your forehead, pushing back your hair, you feel yourself starting to lose consciousness again.

“Oh.” Her voice is light, tingles like icicles, and she laughs softly, sounding surprised. “Yes. You really are his.”

There’s even more blood than before. Your hands, all the way up your forearms. In your mouth. Hair.

Frankie’s face. His legs. So much blood, and he’s crying.

Someone’s dismembered arm lays on the floor, not too far away from you. You try to figure out if it’s yours, but everything hurts too much - you’re just not sure.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You’re not sure how you make it to the truck, delirious from blood loss - you just know that somehow you do, Francisco’s hands on you almost the entire time. Once you’re in the vehicle, you promptly black out, coming to your senses later while Frankie drives the truck like he is possessed, several guns in the passenger seat next to him.

You want to ask him what happened - how he found you, and where Ezra is, but every time you think you’ve found the words to ask him that out loud, you black out again, and again, and again. Sometimes you wake up screaming, other times the pain throughout your entire body and head is almost too much to stand - but each and every time, there’s Frankie’s reassuring hand on you.

Somewhere between reality and dreams, or maybe even a worse place than that, you’re drowning in a river of foaming blood. The current is rough, making it incredibly hard to hold on anything  as you try to hold onto rocks, a tree trunk, and anything else that’s near you. 

The pain in your head is stabbing, overwhelming, and you can’t tell if the blood around you tastes the same as the blood in your mouth - whether it’s both yours, or if some of it is Frankie’s, or maybe even Ezra's.

After what seems like hours it starts to rain, while you’re still trying to stay afloat. At first you’re convinced it’s going to be the final push that’ll make you drown, but somehow as the rain mingles with the bloody river, it starts to dilute the thick red blood little by little, until eventually the blood has disappeared and there’s only water surrounding you, while the sun breaks through the clouds, warming your skin at last. You grit your teeth as you try to make it to the shore once again, and this time you’re successful, finally getting your body out of the water as you lay down into a wheat field, the wolf pup suddenly by your side.

You lurch up when the truck Frankie is driving comes to an abrupt stop, gasping for air as you’re jostled into consciousness for a moment. The wolf cub whines softly, licking your face, and you can’t figure out if you’re actually in the car or in that field next to the river. You hear voices somewhere nearby, and when somebody talks who is clearly not Frankie, the pup bolts up with his teeth bared.

That’s when you see the horse in front of you, just a few steps away, his dark brown coat looking almost black as it shines in the sun. You don’t understand how it’s possible, but you can swear that the horse smells like freshly baked bread and some grain alcohol - maybe it’s whiskey. The horse slowly starts to change shape, and eventually looks like a man wearing yellow aviators and tight jeans, standing there with a cocked hip and an expression somewhere in between annoyance and concern.

“Peña,” you hear Frankie say, but some part of your brain struggles to accept that name for the man. 

“Freyr,” you mutter as you close your eyes again, burying your face against the soft fur of the wolf cub curled up against you. You’ve seen that man before, you just don’t remember where. Bogota? Medellin? Maybe talking to Ezra? Fuck - Ezra. Where is he? Is he still alive? “Esdr-...Tyr.” Your head hurts so much that it feels like it’s going to explode.

“Santiago. You’re going to be okay.” 

Your eyes fly open when you recognize Joel’s voice, so nearby that for a moment it feels like he is right next to you. Until everything goes black again.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Every time you dream of Joel, you ask him.

Every time you ask him, he has no answer for you.

“He’s not here, Santiago.”

“Please. You must be able to find out somehow.”

“I don’t know where Esdras is, hermano.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The medication that Javier and Frankie got for you makes it hard to focus on anything, but at least it keeps the pain away. It makes the nightmares worse though, so you find yourself desperately trying to stay awake. 

This is what you understand: 

You’re at the El Dorado airport in Bogota, with Francisco and Javier Peña, who is a DEA agent. The three of you are getting on a small plane that’s headed to the United States, but you’re not quite sure where. At some point, you’ll be testifying anonymously about Lorenzano, Tovar and the rest of the syndicate.

“Ezra set this up a year ago,” Javier tells the two of you as he hands you each a passport and some paperwork. “Residency and work permits. The rest will come.” 

Francisco is staring at him, looking just as confused as you are feeling. “I don’t understand.”

“Ezra is an American citizen. Was.” Javier hesitates, and you can tell by his expression that the man genuinely doesn’t seem to know whether Ezra is still alive as he looks at you. “When Frankie found you two… well. He should tell you about that some time. But Ezra sent him to me, so I got things moving. Most of this was already set up.” 

“Why?”, you manage to ask, and Javier sighs as he takes his yellow aviators off.

“Insurance policy. I know Ezra wanted out, but he didn’t quite seem to think that he would survive that,” he then says. “He figured that if shit hit the fan, at least you two could get out and start over.”

You close your eyes, trying to process the words, but it’s impossible to understand. The idea that Ezra is probably dead is just as unbearable as the thought of what state he might be in if he is still alive. 

“Did he lose his arm?”, you ask, and you don’t recognize your own voice - but you can tell the words sound slightly hysterical. “Frankie, where…”

“You should rest. Both of you,” Javier gently but firmly interrupts you, then gives you some pills and a bottle of water. “These will help. You’re safe for now.”

The woman, Lydia, apologizes for the small apartment, saying that’s all she was able to arrange on such short notice. Javier and Francisco assure her it’s perfectly fine, and you can only nod, your tongue and brain still heavy from the medications.

Once Javier had checked all the entrances and exits, feeling good about how secure it is, he leaves you and Frankie alone, saying something about Lydia picking up groceries and clothes for you soon. Only when he’s gone, you’re able to take in the apartment. Lydia may have apologized for its size, but to you it feels like a palace - and you can tell by the expression on Frankie’s face that he feels the same way.

Somehow it reminds you of your childhood home, and when you two sit down at the small kitchen table, you suddenly don’t feel twenty-two anymore but only ten years old at the most. You’ve never had someone give you a place to call home, even if it would be temporary. Hell, you’re never even been in a place that had locks and was intended for only you and Frankie, with exception of that one motel night a long time ago. 

You watch Frankie get up from the table and grab two glasses, filling them from a bottle of water in the fridge - the only thing that’s in there. As you drink from it, you take in his appearance. He looks as exhausted as you feel, some cuts and bruises on him, but not as many as you have fortunately.

He lets you look at him, the soft smile on his face indicating he understands you’re still loopy from the drugs, then touches your hand softly as he gets up. “This looks nice,” he says, gesturing around him, and you laugh without meaning to - because if there’s one thing Frankie normally doesn’t do, it’s small talk.

“Shut up, pendejo,” he says as he rolls his eyes at you, but you can tell that he doesn’t mean it. “I just mean - well, this is fucking huge.”

You shower together, mostly because you can’t stand up straight without swaying, but you realize that you quite like it. The water is hot and plentiful, neither of you having soap or anything, but just washing the dirt off your skin already feels like a blessing.

“I can walk,” you object when he seems inclined to help you to the bedroom, and you do so, ignoring when you almost fall twice. The sheets seem old but are so soft against your bare skin, and you drift off so fast while you hear Frankie moving around and letting someone inside the apartment. When he returns, it’s with a small pile of clothes and a bag with deliciously smelling food.

You’re both starving and eat mostly in silence, still trying to understand what happened in the past forty eight hours. When your eyes become too heavy, you curl up under the sheets and breathe a sigh of relief when Frankie does so as well. His naked body is so warm against yours as he wraps an arm around you, laying against your back, and you both fall asleep this way.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“America.” A smile tugs at Joel’s lips, and for a moment you’re not sure if you are actually dreaming. Everything indicates that you are, except for the way Joel looks. There is no decaying half to his face, or his body - he’s all in one piece, standing in front of you. Even looking relaxed, which is not exactly a characteristic you associate with him. 

There are no dead bodies anywhere near the two of you. 

Nobody is bleeding out on the ground, or screaming. 

It should be comforting, a relief, but after so many years of always having dreamt of Joel one way, your brain is struggling to understand what’s happening.

“Are you okay?”, you ask Joel, feeling stupid asking the question when he’s clearly looking better than he has before. “I mean…”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Santiago.” The expression on Joel’s face softens further, looking almost wistful, and suddenly you know with alarming clarity that this is the last time you’re going to be dreaming about him like this. “You got out.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The footsteps down the hallway are firm and moving closer to the room where you and Frankie are seated. He gives you a short nod as you both get up from the chairs, standing straight as you wait for the door to swing open.

A tall blond man dressed in uniform enters the room, and you can tell that it takes him just a second to size up the two of you - make a quick judgment about what he sees too, probably. 

He closes the door behind him, then walks over to shake your hands briefly. He gestures at the chairs you were seated earlier as he takes a seat of his own, behind the desk.

“Mr. Garcia, Mr. Morales. My name is Captain William Miller. What can I do for you?”

A/N II: I need to give a nod to @oliveksmoked’s incredible 'Nothing That We Need' (Narcos x Supernatural with Javi x OFC) and @ohforficsake’s The Margay' (Frankie x Audrey, POC OFC) which ended up influencing this fic a lot, and are both absolute must reads. Finally, thank you to @sin-djarin @lotusbxtch @qveerthe0ry @mountainsandmayhem and @magpiepills for all the support and feedback (and letting me cry when I needed to for many reasons). Dividers by @saradika!

Here’s a little overview of Santi + the PPCU characters in this fic, plus and the Norse Gods that Erin assigned to them. Click on their names to go read the other Frith stories written by some amazing writers! @perotovar, thank you so much once again for organizing this incredible event, love you so much!

Santiago Garcia → Fenrir. Most famous of all the wolves in Norse Mythology, bringer of Ragnarok a.k.a. the end of the world. Joel Miller/Santi’s brother → Hel. Goddess of death and guide to the underworld.  Jay/Santi’s (oldest) brother -> Jormungand. The serpent banished to the ocean, will rise at the end of the world. 

Francisco Morales → Skadi. Goddess of winter, skiing, bow-hunting, and mountains. Ezra / Esrads → Týr. God of victory, law, and justice.

Maxwell Lord/Lorenzano → Odin. The All-Father. God of wisdom, magic, war, death and trickery. Pero Tovar → Thor. God of thunder, lightning and the protection of humankind. Max Phillips/Santi’s father → Loki. The Trickster God of mischief and chaos. Javier Peña → Freyr. God of fertility, harvests, and peace. Rules over weather.

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[estupidapendejaestupida]

My selkie Batfam AU! Where selkies are not only seals/aquatic animals, but can be other animals. Born with their pelt, and if they are separated from them since their birth it doesn’t really hurts them, but it makes them feel very empty, like they are missing something very, very important, but they don’t know why (kinda like Crack baby, by Mitski).

Bruce: lion (black) like his parents were.

Dick: wolf (grey)

Barbara: human

Jason: bear (brown)

Tim: human, but not really (lynx).

Stephanie: human

Damian: lion (brown) like Thalia.

Cass: tiger

Duke: human

Alfred: human

Who else should i have?

Ideas so far:

• Tim being mocked by Jason (during the attack at TT) and Damian (during his murder attemps) for being the only robin to be human. And btw, he isn’t living in the manor, he stays in The Nest.

• Damian being taught that he was bigger than his other soul and animal instincts, that if he wanted to be strong and worthy he had to control his animal soul and stop needing it or using it.

• I think I like the idea of Steph being a rat or something small like her mother, and her dad being all like “you useless fuck, ofc you had to be something weak and insignificant, you are weak just like your mother and blah blah blah”. Tell me what you think about it, and well make a decision together.

• Babs being human and not understanding selkie’s at all when she first began working with the bats, but then when she finds that B and Dick are both selkies she just becomes a master about their selkie cultures and habitats and how to treat with them and learns what to do and what not to do. So when another human of the pack needs help understanding one of the selkies, they ask for her help. Except Tim, tho. He kind of always got them at the first try… weird, huh?

• Alfred has to raise young selkie Bruce Wayne all alone after the Waynes' death, and as a human, he tried to teach him how to be a selkie. But a mere human is not really a good mentor for a selkie.

• Slade taking Dick’s pelt away when he was training him, and Dick suffering through feeling like half of his soul had been snatched from him. Feeling it so close, yet too far. And being forced to obey Slade’s every order, until he manages to take his pelt back and scape.

• Jason’s pelt getting burned in Ethiopia, and Bruce keeping it locked away, so when Jason comes back to life he is easier to manipulate by Thalia saying that Bruce threw away his pelt after he replaced him. And Jason blaming that on Tim when he attacks him on TT.

• SPOILER ALERT: Tim’s mom is a selkie, but since she got pregnant with Tim, she stayed as a human and hid her pelt away. She was hoping for Tim to be born completely human, and instead, he was born a selkie. She hid it from her husband, thinking that this way, taking his pelt since birth, he would grow to not need it and could live a normal life just like his human father. She did write a separate testament from his husband, way before she died, where she left a box for Tim. Inside the box is his pelt, and a letter explaining everything. Tim only gets to that box after she dies, and his dad enters a vegetative state after the accident overseas. The thing is that Tim never quite opens the box. He just leaves it somewhere well hidden in his old room at the Wayne manor. And since he never stays the night in his old room anymore, he just never got around to open it. One day, he will, tho.

Please tell me if I should keep this up? I already have a draft done, so if you guys like this idea, I'll publish it :3

I'll write many fics for every character, so it's not very 'one character centric'

[randomly--accessed--memories]

@storm-ismyusername

Okay, so, the "Vox's kids die as children AU." I came up with the image of Vox keeping his kids in a fish tank first, but upon further reflection, I've realized that it doesn't really line up with the timeline I've established.

Vox's children were 7 and 10 when he died (1957)

Vox worked under an overlord for 3 years after his death until he broke free, started his own business, and met Alastor (1960)

He and Alastor were friends for 6 years until they fell out (1966)

Vox gained official overlord status 2 years later (1968). By the time Vox had the resources for the fish tank plan, his kids would've been 18 and 21.

The only window of time where Thomas and Sarah can die and still be children is 1957-1961, so it would have to happen when Vox was still in the employ of his overlord. I actually think the idea of struggling single dad Vox is really charming, so let's go with that.

With that background, I'm not sure if Vox would feel the need to do the fish tank thing since they went a decade without anything going wrong. Maybe it exists, but Sarah and Thomas aren't confined to it 24/7. Everyone already knows they exist, so they're allowed to move around the tower as they please (they are absolutely not allowed to go outside, though).

Okay, with that out of the way, onto the responses. Gonna answer this in parts: this one is the pre-canon stuff, the next will be the canon stuff, and the third will be RAM stuff.

Ondine & Fineas where they die as kids: How does child Sarah and Thomas react to: 1-Dying 2-Going to Hell 3-Reuniting with your dead Dad (who now has a TV for a head) Would any of their Sinner features be different? Is it weird I can see Vox being more fatherly to Sarah and Thomas than he was in his human life? So when Sarah & Thomas die as kids does Vox find them before or after his big fight with Alastor? If before, what would Alastor make of the situation?  How long does Sarah and Thomas fend for themselves in Hell? A few days, a few weeks, a month, a year?  Did someone find the first? Did Vox only learn his kids were in Hell when someone was using them as blackmail against him? Did Sarah and Thomas watch as their father brutally murder their kidnapper in front of them?  Maybe another Overlord (like Carmilla, Zestial, or Rosie) found them and gave them to Vox because they felt threatening children was beneath them and drew the line at hurting kids. Wait what if Alastor found them first? What would he do with them if he did?

Okay, so Sarah and Thomas die somewhere between 1958 and 1959. They still drowned, maintaining their aquatic theming, but I'm not sure how exactly– could've been from their mother driving under the influence and crashing the car through a bridge's guardrails, could've been just regular drowning at the beach or something. Their mother survives, so they land in Hell alone (I have no idea what an 8~9 and 11~12-year-old could've done to get sent to Hell, but let's just move on).

Not sure how Vox finds them. In the main AU, they found him by recognizing his voice in an advertisement and seeking him out, but at this point, Vox is just some random nobody. Let's just assume he got extremely lucky and happened to come across them 1-30 days after they first arrived but before anyone else thought to scoop them up. Vox is horrified that they're dead and in Hell and privately swears to permakill his wife for letting this happen if he ever sees her again. He brings them back to his shitty little apartment and starts trying to figure out how the fuck he's supposed to care for children in Hell.

Despite the circumstances, Vox is actually a better father in Hell than he was on Earth. He has nothing to his name other than a shitty errand boy job, a tiny apartment, and his two small children who he thought he'd never see again. While the stress of having to provide for them is a beast, losing everything sort of forced him to get his priorities in order in regards to them. They become far more tight-knit than when they were alive as Vox is forced to spend more time with them and get creative when it comes to meeting their needs.

It's all quite the adjustment for Thomas and Sarah. Dying and trying to survive on the streets was as traumatizing as you'd expect. Reuniting with your dead dad and having to adjust to living in poverty is also a lot to take in. Every day, they're stuck in a one-room apartment with gunshots constantly going off outside and explicit instructions from their father to be as quiet as possible and not open the door for anyone– very different from the upper-middle-class suburbanite life they were used to. Eventually, their dad will come home with cheap food, they'll spend some time together, and then all curl up in their one bed and try to sleep. Wash, rinse, repeat. It's not a comfortable life, but it's definitely more intimate than how things used to be. Thomas starts letting go of some of his resentment of Vox since he can tell he's actually trying now, and Sarah's view of him as A Good Dad, Actually solidifies.

Eventually, Vox secretly kills his overlord, starts his first business, and is taken under Alastor's wing. Things become more comfortable for the three of them, and Alastor becomes something akin to a weird but fun uncle to the kids. Things are looking up for the family as Vox starts to build power and wealth. It's horrifying for the kids when Vox comes home one night without a head and swears vengeance on Alastor, but that incident only adds to Vox's upward momentum. After ten years of struggling in Hell, Thomas and Sarah (or rather, Fineas and Ondine) find themselves back in the lap of luxury as their father claims the title of the Overlord of Television.