#it sounds like me when i go up one (1) flight of stairs

[master-sass-blast]

hello, fatigue fog. i have not missed you. please, fuck off.

[lovelytsunoda]

my fun // oscar piastri

(gif is by @/oscarcito!)

summary: it’s not every day that a first date lands you in the emergency room, or gives your date a concussion before the food has even left the kitchen

pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

warnings: hospitals, blood, the awkwardness of a first date. low key inspired by season 1 episode 3 of the big bang theory when leonard and penny go on their not-date

yn yln must have been dreaming.

as she sat on one side of the wooden table inside the smokehouse, arms crossed in front of her as she looked over at her date, there was a part of her that kept telling her that there was no way it could be real.

she was quiet and smart, and could recite the entire periodic table in order from memory, and the boy sitting across from her was leagues prettier, with an athletes body and the ability to control a room with one singular lame joke.

he’d moved in across the hall from her earlier that year, and she and her friends had immediately dropped everything to watch shamelessley as the young man and his chiseled athlete friends and carried cardboard boxes up four flights of stairs.

oscar piastri was thinking the same thing. how a big famous athlete like him got someone as sweet and humble as yn to agree to date with him. sure she was awkward, and sometimes very shy, but at her core, she was sweet and funny and kind. not to mention the simple beauty of someone who never wore makeup (not to say oscar wouldn’t have adored it if she did, he just knew that she was pretty without it as well).

neither party really knew what to say, sitting in a nervous silence with the menus spread in the table, a glass bottle of water from the waiter sitting next to two half-full glasses.

oscar reached for the popcorn, a sweet and salty mix he quite enjoyed, trying not to tip the bag over as he contemplated what size brisket to order.

“hey, do you want to see something neat?” oscar blurted, picking out for decently sized pieces of the sweet popcorn. “do you know how to juggle?”

“juggle?” his date asked hesitantly, eyeing him over the popcorn. “you do?”

“went to a circus camp when i was seven.” oscar shrugged. “there’s not much to do in my part of australia to be fair.”

it took a few tries for oscar to get started, but soon enough, he was juggling with the popcorn, the kernels delicately passing through his pale, calloused hands.

and believe it or not, yn was impressed. she broke out in a wide smile, giggling from her seat as she watched the young man in front of her. he had a goofy smile on his face, and seemed well in his element. he caught her eye across the table, stuttering his movements as he shot her a wink, losing two kernels. the kernels rolled under the table, and the boy cursed.

“don’t worry about it, that was really impressive.” yn laughed. “nobody has ever juggled popcorn for me on a first date.”

oscar laughed. “glad to be of service.” he took a small bow before accidentally knocking the steak knife off the edge of the table, wincing at the sound of metal hitting floor.

he cursed, pushing his chair back. “I should probably pick that up, shouldn’t I?”

“can you reach it with your foot? it might be easier.”

“don’t worry, I’ve got it!” oscar insisted, slipping off the chair.

“are you sure?” yn asked hesitantly, bare knees pressed against the cool cast iron that was holding the slats of the table together.

oscar slipped under the table, on his hands and knees in the dark smokehouse as he fumbled around the the steak knife, crushing two kernels of popcorn underneath his khaki pants in the process.

yn, meanwhile, was hyper aware of the fact that her date, who she barely knew, was crawling around under the table, in public, near her slightly parted legs.

oh my god, she thought. do they think he’s going down on me?

there was a bang under the table, the slats shaking. she reached over the menus to grab the glass water bottle as it threatened to topple over.

“oscar?” she shouted “you alright?”

“yeah.” his voice came out strained, almost as if he was hurt. “hey, did you happen to spill any ketchup?”

she felt a sinking feeling in her stomach, as a droplet of something warm fell against her toe through the lip of her sandals. “no. there isn’t any on the table.”

“fuck. I think I might need an ambulance.”

————

the emergency room is not where she wanted to spend her first date. it smelled like antiseptic soap, the lights too clinical and the plastic chairs too stiff. her neighbour looked pale, skin stained red from where he had bled.

as she understood it, oscar had hit his head on the cast iron hard enough to draw blood, but not enough that he was at risk of trauma or hemorrhaging.

or at least, that’s what the off-duty medic seated two tables over had said.

“how much blood do you think I’ve lost?” oscar wondered aloud, almost certain he was concussed. “if it’s less than a pint, I should be fine.”

yn laughed, rubbing him on the shoulder. “oscar, you’re fine. you still have most of your blood.”

“I’m so sorry our date ended like this. I ruined everything.” he exhaled, leaning to rest his head against the wall, still clutching g the bag of frozen peas given to him by kitchen staff against his cut.

she smiled to herself, reaching for his free hand. “what makes you think you’ve ruined anything?”

“the fact that there’s blood streaming down my face? or that were in the emergency room instead of sharing a hot chocolate fudge cake?”

they both laughed at the sheer absurdity of their situation, and yn resisted to urge to rest her head on his shoulder.

“you’re quite the man, oscar piastri. maybe you can make it up to me? I’m sure the smokehouse will be tripping over themselves to give us a free meal after tonight.”

oscar laughed lowly, a look of pain crossing his eyes. “you’d still want to go out with me after tonight?”

“of course I would, you adorable idiot.”

oscar looked like he was about to say something else when a tired-looking nurse in pink scrubs came rushing out of a hallway.

“mr and mrs piastri?”

yn flushed, her face heating up under the nurses gaze. “oh no, we’re not married. not even together, really.”

with all the energy he could, oscar winked at her before shakily getting to his feet in the sterile room. “wait for me, my love.”

yn laughed, watching him walk towards the nurse.

as far as first dates go, this one wasn’t bad at all, was it?

[hannieehaee]

them accidentally ditching you on your bday pt. 2 - hhu

content: angsty, gender neutral, established relationship, conflict resolution, direct continuation to this, fluff, happy ending, etc.

part 1

wc: 3889

a/n: literally so many ppl requested thisjhdf im glad u guys liked it!! im working on vu and pu versions for this rn btw <3

masterlist

seungcheol -

seungcheol sat there for a minute or so, simply pondering at what had just happened. it was 100% his fault, that was something he was very well aware of. he knew that it had simply slipped his mind, but that did not wipe away the hurt he saw in your eyes upon entering your shared apartment. knowing that you had been waiting for him all day made him feel like an asshole. he couldn't believe that he had forgotten about your birthday even upon coming home at midnight the night prior. he felt like such a hypocrite, always whining at people to give him royalty treatment on his birthday but absolutely ignoring you during yours. you, his most favorite person.

he felt hurt that you had decided to spend the night with some friends, instead of in the arms of your boyfriend, but he understood. this was what he deserved. god knew that he wouldve pulled out all the dramatics if you had done the same to him, which was why he was now at a standstill, not knowing what he should do. he wanted to see you so badly, get on his knees and apologize, letting you know over and over again that you were the most vital person in his life and that forgetting you was something that not even he could forgive himself for.

now, he could've sat there and lamented himself over his stupid mistake, or he could run after you before you made it out of the building. he did not want you going to bed angry, or much worse, sad, so he picked the latter and got off his ass to chase after you, not caring about his current exhaustion as he took the stairs rather than the elevator in order to be able to catch up to you before you made it to your car.

luckily for him, he was able to catch you just as you stepped out of the elevator (having ran down five flights of stairs and almost injuring himself in the process), completely unsuspecting to his sudden ambush. he hadn't noticed until now, but you had dressed up, clearly ready to go clubbing or partying with your friends. he felt bad to get in the way of your plans. no, he felt horrible to accidentally ditch you and then ruin your plans. but he needed to at least try and make amends. he knew that if this were him, he'd want you to try and make it up to him.

you jumped back a bit at seungcheol's sudden apparition as you rounded the corner upon exiting the elevator, seemingly not having expected him to come after you.

"cheol, what are you doing?", you didn't seem mad, but your tone let him know you were clearly not content with him.

okay, he didn't think as far as this. his main goal was just to convince you to stay, then he would come up with a way to make it up to you.

"baby, i ... i'm so sorry. i know how hypocritical this is coming from me. i never meant to forget, you know that! there's nothing i can do to make up for having forgotten about you today, but please, please let me try."

"cheol .. i don't know," you paused, "last year when i texted you at 12:03 you complained about it for over an hour. you're the one always making a big deal about this. i assumed you'd care when the shoe was on your foot, but apparently not."

"i do! i do care. baby, please. let me take you out. ditch your friends. i'll take you somewhere. anywhere. i'll even take you out tomorrow too! i'll take the day off. how does that sound?"

"you cant take the day off, cheol. you're an idol-"

"i dont care! they can come and try to drag me away from you if they want. i want to be with you. please let me. please don't leave. cant stand the thought of you going to sleep alone after what i did."

you chuckled at the first half of his statement, feeling touched at the second part of it.

"are you sure?"

he scoffed, deciding to go on a leap and hold onto your hands, pulling you closer to him, "yes! there's nothing i wanted to do more today than be with you! it mightve slipped my mind that today was the day, but i had a beautiful day for us planned, baby. will you let me show you? please?"

cheol knew it was hard for you to say no to him, specially when he whined and pouted at you, giving you his best performance in order for you to understand how badly he felt. it didn't take much more for you to break, finally letting a smile graced your face as you squeezed his hands in yours.

"you better make this worth my while, choi seungcheol," god, he hated when anyone called him that, but you were the exception.

"always."

wonwoo -

wonwoo was astonished at himself, for lack of a better word. he had never been more disappointed in himself than in this moment. sure, he didn't take birthdays too seriously, and he knew you didn't either, but you always made him feel so special on his day he had only wanted to do the same. he was a lowkey guy, so his ways of showing love sometimes went unnoticed by most people, except for you. you accepted the subtlety of his love, loving him all the more for it. he felt terrible that today he showed you the exact opposite of what he had planned. he had taken weeks to perfect the dinner he had wanted to make for you, having prepared a romantic night for the two of you. all he wanted was to make you feel loved as he held you through the night, but his plan had stupidly slipped his mind.

what kind of asshole ditches their significant other on their birthday? for a stupid video game out of all things? as soon as wonwoo communicated what you had texted him to mingyu, his roommate couldn't help but scold him, telling him this was very uncharacteristic of him. which it was. everyone knew wonwoo to be a very sensible guy. it was very rare for anyone to have their feelings hurt by wonwoo. the guy was just simply too emotionally intelligent to ever be perceived as a hurtful individual. except now he had shown a careless part of himself that rarely ever faced the surface.

he was unsure of what to do. it was clear by your messages that you did not want to see him. you quite literally had asked him to not come. your texts to him were always filled with love, somehow being able to have your affections to him transcend even through text. but these were cold, and with good reason. still, wonwoo did not want to give up. the only thing that would be worse than ditching you on your birthday would be to stay where he was, knowing you were not only upset but also hurt by his actions. or rather, lack there of.

so, wonwoo was now on his way to you. well, to your apartment. you had mentioned in your messages that you would be out with friends due to his absence. it killed him that you had chosen to be with your friends over him, but he was fully aware that he only had himself to blame for that. he was glad you at least had someone to be with while his forgetfulness kept him away from you.

he had a key to your apartment, often heading over to fall asleep in your arms after a grueling day of being an idol. upon arriving there, he knew you'd be gone, so he allowed himself in, hauling in all the ingredients he had packed with him in order to make you the dinner he had been planning all these weeks. he was unsure of when you'd arrive back home, so he needed to hurry just in case. there was also a chance you'd come back in the early hours of the morning, knowing you would sometimes stay out with your friends til 1 or 2 in the am. having practiced this dinner multiple times, wonwoo was able to have it all done by 10, hoping that you'd arrive soon so the dinner wouldn't go to waste. he took care of the ambience, lighting candles and even moving furniture aside to make space for his set up. all he had to do now was wait for your arrival.

it had taken you around two hours to arrive. wonwoo had simply sat there waiting for you, not wanting to contact you as to not disturb you. okay, maybe he had maniacally texted you back earlier, apologizing for his mistake over and over, but had received no response, so he had decided it'd be best to just wait for you to arrive on your own. and now you were here, crossing the door to your apartment.

you stopped upon spotting him, widening your eyes before taking note of the dinner table behind him, "wonwoo? what are you doing here?"

he smiled sadly at you, slightly unsure of what to say, "i cooked for you," he paused, continuing upon seeing your confusion, "im so sorry. time got the best of me. i cant believe it slipped my mind. i knew it was today, but i got too distracted. i never wanted to make you feel like i didnt care. i do. so much."

you stood there without saying anything, still carrying a slightly shocked expression on your face. so he continued.

"baby ... please, have a meal with me. i prepared all this for you. this is what i had planned for today, if only i hadnt forgotten. let me make it up to you, please. i already called off tomorrow. i had a whole day planned for us, but i'll do whatever you want. if you want me to leave, i will. just, please. i need you to know how much i care. i love you, you're everything."

you continued to stare at him for a bit, a soft smile slowly breaking into your features before responding.

"nonu .. you didn't have to do all this. i'm sorry if i made you worry. this is ... it's such a sweet gesture. of course i want you to stay. all i wanted all day was to be with you," it melted his heart that you had wanted him all day, but were separated by none other than himself.

he pulled you into his arms halfway through your response, humming as he felt you hug him back. nothing felt as nice as your touch against his.

"im so sorry, beautiful. this will never happen again, i promise."

"i love you, wonwoo. thank you."

"happy birthday."

mingyu -

mingyu had never hauled ass quicker than at that moment, not even bothering to say goodbye to his roommate before grabbing a jacket and sprinting out of the door.

he couldn't believe his behavior towards you. you had always been a top priority to him, and to now realize he had forgotten your birthday gutted him tremendously. but what got to him even more was the knowledge that you had probably been waiting all day for him, having agreed beforehand that he would make space for you on your special day even through his packed comeback schedule. the sole thought that you, the bestest person he had ever met, had sat alone waiting for him all day, made him feel like the worst boyfriend. so now he was quite literally running in order to get to you.

the dryness of your voice during that call should've been the first hint that something was wrong, but what really made the alarms go off in his head was your lack of response when he said 'i love you' to you. mingyu knew it was dumb to care so much about it, but he thrived off words of affirmation, so your lack of response made him immediately assume something was wrong. you had never not reciprocated his words of affection, much less hung up on him. the moment he expressed his concerns to wonwoo, he was reminded by his roommate that 'oh wait, isn't it their birthday this week?' suddenly his mind started spiraling, now remembering that he had forgotten his boyfriend duties on the most important day.

it didn't take him too long to get to your apartment. okay, he didn't actually run there, he was just being a tad bit dramatic. but dramatics were necessary in this situation, which is why the moment you begrudgingly opened the door after his incessant knocks, allowing him inside, he immediately dropped to his knees, looking up at you as he rambled apologies at you.

"baby, i'm so fucking sorry. god, i don't know how i forgot. i swear the day just slipped my mind. i had plans ready, i swear! i've just been so busy with the comeback- not that that's an excuse! you have every reason to be mad at me. it won't happen again, i promise, i-" mingyu wasn't sure when exactly he was going to stop listing off constant apologies to you. he wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying at this point, just repeating himself over and over again, letting it slip past him that you were now standing above him, holding in your amusement at the state of the pleading man before you.

"mingyu, please get up."

like an obedient boy, he got up, now towering over you as he usually did. he immediately held onto your hands, bringing them up to his chest as he continued his apologies.

"you have every right to be mad at me. i neglected you and forgot about you when i shouldn't have. i didn't even wanna come home to wonwoo tonight! i wanted to come to you! but we have a schedule early tomorrow morning, so it was just easier. but i'll cancel! i'll stay here with you! i wanna make it up to you-"

"mingyu, shut up!"

that was enough for him to slam his mouth shut immediately, looking at you as he waited for your next command words.

"mingyu, listen. i understand. i was hurt you forgot, but i understand you're really busy right now, okay? i'm not angry at you. you don't have to cancel your schedule either. i don't want to get in the way of-"

"i'll do it! you're my top priority, baby. you know that."

"i still don't want you to cancel, gyu. it's fine. i'm not angry. i appreciate your apology. just wanted to be with you today .. i'm sorry if i made you worry," you looked down, almost as if embarrassed by having felt hurt by his actions. this made mingyu melt with guilt.

"no, baby. fuck. how can i make this up to you? can i stay here tonight? hmm? i'll cook you dinner and wake you up with breakfast. i'll even cut my schedule short for tomorrow so i can be back home with you earlier. how's that sound?"

"sounds perfect mingyu, thank you," he took this as confirmation to finally hold you in his arms, swaying you back and forth as he hummed the birthday song lightly against your ear, causing you to giggle against him.

vernon -

everyone was aware that vernon could sometimes be a little too chill for his own good. he didn't make too big of a deal about most things, simply going with the flow and allowing things to evolve on their own. except that could not be done in this situation. right now, he needed to make a choice. give you your space, or run home to you, tail between his legs as he apologized for ever having forgotten about you. the last thing vernon would ever want was for you to not feel the immense amount of love he's always had for you. he knew he could be bad at showing it sometimes, but you were the absolute love of his life, which made him feel devastated over and over again as he kept rereading your texts.

'maybe you should stay at the dorms tonight. not really in the mood for you to spend the night. im sorry. love you.' that was what you had last sent to him exactly thirty-eight minutes ago. how could he just sit with that for the rest of the night? specially when all he wanted to do was be with you and hold you and kiss you and show you how incredibly obsessed with you he was. he was never good with dates, but he had always gotten any and all dates pertaining to you right thus far. he even had a gift for you he had purchased a few months back, but he had stupidly forgotten the day he had been preparing for was this week. this mistake was an outlier, truly, but it hurt you nonetheless, which was all vernon cared about at the moment. he couldn't believe you'd been having to hint at your birthday while your boyfriend remained clueless. you must've felt so dejected. he winced at the thought.

however, right now was not a time for lamentations. even if you kicked him out and told him to get fucked, vernon had to at least try to come home to you now. he quickly went over the situation with his members, explaining that he had been a total douchebag and neglected you. that earned him scoldings from all members present, calling him all types of names and demanding he head over to your apartment right this instant to beg for forgiveness and hope you wouldn't just send him right back.

so now he was on his way to you, despite you having instructed him to stay away. he wanted to respect your wishes, but he couldn't go to sleep tonight knowing your heart was still hurt because of him. he needed to at least see you and have you know that he was willing to try and mend things. vernon wasn't one for public displays, nor was he one for dramatics, but he was willing to pull all stops for you if it meant you'd forgive him. which was why he was currently running through the hybe hallways as he called up his driver to be ready to take him to your apartment as soon as he reached the parking lot.

he had had time to think over a game plan on the way over, except nothing came to mind. the two of you had never fought before. sure, there had been a few minuscule spats here and there, but he had never seen you angry at him before; he'd never given any reason to be until now. he didn't want to freak out over this, but knew how hurtful it must've been for you to feel so neglected by the person who's supposed to love you most, so he felt a pit in his stomach with the worry that maybe this would be enough for you to finally snap at his forgetful tendencies and end it. he didn't have much time to think about this, however, as he now stood in front of your apartment door, fearful of knocking on it.

the decision to open the door was made for him, as you incidentally opened it yourself, yelping at his apparition on the other side of it.

"vernon? what are you doing here?", you didn't seem angry. you seemed more confused at his presence. that was good.

"i- uh ... i'm sorry."

okay, kind of a bad start.

"vernon. i told you not to come over tonight. i'm sorry, i'm not really in the mood to see you right now," even though you didn't appear angry, your eyes wouldn't meet his, making him deflate a bit.

"are you mad at me? i'm so sorry. i didnt mean to forget, i swear," vernon knew there wasn't much he could say past that, but he wanted you to at least know he regretted his neglect.

"i'm not angry, vernon. i'm just a little ... sad. i tried to be subtle about it. i mean, i dont even care for my birthday that much, but i hoped my boyfriend would at least remember it."

"baby, god. i am so fucking sorry. i never meant to make you feel like i didn't care. it just slipped my mind. i know it's not a valid excuse, but i need you to know that it doesnt mean anything. i'm just a fucking idiot. i'm sorry."

he was rambling now. somehow you being hurt by him trumped the chance of you being mad.

"vernon, it's fine. i dont want you beating yourself up about it. i'll get over it. i just need space tonight. i was about to go meet with a friend before you got here," you seemed like you just wanted to get out of the situation, clearly feeling awkward at even expressing your disappointment at him. it made vernon feel like even more of an asshole.

"no! be mad! you shouldn't get over it. i should be making it up to you. stay. please. i'll do anything you want. i'll take tomorrow off. we can do something together. anything you want. i have a gift for you and everything! i got it while in japan, the date just slipped my mind, i swear. please stay. i don't want to leave you alone if i made you sad. please."

"vernon ..."

"please. i don't want to force you. if you want to leave, i'll accept it, but let me make it up to you. i dont want you to feel like i dont care. i do. i know i dont express it much, that's on me. i'll make it known. i'll show you. i don't want to hurt you again, i-"

he was unable to finish his sentence, now stumbling back due to a sudden weight against him. you, with your arms now wrapped around him as your face nuzzled his neck. he instinctively wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you in as he lowered his head to breathe you in, humming as he felt the relief of having you in his hold.

you pulled away too quickly for his liking, eyes slightly glossy but not enough to consider it worrisome, "i forgive you. i'm sorry, i didn't mean to exaggerate. i did feel neglected, but-"

"but nothing. don't apologize, please. this won't happen again, okay? i love you."

"i love you too," you smiled at him before pausing, "i .. do you wanna come in?", you seemed a bit sheepish, probably feeling awkward at hearing vernon ramble apologies at you for the past five minutes, showing way more emotion than he usually did.

"come in? oh, you're not leaving? wait, don't answer that. yes," he held onto your hand before you could say anything, pulling you in for a quick kiss before leading you into your apartment, all under the promise to make up for his previous carelessness and never make you doubt his affections for you ever again.

[cybercl0ne]

6-1 // army x f!reader

Summary: you get trapped in an elevator with 6 hot masked men, what could go wrong?

Tw: gangbang, double penetration, pure porn, 18+, vaginal penetration, anal penetration, no jimmy, creampies (possible impreg?), squirting, degradation, Cum. Everywhere. Multiple orgasm.

You were running late. Like really late and you knew rushing up 10 flights of stairs was not happening. You decided to call for the elevator instead, guessing that your boss would cut you some slack depending on your excuse.

As you elevator ringed, the rusty, grinding wires weary hilt in front of you, opening the door to welcome you only to see 6 masked men standing, staring blankly at you, waiting for you to get on. You feel flushed at how weirdly attractive these men looked, their gear making them look buffed and their faces covered by black mask, only keeping their majestic eyes available.

They hold the elevator for you, steeping on you squirm in a small circle around them, they give you space like you were foreign to them. “Thanks guys.” You nervously laugh, going immediately silent as you feel their eyes soften, a glint of unknown lust festering as well. “No problem little lady.” One says seductively, eyeing you, keeping contact as you stand in awe at how his voice rumbled through you. You nod, and hold your head down, trying to make the high tension settle down. All hell breaks loose when the elevator suddenly stops and you drop your smartphone, bending down to reach it, unintentionally giving a show to the men around you. Your skirt hiking up just barely before your ass, showing a corner of your colorful panties. One of them whistle another fall into line with sounds of amusement, one in front of you, you caught readjusting his clear hard on.

“My god, what a nice view..~” one calls out, the others joining in a laugh. Your body felt warm, your lower body growing in heat as these hot men surround you, ready to pounce.

“we’re you just waiting for us to jump on you little lamb?” Another questions. One wraps their hand around your waist, feeling your hips up and down, staring into your eyes for approval. As soon as you give your small nod and whimper the men ravenge you.

“You dirty little slut, getting on an elevator, waiting for someone like us to come along to destroy your little body.” They spit out, gripping your ass, one groping at your tits, pooling them out of your bra. You squeal as you feel your cunt getting more needy, your panties getting sticky with your slick. One of them proceed you rip your professional tights, another man going in for a kiss, staring their deep brown eyes into yours, kneeding your clothed clit as the others worked to get the rest of your articles of clothing out of the way, whipping their own cocks out. “grab my cock you little bitch!” A blue eyes one demands, his heavy British accent making you moan. “Look at her. She’s enjoying getting manhandled! Get my cock in her mouth, see if she’s smiling then?” He slaps your face, slapping his cock on your face. You poke your tongue out, focused on the pre that sticks to your cheek as he slaps it deeper onto your skin, groaning, rubbing it up and down your lips, teasing you.

“I’m gonna taste this sweet cunt, I just know it’s wet and ready for me~” a slim yet buff man replied, stroking his own cock as he rips your panties straight off, his gloved finger glazing your tight hole, his warm and slimy tongue taking its place. “Put your fucking hand on my cock, bitch!” One yells in another heavy accent, his cock way to big to fit in your hand, you attempt to grasp onto his cock, sliding your hand back and forth, your eyes rolling back as you choke down another man’s cock, his hairs prickling your nose as he stuffs himself deep. You clench around nothing as your pussy gets demolished. Feeling yourself on the edge of squirting, you scream out your moan through getting your throat pounded while fisting 2 other men’s cocks.

“Oh the little girls getting close!” The man attending to your cunt stops, and announces. Erupting a slap and a laugh from everyone. Slaps to your ass, face and pussy. You squirm as your climax was so close, them teasing you by slapping around your poor aching pussy. “Awe, baby girl wants to cum? Do you wanna cum baby?” One man says, pampering your face with kisses, his stubble tickling your face. Unable to speak with your cock stuffed mouth you nod.

“Use your fucking words baby.. what do you want? Tell daddy so he can give it to you…” he whines, using his now ungloved fingers to rub up and down your slit, his thumb grazing your clit.

The man pops his cock out of your mouth, shifting to your tits, as 3 other men use your hands and thighs. “p-please.. p-please let me cum!” You yelp, begging with teary half lidded eyes. As you beg you stick out your tongue for a man that jerks his cock over your face, his eyes squinting, telling you he’s close. He moans and finally shoots his hot cum out all over your face, it splurting on your open tongue and one of your eyes. The rest of the men join in, cumming on different parts of your body. One man slapping his cock on your ass, cumming alongside it. Another letting it out on your hands. The man that was in charge of your pussy starts up, tonging you until you feel that white peak, clenching around his slithering tongue, his ball-shaped piercing hitting your clit just right. “C-cumming!” You yell, shaking intensely as you squirt all over the bottom man’s face. The biggest man, lifts you up between your orgasm, making your squirt spray everywhere, drenching the boys as the big man lines himself up with your small, tight pussy, his cock twitching as it meshes in your juices, tapping lightly on your cunt.

“That’s a good girl, letting it rain like a fountain baby!” The man says, kissing your agape mouth. You feel like you’ve been fucked dumb even though you know that these men have just started their satisfaction. You looked down, seeing the big man’s cock, you immediately started to realize that he was the biggest for a reason. His cock twitched at the attention. The men laughed.

“To big for you princess?”

“Gotta make sure to stuff you nice and good honey…”

“I can’t wait to get a taste of that.” all around the men were commenting. Some with sweet replies, others with want and need, they all wanted a piece of you, rubbing their cocks in unison as the big man inches you down on his fat dick.

“N-no! I-it won’t fit!~” you screech, feeling your cunt being slip apart by the big man. “So…damn…tight…” the big man whispers in your ear, moaning heavily. “gonna stuff you so full of my seed that your stomach will grow.” He chuckles deeply, while bottoming out, stuffing you all the way down that you can’t even make a noise at first, only broken moans as your tits bounced from the recoil.

“She’s loving it! Look at her face, she can’t even process how fucked dumb she’s getting!” One points out, stroking his cock harder. “Careful, we don’t want her to break too easily~” another one joins in, groaning at the show he was getting. You felt your insides being rearranged, putting your hand to your stomach, you feel the bulge that dives in and out ever time the man harshly pumps his cock in and out of you. You heave and huff through it, bending your head back to kiss his groaning lips. As you make out with the man with his mask halfway up you feel his rhythm only growing more sloppy and harder, your tits flopping around uncontrollably as he pounds you.

“don’t take all the fun, let me enjoy that sweet cunt!” One interjects, closing into your face, smirking. The big man that was currently demolishing your insides laughs and suddenly stops, popping his cock out of your pussy. You whimper at the sudden empty feeling of his warm twitching cock not blanketing your cunt.

“Don’t worry sweet girl, you’ll be double stuffed in a minute.” You squirm at the tone and way he said it, looking in your eyes, kissing your lips deeply as he adjust himself to your pussy, the big man aiming at your ass, still holding you up.

“Sure you can take it little lamb?” A background man adds, coming up to you, using your bent thighs to stroke his cock. Another one tags along to your other thigh, some staying back, enjoying their front row seats to the show.

Both of the men that stood at your holes entered in at the same time causing you to yell out, tightening and clenching as he tore through your ass while the other guy played through your cunt, fighting his way to your cirvix.

“S-so tight! God damn, you’re gonna break my cock off princess!” He adds, pumping his long hard dick inside you, the big guy rutting deeper inside you. You felt your holes getting violated, being stretched and feeling the searing pain and pressure from them, your stomach showing a faint bulge once again. Juices started to pour out of you, your moans filling the air as they grunted, pounding your holes at an unholy pace.

“p-please n-no… I-I’m gonna break! I-I can’t take it.. w-wanna cum!” You huffed out, feeling yourself getting lost. The rest of the men grunted and moaned, some mixed laughs as they felt themselves getting close to. “don’t worry baby I-I’m close to!” The man pounding your asshole shouts, nibbling on your neck as the one destroying your weeping, leaking pussy grunts in approval, heading toward the same climax. As you feel yourself being overstimulated, drawing to close to cumming they both cum at the same time, both your ass and cunt getting pumped full of hot milky cum. You felt yourself tipping over the edge but as soon as he popped out of you another man entered you, finishing inside you as well.

“We all gotta take turns cumming in that pretty cunt~” one man says, exiting your warm, clenching pussy as another enters in, thumping inside you, unloading his hot seed. You felt your stomach about to burst as you also felt your cunt driving over the edge, your legs going limp as your eyes rolled back.

as the last man came inside you, you reached your climax, squirting a ton, pushing some of the fresh hot cum out with it. The men kissed all over your fucked out body, whispering sweet words into your ear, breast, thighs, and neck. You giggled, mind fucked and still squirting, coming down from the long high as the elevator finally opened. “That was fun, I hope we can do it again sometime~” the big man said, climbing out of the elevator with the rest of his friends who already readjusted themselves while you laid, displayed and completely fucked out on the elevator floor.

[disregardandfelicity]

i was lucky enough to attend the premiere on tuesday (as the +1 of a contest winner); in case this is of interest (and, indulgently, to preserve it for my own memory), here are some tidbits from my night:

for the screening, the cast had assigned seats (jacob and delainey in the same row, sam behind jacob, eric behind sam, assad on the other side of the aisle, the same side as rolin, hannah, and mark johnson). sam and jacob were off to the side chatting during intros and never sat in theirs

delainey got applause from the audience upon her first on screen appearance, the only cast member to get one

daniel had a fair few interview beats which got laughs from the audience

afterwards, an actor from the venue came up and gave a little speech as though he was from a sister coven to the TdV in paris. then we were dismissed to the party, which was upstairs

initially post party, assad and luke were in the front larger room of the reception - sam and jacob were, i believe, already gathered in a far back corner in the second room, along with some other people. eric didn't stay for the party

the venue had a couple little 'shows' - at one point the whole cast and some other guests went up several flights of stairs to a room (delainey commented on how many flights there were as we climbed) where a version of the no pain scene from the books was reenacted by venue actors

kalyne coleman was there, i saw her chatting with jacob. i let her cut in front of me for drinks as an excuse to talk to her. there's a nod to grace in the episode and it sounded like that was a surprise to her (a pleasant one!)

my conversations with the cast were deeply unsubstantive, i was too pleased to be there to come up with anything too clever or probing to say tbh

when i spoke to jacob, i started by saying "sorry" (just reflexively) and he immediately, very warmly, was like what are you apologizing for! when i said how excited i was for the season and he said something like 'i hope it doesn't disappoint' (which i did think was surprisingly pessimistic for a premiere party lol but having seen the quote about hoping ppl still like louis by the end, maybe he is actually a tad concerned! i did obviously say i didn't think it would)

sam was the best at these meetings because he very naturally asks questions back. i told him i loved him in the newsreader as well, and he asked whether i was pirating it (i'm not exactly, i had a vpn). then we all walked off to do that no pain scene experience

after the no pain scene, we exited down some stairs which opened to the second smaller room. assad was behind me so i asked him who did it better (these actors or the show), and we joked about that. he then introduced himself to me, and when i couldn't help noting that i did in fact know who he was, he said he would never want to assume. sam came up to us and assad introduced him to me, and i got the joy of saying we'd met!

(SKIP this bullet if you don't want newsreader vibes-based spoilers) sam asked me what i liked better, iwtv or the newsreader. i said iwtv but that newsreader was great and season 2 was so sad! he said season 3 is the last of the series, and told me it's dark and bleak, worse than season 2, maybe only a second of peace/happiness at the end. so. there's that to look forward to....

he also told me about the crossover staffing between shows (emma and the DOP). i tried to ask if he was responsible for any of that but dont think i articulated it well but he said 'you want to work with the people you like'

my delainey convo was brief, i turned while we were walking up to the no pain thing and realized she was next to me, so just took the opportunity to let her know i was excited about her in next season

around 10-ish, sam and jacob left to (i believe?) go to levan's friends bar, along with hannah and others i didn't recognize. assad and luke were around for another 30-40 minutes after that, then the whole thing ended at 11. i didn't notice when or with who delainey left

delainey, as far as i noticed, did the least mingling; assad and luke did the most. generally speaking (and as expected) sam and jacob hung around together or in the same spaces. also perhaps as expected, assad and luke were hanging around together for lots of the night. at the end of the night, when it felt less burdensome to ask, i got a pic with those two. they were very cool about it, luke was sweet, we'd spoken earlier, he stuck out his tongue for one of the shots and he found me again later to chat

that photocall video i took (above) was after the 'no pain' experience.

[itsmarsss]

Scandalous (Blitzø x Fem!Succubus!Reader x Stolas) [Helluva Boss] pt. 8 - Catharsis

How the mighty do fall. (Getting into a weird three-way situation with an imp and a succubus isn't exactly considered classy, Stolas)

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | pt. 5 | 1st bonus | pt. 6 | pt. 7 | pt. 8 | pt. 9 | 2nd bonus

Word count: 4,900

Warnings: self-deprecating thoughts, thoughts of death, heavy drinking, use of alcohol and sexual behavior as coping mechanisms. you know it's what you can expect from a blitzo-centered chapter. this happens right after the ozzie's chapter.

Blitzø is going to die alone. 

He’s going to die alone and no one will attend his funeral or even visit his grave other than to spit on it and his gravestone will read ‘Here Lies Blitzo Buckzo’ and nothing more because no one will be there to tell them to cross out the O and he most certainly won’t be a beloved anything. He'll just stay Blitzo Buckzo, forever.

And Blitzo Buckzo fucking sucks. 

Sometimes he wishes he was able to think before he spoke. He never does much of that and he’s aware he’d probably have refrained from hurting half the people he’s hurt if he could just keep his damn mouth shut. He didn’t think about this all that much… except for when he did. 

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

Her voice rings in his head non-stop, like one of those annoying fucking church bells he’d come across once in the living world that ring every single hour, making it unable for its existence to be forgotten.

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

It rings over and over again, stubborn, and it just won’t fucking go away.

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

Blitzø drives home on his own, but not in silence. He turns the radio on and the volume up until he figures it must be loud enough that he’ll have trouble hearing his own thoughts. It doesn’t work. The shit thing about thoughts is that they’re not something you can just turn off when you get sick of them. They follow you everywhere, all the time, inconvenient and impossible to get rid of. He proceeds to ignore the songs that come on in favor of mumbling incoherent things under his breath in a desperate attempt to reassure himself that he’s not bothered by everything that just happened.  Things like I can think about people’s fuckin’ feelings and think you’re so much better than me, well fuck you and rich fuckin’ asshole thinks he’s hot shit and probably suckin’ face right now. 

You know, things that prove he doesn’t care one bit. 

Whatever.

He parks the van without a care, still too busy mumbling to himself, leaving it askew, taking up almost half of the parking spot next to his own. The old lady from 22 is gonna be pissed at the inconvenience. Well fuck her too. He doesn’t spare another thought on that. 

He dreads the walk up the stairs to the apartment, wishing he lived somewhere with an elevator, or in a house, or in a super sick fancy mansion where he used money as toilet paper when he took a shit because he was just that rich. Actually, scratch that, that sounds uncomfortable. At least his shitty apartment with limited hot water and four flights of stairs before it had real toilet paper, and it was the nice kind even, he always made sure of it even if it was a little more expensive. 

His little luxuries start to sound stupid when he’s been spending so much time around Stolas and all his fancy stuff.

When he opens the door and enters the apartment, his first immediate thought is to knock on Loona’s door. He groans once as he walks towards it and then once again when he spots the note she left taped to it. ‘Tex invited me to a party. Don’t wait up.’ Yeah of course he fucking did.

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

Does he? 

He does. He thinks he does, at least. Maybe not all the time, but why else would he have said those things to her other than to protect her feelings? It’s not his fault if she was setting herself up for heartbreak. She needed to kill those feelings and if she wouldn’t then he would, fuck being the bad guy. In fact, fuck her too! He could so think about other people’s feelings.

He groans a third time at the thought of spending the night all alone, because he already knows what being alone makes out of him, and he doesn't like it one bit. If he could, he’d never be alone, not even for a single second, ever. Maybe that way he wouldn’t be so pathetic and so sad, because that’s what being alone made of him: pathetic and sad. 

It’s why Blitzø used to hate weekends. 

Satan, he fucking hated them. Why couldn’t every day be a work day? Why would they need a break? If it were up to him, there would be no such thing as a weekend. Because on weekends he had nothing to distract him from the ever-growing nothing in the pit of his chest and that wasn’t much fun at all.

Until Y/N accepted the job at I.M.P.

Before that, they used to speak almost exclusively through text, extremely inconsistently. He’s never really been the greatest at texting, but he could spam her with stupid memes and pictures of him doing random things throughout his day and horse doodles that she didn’t seem mad about receiving. They spent a whole year like that, only meeting in person a few times here and there.

When he offered her the job he promised himself not to have any expectations because, well shit, why would she trade in an obviously well-paying job, with her best friend as her boss, where she’d been working for years on end without having to hurt or kill anybody, for whatever it was he was asking her to do? 

But then she said yes.

It wasn’t long until he figured out they weren’t all that different from each other. Apparently, as much as she liked to complain about needing a break, just to annoy him, she dreaded weekends too. Not that she’d just admit that point-blank, but they did go out on on a Friday night after work and she did drink one too many and she sighed and complained about having to go home and it was all so much like him. ‘I don’t wanna be alone, Blitz,’ she’d told him. 

He didn't wanna be alone either.

And so he took her back home and he slept on her couch and he stayed there the next day, keeping her company and, honestly, enjoying hers. 

That’s how their tradition started. Almost every single weekend, the two will find themselves in either of their apartments, in the ugliest clothes they own, to cook or order something extremely greasy and unhealthy and marathon a shit-ton of movies, staying in on Saturday after going out somewhere on Friday. Loona would routinely call it ‘patheticville’ and ‘loser day’ and things like that. 

He doesn't hate weekends anymore. 

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

And now he’d fucking gone and done this. 

He still wanted to fight, then. To argue, to scream, to yell. He wanted them to do it too. To get down and dirty and scream back at him. He wanted a reason to react.

Blitzø has always been very good at reacting. 

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than you own?

But how was he supposed to react to that? The thought of grabbing his phone and texting her something along the lines of ‘fuck you and your pet bird too’ crosses his mind for a moment and, shit, maybe he is a prick, and he was gonna die alone wasn’t he? He was sure to if he kept doing this kind of thing. 

And maybe he fucking deserves it. 

Sometimes he wonders just how he’s going to die. Will it be peaceful? He hopes not. He sure as shit does not deserve peaceful. Maybe it could at least be cool. Maybe he could go down in a super badass shootout in the human world or a cool-as-fuck sword fight or something. Or maybe he’ll die in some dumbass way like tripping on the sidewalk and cracking his head open on the pavement. Maybe it’ll be in one of those days when he’ll be climbing up Stolas’ balcony and then he’ll slip and fall and break all his bones only to be found dead on the grass surrounded by ball gags and anal plugs. A stupid send-off for a stupid motherfucker. 

He throws himself on the couch instead and curls up into a ball, wishing he had a big royal-size bed with soft sheets and like three or four fluffy pillows, or even a simple twin-sized one, or at least that the couch was a pull-out. 

He grabs his phone and inevitably goes where he always goes when he feels like this- his ‘people I care about’ folder. He swipes through the various pictures. The ones of himself with I.M.P. in the living world, the one he made Moxxie pose with him for with them pointing their guns at each other, the one with Millie when she still had her long hair. The one from the day of Loona’s adoption, the one he took of Stolas sleeping next to him. The selfie with Verosika, the one he secretly took of Y/N watching the screen when he first showed ‘Spirit’ to her. 

And then he lands on the one. The one with Barbie and his mom. 

Blitzø is a 35 years old single father who kills people for a living. He’s been handling his own shit for almost two decades now. But in this moment… he just wants his mama.

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

What would she have thought of that?

Yeah, he should have known it would be a ‘cry himself to sleep’ kind of night.

Blitzø doesn’t know for how long he’s been passed out when he wakes up disoriented. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, and that probably explains why his body ached so much with how uncomfortable the position he’d slept in was. He wakes up with the barking sounds of Loona’s special ringtone and scrambles to pick it up. 

“Loonie baby? You alright? Did something happen to you, are you hurt?”

“No, Blitz. I just- can you just come pick me up?” She sounds like she’s been crying. Fuck, no, his baby needs him. No time to be sad.

He’s up in a second. “On my way. Send me the address.” He hangs up, searching for his car keys (which he found between the couch seats) and running down the stairs.

Loona went two rings down to Gluttony for this party. It makes sense, he supposes. He’s more of a Lust Ring party kind of guy himself, but he’s heard Gluttony parties got crazy. He accelerates as fast as the shitty van will let him and gets there pretty quickly, only to find her outside, still crying.

He rolls down the window before he even stops the car completely. “Hey, Loonie. How ya doin’, you alright?”

She wipes a tear with the back of her hand and enters the car with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest. “Yeah, I’m fine! I just wanna go.” She sounds anything but fine.

He’s about to ask her what happened when some fuckface he definitely doesn’t remember calls him by name. The wrong one. “Hey! That sounds like Blitzo!”

“The ‘O’ is silent, asshole!”

“Hey, I knew it was you! Fuck, man, where you been? You here for the party?”

“No, I’m just here picking up my daughter.”

The guy walks up to Loona’s window, and she hides her face from him with her hands, embarrassed. “Oh, shit, you have a daughter now?”

“Adopted!” She yells out, and it stings a bit, regardless of being objectively true. 

“Oh, man, you’re already leaving? Things just got started! Come in and show us all up again.”

Blitzø groans, annoyed by the insistence. “No, no, thank you, but I think Loonie wants to head back now.” 

Some other weirdo approaches the van, leaning on the passenger’s window. “Huh, the hottie wants to leave?” Come on, right in front of him? 

He instinctively starts to growl. “Watch it.”

“I mean, we could stay a little longer,” Loona tells him.

He sighs. He’s not normally one to turn down a party, especially one with free booze, but he feels that’s probably what he should do.. “I think we need to go, ‘kay? I think it’s been a long night.”

“Well, these people seem to know you. Come on! I think I wanna give this another try. Pleeeeaaase?” She gives him the goddamn puppy dog eyes and she knows he can already hardly resist fulfilling her requests.

Well, if she insists. He could definitely use a drink…

“Okay, fine. Maybe one drink.”

… Or a good old night of drinking to forget.

Blitzø downs two tequila shots before he’s even made it into the house. He downs four beers at rapid speed as soon as he does manage to get inside, crushing the cans and cheering loudly when he was done, and then suddenly he finds himself saying yes to a keg stand. It’s so easy he can do it in his sleep. Fuck being too old for this, he’d never be too old to have fun. And he can handle so much more than a keg stand. “Ha-ha! That was nothing, bitch! Give me a real challenge!”

Beelzebub herself appears in front of him, seemingly materializing out of nowhere (or maybe he’s just drunk), all cheers and neon colors and psychedelic paraphernalia floating around her, and she does challenge him. “Oh yeah? Wanna fucks with the big bitch, imp boy? I got a challenge for ya.” 

Someone somewhere murmurs “He’s gonna die.”

Now that sounds like a challenge he can get behind.

Vortex walks up to them, carrying two huge gallons of something and placing them on the floor between him and the Sin. “Aaaaight, let’s do this! From Bee’s personal supply, the hardest shit there is.” He crouches down to Blitzø’s height. “You ready, my man?” 

Fuck, this better fucking kill him alright. “Bring it, barky! I will drink you under this fucking table, you have no idea what kind of night I’ve had.” He struggles trying to pry the gallon open, and Bee uses her magic or whatever to make them levitate, extending a straw from it. Of course she’d flaunt her magical powers and her easy fucking life to him.

“Alright, shit-talker, but there hasn’t been a soul yet who can beat me at my own game, so you better bring the fire, baby!.” 

“Ohh, is Queen Bee too scawed to lose to a widdle imp like me?” He bets she is. And he bets she’ll be embarrassed when she loses to him (because she is going to lose). Fucking big names like her always are. 

“Oh, okay. Let’s get it on, you little bastard!”

Vortex signs for them to begin and it takes about two seconds for Blitzø to have downed about a fourth of it already, but why stop there? He pulls the straw out and pours the drink straight into his mouth, downing the entirety of it at light speed. He’s so quick Beelzebub even stops chugging her own, amused… Concerned? Noo, no way. Amused. 

He climbs on top of the huge gallon to be at face level with her and properly rub it on her face, high on the adrenaline of it all (and perhaps a little bit on the buzz from the extremely strong drink too). “Yeah, who’s the queen now?”

Loona cheers for him loudly, and it fills him with joy when she proudly yells out “yeah! That’s my dad!” Yeah. That’s damn right. 

Bee lets her own unfinished gallon fall down to the floor and crosses her arms over her chest. Yeah, definitely impressed. “Well, fuck me. That’s a first. I haven’t had a first in a while. That was magical, seriously. Impressive. I tip my crown to you, imp boy. Respect.” Fuck her still calling him imp boy, but she’s actually admitting his victory and shes bowing to him, as she fucking should. 

She howls, every hellhound around following suit, and Blitzø feels on top of the world. 

Why does the world start spinning when you get yourself on top of it? 

He almost falls to the ground, but then he’s getting held up by a bunch of strangers like a cool-as-fuck goddamn rockstar and, shit, why had he stopped getting wasted and doing this kind of thing every night again?

He doesn’t exactly remember when people started doing body shots off of him but he does remember getting freaky with a few of them, which did very little to make him feel good and honestly felt a little gross with the amounts of drinks getting spilled all over and making things rather… sticky, but it was doing wonders to his thought problem. 

Who would have known having four strangers’ tongues inside of you at once could be a great way to muffle the unsolicited thoughts in his head?

The second those people fuck off somewhere else the thoughts come in again, though. Stolas hiding his face in shame behind the menu. Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? Y/n unable to look him in the eye. Are you worried someday I may have enough of it as well? Fizz is gonna hate him forever. You’re not my real dad! Verosika will always regret him. We could just… talk. Or… watch a movie? Or maybe… cuddle? Y/n’s crying face, Stolas’ disappointed one. Oh, they both had such fuckable faces didn’t they? Which reminded him: he really wanted to fuck someone.

He’s making out with a guy whose name he doesn’t know and whose face he doesn’t even remember when Loona pulls him off of him. “Oh, piss on a dick! What the fuck are you doing, Blitz?”

“This guy,” he grins, pointing to the unnamed man, who now stands still behind him. Wasn’t it obvious?

“It looks like you’re in the middle of a goddamn orgy. Stop!” Oh shit. Loona saw all that? An orgy does sound like some real fucking fun right now. Wait, focus, Loona. Fuck.

“Look, I didn’t expect you to come here and see any of this, Loonie, I’m so sorry, but it’s a party! I’m just having fun with uh… uh…” he turns back around to the man Loona pulled him off of. “The fuck is your name again?”

“Dennis.”

Ew. “Christ on a stick, you would be a Dennis. Get the fuck away from me! I’m not fucking a Dennis tonight. I need a Monica or an Alejandro here, stat.” He’s genuinely surprised that works when some hunky dude pulls him into his huuuge chest. Fuck yeah. “Better.”

Loona punches his Alejandro in the face, and he sincerely doesn’t give a fuck about it, because the world is spinning again, which is weird because this time he does not feel like he’s on top of it at all. In fact, it feels like the world is the meanest dom top ever and he’s a whiny, whiny bottom just sore all over from getting spanked ‘till his ass hurt. Not in a good way.

He falls back on Loona, and she catches him. “You don’t need anyone else sucking your face, freaky weirdo.” She throws him over her shoulder. “You need to drink something other than beelzejuice.”

She pulls him into the van, and she doesn’t rush to get home, because, according to her, she can see he’s already about to throw up. No he’s not, no sir! Ma’am. Loonie. 

Whatever. 

His mind clears a little as they make their way back home, and he pulls out his phone from his back pocket. Thankfully it’s still there.

“The fuck are you doing, dumbass? That’s gonna make you dizzy.”

“Gotta… gotta draw a thing.”

“You gotta draw a thing?”

“Yeah,” he affirms, as if that was enough information for everything to be self-explanatory, even nodding his head yes for emphasis. He surprisingly manages to take his time and put real effort into doodling it, showing it to Loona before sending it.

“Does it look like I did it drunk?” He slurs, letting out an unintentional burp.

“It actually looks pretty good, Blitz.”

“Okay.” 

“So. Who’d you call stupid?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Okay.”

“Can you call me dad again?”

“Nope.”

“Okay.”

He presses send and clicks on Stolas’ contact next, only to see there’s an unread message in their chat.

Stols:  I’m sorry if anything I said or did offended you tonight. 

Ha. Bet you really fucking are. 

Still, he’s not Stolas’ fucking boyfriend. What was there to expect from him? Why would he expect anything? 

Blitzy: ITZ WUTEVS

To Blitzø’s surprise, Stolas begins typing immediately, as if he’d been waiting obsessively for his reply.

Stols: Next time you come over, maybe we can talk about what happened at Ozzie’s?

Talk about it? What was there to talk about? Blitzø wanted nothing more than to bury the memories of tonight the deepest under the ground he possibly could. But of course Stolas would want to talk about it.

He always wants to fucking talk about shit.

Blitzy: Y?

Stolas types for what feels like forever, and it must have been, seen that they’re now only one street from the apartment complex, before he sends in a huge-ass paragraph. 

Stols: I’m sorry! Nevermind, it’s not a big deal. I was just worried about you. You seemed very upset and you took off so fast. I’m sure things will be fine with Y/N, she likes you very much, I can see it. Maybe I read too much into everything, though. Not everything is about me, haha. I’m  glad that’s not the case. I wasn’t upset either I just wanted to make sure you weren’t and obviously you can handle a stupid joke a clown can make. Asmodeus can be very invasive in his humor, and Y/N says she’ll talk to him about it, but I thought it was funny myself. What he said about me at least. I enjoy being the subject of jest. Maybe you can say mean things to me too next time you come over. 

Now that is too much to fucking deal with right now. Which means he won’t. 

Blitzy: SHUR.

He clicks out of Stolas’ chat, taking one last glance at Y/N’s before turning his phone off. She hasn’t seen what he sent yet, and that’s actually okay. 

Loona parks the van messily, doing the same thing he’d done earlier and letting the car occupy some space from the neighbour’s spot. He doesn’t even think before asking her to fix it.  “Sweetie, could you just park it a little more to the right?”

“Why?”

Yeah, Blitzø, why do you even care? “Well I don’t want that freaky cat lady to be up my ass about it tomorrow.” Yeah, that. Sure.

She doesn’t seem to find it in her to argue or even as much as groan, simply readjusting the car. She has to carry him over her shoulder again and all he wishes on the way up this time around is that he were a little more sober. She plops him down on the couch and he curls into himself once again while she grabs him a glass of water. 

Nothing to distract him from his thoughts now. 

“I had a really shitty day,” he tells her.

“Oh, yeah? Is that why you drank like five gallons of who-knows-what?”

“I don’t want her to hate me.”

“The person you called stupid?” 

He nods, hiding his face from her when the tears start coming in. “Fuck, Fizz was right. I’m gonna die alone, aren’t I? Just a wrinkly, old, withered waste. Will you be there, Loonie?” Blitzø feels whatever consciousness he’d gained back slipping away again by the second, this time from the need to sleep rather than the alcohol. At what point did he get so tired?

“Be where?” Loona asks, and he’s too out of it to respond properly, only mumbling half-coherent things like lonely and die alone over and over. “I’ll be there, dad," she tells him anyway, and covers him with a blanket, the softest one they own. “Now go the fuck to sleep,” she orders, and he does hear it, he just doesn’t have the strength to say anything in response as he feels himself drifting off to sleep, his last thoughts being that at least he can’t think about anything while asleep and that… 

He vomits all over the living room floor. 

“Oh, fuck, I did need to throw up.”

[. . .]

You feel stupid when it’s Fizzarolli who finds you crying in Ozzie’s waiting area. He skips his way to the room, humming along to some song you can’t quite make out, and he almost doesn’t see you on his way into the office. He hears you sniffling, though, and turns to face you. It takes him a couple seconds to process that it’s you.

“Y/N? What are you doing here? Um. You okay there?”

You look up at him, but it doesn’t feel like you can say anything yet. 

“I-” He motions behind him with his thumb. “I’m gonna- I’m gonna get Ozzie. Stay here, yeah?”

You don’t even know why exactly you’d asked Stolas to send you here when you were still mad at Ozzie. Or maybe not mad. Just… sad about everything that spiraled out of what he did. 

Then again, did you even have anywhere else to go? You could absolutely not make the night worse for Millie and Moxxie by showing up at their place, thinking of Blitzø made you sad and Stolas was not an option. You had Ozzie, though. And you know you always will, despite whatever stupid shit one of you might do. 

And it honestly beats going home to a big pile of nothing. 

Ozzie appears shortly, Fizz having done as promised and fetched him. Fizz doesn’t come back, though, letting you and Ozzie have a moment to talk on your own, which is nice of him.  

“Hey, pretty babe. Fizz said you were here.” He looks you up and down, worried. “Are you crying?”

“Why did you do that?” 

“What?”

“Why did you fucking sing about all that, why did you- it was so humiliating, Oz, fuck!”

“Oh. I am so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. It got out of control. I didn’t even know you would be here tonight. You didn’t call me.”

“I didn’t know I was coming either.”

“You wanna tell me what that means?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Alright. That’s okay. I am sorry, though. We took the joke too far and I realized too late that it wasn’t funny.”

“Yeah. It wasn’t. So please don’t fucking do that again. It’s humiliating enough to… fuck... and everybody saw it, and- I…” You groan in frustration, struggling to get your words out. 

“No more about Stolas or any of you. Okay? Promise.” He sits down next to you on the fancy couch and he lets you lean on him. “Did something happen between you?”

You hesitate before speaking. “I didn’t- I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe I am stupid. Of course he’s ashamed to be seen with us.”

“Stolas?”

You nod. 

“Did he… tell you that?”

“Well he didn’t deny it.”

“Okay." He takes a deep breath, probably trying to think of how to handle the situation. "You’ll have time to think about all of this. Alright? Now you’re coming with me, you’re taking a bath and you’re sleeping over, and we’ll talk about everything tomorrow. There’s no need to hurt yourself more thinking about it right now.”

He stands up and turns to leave the room, but looks back when he doesn’t hear you do the same. You’re still sat sit still on the couch.

You look up at him. “Oz?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“What?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” You repeat yourself.

“What- of course not. Did somebody say that to you?”

You don’t reply. 

He purses his lips together, thinking. “Are they worth feeling stupid for?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve gone through this before.”

“It’s different, you know that.”

“Yeah, it’s worse. They’re not hurting you back this time around, they’re just hurting you.”

You decide he was right. You don't want to talk about this right now. “Can we please not talk about it?”

He hesitates before nodding in agreement. “Yeah. ‘Course, babe.” He grabs your hands and pulls you up. “Come on.”

All the crying makes you so tired you’re almost passed out the second you lie down on the soft, silky bedsheets of Ozzie's guest room bed. Taking a look through your texts before you let yourself fall asleep, you click on Stolas’ contact once you see a notification for an unread text. 

Stolas: I am truly sorry if I did something to hurt you or make you uncomfortable with me tonight. It’s not your obligation to talk Asmodeus  out of doing anything and I did not feel embarrassed because of you or Blitz. If you need space from me I will understand, but I want you to know that is not how I feel. And, for the record, I don’t care what that Verosika person said about you. I hope you’re alright. 

It is way too late and you are way too tired to process or deal with all of that, and honestly? You still do feel stupid, and don’t want to further that feeling by replying to him immediately. That feels too pathetic- it feels like proving Blitzø right.

You’ll reply tomorrow.

You click on Blitzø’s contact next, which also had a notification signaling an unseen message, and you brace yourself for a 'fuck you’ text or something of the sorts. 

You can't keep yourself from smiling when you open the text, turning the phone off and just waiting for sleep come to you, and things feel a lot less shitty than just a second before.

Having friends is pretty fucking okay.

A/N: everybody say thank you @sweetadonisbutbetter and also wish them a happy birthday!! the adorable little doodle blitzo drew is theirs and they did it especially so i could put it in this chapter which is so nice of them and so fucking cool!!

[onehelluvafan]

Will Stolas lose his immortality?

I’ve seen several mentions of Mission: Weeaboo-boo being a parallel to Blitz’s first encounter with Stolas (as an adult), which I can totally get behind. Right out the gate we have the “you were here to ravish me” similarity as well as Blitz “sneaking in, under the cover of night.”

I've also seen the hypothesis that Emberlynn's fan fiction includes an element of foreshadowing for what’s going to happen in the climax of Season 2.

Her episode is also the only one of the shorts with that "ticking" sound during the content warning, which lends further credence to the idea that it is tied in with the main plot somehow, even if merely thematically.

This got me pondering the possible parallels related to Emberlynn's functional immortality against demonkind and her decision to give it up in order to "be with Blitz."

Which now has me wondering—is Stolas going to have to give up his immortality to be with Blitz? Or lose it due to the illegal arrangement they've had going on?

Or, leaning into the idea that her episode is merely a reflection of how Blitz views his relationship with Stolas, could it simply be a parallel to the fact that Stolas has already been in mortal danger as a result of choosing to be with Blitz? And that Blitz feels responsible for Stolas' “undoing?”

We’re shown in Ghostfuckers that one of Blitz’s fears is that Millie could have died during any of the missions from episodes 1-4 of season one. Couple that with the fact that he believes that he “makes everyone’s lives worse,” it’s reasonable to assume that he not only fears, but feels responsible for her life being in mortal danger during their missions.

Whether he cared more about Stolas or the arrangement when he stopped the first assassination attempt, Striker was without the angelic weapon when he fled, which Moxxie had expressed complete shock in Striker's ability to have in the first place.

I think that Blitz allowed his cognitive dissonance to convince himself that Striker was no longer a threat without this weapon. Because deep down, he may have been afraid that telling Stolas about the assassination attempt might not be a neutral event for him. That he didn’t even want to contemplate the idea that he might actually care beyond the loss of their "arrangement."

In the very next episode, Truth Seekers, we see these feelings forced to the surface during his drug-induced hallucination—with Stolas at the top of a long flight of stairs, saying, “Are you afraid to love people, Blitzy?”

With the knowledge that he’s afraid that he makes “everyone’s lives worse,” it adds layers to many Stolitz scenes that follow throughout the series. Data points that someone like Blitz could easily see as evidence of that very fear. “Proof” that he’s responsible for Stolas’ life “falling apart.”

- He knew that Stolas was married as evidenced by his “Sorry, I fucked your husband” after their first night together. Stolas was clearly not only consenting to sex with Blitz, but was expressing a joyous desperation for it. Despite this, it was actually the “first ever friend” comment that caused Blitz to hesitate and return to Stolas, which we now know was a soft spot for him due to his experience with Fizz. But it was Blitz’s choice to stay or go, and staying is what kicked off the arrangement, is the reason for the sexual nature of its terms, and caused a domino effect that impacted Stolas’ entire life, including his family.

- When the two of them were being roasted at Ozzie’s, it wasn’t Stolas’ perspective that was showcased for Blitz, but Ozzie and Wally Wackford’s. Not only does the narrative begin early with Wally’s “Are you sleeping with an imp?!” but it’s followed up by Ozzie’s “My dark lord, how the mighty do fall,” and continues with Stolas being called out for “giving up” his wife and daughter specifically for his choice to be with Blitz. And the way that the narrative plays out, it almost sounds like his downfall was less for cheating than it was for sleeping with an imp.

Either way, seeing Stolas hide his face behind the menu likely “confirmed” multiple things for Blitz. That despite Stolas’ “public” flirting in front of other imps, when confronted by someone actually associated with Stolas’ upper class society, Blitz was reduced to being an embarrassment for Stolas.

Believing that, left no room for even a glimmer of hope that they could be anything more than what they already were: a prince who enjoyed “sleeping with an imp” and was apparently paying a pretty steep price for it.

- Then there’s Octavia. In Loo Loo Land, Stolas takes her to the theme park but spends most of his time flirting with Blitz. Not only does she comment on this in front of Blitz, but he’s there to witness when she’s finally had enough and storms off, mad at her father. In Seeing Stars, Octavia came to I.M.P., stole the grimoire, and disappeared with it. Why? Because her father was so wrapped up in the divorce, that she felt angry and neglected.

- In Full Moon, his fight with Stolas took them through part of the palace. This is very likely the first time he’s seen it since he was apprehended at the “Not Divorced” party, and what has it become? When he came back into Stolas’ life, it was bright, vibrant, and full of people. That night in Full Moon, it was dark, muted, and the only person visible in his photos were of Via.

While Blitz may have inferred at the time that Stolas’ marriage wasn’t in a good place, he doesn’t know just how miserable Stolas was in the life he had before. From Blitz’s perspective, he may have appeared fairly content overall when they first reconnected.

Compare that to Apology Tour, which Blitz sees as the natural outcome of what people experience when they are around him long enough.

Data point after data point, to feed into the idea that Stolas’ life has been “ruined,” just by Blitz being in it. His marriage ended, his relationship with his daughter was negatively impacted, and by Ghostfuckers, someone had tried to kill him twice.

I don't think Blitz is aware that Stella is the one who has been putting out the hits, but I could see him internalizing the idea that if Stolas had died during the second attempt, it would have been his fault. Because not only had he chosen not to warn Stolas that someone was trying to assassinate him, he was also the person that Stolas had reached out to for help and he had let M&M go in his stead.

It is after this attempt on Stolas’ life that we see Blitz absolutely shook by the idea that Stolas not only could be hurt, but that he was hurt and had almost died.

This is also several months after the night at Ozzie’s, when he had first begun to realize that, painful as it was, he may care for Stolas after all. Months during which they hadn’t seen each other and he had time to actually miss their time together.

Between that and finding out that he can actually get hurt, I can see Stolas becoming one of the people that Blitz feels the desire to protect. Unfortunately, this also seems to come with the anxiety of being responsible for what he perceives as the “collateral damage” of being associated with him.

Finally, in Truth Seekers, where the "ticking" began, Stolas had exposed himself via "real" demonic power to the D.H.O.R.K.S. and by extension, the living world. But the only reason he was there and got himself caught on camera is because he came to rescue Blitz.

This could be linked to the scene where we see Blitz attempting to protect and defend Stolas against someone. My bet is on Paimon, who, while ranking below the 7 Sins in power, is still depicted as a fairly powerful being. Stolas had not only exposed their existence to the living world, but had showcased his power in his attempt to scare the agents into submission. We know there’s going to be consequences for that, as well as for the divorce, and I expect Paimon will have a part to play, one way or another.

Stolas mentioned in Seeing Stars that without the grimoire, his powers are rather limited. I assumed that the worst outcome for him at the end of Season 2 was being stripped of his status and grimoire, which would vastly reduce his raw power as well as the power his position in society affords him.

Obviously, the actual worst-case scenario would be the loss of his life, which it's assumed Blitz is trying to protect him from in the snippet from the trailer. But it didn't occur to me until now that even with my own certainty that he'll survive the Season 2 climax, there was a third possible outcome... that along with his power and status, Stolas could also be stripped of his immortality.

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

One of Us is Guilty; Prologue

Eight people, nine rooms, seven weapons. One person is guilty, and until they are found, no one is safe; from the perpetrator of the crime, or of being accused.

Characters; Vil Schoenheit, Divus Crewel, Rook Hunt, Azul Ashengroto, Silver, Jade Leech, Cater Diamond

Content; Gender-neutral reader, unreliable narrators

Content Warning; Death (not described), murder (not described)

Word Count; 1.3 K (includes guide on how to participate at the end)

Find this content triggering but still want to participate? Go to this Google Form! <- form is now closed, thank you to the people who voted!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

| Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Epilogue (Part 1) | Epilogue (Final)

You were making your way down the main flight of stairs, ready to go crawl into your bed after the long day.

“Attention! Attention!” Crowley’s voice echoed over the PA system, still annoyingly chipper despite the late hour. What was he even still doing here? “Due to the weather, all remaining staff and students are under orders to stay inside the building until morning!” And the PA system cut out.

You groaned, “Seriously? It can’t be that bad–” A loud crack of thunder sounded directly above the building, causing the chandelier to shake. “Okay then,” you huffed, plopping down on the stairs, “I get the message.”

Of course, you would get stuck here for the night, guess that’s what happens when you stay back to study and work on assignments.

But you weren’t the only person stuck in the desolate halls of Night Raven College; seven others were in the same boat as you.

…

Vil was in the lecture theatre, reviewing his notes for the upcoming performance that the Film Research Club would be putting on next week. He too heard Crowley’s announcement and pushed his hair back, massaging his temple. He would not be getting a good night’s rest tonight.

“Tch, no use lamenting over it,” he sighed to himself. Carefully, he put the notes and suggestions away in their designated folder, and he made his way to the main hall. If anyone was still here with him, they might be there; at least he would have some company for the night, and not be alone in the empty hallways.

…

Professor Crewel was grading papers in the teacher’s lounge, and getting a migraine from it as well. “Have those pups learned nothing from me,” he grumbled.

He would much rather be at home in his finest pyjamas, scratching the chins of his dogs, but no, he was stuck here, and would be stuck until the storm passed or Headmaster Crowley got back on the PA system saying it was safe to leave. But knowing his employer, the man had transported himself home, leaving everyone stuck at the college oblivious.

I ought to wring his neck if he did.

…

Rook was in the library, perusing through various books, just looking for something to pass the time. He knew earlier that day that a storm was brewing, he could tell by the clouds and the faint smell wafting on the breeze. He also knew that Vil would be staying late, and he wasn’t going to leave Roi de Poison alone.

After going down a few aisles, Rook finally found a book to his liking. “Hmm, this is new. Ah, how interesting!” Tucking the book under his arm, Rook made his way to the lecture theatre, as that was where he had last seen Vil.

Perhaps un meurtre mystère would make for a good plot for a future performance?

…

Silver had fallen asleep in the cafeteria, apparently he had slept for most of the day. He had only woken up because of Crowley’s voice echoing loudly in the large, empty room.

Did they not notice? Silver rubbed his eyes and yawned. If he was here, there was a possibility of others also finding themselves stuck in the school for the night. The least he could do was make sure others were staying calm, and staying safe. Even outside of his duties he was ever still the protector, and far too kind.

“Hopefully no one got hurt…” he murmured to himself. There was something off, a dark presence of sorts, and it wasn’t just the dark clouds hurling down rain, hail, and lightning outside.

Something doesn’t feel right…

…

Azul was in the alchemy lab, perfecting the most complicated potion that was in his textbook; he had a reputation to upkeep after all, and didn’t want anyone usurping his rank at the top of the class.

There, I just need to add some belladonna and— the suddenness of Crowley’s overly loud voice coming over the PA system caused Azul to add too much, and the potion evaporated. Azul gritted his teeth, but took a step back. Perhaps a walk would help calm him down… he was going to have to replace all of those ingredients tomorrow…

“So close,” he hissed, and he started making his way down the hall, still muttering to himself.

…

Jade was washing the dirt from his hands, having just come back from checking on his fungi in the botanical gardens. He already knew before Crowley made his little announcement that he would be spending the night, which didn’t bother him all that much. Perhaps he could see what was in the kitchen, since he did have that new dish which looked and sounded to be divine.

But that could wait, Azul was most likely still working on that potion of his, and knowing the house warden, he had fumbled with the ingredients at the sudden noise and probably sulking… and Jade could use some amusement at the moment, and a sulking and slightly peeved Azul would do the trick.

…

Cater was in the kitchen, retrieving something for Trey since they were all out in the Heartslabyul kitchen. Of course it was something sweet, but Cater would rather be here than see the outcome of the freshmans’ antics. Sorry freshies, you’re on your own!

But now he was stuck here for the night, and having nothing better to do, and boredom starting to creep in, Cater brought out his phone and started recording. 

“It’s Cay-kun here!~” He gave a peace sign to the camera and stuck out his tongue. “Let’s see who we can find!” And he started chatting to the camera and walking towards the main hall.

…

…

Eventually, everyone had made their way to the main hall; you, Silver, Vil, Professor Crewel, Rook, Azul, Jade, and Cater. But there was no sign of Headmaster Crowley.

“Have any of you pups seen the Headmaster,” Divus asked, turning up a brow, and looked at his students with suspicion.

Everyone shook their head no. Divus sighed, and turned around the corner, in the direction of the Headmaster’s office, but he stopped in his tracks.

Curious, you looked to where Professor Crewel was staring; lying in the middle of the floor was Crowley, and he wasn’t breathing.

Dire Crowley was dead, murdered. And everyone was a suspect, including you.

About this Event

That's right folks, a classic murder mystery in the style of the board game Clue and some inspiration from the book And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie.

At the beginning and end of each part, I will be including a link to a Google Form where people can vote for who they think is the murderer, what room the murder took place in, and the weapon that was used. There's also an optional question where you can explain your answer, just do know that everything was randomly chosen by a spinner.

The form will be active for at least 72 hours; it may go on for longer if I'm busy. A new form will be added with each part, just with the suspect, room, & weapon that was voted in the last part being removed if they were incorrect... and may take some inspo from the book I mentioned.~

In future parts there will be dark content, as this is a murder mystery; all of the content warnings will be included at the beginning, and also tagged (ie. cw death). Because of this, I will not be tagging people in future parts just as a precaution.

Now, let the investigation begin!

Link to Google Form

Suspects:

- Silver; the kindhearted knight with a mysterious past, is it just for show?  (Plum) - Vil Schoenheit; the actor who is always pigeonholed into the role of a villain (Scarlet) - Divus Crewel; the alchemy teacher with a penchant for fashion, Crowley's co-worker (Peacock) - Rook Hunt; the enigmatic hunter who always has a hunch of what's happening (Mustard) - Azul Ashengrotto; the owner of The Mostro Lounge, a businessman with dubious morals (Green) - Reader; the 'house-keeper', a role that was imposed on them by the late Headmage (White) - Jade Leech; a student enamored by fungi and seems to have a foreboding presence about him (Orchid) - Cater Diamond; the preppy beau of Heartslabyul, but his smile seems forced (Peach)

Rooms:

- Main hall - Teachers' lounge - Cafeteria - Kitchens - Lecture theatre - Botanical garden - Alchemy lab - Library - Crowley's office

Weapons:

- Revolver - Rope - Dagger - Wrench - Candlestick - Lead pipe - Magic

...

Tags; @afunkyfreshblog, @aqua-beam, @azulashengrottospiano, @eynnwwyjth, @hisui-dreamer, @hydra-sea, @identity-theft-101, @inkybloom-luv, @ithseem, @krenenbaker, @leonistic, @lucid-stories, @officialdaydreamer00, @ryker-writes, @savanaclaw1996, @silvers-numberonefan, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Wicked Felina (The Girl That I Love)

Part 1 - El Paso

Azriel x Reader - Angst - Smut - MDNI

The darkness within her became his obsession. She was his. Didn’t she know? When Azriel spies his wicked mate with another male, when he kills that male, what he knows as life shifts eternally. No longer is there life. No longer is there death. There is only Felina. Felina who has many secrets.

Series Masterlist - Part 2

Warnings: threat of self-harm/suicide, assumed character death (you’ll see), implied rape/non-con (some gross, shitty males discussing it in a tavern), dub-con, violence, obsession, dark themes, sexual content

One hour ago

Rhysand

All Rhys knew was that when Azriel returned from what was supposed to be a short inspection of the Illyrian war camps, he was different. His shadows whirred violently; his eyes… there was a darkness in them that he’d not seen even within the depths of harrowing interrogations; and while his scent remained his usual cedar chilled mist an iron tang tinged it.

“Az?” Rhys asked cautiously, trailing his brother up the stairs

“Not now.” Azriel growled, clenched fists shaking, pupils blown wide, sweat beading his brow.

Rhys said nothing more, following the frantic male to his room. Well- until Azriel slammed the door shut in his face.

Message received.

A few minutes later, Azriel re-emerged into the living area, a packed duffel bag in tow.

“Az? Talk to me.” Rhys pleaded. Fighting against the urge to dive into his mind. Azriel’s shields were ironclad but Rhys could break through them if absolutely necessary.

“Just stop. I’m fine.” Azriel growled.

He sure as shit didn’t look fine.

“I need to go handle some personal things. I have never asked for leave for anything. Can you please just allow me a couple of weeks?”

The High Lord’s brows creased, voice raising “Weeks? With no provided reasoning?”

“I said that it was personal.”

“As your employer, I can accept that it’s personal. As your family, Az, come on. What happened?”

“I’m leaving whether you grant me this or not.”

Azriel and Rhysand had many battle-of-wills over the years but this was different. Rhys could feel it in the very marrow of his bones.

And Azriel’s demeanor - Fuck, he’d always been dangerous but he was outright predatory in the moment.

Rhys shook his head. “I should kick your ass for talking to me like this but fine - go. Two weeks, Azriel, and then you’re back here or I tear the world apart looking for you. You aren’t abandoning us without reason. I will not accept it.”

Azriel’s only response was a tick of the jaw before stepping out the front door and launching skyward at breakneck speed.

Rhys spent the next hour nursing a glass of whiskey, fighting an internal battle of leaving his brother be or going to find him. Just when he began to lose that battle and head out searching, Cassian burst through the door. His hair disheveled from the wind and caked with blood, his eyes puffy and red as if he’d been crying the entire flight.

Rhys froze in his tracks at the sight of his brother who took a few steps forward before falling to the floor, knees giving out as he let out a deep, world-shattering scream.

Rhys sent his darkness to caress his mind, gently prodding for what could have left Cassian in such a state only to be met with crushing waves of grief. Rhys pushed his consciousness with great effort to cut through the viscous surge of emotion desperate for any sense of clarity.

He’d almost reached his own daemati limit when he was abruptly greeted by flashes of memory. Snow painted bright-red with blood. Azriel laying limp. Ash arrows littering his body. Lifeless hazel eyes. Long dark hair. Red lips. Eyes darker than night. Sounds of a female voice screaming. Tears falling onto blood coated hands.

Suddenly Rhys was thrust from Cassian’s mind as he fought against the induced slumber. Cassian’s body shuttered as tears broke free once again. His words slurred as he tried to communicate within his half dazed state, “Go. Ste-steppes.” Another broken sob. “Az is d- Oh gods!” He cried out. “Dead. And s-she’s”

“Who?” Rhys’ mind flashed to the female crouched over Azriel, screaming.

“Oh fuck, R-rhys. Go!!!”

Cassian fell back into his dream state before Rhys could press further.

Rhys willed himself to remain as calm as possible. Fighting to keep his mental voice steady before the grief could overtake him as he called for Amren and Feyre.

Elain, who had been in the garden, would stay with Nyx. Amren would keep an eye on Cassian and throw additional wards up, while Feyre retrieved Nesta from the House of Wind. Once Feyre returned she would be able to soothe his mind.

Feyre’s mental voice wavered, heartbreak surging through the bond at the news, but she agreed to keep details private until Rhys understood exactly what had happened.

——————

Three weeks ago

Azriel

War Camp inspections had a way of bringing out the worst in Azriel. As if his tolerance level for Illyrians was not already at a miniscule level, these inspections always seemed to inflate the egos of the Illyrians. Camp Lords and their cronies marching into meetings with puffed out chests and mouths spewing hatred particularly grated on his typically infallible patience.

Azriel had been staying at the River House for some time now, carefully avoiding Elain as much as possible, and trying his best to avoid giving Rhys anything to pull rank over. And fuck, he was so tired after a day of negotiations. With nothing but tension awaiting him at home and overwhelming fatigue, he found himself at a shitty Inn in the Illyrian Steppes.

He’d seated himself at a small corner table, shrouding himself in shadow as he observed the belligerent patrons of Rosa’s Cantina, a shoddy tavern attached to the Inn.

“Witch.” He heard a group of males call her. Their eyes fixed on a stunning female swaying her hips in time to the music flowing from a rickety piano at the front of the bar.

Remaining silent, the Spymaster listened to the ruddy males lecherous conversation.

“I wouldn’t mind being under her spell.”

“You’ll sooner find your balls nailed to a stake than completion - even with tits like that it’s not worth it.”

Azriel snarled to himself. Even outside of the Illyrian camps, the males in the Steppes were abhorrent. Backwards in every way. The woman continued twirling, her raven-black hair flowing with each movement of her supple body.

“Not if I tie her down first.” A burly male chimed in, his slurred voice gruff.

“I’ll bet you five marks that you won’t survive the encounter with all of your appendages.”

“Look at what the whore is wearing. She wants it whether she knows or not.”

The brute of a male stumbled up to her and Azriel sighed to himself, he really didn’t want to get into it tonight. But….

The male put his greasy hands on her and Azriel instantly jolted upright, preparing to step in. She tried pulling away as the male yanked her into him. The female whirled in his arms, looking up to him like a lover. The male immediately dropped his arms, palms in the air as if placating a wild animal, he began stepping away slowly. When he turned around, Azriel noticed the blood drained from his face as he threw gold marks on the table and immediately left the cantina. The males only laughed and went back to their drinking.

“Wicked Felina” they called her.

“Eh? How much money have you won off the males she scares away now?” One of the patrons chimed in.

“Enough to cover these boys.” The male slapped the new pair of leather boots adorning his feet.

Azriel hadn’t seen what the male saw in her face when she looked to him but his shadows whispered to him.

“Darkness”

“Like calls to like”

“Look”

And maybe it was the stale mead he’d downed but he did. He strode right up to the female and could have sworn he felt time stand still as the patrons of the bar watched.

He didn’t touch her, only spoke in a low tone, “May I have a dance?”

The female whirled towards him and Azriel had to fight to keep his footing steady. Before him stood the most breathtaking female he’d ever seen.

Her eyes met his and his heart sputtered as he stared into the depth of them. Blacker than night, constellations and blood and something “other” swimming inside of them. He could sense her darkness and instead of his typical urge to question, it drew him in like metal to a magnet.

As she took him in, he heard her heart skip a beat for only a moment, before that darkness invaded his senses once again. No, it wasn’t darkness to run away from at all. It was alluring, captivating, dangerous. And he wanted to drink it all in.

“You are a brave male.” She spoke with a slight, unfamiliar accent. So similar to those of Velaris but with something else mixed in.

Azriel’s shadows whirled around the female, winding through her hair and between her fingers. She didn’t balk from them, she only remained intensely focused on him.

Her scent surrounded them and he couldn’t breathe the female in deeply enough.

An hour later he found himself driving into her. Her breasts bouncing so beautifully that he nearly came from the sight alone. He’d spent so long fisting his cock as he fantasized of Elain that he’d forgotten just how glorious the feel of a tight cunt wrapped around him felt. And this female, Felina, her moans were like a sirens call, drawing him so deeply into her that he didn’t know where she ended and he begun.

He would have gone slowly with her, tenderly, worshipped every centimeter of cool, exposed skin, but she had begged him so prettily to fuck her until she forgot what she was. Who was he to deny a female who knew exactly what she wanted. He’d never fucked a female so hard and still she pleaded for more, sensing that he was holding back. When he finally let go of his restraint, he had to dig his nails into her moonlight pale flesh just to keep her from sliding away. She bit her lip and held his gaze through every thrust. Those damning eyes looking at him like she could read every fucking tendril of his own inner-void.

When she came, he came with her. The Inn shaking with the intensity of their combined orgasms. As he came down from the high, the darkness in her eyes banked momentarily a deep, blue flashing in them before once again overtaking them. He gasped sharply as a snap yanked in his chest. Gold tethering him to her.

“Mate” his shadows sang

“Our mate, our mate.”

Azriel’s breathing grew frantic. She climbed out of the bed, her exposed backside red from the slaps he’d pressed to her round ass. “Did you feel that?”

She turned her head over her shoulder, those eyes meeting his again. “Feel what?”

Azriel’s heart sank. “Nothing.”

“Hm.” She shrugged. “Intresting.” And poured a glass of water from a pitcher on an oak dresser with nonchalance. As if they hadn’t just had life-altering sex, like the ground itself hadn’t shook with the force of their coupling.

Her mouthwatering breasts bounced with each step toward him, her lightly toned abdomen baring silver, faded scars.

“Who gave you those?” Azriel asked.

“I’m as willing to talk about them as you are about those.” She nodded toward his hands.

Touché

“Curiosity can be a dangerous thing.” She stated before bringing his head to her chest and running delicate fingers through his hair until he drifted into a deep slumber full of darkness and a golden thread.

When he woke, she was gone.

And he would have thought he’d dreamt it all, had it not been for the nearly-healed crescent moon imprint of her nails littering his body. He hummed in satisfaction at the sight.

He only hoped that next time she’d leave marks deep enough to scar. He should have staked his claim on her too.

——————

Two weeks ago

Azriel

He searched for her, frantically, day in and day out but she was nowhere to be found. How could he have found his mate and been so foolish to lose her in such a short period of time. He hadn’t even told her his name.

Eventually, he had to take pause, and venture into the camps due to a couple of missing Illyrians. Through his questioning, he’d found that the males were shaking, reporting a fanged creature that swept from the trees and picked off several of their men, one by one. When they returned to reclaim the bodies, all that was left were scattered body parts. Fingers, tongues, and cocks mostly.

He remembered the whispers in the taverns of “Wicked Felina.” Surely it was just paranoia.

Azriel returned to the tavern each night, hiding outside within his shadows. She was never there.

His patience was infallible, no amount of space or time would deter him. He would find his mate, he would embrace that pit of darkness dwelling within her - even if she were the creature the men were speaking of. She hadn’t hurt him, she’d only awoken something within him. His Felina may be dark but she is not the villain. She couldn’t be.

He pushed the sight of the ghostly pale brute running away from her at Rosa’s far into the back of his mind.

——————

One week ago

Azriel

Something tugged at him that night, urged him to find her again. Felina had become the focal point of his thoughts, consumed with her 24/7.

He was a desperate male, he wanted - no, needed - to know every piece of this dark anomaly. Mind, body, spirit. He’d sought someone whose light cast upon his obsidian soul for so long - finding hope in the radiant enigma that is Mor and the gentle, sweet presence of Elain. But all along the mother knew he needed someone who could step into his shadow and find solace. When Felina stared into his eyes, he knew she saw it, saw home. He saw it in her too.

She was so new to him and yet so familiar.

His brothers would tell him he was infatuated, that this was just another Mor, but they would be so far from the truth. This was a need, as essential to him as water or air. He thrummed with desire for his Wicked Felina.

She was the other half of his soul and he would not lose out on the opportunity to make her his.

Tonight was the night, she’d be there, he felt it deep within.

And she was.

Not inside. No, in a dark corner of the alley adjacent to Rosa’s Cantina. With a silver haired High-Fae male, nearly as tall as Azriel, muscled, well-groomed.

And she - her back was pressed against the wall. Her head flung back from the crook of his neck it where her face had been burrowed, pure ecstasy written all over those seductive features. A moan escaping her plush lips.

And then he saw it. Blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.

No.

No.

This couldn’t be.

He HURT her. She didn’t want this. Didn’t she know that he was her soul-bonded mate? She wouldn’t fuck someone in the dark corner of an alley willingly.

Didn’t she know she was better than that? Didn’t she know she was everything?

Visions of the scars on her abdomen and of the male who joked about tying her down to have his way with her came to mind.

No. Not his Felina. Nobody would harm her now that she was his.

Azriel didn’t think further as he barreled for them, unsheathing truth-teller and slitting the males throat before he could even lock eyes with him.

Felina let out a quiet inhale of shock, onyx eyes blown wide.

“No. No. No.” She dropped to the male. Her nostrils flaring at the sight of him, his bloodied neck, checking for a pulse.

There was none.

Felina looked up to him with near-black, pleading eyes. “Azriel.”

And despite the peril of the moment, the fact that he clearly misread the situation, his name rolling off those pretty red lips made it all worth it.

Until the thought occurred to him. He’d never told her his name. “How?”

“Az….” Her voice cracked, the slightest bit of silver lined her eyes before darkness began radiating from her, rage filling those deeper than night eyes. Her voice became cold, deadly. “I told you that curiosity was dangerous.”

Shouts from bystanders rang out, creating panic among the villagers.

“You need to go now. They’ll recognize you.”

He paused, mouth gaping as she looked to him. He knew what she was saying but remained frozen in place.

“Azriel, please!” She cried.

There it was. His name again. Had she been as taken by him as he was by her? Had she sought him out too?

It was then that she unsheathed a dagger and held it to her own throat. “If you don’t leave, I will end it all right now.”

If he’d have looked closely, he would have seen the way her hand shook, the way she couldn’t quite touch the blade to her pale skin.

“I will find you again, Felina.” He vowed - threatened - Don’t even think about escaping me. You’re mine.

“Go.” She mouthed.

——————

Four hours ago

Azriel

Staying away for days was impossible. When she’s wander at night, he’d watch her from afar, remaining unseen. The small village mourned the dead male, apparently the esteemed ruler of this shit hole place. He caught glimpses of a mourning Felina. He felt something in the bond but he couldn’t quite make it out.

Resentment, perhaps? Jealousy? Longing?

And despite the black apparel she donned through the village, her face remained neutral with only a tinge of sadness.

Villagers whispered as she walked by. She paid them no mind.

He imagined they likely suspected the death was over her. Azriel’s shadows reported he had a wife. Why would his Felina sleep with a married male? If he was willing to cheat on his wife with her, he couldn’t have been a good male. Azriel did right by the females for eliminating him from the picture, right?

It was then that a flash of auburn appeared. The male’s wife with several large males behind her carrying torches. “Whore!” She spat. “Only fucking my husband wasn’t good enough, was it?”

“You had to sleep around with another male, one you surely had under your spell, just as you had with mine. You vile witch! And now my husband is dead because some enchanted soul grew jealous over you. You will burn for this!”

Suddenly she was placed in shackles, his shadows zooming into her vision. She must have noticed them as she whipped her head searching for him. She mouthed “no”, shaking her head in the direction his shadows raced off to. They came back.

“Blue not black. Blue not black.”

“Still beating. Still beating.”

“Mate. Mate. Mate.”

It was then that wings burst out of her back. Like Illyrian wings but white, the light casting a holographic range of gentle hues of blues and purple, and pinks. Talons emerged from her nails, but her lovely face remained impassive.

His shadows stirred aggressively.

“Alike. Alike. Alike.”

Another shadow shot back to him, beginning to report something when Azriel saw the pyre lighting in town as the villagers threw obscenities in her direction.

Felina held her head high, accepting her fate so easily.

The fire grew and Azriel once again acted on instinct. They couldn’t take her from him. And to burn her? Rage roared within him.

Azriel flew in, obliterating the large males jerking her toward the fire.

“The Shadowsinger!” someone cried out. Azriel saw nothing but Felina and the rising flames. Never would his mate be subjected to licks of flame marring her flesh. She was far too precious to burn.

Anyone who tried to lay hands on he or Felina were eviscerated. “The key!” She cried, pointing to a dead male. She ran toward it. Azriel launched in front of her, his speed overtaking hers as he retrieved it. She caught the key but her talons made it impossible to unlock the chains quickly. Azriel grabbed the key, unshackling her, the talons and wings disappearing.

“We have to go!” She shouted. Azriel caught her, launching skyward, right as an arrow shot toward them, and straight into Azriel’s back. He fought through it, he had to get her to safety. Another arrow flew through the air, narrowly missing Felina. The attempt on his mate triggering a knee-jerk reaction in Azriel who turned to send a blast of power at the bastard shooting the arrows.

He was struck in the side as another arrow met him. Azriel shot another blast of power in the direction that it came from.

Azriel could feel power rumbling under Felina’s surface. “We don’t have time! You’re hurt.”

Azriel bit back a cry at the pain radiating through his body, the blood not slowing as it should. He began feeling faint, fevered. He struggled through it, needing to make it as far away as he could but his vision began to blur as his body weakened. Felina was crying out something but he couldn’t hear her. All there was was pain and the cool press of her body against his. Gods, she was so cold.

“We need to land, Azriel! You can’t make it further.” She commended. He felt the sting of her palm on his face. “Wake up! Land!”

The slap along with her frantic voice roused Azriel enough to land them, very roughly. He crashed down on top of her.

“Felina….” He rasped.

“Shh.” She hushed him. “Save your breath. I’m okay.” Reassuring him through staggered breaths. “We need to get you to help.”

Azriel placed a hand on hers. “Too far. There’s nothing.”

“There’s got to be something!” She choked out.

Commotion erupted from the trees as a group of males from the village drew toward them. Their torches lighting the night and their bows drawn and ready.

Azriel used the little remaining might he had to push himself up. Felina throwing herself on top of him, her hands coated in his blood.

“I’m sorry for this, Azriel.” She spoke and ripped the poisoned arrow out of him, stabbing it right into her bicep. “Fuck!” She cursed. Suddenly the talons and wings were back. Her scent shifted into something so fucking familiar that it made Azriel’s heart ache, and screams echoed as she shot bursts of power at them. The range was short and the damage limited but it slowed them.

A commotion distracted the group of males as flares of red shot from the brush. A large winged male approaching from the night.

“Cass.” Felina whispered in awe.

Azriel’s vision went dark again, his conscious only picking up on words as the males screaming became less and less with each blast of power from Cassian and Felina.

A light caress came over Azriel’s mind, stroking it into submission, his pain easing. This was it. He wasn’t going to make it out of here.

And at that moment the caress broke free, Felina releasing a piercing scream. He tried moving, tried to console his mate, but the arrow that had just lodged in his heart was too much.

Azriel fought to see her one last time, her darkened eyes now shining like the night itself.

“Mate.” He whispered.

“I know, Azriel. I know.” She sobbed. Caressing his face with those delicate, chilly hands.

All Azriel remembered was the darkness embracing him once again. The pain easing as he heard Cassian’s voice.

“How?” Cassian’s booming voice cracked.

“Later, Cassian. He needs help.” Her voice was so pitiful. Broken.

Azriel’s breathing grew so shallow, that sweet darkness lulling him, even his shadows were silent. All he saw in his mind was her but she was fading. Her touch no longer registering to his senses.

He tried fighting it but there was no use as Azriel took his final breath.

“He’s dead, Cassian.”

——————

Two hours ago

Cassian

Cassian had never flown so fast in his life.

Oh gods, his brother was dead. The female, she refused to leave his side until he left to get Rhys.

His mind roared at him that he should have brought her with him. But why? Who was she?

Who was she to Azriel?

All he could remember as the tears flowed freely was that his brother was dead. That he heard the call for help from the village, that the Shadowsinger had gone mad, only to find a group of men on the attack and his brother incapacitated.

He had to get to Rhys quickly and let him know about Azriel, about the female.

——————

Present

Rhysand

Rhys winnowed to the vicinity of where Cassian had been in the memories when he’d held his mind. He flew until he found the bodies of several men. This was the clearing Cassian had been in and in the center of the clearing was caked blood.

Caked blood and no Azriel. No female.

But the blood, there was so much. He couldn’t have survived.

Right?

——————

Two hours ago

Azriel

The darkness on Azriel’s mind eased only slightly. The crippling pain too much to bear.

He opened his eyes to his version of heaven, to his mate’s face. The arrow removed from her arm.

He was in so much pain only managing to rasp out, “Can’t leave you.”

“You have to make a choice now.” She cupped his hand. “There was no other way.” She spoke to herself more than him. “There’s no way Cassian could have made it back in time.”

She was trying to convince herself. His decision was already made.

She shook her head, bracing herself for his response. “You have only a few moments left.”

The black fog cleared from his mind, every ounce of pain returning, but his eyes opened.

“Look at me, Azriel.”

He blinked and where her canines had been were sharp fangs. “I can save you but I can’t guarantee this existence is worth it. I am still figuring it out for myself.”

To his credit, Azriel didn’t balk. A chance to be with his mate… his Felina. He groaned as he turned his head, exposing his neck to her.

“Azriel, if I do this. You are bound to me. I know I’m your mate but you don’t know me. What if I’m… too much? Can you bare that?”

He tried to speak. She would never be too much. He only kept his neck exposed, a warning rattle escaping his chest.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, as she pressed her fangs into his neck.

Blinding light erupted through him along with the worst pain he’d felt in centuries. Tears fell from those otherworldly eyes of night onto his neck.

He fought through the pain, biting back screams. He would be strong for her.

As she drank, she caressed his hair. A slight whimper and the scent of arousal escaping her. She tensed as she recognized the scent. And he could feel a hint of shame from her end of the bond.

Azriel had only heard legends of vampyr’s. Stories told in the camps to scare children who were prone to wandering off and now here she was feeling shame for her own body’s response to having him at the most intimate level.

As she drank, little gulps escaping her, he felt his strength returning. He raised a hand and grabbed her breast, massaging it as she lapped at his blood. A silent communication that whatever she was feeling did not frighten him, was not unwelcome.

Her body relaxed only slightly but he could sense her relief.

The pain began subsiding and Azriel’s strength had already returned in full, in excess, even.

Her drinking slowed and she fought against the urge to keep drinking, the greedy need for blood raging through her.

Azriel raised his hand from her breast to her face, stroking his thumb across her cheek. She leaned into it, grounding herself.

Suddenly she pulled herself off, gasping. Her chest heaving. Pain filled her eyes as she stared up at him. But he felt… incredible. Euphoric.

And there his mate was, reeking of sweet arousal. Chest heaving. Trickles of blood dripping from her mouth.

“You have to go now, Azriel. Get what you need and come back to me.”

He could hardly think. His need to be inside of her overwhelming every sense.

“Azriel. Listen!” She spoke firmly. “You have a couple of hours at most. Go home, get any healing tonics or sedatives that you may have, clothes, and blankets and come right back here.”

“I don’t-“ he started.

“You will. Can you still winnow?”

Azriel nodded. Had he winnowed in front of her before?

“Go. Now. Before Cassian gets home and bombards you with questions.”

Azriel didn’t want to leave, growing irate at the thought of it.

“I know it’s hard for you to leave. It’s a culmination of our newly tethered bond and likely the mating bond, Azriel.”

He stayed in place.

Finally she approached him. Staring straight past his eyes and into the depths of his soul as the urge to obey her taking overtook him. “Go now.”

Without another word, he left, winnowing directly to the River House, collecting a bag, and leaving Rhys with far too many questions. He prayed to the mother that he wouldn’t track him.

——————

One week later

Azriel

She’d begged him not to take her but she was declining far too quickly. They’d spent the past seven days in a daze. He had quickly gone from euphoric to delirious once returning from the River House.

And just as he’d made a life altering choice to be eternally bonded to her when she’d turned him, Felina made the choice to accept the mating bond by allowing him to feed off of her.

The combination of blood lust and the mating frenzy sent him into a spiral. They barely talked in the past few days, they’d have eternity to do that. He spent more time inside of her than out but she… she refused to feed off of him, citing that it was too risky with his newly turned state. When he wasn’t rutting into her, he was hunting for game but the blood wasn’t enough for her. He cursed himself for taking so much of her blood in his frenzied state.

She repeatedly asked that he not take her to his family but they would understand. It was the only option at this point. Her scent began shifting into that strange familiar aroma again, the darkness of her eyes swirling with flecks of blue. That “other” aspect to her diminishing slightly.

As she fought her consciousness, she barely managed to whisper “There’s more.” before going unconscious.

He’d waited so long to find his mate.

She’d saved him.

He didn’t want to go against her wishes but her condition was deteriorating rapidly. Her fever raising, her once-cool skin now burning as whimpers escaped her lips.

He did the only thing he could and prayed to the Mother that Felina would forgive him.

He flew her home.

They landed on the River House lawn in the middle of the night. Rhys appeared with a crack of thunder to confront the threat that breached his wards. Feyre, Elain, Cassian, and Nesta rushing out behind him, their eyes wide with shock.

Rhys shuddered, falling to his knees before his brother. “Azriel. Thank the mother you’re home.” He sobbed.

Felina let out a pitiful moan. Sweat beading on her brow. Her cool skin now radiating waves of heat. She slowly, weakly opened her weary eyes, the swirling black now bleeding into a blend of ultraviolet blue.

Rhys approached the female in his arms, Azriel tightening his grip on her. Time stood still as Rhys gently touched her face, carefully turning her head toward him. His face of relief crumpling into something earth shattering, the mountains quaking as he fell to his knees.

Azriel started, “This is Felina, my m-“

Rhys interrupted shaking his head as let out pained, joyous laughter. “No, Az.” He choked out. “Not Felina.”

Fighting to regain composure, Rhys clarified. “That’s Y/N.”

Azriel gasped as those now violet-blue eyes peered up into his, his jaw dropping as he carefully went to his knees with her in his arms.

That scent. Those eyes of night. Azriel’s mate was-

Rhys gave a disbelieving smile his voice again breaking at the sight before him.

“My sister.”

——————————————

A/N: Thank you for reading! For now, this is a one-shot. I have left openings in the story with the potential for it to become a series or at least part two with an explanation but have not yet decided.

This fic is loosely inspired by an old-western song called “El Paso” that I listened to growing up with my grandmother. The song is where I chose my pen name of “Felina” from. You may also recognize “Wicked Felina” as the title of the final episode of the show “Breaking Bad”

ACOTAR general tag list: @lilah-asteria

[drefear]

Hail to the King

Chapter 1: The Spider Man

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is the head of the biggest mafia family in Nueva York, scaring almost all of its citizens. Except you. And that’s exactly what he needs.

TW: smut, oral (m receiving) cursing, Miguel is a bit of a creep and a dick.

You stood outside the restaurant for a moment, staring at the dark night sky.

What just happened?!

Tears fill your eyes, threatening to spill over as you grind your teeth for a moment, practicing self control over your overwhelming upset and hurt. Was that even legal?

You sniffled and balled your fists. Fuck this guy, with his expensive looking suit and obvious God Complex.

You muttered obscenities as you walked home, not getting in the car and waiting like he ordered you to. Fucking ordered!

Two blocks down and you sighed, getting to the subway and finding a train to take you to your apartment, located in a less-than-safe part of Nueva York. But you didn’t care, you could take care of yourself.

Eyes tired from holding back your need to cry, you walked up a few flights of stairs to your floor, you convinced yourself it was good exercise. Twisting your key in the somewhat broken lock, you pushed into your doorway and slammed it shut behind you with the deadbolt.

That’s when the dam broke and the water works started. You’d gotten so lucky with such a great job, and now some power-drunk prick with a nice face ruined it without a solid reason.

He didn’t like you, so he decided to hire you? What backwards bullshit was that?

Not bothering to take your makeup off, you pulled off your clothing and slumped into bed with no plans of doing anything tomorrow morning. It was going to be a day to process and plan your next move.

Loud banging on your door made you fall out of bed, practically jumping out of your skin as the sudden thunderous sound was terrifying without warning. Grabbing your baseball bat from your coat closet, you tugged your hair into a messy bun and swung the door open.

“You’re late.” The big guy from last night? “And you apparently don’t answer your phone either.” His voice was unamused, blunt, and you didn’t care for it.

“How the fuck did you-“ you yelled, then remembering that apparently he was close to Peter, who had all of your information from hiring you. “You’re a sick fuck, now you’re stalking me?”

“Watch it, I’ll fire you.”

“I don’t wanna work for you, now leave!” You screamed and moved to slam the door, only to be stopped by a large hand holding it back. Miguel opened the door with a swift push and you stumbled backwards, caught off guard and off balance from his strength. It was like he was barely moving a cup, not even moving a muscle.

“I’ve decided that you’re going to work for me, and I always get what I want.” He spoke, stepping inside of your small apartment. “Now get dressed, so you can get to work.”

“Go fuck yourself.” You spit back at him with venom you didn’t know you hate. You hated him. “Go find some other girl to obsess over and creep out.” You continued and swung the bat, him catching the wood and staring down at you.

“Obey me and I’ll reward you generously.”

“I’m not your dog, I don’t need to ‘obey’ you!” You groaned out as you yanked the bat backwards.

“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year plus bonuses when you complete certain tasks.” He spoke almost too fast.

The words passed by your ears in a blurt as white-hot rage filled your mind. The devil and angel on your shoulder fought and you didn’t know which one was fighting for what.

“Fine. Three hundred thousand a year. Bonuses, access to our facilities, a new phone, and an apartment on the west side.” He added.

“What the hell will I be doing? You don’t even know if I’m qualified, or if I’m a normal person. I could be a murderer.”

“That’s doubtful, as you couldn’t even hit me with a bat, and I’ve seen all I needed to. You’re most definitely qualified.” He answered, still offending you in a strange way. “Now get ready. I’m late because of you, and if I weren’t the boss, I’d rat you out.” He fixed his suit and sat in one of your dining chairs, the squeak of its legs making him scrunch his eyebrows in annoyance.

You huffed and moved, accepting that he wasn’t taking no for an answer. “I’ll call the cops.”

“That won’t work. La policía and I have an understanding.” It seemed like nothing was working and he knew it. “Are you done?”

Maybe if you played along for a bit, he’d get the idea and fuck off. Grumbling, you trudged into your bedroom.

“So what will I be doing?” You called to him as you went to your closet and pulled out a random blue dress shirt and black pants.

“You’ll be my right hand. Like an assistant but much more involved. You’ll work closely with my second, Lyla, and head operator, Jess.” He gave a full debriefing as you slipped on the clothes and moved towards the bathroom. “I’ll send a few of my men to help you move tonight, I don’t need you getting jumped out here in the slums.” He spoke with a certain disgust in his tone and you rolled your eyes.

“Your men? Second? Are we in a war or something?” You laughed, but he was quiet. No sense of humor, noted.

“Something like that.” His voice was lower, almost like it was a secret he didn’t want anyone around him to hear except you.

“Not that I care, but why me?” You brushed your teeth and waited for his answer, but nothing came. “Hello?”

“You’ll figure it out soon enough. Just know that I will not accept your refusal. You will work for me.” His speech was almost flattering, if he weren’t so infuriating. You dotted on some makeup and walked out to meet him. Slipping on a pair of low, black heels, he was already at the door. “Let’s go.” He nodded and opened your front door once more before walking ahead of you into the elevator. You hurried behind and almost missed the door as he stuck a hand through to stop them from closing. Your eyes didn’t meet him, avoiding having to thank him for such a small gesture of kindness after all the rudeness you’d endured. “And by the way, they call me Spider Man.” He said calmly as the doors shut and suddenly, your pounding blood was in your ears.

Spider man…?

As in… the most dangerous Mafia leader in Nueva York? The leader of the O’Hara family and the rumored Spider Society? A man infamous for murdering people with his bare hands, constructing some of the greatest hits on politicians and leaders all over the state?

Your body turned cold as you began to sweat. You were in the presence of a man known for being a brutal killer and a money-hungry demon who ruthlessly destroyed lives.

And he wanted you.

The trip to his headquarters was silent, sweating nervously as all of the rumors you’d heard about him came back to you. How he once almost killed a fifteen year old because he “ran out on a tab,” but luckily Peter paid it for the poor boy. Now, apparently, that same boy works for him. Peter told you the story on your first day, how some of the Spider Society frequented their restaurant, but it never occurred to you that this was him.

You remembered Gwen telling you over drinks after your first shift about how a lot of the staff of your restaurant had once been or still were low ranking members of the Society. You had said you just wanted to make your money and get on with your day, to which she laughed and said “that’s how I was too.” You left the conversation there and talked about other things, but now you couldn’t stop repeating her words over and over.

It was like the city was overrun by Spiders, all answering to the Spider Man himself. A man you were currently trapped in a moving vehicle with. A man you knew wouldn’t hesitate to kill you if you even so much as messed up his coffee order.

Nothing felt real as your leg bounced with anxiety. Sure, you’d always been mouthy and stubborn, but the idea that those small flaws could have made you a target for him, it was almost too much to understand.

“Hello?” He called out and you turned your face to him. “Are you listening?”

“Sorry, I was thinking about… what I have to pack tonight.” You lied, to which it was obvious he didn’t believe you, but he ignored it anyway.

“I was saying, when we get there, I have a meeting with a few of my subordinates. I need you to stay and listen. Lyla will be recording the meeting, but you just need hear it and start understanding everything. It won’t be hard, but it might be a lot so pay attention, entiendes?” He spoke and you nodded. “Once the meeting is over, I’ll introduce you to Jess and she’ll give you a tour of the building and your office. You’ll be working a room over from me. While that’s going on, I have an appointment, and once that’s over, I’ll start explaining the rest of your work.” His words felt unreal, like you were having an outer body experience. Nothing could have prepared you for this and now you were thrown into his web with no way out. Was the universe playing some sick joke on you? Throw you into the arms of a cold blooded killer and laugh about it later?

The numbness in your bones began to settle in and you sighed inwardly.

This was going to be a long day.

Walking into a bustling lobby, your eyes were overwhelmed with an excitement you couldn’t help to feel. The smell of clean air, the crisp modern design, everything screamed class and high end. Almost as if this wasn’t a den of crime and murder. Who would let a kingpin rent such a beautiful and upscale building? And didn’t mafia bosses usually do business out of their homes or secret offices hidden behind a bookshelf?

Ok, maybe you watched too many movies…

No, this was the next level of an efficiently run business. Everyone looked focused and intelligent, some seeming like they were educated at an Ivy League college or politically invested.

You followed the largest man and watched as everyone parted to make way for him, scanning him and then dropping their gaze to you.

You, who looked so out of place and childlike next to the refined crowd.

Your name broke you from your trance and you bumped into Miguel, who was no longer walking. “Stop looking around like a lost puppy. I hired you because of your fire and bite, now bring her back or I’ll toss you back out of here on your ass.” His threat was obvious, and you puffed up your chest after he turned around.

He was somewhat right. You belonged here, you got here by accident and that had to count for something. Other people around you seemed like they wanted to be here, strived for their positions and fought to climb up the latter. Meanwhile, you didn’t even want your position and you got it because of your loud mouth. As much as you hated this all, you knew that some of the roughest and cruelest human beings stood in this building, but he decided to pick you.

“But we will need to buy you new clothes if you’re going to work here. I don’t want to see you in anything less than a thousand dollars. Is that clear?” He said as you two walked into the elevator.

“And where am I getting these thousands of dollars from? You got me fired.” You grumbled, annoyed at his arrogance and assumptions.

“I’ll have Lyla put it as a tax write-off and give you a company card. Your limit is fifty thousand, and you’ll only shop at places from a list she’ll give you.” He stared straight ahead as he spoke, barely even seeming like he was speaking to you. What a dick. You rolled your eyes and he glanced downward, a brow quirked upwards. “And save that attitude for the meeting. Everyone here is cut-throat, and you’re here to give them a humbling piece of your mind. I don’t do politically correct-ness. If you think it, say it. The only person you need to answer to is me, and I want you to give some of these sons of bitches a good verbal beat down. If they get out of line, I’ll give them something to really be scared of, so don’t hold back.” His words seemed to hold weight as the elevator doors opened once more and people separated like the Red Sea to let him and you through. Catching up to walk by his side instead of behind him, you kept a straight face and put your shoulders back.

Reaching your new office was exhilarating, seeing as you hated the situation, but began hating everything less and less. Miguel had been right about the meeting, ignoring what everyone else said as you sat and listened to him discuss plans for a new import deal and a possible new business venture. His words were sharp and sliced through everyone in the room, so there wasn’t much room for conversation as most of the people in the room didn’t want to pull the trigger and be the target. You nodded along and made mental notes, adding certain ideas to your cavalry and deciding between when to speak up or not to.

After that, he’d introduced you to Jess and Lyla, who both seemed too kind and cheery to be in this business. How could such funny and smiley women work for a man with so much blood on his hands?

Jess gave you a proper tour as Lyla followed and made snarky comments about certain people, places, and things. Often times, they were about Mr. O’Hara and every time, it made Jess snort with laughter. The three of you talked and laughed, even trading phone numbers with both of them. Lyla excused herself when she was summoned to the fourth floor for a call about a transport, and you and Jess finished the tour back at your office. She showed you briefly how to use your new computer and tablet, both of which had a schedule that you, Lyla, and Mr. O’Hara could see and edit.

“Alright, I have a gynecologist appointment in 30 minutes, so I’ll be gone for the rest of the day, but call me if you have any questions.” She waved and you gave her a goodbye before beginning to type up some of those mental notes from the meeting, sharing them with Miguel’s email to add him in and let him look.

An hour went by and you heard a ding on your tablet, signaling a private meeting in Miguel’s office that had started 20 minutes ago. You rushed, seeing as you didn’t get the notification earlier and now we’re late. Pushing open his office door, you blinked at the sight in front of you and gulped down a new feeling. Dread. Embarrassment. Pure fucking confusion and unshakable mortification.

A woman, thin and blonde, had her back to the door and was kneeling before Miguel. Hands on his thighs as he spread his legs, she bobbed her head up and down as he had both of his arms around the expanse of the couch, head back a bit in enjoyment.

The shock finally settled into humiliation and you felt your stomach lurch with anxiety. He must have heard you step backwards as his eyes opened to stare into yours, an unreadable expression on his face. You shifted your thighs, moving to take another step as your face burned with a blush that could rival most makeup brands. Eyes as wide as saucers, you kept eye contact with him to avoid watching the woman’s mouth move up and down his cock. And he didn’t dare look away either.

He slipped a hand from the back of the couch to her hair and shoved her head down a bit, making her gag, and as the sound reached your ears, you choked a bit in sympathy. He hissed out a soft ‘good girl’ and you felt drool pool on your tongue, closing your mouth before it could drip out. He fucked up into her mouth as his eyes stayed on yours and before you could register it, he was groaning with a tight jaw and finishing. She sputtered as he came down her throat and as the realization of what you’d walked in on had hit you, you’d spun on your heels and slammed the door shut behind you.

Hands shaky, you wobbled back to your own office and sat in your chair, hands holding up your head as if it were too heavy to stay upright on its own.

What the fuck is going on?

Prologue Chapter 2

[im-a-wonderling]

Sloth Brains and Spine of Lionfish ~ George Weasley

This is a continuation of my ongoing George Weasley fanfic, so make sure you read the other parts first (here's part 1). I need to figure out what the overall fic name should be, so if anyone has ideas, let me know XD

Warnings: none

Word count: 5.2k

“And we’ve inquired about renting a place in Diagon Alley.” George easily skipped the vanishing step, turning around to offer his hand. I ignored it, jumping the step on my own and nearly losing hold of my books for my trouble. Unbothered, George gestured grandly with the untaken hand. “Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, we’ve called it.”

We reached the bottom of the staircase, making our way down the nearly empty corridor. I liked to walk to my classes before the castle walkways were clogged up with bodies and sounds, and most of the other students were still at lunch. Funny, George never seemed to mind the crowds before, yet now he walked with me in the empty hallways between every class.

George hopped up on the bench against the wall, walking along the wood with his arms stretched out for balance. “We should have a response before we all go home for Christmas, and possibly have the place rented before school lets out.”

I dodged the ghost of Erling the Great that had just appeared through the wall, hoping he didn’t see me. I did not want to get trapped into one of his onerous and endless stories again. “So you’ll be selling all those prototypes the two of you’ve been testing on the first years?”

“Yup." George hopped down to walk beside me again. "Plus a few more we’ve got up our sleeves. We’re testing another one tonight, and if it’s finally ready, it’ll be one of our staples in the shop.” The light in George’s eyes as he spoke about his dream was unlike his normal errant sparkle. The shine wasn’t born of mischief, it was born of passion, and it seemed to lift George’s very heels as he bounced excitedly forward. 

“Well, I’m certain it’ll be brilliant.” Distracted, I hadn’t even thought about the words before they came flying out of my mouth. I pressed my fingertips to my lips, unsure if I were more horrified or embarrassed. 

George’s bouncing paused, and he turned the full weight of his vexingly self-possessed smirk on me. “Is that so?”

Embarrassed. Definitely embarrassed. 

My cheeks blazing, I scowled at him. “Don’t crow, it’s unbecoming.”

The redhead absentmindedly knocked the railing at the top of the next flight of stairs, causing the stairs to ripple a bit and then resolidify. “I’m just revelling in the compliment.”

“It’s hardly a compliment, more a statement of fact.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Oh?”

“Don’t look at me like that.” I forged past him down the stairs, ignoring the slight tremble I felt underneath my feet. The staircase—objectively the most sensitive staircase in the castle—was just pouting over George’s knock. “The two of you are persuasive, which is objectively a good skill to have for retail, not to mention the shrewdness required for the strategy of business and the creativity and intelligence to make new products. I’d wager you’ve already made a fair bit of coin here at Hogwarts, so with a centralised location that can be open full-time, you’ll make a fortune, and likely–” I closed my mouth, pressing my lips together.

Too much. I’d said too much. 

The faint, impossibly warm chuckle from behind me made me shiver. “Well, when I have a fortune, I can perhaps afford to buy you a Christmas present.”

I stopped, rooted to the step. George passed me, continuing down a few more steps before seeming to notice I wasn’t beside him and turning to face me with a puzzled expression. "What?"

“Don’t buy me anything.” From my position three stairs higher than him, I had a tactical advantage were this to become a situation where my wand was necessary. Any offensive attack I unleashed would be that much harder to defend against. 

But George stuck his hands in his pockets, seemingly unconcerned. “With trying to go into business and all, I couldn’t rustle up enough Galleons if my life depended on it.”

“Don’t spend anything on me,” I repeated, easily masking my sudden nausea as distaste. Gifts were pointless at best, painful at worst.

The incessantly inquisitive and contrary Gryffindor tilted his head, his eyes giving me a strangely sharp assessment that made me wonder if I wasn’t masking as well as I thought. “Why not?”

I forced myself to woodenly descend the steps and then turn the corner towards the Potions classroom. “There’s nothing I need.” 

“But surely there’s something nice you want?”

“There’s nothing I want either.”

“Now you’re just joshing. Everyone wants something.”

“What do you want?” I shot back.

“I told you.” George opened the door to the Potions classroom. “To buy you a Christmas gift.” 

I didn’t walk through the doorway. “Well, I want you to not buy me a Christmas gift.”

“Nah, that doesn’t work.”

“Why not?”

“Your wanting can’t just cancel someone else’s wanting. That’s like asking for it to drizzle when you don’t even like drizzles and only because I like the sunshine.” His tone was perplexingly even and carefree, despite the venom of my words. And he still held the door open. 

I gripped my books tight to my chest. “Christmas gifts are like sunshine?”

“No, you are like sunshine,” George replied, the corner of his mouth curling in an infuriatingly charming smirk. He had no right to look like that when being sarcastic. “With all your suspicion and compliments and enthusiastic statements of fact, why, you just make me feel warm all over.”

“Then go step out in the snow,” I said crossly, finally walking under his arm into the classroom. 

A cauldron bubbled merrily up by Professor Snape’s desk, just in front of the blank chalkboard. Reaching my potions station off to the left, I dropped my books down, the resulting thud much too loud but ultimately satisfying. I waited for the dungeon door to close, signalling that George had left and allowing the pit in my stomach to dissolve. But when it did close, I couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed. 

“Anyone sit here?” 

I looked up in time to see George gently set a copy of Advanced Potion-Making on the station next to me. 

“What are you doing?” 

He flipped through the pages, his eyes trailing down the text. “Sitting in class with you.”

A fledgling of panic rustled its wings in my stomach. “You’re not in this class.” George hadn’t achieved the Outstanding required on his O.W.L.s to continue Potions at the N.E.W.T. level. 

“Well, I see no harm in sitting in. Hogwarts rewards those who seek knowledge, you know.”

There was harm. There was much harm indeed. “George, class is going to start soon.”

George calmly met my gaze. “Lucky for us, I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

“Are you insane?” I hissed. “They’ll eat you alive.”

“Better me than you.” His light tone couldn’t disguise the weight of his words. 

I paused, studying his freckled face. “Is that what this is about? You’re trying to rescue me again?”

“Prevent the need for rescuing, actually.” George pulled out his seat, sitting down and pulling out his potion-making kit, which clearly hadn’t been used in a while. “And be careful, or I’ll think you don’t want me to sit next to you.”

“I don’t.” Especially not when our peers were about to walk in, including Warrington. Not to mention Snape. George's misguided attempts would only succeed in making us both targets.

Unconcerned, George pulled a quill, an ink pot, and parchment out of his bag. “I promise I’ll be a model pupil.”

How did he do it? How did he brush it all off like the words meant nothing? Like consequences didn't exist? He just sat there, easily relaxing against the back of his chair like he had the ultimate conviction that it would hold him up as long as he needed. 

The classroom door opened, and I immediately but subtly slid into my seat, hoping against hope that somehow our peers wouldn’t notice us. 

But hoping George Weasley was unnoticeable was as useful as asking a kappa not to eat you. Warrington’s wicked eyes settled on George before sliding to me. I ducked my head. Maybe Warrington’s similarity to hippogriffs didn’t end with his looks and the sign of reverence would make him less dangerous. 

But even as Warrington finally sat down, directly in front of Snape’s desk, I could still feel stares.

My peers didn’t often remember I existed, as I intended. I didn’t answer questions in class, I stayed out of trouble, I took care not to offend anyone who mattered and not overly involve myself in anything. It protected me, and it protected Clem. And yet as everyone, Gryffindor and Slytherin alike, stared at me with shock and disapproval, I knew they remembered me now. And that remembrance was going to bite me where it hurt. 

I shrunk down in my seat, holding my elbows tightly. George leaned over to me. “Relax,” he said softly. “No one is going to curse you in the middle of class.”

“It’s not the middle of class I’m worried about,” I muttered, more to myself than to him. 

His lips pursed, but before he could reply, the dungeon door banged open, and Professor Snape strode to the front, his cloak billowing behind him like shadows of prejudice and loathing. I could see the moment the potions master noticed George. His beady eyes narrowed, sending my trepidation through the roof. It was hard to know which house was more despised by the other in the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry, but Professor Snape did not have the same amount of integrity within the rivalry as Professor McGonagall. 

“A new student today,” Professor Snape mused, the slow delivery of every word promising trouble. I sat so stiffly, my shoulder muscles were beginning to hurt, but George stayed calm and seemingly unaffected. “Is there a reason for this…change?”

“Yes, sir, I just really wanted to hear today’s lecture,” George said politely. 

“How studious of you.” Professor Snape crossed his arms, warning of the incoming confrontation. “I suppose, Mr. Weasley,” he said in his characteristically flat tone, “that you’re also studious enough to tell me what sloth brains are used for.”

George didn’t move from his laid-back yet attentive position. “Sir, that would be dragon dung fertiliser.”

The curl of Professor Snape’s mouth made me tense. “Of course. I would expect someone of your,” he paused as he rested a hand next to George’s worn textbook, “inclinations to misguidedly name dung as being the correct answer.”

A few snickers rang through the classroom, the Slytherins ready for the millionth round of Gryffindor mistreatment. “Daft Weasley,” said Warrington’s unmistakable voice, loud enough to echo through the whole classroom yet remarkably and predictably soft enough that Professor Snape didn’t seem to hear.

But I knew he had, judging by the hateful glitter in his eyes. The professor leaned in closer to George, who still hadn’t moved from his position. “Ten points from–”

“He’s not daft.”

I barely realised the words had come out of my mouth until everyone in the classroom turned to look at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw George straighten in his chair.

“Excuse me?” Professor Snape finally asked. If the potions master could manage a sincere expression, he’d be aghast. As it was, he looked at me with the same chronically detached countenance he always wore.

Underneath the table, a hand brushed my leg, but I ignored it.

“Sloth brain mucus is used in the creation of dragon dung fertiliser, which Professor Sprout names as the superior fertiliser for magical plants. If you wanted him to answer what sloth brains are used for in this class, you should’ve specified, at which point he would’ve clearly said the Draught of Living Death.” I stared resolutely back at Professor Snape as the classroom fell silent aside from the bubbling of the example potion beside Professor Snape’s desk. “Sir,” I added belatedly. 

The only sign of the professor’s surprise and uncertainty was the rapid blinks. “He would’ve clearly said it?” Professor Snape asked finally. “Then I suppose Mr. Weasley would also be able to tell me what colour sloth brains turns the Draught of Living Death, hmmm?” 

“Cyan.” George’s posture, straight as an arrow, revealed the strain he was now apparently—and tardily—feeling. “It turns the potion from pink to cyan.”

See? I thought victoriously as I watched Professor Snape’s jaw move in a suspiciously gnashing way. I was right. He’s not daft. 

“Detention,” the professor finally said. 

“Yes, sir,” George responded, lowering his eyes.

“Not you, Weasley.” The dark eyes turned on me. “You, Miss Y/L/N.” George’s hand balled into a fist. “For speaking out of turn.”

I met the head of my house’s eyes without flinching. “Yes, sir.” 

As Professor Snape continued the lesson, I noticed with slight triumph that he’d completely forgotten to take ten points from Gryffindor or give George detention for showing up. 

But the triumph shrank as the class continued and George’s posture remained stiff. 

-

After brewing a nearly perfect Antidote to Veritaserum and being assigned a 42-inch essay on exactly how the antidote combatted compulsory truth-telling, class ended. Instead of waiting for Warrington and the others to leave, I shoved everything into my bag and was the first one to the door. But nowhere could I go at no possible speed to avoid the fiery anger burning behind me. 

“What were you thinking?” George hissed as I walked towards my common room. 

“Snape doesn’t get to treat you that way,” I replied with equal fervour, wondering at how completely my compliance had disappeared. “And neither does Warrington, the prat.”

A hand closed around my elbow, turning me around. “Beg Snape’s forgiveness,” George demanded. “Maybe you can beg off spending the night in the dungeons.”

“I won’t,” I snapped, wrenching my arm out of his admittedly gentle grip. “Because they were wrong; you’re not stupid. It was a stupid question. He just wanted to mock you–”

“I’ve been mocked nearly every day of my life!” The response was so impassioned that George’s cheeks were going red. “I can handle it.”

“Well, I can’t!” I said sharply. “It’s not fair.”

“Oh, like you serving detention on behalf of your brother?”

I glanced around quickly, noticing the few seventh years loitering in the corridor. Were they gathering more evidence about the sudden and unorthodox alliance between George and I? Would any of them report back to Warrington? Or Snape? Or Merlin forbid, Umbridge? 

Seizing George’s wrist, I dragged him off into an alcove, pulling so roughly that he nearly bonked his head into the sloped decorative wood carving of the tiny space. “How is what I did any different than what you’ve done for me?” The snarling tone of my words made me think of my lioness Patronus. Perhaps a lioness was more apt than I’d originally thought. 

George, however, looked nothing like his mischievous and light-hearted magpie. “Because you disrespected a professor!”

"So did you! If you hadn't sat in the class, the whole thing could've been avoided!"

"Snape already hates me! But he's your head of house, and now you've insulted him!"

I glared at him. “And if McGonagall treated me like that, would you just sit there and not say anything?” He wouldn’t, we both knew it.

George scoffed deep in his throat. “That doesn’t matter, she would never do something like that.”

“Come off it, George!” I impatiently readjusted my heavy books, resisting the urge to toss them at him. “You would stand up for me!” He had stood up for me, many times over.

George pressed his lips together so tightly, they started to whiten, stubbornly refusing to say what we both knew was true. “You shouldn’t have done it.”

I scowled. “You don’t get to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do.”

“Someone has to, since you clearly weren’t born with basic self-preservation!”

Livid, I tossed my head and stormed out of the alcove towards my common room where the foolhardy twin couldn’t follow me.

“What happened to not lifting a finger to help or hurt anyone?” George called after me, so loudly that the other noises in the hallway hushed.

I lifted a finger over my shoulder in an obscene gesture as my only reply.

-

My footsteps echoed through the dungeons as I neared the potions classroom. Somewhere above my head was the Great Hall, lit up with enchanted candles and everlasting torches. In the dungeons, however, the torches were so sparse, it was easy to grow convinced that there was something lying in wait in every shadow.

“I received a new Spine of Lionfish shipment this morning,” Snape was saying, gesturing towards my potions station where a stack of boxes lay before returning to the parchment he was writing on. “You will crush them all into powder without using magic. When you are finished, and only then, are you allowed to leave.”

Spine of Lionfish. Capable of causing pain and paralysis. I licked my lips. “Sir, am I allowed to wear my gloves?”

The potions master paused in his writing, making my heart sink as I tried to guess how great a punishment Professor Snape meant to inflict on me. “Yes,” he said finally.

Worried my relief would make him change his mind, I concealed it before nodding and sitting down at the desk, pulling out my dragonskin gloves and getting started.

It would’ve been meditative to pulverise the white and red spines if I wasn’t constantly aware of how long it would take to grind three boxes of spines when my mortar could only hold five spines at a time. I glanced over at the desk to see Professor Snape hunched over, his nose inches from the parchment he wrote on, as if he was struggling to see it. 

I popped open a vial, holding my breath so that I wouldn’t accidentally inhale any of the powder as I poured it inside the vial and labelled it. 

Each vial could hold the powder of about fifty spines, and I’d filled four vials when Professor Snape suddenly rose from his desk. He pulled at his cloak, untangling it from his legs as best as he could while holding a letter. Whatever the letter was, it was either important or elicited some sentiment to make him clench it so tightly. Without saying a word, Professor Snape left.

I poured the powder into the half-full vial before dropping new spines inside the mortar. It might take me all night to finish my detention, but finish it I would. Once punished, my defiance would hopefully fade in memory.

Detention would ease Snape’s ire, but my classmates would likely look to retaliate in their own ways. I took a deep breath. As long as they stayed away from Clem, I would accept whatever punishment they doled out. 

A soft rasp sounded behind me, making me freeze. And in that stillness, the unmistakable sound of a footstep sounded from behind me.

Would they interfere with the completion of my detention? Would Warrington, Parkinson, and Goyle really try to subject me to further wrath from our head of house?

Keeping the rest of my body still, I slyly slipped my hand off my pestle and into my pocket, gripping my wand. After a moment’s pause, I whirled around, thrusting my wand out. “Immobulus!” The blue spell shot from my wand tip.

“Protego.” My attacker’s wand arced, my blue projectile dissolving upon contact with the invisible shield.

Lifting my wand, another spell was about to leap from my lips when I finally recognized the face in the shadows. “What are you doing here?” I hissed.

George pocketed his wand before flinging himself down on the nearest seat as if it were a fainting couch. “I came to help my knight in shining armour. After defending my honour, I could hardly leave my dainty yet plucky princess to toil away in the dungeons.”

I clenched my wand, my heart beating at a pace I would fiercely deny if it were brought up. “I thought you said I was a knight.” 

“Maybe you’re both.”

“Maybe I’m neither.” I glanced at him. “You’re a lot more dainty than me anyhow.” And a lot more chivalrous, though he didn’t need to know that. 

George sighed like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. “Can’t help it if I have easily bruisable skin, can I?” How strange. He seemed to have completely recovered from our fight earlier.

“Seriously, Weasley, what are you doing here?”

“Ooh, she brings out the last name.” George grinned. “That’s how I know I’ve got your stylish knickers in a twist.” I raised an eyebrow, and his smile fell. “Not that I’m making assumptions about your…knicker…preferences.” His cheeks were red again, but instead of accompanying the flush with a glare like earlier, he averted his eyes over towards the window where darkness was quickly falling.

“I’ll repeat my question,” I said, sparing him from acknowledging his obvious embarrassment. “What are you doing here?”

I definitely imagined the relief on his face as he dropped into the chair beside me. “Serving your detention with you.”

I returned to my mortar and pestle, grinding the spines with more aggression than before. “I know you have better things to do, perhaps some testing to do on first-years?”

“Fred can test the Canary Creams without me.”

“He’ll rename your business ‘Fred’s Wizard Wheezes’.”

George gave a short laugh, crossing his legs. “Naw, FWW doesn’t have the same ring as WWW.” 

“If Snape finds out you helped me with the work, he’ll get angry.” I didn’t want the professor getting any angrier at either of us.

“Then I won’t touch anything. I’ll just help you pass the time.” 

“By regaling me with more business plans?” My words were coming out all wrong, sharp and heated. George was being thoughtful, and yet I couldn’t seem to check my prickliness. 

“If you like. I also have some fabulous stories to tell about pranks or family or even the sausage rolls I ate for breakfast.”

My pestle scraped a little too hard against the mortar. “Maybe your knight prefers silence.” I glared down at the lovely pink powder. Without the proper knowledge, someone might mistake the powder for something innocuous, like fairy dust or rose sugar. But the seductive material could cause serious damage.

“I think I know my knight better than that.” His voice had no right to be that gentle. 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He wasn’t being flattering, he was right on, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. “Maybe you don’t know her at all,” I said lightly, pouring the powder into the vial before dropping the next five spines into the mortar. 

A hand found my waist, and I stopped grinding the chalky spines. My eyes fluttered shut at the sparks flying beneath my skin. I turned around, resting my gloved hands on his shoulder to push him away, but my muscles wouldn't do it.

I felt as though the warmth in George’s brown eyes was somehow pouring into me, chasing away the chill of the dungeon and shadows. 

“Trust me,” I warned, “you don’t want to get close.”

“That’s just like you,” George said softly, his eyes fixed on some point beneath my nose, “just like you to tell me what I do and don’t want.” 

“George, I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He licked his lips. “Uncommonly so.”

Fear flooded my body, tangling with the warmth to make a strange buzzing sensation. “Is this your plan?” I asked shakily. “The Gryffindor gets close to the Slytherin and then makes fun of her to all his friends because she fell for it?” I pressed my hand over the wand in my robes, prepared to pull it out again. “I won’t fall for it.”

George's hand brushed against mine. I wanted to pretend that he was trying to keep me from drawing it, but the gesture was too tender, too comforting to believe it. He stepped closer. “Maybe the Gryffindor is the one falling for it.”

“Sounds more accurate.” My voice was embarrassingly high-pitched and breathy. I cleared my throat. “Gryffindors are more gullible than Slytherins.”

“Can this gullible Gryffindor ask a question?”

He was too close. I needed to step away, to put some space in between us, but one step away was my potion station with venomous powdered Spine of Lionfish. “No,” I managed to say. “No questions.”

George lifted a hand to tuck my hair behind my ear. “Can I kiss you?”

My hands shook. If I needed to draw my wand, I wasn’t sure I would be able to hold it. “I said no questions.” Especially no questions that I didn’t know how to answer. 

His face came closer to mine until all I could see was the expanse of fair skin beneath freckles. “I’d rather drink the Draught of Living Death than be like Warrington…and yet I’m trying not to read into the fact that you seemed more ready to kiss his boot than kiss me.”

I couldn’t respond or think when he was this close. When his lips were so close that I could feel his breath on my face. He couldn’t even do me the favour of having halitosis or even just onions and garlic for lunch?

“That’s…it’s…I mean,” I stammered. Why was it impossible to form anything coherent? I would’ve been happy with a snarky comment or a quick denial. 

George tilted his head back slightly, looking me in the eye. “Say no. Say no, and I’ll sit back down and tell you about the recipe for Canary Creams.”

The refusal was prepared on my tongue, ready to launch and return both of us to the refuge of platonic banter with sporadic sincerity. Things were already too dangerous for the two of us, and the true threats of the castle and beyond hadn’t even started yet. It was better for both of us if I said no. I needed to say no. 

But I couldn’t do it. 

I never before had trouble doing what would keep myself and my brother safe, but being with George Weasley flew in the very face of safety, and I couldn't bring myself to back away.

His nose brushed against mine, and I marvelled at how smooth his skin was. I’d half-expected to feel bumps on the skin from his freckles. “Say no,” he whispered.

“I can’t,” I whispered. I wasn’t sure if the words referred to saying no or to kissing him, but George seemed to know.

Arms encircled my waist, secure and unavoidable. Lips pressed against mine, warm and soft and utterly, completely George. He was everywhere, even where he wasn’t touching me because all my body could do was sigh and all my mind could conjure were red locks and brown eyes.

He pulled back. “Do you–”

I rose to my tiptoes, kissing him before he could finish. George, apparently, didn’t mind, giving up on his words immediately to kiss me back. His fingers brushed back my hair, a gesture so comforting that I melted into him.

I pulled my gloves off, desperate to feel his face with my hands. The dragon scales let out a loud noise as they hit the stone floor, but I didn’t care, finally able to caress his face.

Without breaking the kiss, George stepped forward, moving me back on my tiptoes. I didn’t know where he was taking me, and I didn’t care enough to stop what we were doing and look. 

George took another step forward when there was a clunking sound. 

The latch of the door, I realised in horror. Instantly, George’s warmth disappeared, and I whirled around, frantically grinding at the spines while sweeping my gloves underneath the potion station with my toe.

Heart hammering, I heard the door open. The torches in the hallway casting momentary shadows before the door closed again.

Act natural, I thought frantically. Act like you've just been here the whole time, serving detention. But my inability to take a full breath undermined the nonchalance I was attempting. My lips burned, as if by kissing George, I’d kissed pure flames. 

“Miss Y/L/N.” Somehow, Snape’s voice was more chilling than before. 

Slowly, I swivelled to face the potions master. He didn’t look any more suspicious than he normally did, but he was never the type to emote.

There was a flash of movement over his shoulder, and I looked to see George with his back pressed to the wall of the dungeon, perfectly in between two torches where the shadows could partially conceal him. Quickly, I looked back to Snape, noting for the first time in my life with relief that the professor’s beady eyes were trained on me. 

“You are free to go.” 

I blinked, trying to ignore George creeping over to the dungeon door. “Sir, I haven’t finished–”

Professor Snape waved his wand, enchanting the mortar and pestle sets against the wall to soar over to the boxes and start grinding spines of their own accord. “You’ve been here for long enough.”

George reached the door, lifting the latch silently and sliding through a tiny crack in the door.

I nearly crumpled with relief, turning my attention back to Snape. “Sir, are you sure–”

“I’ve already taken points off Gryffindor.”

I frowned before quickly making my face blank. George lost points, regardless of my outburst. My actions today in class accomplished nothing. 

“As for you, I won’t take any house points.” 

Predictable. 

“But I’ve written to your parents.”

I froze.

My parents—who represented just a blip in the long history the Y/L/N family of pureblooded Slytherins and yet championed the legacy with every movement—would soon know. As I looked into Snape’s glittering eyes, I knew he’d told them everything and knew the magnitude of punishment I’d be receiving. His grin widened as I remained still as a statue. Not only did he know, he relished it. “You’re dismissed.”

Snape lowered himself into the chair behind his desk, taking his time as he folded his long, bony fingers. 

So thoroughly unable to move, I wondered if some of the dangerous pink powder had somehow made it into my body.

“Did you hear me?” The displeasure in Snape’s voice sounded like the cracking of a whip, and like a frightened mare, I stirred into action. 

“Yes, sir, goodnight, sir.” I swiftly knelt to grab my gloves and put them on before dumping the spines in my mortar into the box again. 

It wasn’t until I was pulling the dungeon door open that I remembered George, my fear only increasing. 

But instead of George awaiting me, it was the cantankerous caretaker, Mr. Filch. “Out of bed, are we?” he snarled, looking quite pleased. 

“I w-was finishing detention!” I burst out. “I’m on my way to bed, I swear!”

“You’d better hurry then.” Chapped lips curved upwards to show yellow teeth.

I fled from the teeth, from the spines, and from the consequences of the kiss. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, horror nipping at my heels. 

“Advantage,” I said quickly, and the door to the Slytherin Common Room opened. I ducked inside and ran as fast as I could towards my dormitory, not stopping until I flung myself down on my bed, burying my face in my pillow. 

Merlin, what had I done?

-

Overall tag list:

@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers

Series tag list:

@onelemonoat @goldfishinpainttubes

[lost-in-fandoms]

Angry kitten knight Max. Not as much kitten time as I would have wanted. Part 1 here.

Daniel is sparring with Alex when Max comes to get him.

Daniel sees him cutting through the courtyard, people jumping out of his way after one look at his stormy expression, and barely manages to avoid Alex's next hit, attention already fully on their Captain.

When he comes closer, Daniel can see his clenched hands, cheeks splotchy with angry red, eyes steely. It's not a rare occurrence for Max to get snappy and angry, but it's been a very long time since Daniel has seen him so genuinely upset.

"What happened, Captain?" he asks, handing Alex his practice sword without looking, other hand already raising towards Max's shoulder.

"Come with me," is all Max says, voice icy, dodging his touch.

Daniel wouldn't even think about refusing, but Max doesn't give him a chance to anyway, immediately turning around and marching towards the barracks, exuding so much fury it almost feels like the day is a little darker.

Daniel is pretty sure he's done nothing wrong. He's had his shift on the walls earlier in the morning, to which he wasn't even late, had some lunch and then went to the courtyard. He's also pretty sure, despite Max's behavior, that this doesn't actually have something to do with him. Max had been stuck in yet another council with the King for the best part of the day, which never puts him in a good mood.

When they reach his room, Max pushes the door open so violently it bounces off the wall with a bang, taking two final steps inside and then.

Stopping.

Daniel gently closes the door.

He can see the tension in the way Max is holding himself, ready to snap like a bow cocked for too long, breathing heavily as if he had run the whole way around the castle, and not just walked up two flights of stairs.

"Max," Daniel starts, immediately discarding titles as they always do when they're alone, but then he doesn't know how to continue. He doesn't know what Max is upset about, what he needs. Doesn't know if he'll explode if Daniel prods, or if he'll break.

Max turns around to face him. His jaw is still clenched, frustration etched into every single one of his features, but it looks like he's making an active effort to breathe through it. Daniel isn't sure that will work.

He readies himself to speak up again, but Max interrupts him, words spilling out between gritted teeth.

"He is so, he does not listen! I have said that we cannot, of course, keep holding onto the western border if he keeps insisting on pushing the eastern one, but he says..." his hand slashes through the hair as he exhales heavily through his nose, anger choking him.

"We will just lose men and land if he goes through with this plan!" he snarls. Daniel can see him starting to work himself up even more, and he takes a step forward. He understands where Max is coming from, he really does. It's his men, their friends, who will be sent to a useless and avoidable death if the King decides to go through with this. It might be him. It might be Daniel.

So yes, he understands Max's anger and frustration. But right now his priority is another one, and that's making sure Max doesn't breaks his teeth by grinding them too hard.

"I have shown him, over and over, but he is so..."

Max is still ranting, but Daniel just places both hands on his shoulders and pulls him in a hug, holding him still even as he squirms, with a sound that's almost a growl.

"Max," Daniel says again, squeezing him tighter. Max stops moving.

"Tell me what you need."

For a second, he's sure he miscalculated and Max is actually going to pull back and go back to his rant, or maybe punch him, but then Max slumps against him, forehead landing heavily on his shoulder.

"I left the council before being dismissed, or I was going to get beheaded for regicide."

Daniel can't help himself, lets out a huff of laughter, feeling the way Max giggles a little too. It's not that funny, Max is going to get in trouble for it, but it is a little funny, the idea of the Captain storming out of the meeting room to avoid snapping the King's neck.

"I'm proud of you, I kinda like your head where it is," he says, half joking and half fond, pressing a kiss into Max's hair. "Now, will you tell me what I can do for you?"

He knows that the reason Max came all the way to the courtyard couldn't have been just to rant at him, but he can't quite figure out if Max wants to have sex or to just be held like this.

Turns out, it's neither of the things.

"I need..." Max hesitates, carefully extracting himself from Daniel's hug and looking at him with unusual shyness. He doesn't finish his sentence. One second Daniel is patiently waiting for his boyfriend to let him know how to help, and the next he's looking down at a kitten, sitting between his feet.

He smiles, crouching down and offering him a finger to sniff. He understands now. Feelings are easier when Max is shifted, his brain quieter, all complicated thoughts less important. He's still fully Max, fully present, but it's easier for him to sort through the bullshit, to let his senses take over a little.

"Hi, baby," Daniel whispers, running his fingertip over Max's soft little head, lightly scratching behind his jaw. Max blinks up at him for a second, before turning around and jumping onto the bed, curling in a tiny little ball on top of the pillow.

"You want to take a nap?"

It's not a smart idea, Max will for sure have people looking for him, and Daniel has things to do, but Max blinks at him, somehow managing to pout even in kitten form, and Daniel is on the bed before he can even think twice about it.

Max impatiently waits for him to settle, meowing with his little kitten voice and hitting him with his little kitten paws, climbing on top of him as soon as Daniel stops moving. He curls up on his favorite spot, right on top of his collarbone, wet nose pressed against Daniel's neck, and Daniel can almost feel the moment he lets go, fully relaxing on top of him.

He can for sure feel it when he starts purring, more loudly than one would assume for such a little thing, and it makes Daniel smile.

Neither of them really falls asleep, but it's enough to be like this, in this little room, just them for a little while.

[kodaloveschris]

Parents for a Day

Part 1

**also first time writing in well over 15 years. So sorry if it’s bad**

Summary: Nick, Matt, and Chris take care of your daughter for a day for a video.

It was just an average Sunday night in the Sturniolo household in beautiful Los Angeles, California and Nick, Chris and Matt were trying to figure out a video idea they could film for Wednesday. They had to think of something fast as they had a flight to catch back to Boston on Tuesday night. All three were struggling to think of anything. While all of them were sitting on the couch trying to figure out something. An idea came to Matt’s mind. “How about we ask Y/N, if we could borrow Shire for the day and see how well we would do as parents for a day.” (Y/N is the triplets assistant of 2 years and Shire is Y/N 8 week old daughter.) Matt stopped speaking and waited to see some response from his brothers. After what felt like an hour but in reality it wasn’t even 30 seconds before Chris finally spoke up and agreed with Matt. “I really like that idea, fans have been asking us to do something similar to that for ages” said Chris. “But would Y/N trust us enough to take care of Shire by ourselves for the whole day because remember she is a newborn. Fresh out the womb.” Nick said with some hesitation. “Nick, quite being ridiculous, Y/N loves us and knows we will take good care of Shire” said Chris. “We will never know unless we ask Y/N herself” Matt stated. “Good idea Matt, we should probably ask Y/N first before we go any farther” exclaimed Nick. Nick pulls out his cellphone and calls Y/N and asks when she will come home as she out doing errands that the boys haven’t had time to do themselves. Y/N answers “Hey Nick! I am almost done with everything except I couldn’t get the thing Chris asked for if you could let him know about that. Is there something else you guys needed?” “No, Y/N we don’t need anything else, we are just wondering when you would be back, we have a question to ask you but we would rather do in person rather than over the phone” Nick responded. “Gotcha! Just let me check out and I should be at your place in about 10 minutes or so” said Y/N. “Okay, see you soon! Drive safe” Nick exclaims. Nick hangs up the phone and starts a conversation with Chris and Matt while they wait. As they are deep in conversation, they all look up to the sound of the front door opening and someone coming up the stairs. The person coming up the stairs was no other than Y/N who was carrying baby Shire in her baby carrier. Matt immediately grabs the carrier from Y/N as Chris and Nick offer to grab all the bags from Y/N’s car. “There is my favorite girl” Matt coos as he pulls Shi out of her car seat. Shi looks up at Matt with big doe eyes. Y/N returns from the bathroom to see this cute moment and takes a photo. Right after the photo Nick and Chris come up and places the bags on the counter. The triplets then start fighting over who gets to hold Shire. While they are fighting, Y/N takes Shire from Matt’s hands and says “no one gets her at the moment, for one she is not a toy you fight over and for two it is time for her to eat anyway.” Y/N then goes and sits on the couch and gets herself situated before covering herself with a blanket so she could feed Shi. Nick, Chris and Matt then come and sit on the couch with her. There is a minute of silence before Y/N says “Nick said on the phone that you guys wanted to talk to me about something in person, am I getting fired? Did I do something wrong? Whatever I did I’m sorry.” She has a look of worry and panic in her eyes. Matt immediately states “OMG, no Y/N. You are not in trouble or getting fired. We have a video idea that we want to run by you first as you have something we need for it.” “And that will thing is…” states Y/N. Chris grabs her hand and with doe eyes so big that he looked liked Puss in Boots and asks in the sweetest voice “that thing we need is Shire.” Y/N stares at them in disbelief and shock “You need my newborn daughter for a video.” While still trying to process what they said, she responds by saying “explain to why you need Shire for a video and why I should trust you three with a newborn.”

Part 2 coming soon 😜

[beyondthesefourwalls]

For Better or Worse

Summary: Getting the phone call that your husband was involved in a training accident was something you had never prepared yourself for, and something that you never wanted to experience again. You felt like your entire world crashed down around you and the only thing that would pick up the pieces would be Bradley opening his eyes. But then he does, and everything starts to turn out worse than you ever thought it could. 

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: ANGST. So much angst. Language. 

Notes: Based on this request. While this serves as a prequel to my full length series Remember You Even When I Don’t, it’s not necessary to read that in order to read this. Part of The Forgotten Moments.

To all the Forgetful Boy and Pumpkin fans - I’m sorry for the hurt, but I hope you enjoy the first installment that features the reader's perspective! 

__________

You felt like you had been staring at the same paragraph for hours, and that should have been your first indicator that something was wrong. 

Election season as a political journalist meant you were never short on things to cover, especially with the climate so fraught with tension. It was looking to be one of the most interesting Midterms ever and this article should have written itself by now, only you were struggling to find the words. You had felt off all day, but in the last hour or two, it had gotten exponentially worse. You were anxious, fidgety, and you weren’t sure about what. 

All you knew was that something felt wrong. 

Your eyes drifted from the blinking cursor on your computer screen to the solitary framed photo you kept on your desk. A small smile tugged at your lip as you looked at it. It was taken a little over a year ago when Bradley had just gotten back from a three month long deployment and was one of your favorites.

God, you loved that man. You wondered if he was still in the air. He normally texted you when he was done with a flight, but you hadn’t heard from him yet this afternoon. But you knew if anything could help snap you out of this funk, it was your husband. 

Right as you were picking up your phone to text him, though, it started vibrating against the desk. You smiled, thinking for a moment that maybe he had read your mind and was calling you, but it slipped from your face when you saw Jake’s name instead. There was no reason for him to be calling you in the middle of the day when the entire Dagger Squad was going through an exercise today. That pit of anxiety in your stomach grew as you brought the phone to your ear.

“Hey, J.” 

When he said your name, you knew that something was wrong. Jake had become one of your closest friends in the last few years and you had heard a lot of tones from him, but nothing like the way he sounded now. 

“What happened?” you asked. You wished you wouldn’t have. 

There had been an accident, and Bradley was injured during his ejection. They were airlifting him to the hospital on base. You needed to go. You felt all of the air leave your lungs as what he was saying processed through your head. 

You didn’t understand. Bradley had said the drill they were doing today was routine, something they had done multiple times before. He was one of the best pilots in the Navy; the 1% of the 1%. He couldn’t have been hurt. 

Jake called your name, and you think maybe it wasn’t the first time. “I need you to breathe for me, dollface.”

It’s not until you let out a loud gasp that you realized you had been holding your breath. 

“J, I - is he okay? Tell me that he’s okay. Please.”

Jake was quiet on the other end and you thought there were tears welling in your eyes at the silence and as what that means hit you. You’re out of your desk chair and running down the stairs without another word. 

———————

You spotted everyone easily as soon as you entered through the emergency room doors. Jake saw you first, standing immediately and stepping toward you. 

“Where is he?” you asked right away, not bothering with any pleasantries. 

“Doll-“

“Jake, where is Bradley?” you demanded, your voice overpowering him.

The blonde took a deep breath and you never wanted to see this look on his face looking back at you ever again, because you knew it was going to hurt you before any words even came out. 

“They just took him in for surgery.” 

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from screaming. Surgery. He was hurt enough to need surgery. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t bad. Any kind of injury could require surgery. It didn’t mean it was severe. You took a deep breath, trying to steel yourself despite the tears brewing in your eyes. 

“What happened?” you asked. Jake looked away from you, his jaw clenched. You noticed behind him how the rest of your friends exchanged wary looks with one another. No one wanted to be the one to tell you, and these were people you considered family who usually never had problems telling you anything. The sinking feeling was growing bigger and bigger. 

You met Pete’s eyes over Jake’s shoulder. Devastation was written all over his face and you pushed past Jake to get to Bradley’s godfather.

“Pete. What happened?”

“Sweetheart..” the older man trailed off, shaking his head. 

You gritted your teeth as frustration bubbled inside of you. You spun to face the rest of the waiting room. “Goddamnit, someone tell me what the hell is going on, right now.”

Pete laid a hand gently on your arm. “Let’s sit down, okay?”

“I don’t want to sit down,” you snapped, jerking your arm back from his touch. “I want to know what happened to my husband.”

“There was a malfunction with his engine.” His voice was pained, and you knew he was hurting, too. But you couldn’t focus on that right now. “His ejection got jammed at first. When he was finally able to, he got banged up. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.” 

Despite how badly you needed to know, part of you wished you wouldn’t have demanded the information. Because now that you had it you could see it so clearly in your head, what Pete was describing. Your sweet husband, fighting to eject from the jet that he loved so much. Floating to the ground and unable to guide his own fall. You couldn’t help but think of his father in this moment, knowing that the circumstances of his death were along the same lines. 

The universe couldn’t possibly be so cruel to have his son meet the same fate, could it? 

You listened as Pete continued to explain how he, Nat and Bob had been the ones in the air with him when it happened. Fanboy and Payback had been in the tower, but Jake and Javy were already out on the tarmac and had been quick to go with the air search and rescue. They found Bradley amongst the trees thirty miles from base. Absently, you were glad it wasn’t the ocean. 

You looked around the room as you tried to process what you were hearing. Everyone was looking at you, concern and their own worry etched across their faces. Your eyes stopped on Javy, your eyebrows furrowing together. 

He, like all the others, was still in his flight suit. The dark material was snug to his body, but you noticed something that hadn’t been there before. The Dagger Squad patch was flecked with red. The area surrounding it was darker than the rest, almost appearing wet, and when your eyes flickered down, you noticed the cuffs of his sleeves were stained, too.

“Is that blood?” you asked before you could stop yourself. He noticed where you were looking and glanced down at himself. His dark eyes widened when he saw what you were seeing. Panic flashed across his face as he looked back up at you, but you could only stare in a daze. Pete had said that Javy was one of the ones that went with search and rescue. “Is that…is that Bradley’s blood?” 

Your heart was beating so hard that you could hear it in your head, and you found yourself struggling to breathe again. You thought someone was saying something, but you couldn’t hear them over the ringing in your ears.  

“I think,” you said, your voice cracking as you tried to get the words out, “I think I need to sit down.” 

Your knees gave out right after you finished speaking, but Pete was there to catch you before you hit the ground. He held onto you tightly, not letting go until he was gently pushing you down into one of the hard, uncomfortable waiting room chairs. You did your best to suck in deep breaths, but it felt like there was a weight on your chest. He sat down beside you, an arm wrapped around your shoulder. You heard him telling you to breathe, in and out, in and out, but you couldn’t seem to listen. 

You almost didn’t feel like you were in your body anymore. All you could picture was Bradley, bleeding and alone as his friends fought to get to him. How badly injured was he? You remembered how off you felt all day, but how the anxiety had started for you nearly two hours before Jake called you. Is that how long he had been there before they found him? 

You couldn’t lose him. 

You couldn’t, you couldn’t, you couldn’t. 

You gasped for breath. Pete still had his arm around you, and you don’t know when they moved, but Nat was on your other side and Jake was on his knees on the ground in front of you, both of your hands held tightly in his. You think he may have pinched you, because there was a dull throb on the top of your hand. His voice sounded like static, but it slowly, slowly became clearer. 

“Listen to me. Right now. He would not want you falling apart like this. You know that. How do you think he’s going to feel when he wakes up and you’re not there beside him because you landed yourself in the hospital because you passed out instead, huh? You need to breathe. Please, dollface. Breathe.” 

The words were harsh, but they got through to you, which you knew was his intention. You sucked in a long and deep breath, letting it out slowly at his encouragement. Jake squeezed your hand as Nat rubbed your back. 

“That a girl,” he said, and you mimic his breathing at his request for a minute before you finally don’t feel like the room is closing in on you. You felt the tears streaming down your face for the first time and took one of your hands from his to wipe them away. Pete placed a paper cup of water into your hand and you shakily took a sip. 

“I’m okay,” you whispered.

But it was silly to think anyone would believe you. Unless you could see that Bradley was okay with your own eyes, you doubted you would ever be okay again. 

___________

It felt like hours passed without an update. You didn’t move from your seat, and the rest of the team stayed, too. Javy and Fanboy had left in the middle of your panic attack, only to return less than an hour later out of their flight suits and with a change of clothes for everyone else. Javy had hugged you tightly, whispering in your ear how sorry he was. 

It was nearing late evening when a doctor in surgical scrubs came out, a large plastic bag in one hand and a clipboard in the other. Your stomach twisted and you found yourself holding your breath again. 

“Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?”

Everyone around you shot up instantly. You were slower to stand, your heart heavy in your chest and weighing you down. The doctor looked around with raised eyebrows, clearly not expecting the entourage. Your voice shook and cracked when you spoke.

“I’m his wife.”

You declined when he offered to speak in private, knowing you weren’t strong enough to repeat anything he may tell you. You listened as he explained all of Bradley’s injuries. Bruises and lacerations. A collapsed lung. More broken ribs than not. Severe internal bleeding, and a skull fracture that’s caused swelling in his brain. Each injury seemed worse than the last and you could feel the bile rising in your throat as he detailed what the surgery consisted of and how he would likely be unconscious for a few days. 

He was mid-sentence about stitches and blood clots when you interrupted him with the one question circulating in your head and pushing for dominance. “Is he…is he going to be okay?” 

The doctor gave you what you were sure was meant to be a reassuring smile, though it looked more like a grimace on his tired, drawn face. 

“We’ll be able to know more once he wakes up, Mrs. Bradshaw.” 

The words provided little comfort. There was a ball of anxiety in your throat that was threatening to choke you. You barely registered him saying a nurse would come out to get you as soon as they had Bradley moved out of recovery and into a room. The noise of the waiting area faded into a static buzz as you opened the bag of personal belongings he had handed you. Bradley’s flight suit was folded, his dog tags laying on top. You took a staggering step back and sunk into the chair behind you as you pulled them out. They were cool to the touch, his name, social security number and blood type imprinted perfectly into the silver. It felt wrong holding them in your hand without them dangling from his neck. Tears welled in your eyes as you quickly reached back into the bag. His flight suit was heavy. Your hands fumbled with the thick material, searching for the inside pocket below the name patch. You let out a breath of relief when your fingers grasped his wedding band; he didn’t wear it when he was flying, but he always kept it with him, right near his heart. 

Bradley loved his ring. He hated taking it off. You would keep it safe for him until you could slip it back on his finger. 

Your moment of relief was short lived, though, when you realized your fingers were damp and sticky. It was then that you noticed the rips in the suit he took so much pride in from where the medics and doctors had been so rushed to get to his body that they chose to cut it off of him instead of simply unzipping it. You raised one of your shaking hands up in front of you only to see it smeared red. It was almost in slow motion that you processed that what you were seeing was the blood that had seeped so deeply into the suit that it hadn’t dried in the hours it had been stuffed in this bag, still damp enough to transfer onto your skin. 

Bradley’s blood was on your hands, and you screamed.

__________

Bradley looked so small in the hospital bed. That was a word you had never associated with him before. Since the moment you sat down next to him at the wedding that brought you together, he had been larger than life. But now, he’s pale against the white sheets, even with the bruises marring his already scarred skin. There were wires hooked to him and machines beeping and you were scared to go too close, yet you couldn’t resist grasping his hand between both of yours as you sat in the chair by his bed. 

You had been allowed back in his room a few hours ago, but this is the first time you had been alone with him. Everyone had come back one at a time so that you never had to leave him, but the nurses had stretched the allowance for visiting hours for as long as they could before declaring that only one immediate family member was permitted to stay overnight. It was no question of you being here, and no one had been silly enough to suggest otherwise. 

“I’m right here, baby,” you assured him, “I’m right here.”

You almost expected him to respond - you had never wanted to hear his voice so badly. You moved the chair as close as it could get to the bed, laying your head on the mattress with both your hands grasping his, never looking away from his face.

___________

The next morning, Jake arrived with a duffle bag and a cup of coffee with your name on it that he held hostage until you forced down a bottle of water and half of the breakfast sandwich he handed you. 

“He’ll be pissed when he wakes up if we didn’t make sure you took care of yourself.” 

You knew he was right, so you drank the water he handed you and stomached the food that you could barely taste and then changed into some of the clothes Nat had packed and sent with him, because it’s what Bradley would want. 

Jake sat with you there beside the bed for a long time. You don’t speak much, but it’s nice, you suppose, not to be alone. A nurse came in at one point to check his vitals and when you looked at her with hopeful eyes, she gave you a sad look in return as she explained there hasn’t been any changes yet. The door clicked shut behind her and for a few minutes, the only sound was the steady beeping of Bradley’s heart monitor that reminded you he was still alive. 

You stared at the dark bruises and cuts on your husband’s face and gripped his hand tightly in yours. He was still so beautiful. You felt a lump growing in your throat as you let out a shaky breath.

“I won’t survive without him, J,” you said quietly. 

Jake was a lot of things, misunderstood in a lot of the ways that you happened to understand, and he would never lie to you. So when he firmly told you “you won’t have to,” you did your best to believe him. But then you remembered the feel of Bradley’s blood on your hands from his cut up flight suit and the doctor not giving you a straight answer on if he would be okay or not and it was so hard. 

You bit hard on the inside of your cheek as you traced your finger over the tan line on Bradley’s. His wedding ring hangs heavy on the chain with his dog tags around your neck, tucked into your sweatshirt. It wasn’t where it belonged and the ache grew in your chest. 

Jake spoke your name gently and you squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head. You heard the scrape of his chair as he got up, moving to kneel beside the one you were in. You could feel the warmth of his hand through your clothes when he rested it on your back, and even the friendly gesture that had been done hundreds of times before felt so wrong. This was all just so wrong. All you wanted was the man laying in front of you. 

“Look at me,” Jake urged. He sighed when you refused, letting a moment pass before he spoke. “He was thinking about you when his plane was going down, you know.”  

Despite your initial hesitation, your head snapped to him. His face was open and honest, no hint of anything but sincerity. He didn’t even blink at the tears or the incredulous look on your broken face. 

“What?” you breathed out. “How do you know that?” 

“We could hear him on the coms from the ground. We heard the moment everything started going wrong, and when he realized things were going wrong, all he could think about was you. He said he was sorry, and that he loved you. In the scariest moment of his life, he was thinking about you. He loves you so much. More than I’ve ever seen anyone love someone else.” 

Your mind whirled at the information. Jake rubbed soft circles into your back as he continued on, his voice softer than the firm tone he had taken before. “You know as well as I do that your husband is a stubborn son of a bitch. He wouldn’t survive that accident just to make you sit in a hospital room and watch him die on you afterward.”

“You’re not a doctor, J. You don’t know that,” you argued, voice cracking with emotion. 

“But I do. And you do, too. Have faith in him, dollface. Don’t you give up on him, because he’d never give up on you. Do you understand?”

You knew Jake wasn’t telling you all of this to be malicious. Brutal honesty was a foundation to your friendship and he was just fulfilling his end of that. He knew that you were spirling and he was doing whatever he could to plant your feet back on the ground, but you felt something inside of you crack anyway. Your heart ached, thinking of Bradley in that moment - of the fear and the panic he must have felt. You could almost feel echoes of it in your chest now and it was an ugly, cruel feeling. 

But in what he probably thought was his last moments, he was still thinking of you. 

A sob escaped as, finally, you nodded. You hiccuped out that you understood and Jake pulled you into a hug as you cried. Your hand clutched at Bradley’s the entire time, longing for him to just squeeze it back. 

________

You aren’t sure how many strings had to be pulled to make it work, but over the next few days, someone was with you from the time visiting hours started to the time they got kicked out at night. They made sure you ate and drank, and while they never breached trying to get you to go home, they did insist on you taking a few minutes to shower in the bathroom attached to Bradley’s hospital room. When they were switching shifts with each other and an extra person was around to stay with him, they coaxed you to take a lap or two around the ward. You knew how worried they were; not just about him, but about you. In the back of your mind, you were thankful for the support system that was your found family. 

But each hour that went by without hearing Bradley’s voice, or seeing those dark eyes of his looking back at you, it got harder and harder to keep your composure. 

It was late on the third night. Visiting hours had ended hours ago, Nat having left you with a promise that someone would be there first thing in the morning with coffee and breakfast, just like that morning and the one before. She had held onto you a little tighter than she ever had when she left, and you knew she was hurting too; everyone was. 

You weren’t sure how long you had dozed off for, but when you startled awake, a nurse was in the room checking Bradley’s vitals. Her greeting to you was gentle and quiet before she focused back on what she was doing.  

“Apologies, dear. Didn’t mean to wake you.” 

You rubbed your tired eyes and rolled your neck to release some of the pain you felt there. “Any changes?” 

“Nothing yet. But no news is sometimes good news in these cases.”

You’d been doing your best to always be as kind as you could with the hospital staff, but you couldn’t muster up anything more than a grimace in an effort to smile in response this time. 

You picked at the blanket someone had thought to grab off your couch and bring to you as the nurse continued with her check in. She made a few more notes on the computer before she gave you a small smile, telling you that she’d be back again in a few hours before pulling the door shut on the way out.

Bradley laid still in his hospital bed and for a few minutes, you let the steady rise and fall of his chest mesmerize you. The room was silent aside from the heart monitor on the other side of the bed. 

The steady beeping felt like it was mocking you. 

He was alive, right here in front of you, his perfect heart still beating. But at the same time he seemed so far away. 

“You know,” you found yourself saying, “when you told me I should take some time off of work before my busy season really hits, you could have just taken me on a trip upstate or something. You didn’t have to go to such extremes.” 

You looked at him, willing him to open his eyes and respond. You laughed humorlessly and shook your head when you were met with nothing. “This has to be a joke,” you whispered to yourself. You sat up straighter in your chair, leaning closer to the bed. “This isn’t funny anymore, Bradley. It never was. You can wake up now.” 

You twisted the ring on your finger, glancing down for a moment at the diamond that you loved so much. You’ll never forget the moment he put it on for you for the first time, how amazing you felt; it was the complete opposite of the emotions of right now. When you looked back at him, his expression as unmoving as before, you couldn’t help the quiet scoff you let out. 

“I’m so pissed off right now, baby. I know that I have no right to be. I know that this is your job and that this wasn’t your fault. But I am so fucking angry.” 

You wanted to scream when your words continued to go unanswered. The noise you let out was as close to it as you could get without alerting any of the nurses. 

“We make decisions together,” you continued. You were practically vibrating as you seethed. “Well I didn’t have a say in this one. So you don’t get to leave me, Bradley Bradshaw. You aren’t allowed.” 

Tears gathered in your eyes but you didn’t bother to wipe them away. Bradley hated when you cried; maybe letting them fall would make him wake up so he could wipe them away. Deep down, you knew that wouldn't be the case. 

“You’re always talking about how strong I am but you know I can only take so much before I break, right? Do you know that?” your voice cracked on the last few words, almost like they were proving your point. The beeping from the machine echoed in the room, but suddenly, hearing that wasn’t enough. You threw the blanket off of you and stood from the chair that had been your home for the last three nights, moving to sit on the edge of his hospital bed instead. With a staggering breath, you gently laid your hand over his chest. 

Bradley’s heart thrummed under your palm, anchoring you. The anger you were feeling seeped out of you in waves, leaving you consumed with the grief and heartache you had been trying so hard not to drown in since you arrived at the hospital. Mindful of all the wires and his IV, you shifted so you could lay your head where your palm had been. You choked on a sob at the steady rhythm echoing back at you. 

“I can’t breathe without you, Bradley. You’re so ingrained in every single part of me and baby, I can’t breathe. Please. Please wake up.”

__________

Bob was with you the next day and had just left to go down to the cafeteria when you noticed the crinkle between Bradley’s eyebrows. 

The grimace would be subtle to anyone else, but you had his face and expressions memorized, and you had been doing nothing but staring at him for the last three days, waiting to see a change.

“Bradley?” you asked urgently. You felt the faintest of squeezes back to your hand and your heart raced in excitement. “Oh, Bradley. Can you open your eyes for me, honey?” 

You hadn’t considered the harshness of the fluorescent overhead lights, so when you saw him flinching, you jumped up from the chair to dim them. You rushed back to his side, slipping your hand back in his and squeezing again.

Slowly, oh so slowly, his eyelids fluttered open. He struggled for a moment to get his bearings and he groaned when he shifted on the bed. You were quick to try and soothe him. 

“Baby, baby, hey, don’t try and move, okay?” 

Despite your warning, or maybe because of it, Bradley slowly turned his head toward you. Your breath caught in your throat as you finally, finally, saw his eyes again. 

“Wow,” he rasped, “you’re beautiful.” 

His voice was thick from disuse and still, it was the best thing you had ever heard. You let out a surprised, delighted laugh, and you couldn’t stop the tears that came even if you tried. At the sight of them, Bradley willed you not to cry.

“I’m sorry, it’s just so good to hear your voice and see those eyes, baby,” you responded as you wiped some of the moisture away. “Let me call your doctor.”

You were standing to press the call button on his bed when he spoke again, voice rough and pain filled. His words stopped you in your tracks.

“Are you…not my doctor?” 

Your watery gaze widened and snapped to connect with his own, and for the first time, it registered that his eyes weren’t the warm, love filled whiskey ones you were used to. They lacked even a hint of familiarity as he looked at you.  

No. No, no, no. 

You jammed the call button over and over and over again, desperation starting to claw at you. When you sunk back into the chair, your hand unconsciously gripping his tighter than before, you tried to keep your voice as level as possible, but it sounded pleading and devastating even to your own ears. 

“Bradley…do you know who I am? Do you know my name?” 

His thick eyebrows knitted together, and oh, god, he was taking so long to answer, you thought you were going to throw up. When he slowly shook his head, you could feel the bile rising. 

“I can’t remember. I’m sorry. Should I?” 

You gasped, but before you could say anything, the room was filled with doctors and nurses alike. Your hand was ripped from his and you were pushed to the back of the room as they examined him. They asked him question after question and when he wrongly answered the year and his age, your horror grew.

“Lieutenant Commander-”

“It’s just Lieutenant,” Bradley incorrectly corrected. You gasped as the room quieted. The doctor cleared his throat and took a step back.

“According to your official Navy file, you were promoted to Lieutenant Commander two years ago. And unfortunately, Lieutenant Commander, it’s no longer 2018. It’s 2022, sir.”  

Your hands covered your mouth in shock. Bradley’s eyes met yours and you saw the moment they flickered to the sparkling ring on your left hand. You watched as they widened minutely. At the same moment he slipped into unconsciousness again, your knees gave out. You crashed to the ground with a pained cry, and even more than before, you felt like your world had been titled on its axis, never to right itself again. 

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

End Notes: My entire soul hurt writing this and I don't think I've ever agonized over a story so much. I really, really hope you enjoyed it, and would love to hear your feedback.

Special thanks to Mak and Em for everything, as always. I appreciate you suffering through this with me.

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[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 19

This brings the total word count for arc 2 over 31k words. But it also brings us nearly to the end of the arc! There'll likely only be one more part after this which I hope to have out next week (but my first nephew is going to be born any day now, so no promises).

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

Find Arc 1 Here

Arc 2: Part 1, Previous

Word Count: 1.3k

-----

Rob: get back here now Rob: All 4 of us are needed

Before he even finished typing his last message, Bart was at his side. Just in time to see Danny mutter something and shoot an ectoblast at his parents who were thrown back with the force of it, destroying the podium and leaving a burn mark on the ground. People immediately began panicking.

“Shit,” muttered Tim. “Cassie, let’s go. Impulse, try to help where you can.”

“You’ve got it.” Bart gave them the bag that held their uniforms and rushed towards Danny.

Cassie and Tim joined the fleeing crowds, but slipped down the hall rather than outside in search of somewhere to change. Unfortunately, the first bathroom they passed had a camera pointing at the door. But a short way down, they found a janitor’s closet that didn’t.

“Not glamorous, I’m afraid,” said Tim.

Cassie laughed. “We’ve used worse.”

“True enough.”

Bart kept texting updates to Tim’s relief.

Imp: They’re in the basement Imp: Walker is confirmed possessing the mayor Imp: SB with me

As soon as the messages came through, Tim was hacking into city records to find the blue prints for the building.

“Come on, Rob,” said Cassie. “We need to get going.”

“Just finding the best way to the basement!” said Tim. A few more clicks and he had it. “Got it, let’s go.”

“Fucking finally.” Cassie cracked the door open and peered outside before throwing it open.

“Go right!” called Tim.

He overtook her and led her to a door. It was the matter of seconds to pick the lock and, rather than wait for him, Cassie just picked him up and flew him down the flight of stairs.

They burst out into what was clearly a service area. Ahead, they could hear the sounds of fighting. Cassie continued to fly them forward when they ran into Superboy.

“Superboy!” called Tim.

One of Danny’s classmates, Paulina, came running around the corner and Conner held up a blaster. “Stay back!” he called.

She screeched and held her hands up. Behind her came Dash, face contorted into a growl. The girl looked between Conner and Dash and screamed again.

“Kon!” called Tim, “Focus on Dash. I don’t think she’s overshadowed!”

Cassie set him down next to Conner and shouted, “I’m going to look for Phantom and Impulse!”

Conner shot at Dash and Tim assembled his Fenton Rod. To Paulina, he said, “Hey, sorry about that. We thought you might still be overshadowed. I’m Robin and we can get you out of here.”

“Don’t get near me!” she yelled at him. “Dash! Are you okay?”

The ghost had been expelled from him and he was sitting on the ground rubbing his head. “Paulina? Where are we?”

Tim pulled out a thermos and sucked in the ghost. “You’re in the basement of the City Hall building. Stairs are that way—” he pointed “—go up them and take a left.”

Paulina rushed to Dash’s side and pulled him up. With one last glare at Tim and Conner, she led him towards the stairs.

Tim let her go without arguing.

Instead, Tim and Conner ran towards the sound of fighting, only to see Maddie crouched behind some pipes with a bazooka pointed right at Danny.

With a curse, Conner flew towards her, yanking the weapon out of her hands. Tim was just a few paces behind him, and when Maddie drew another weapon poised to attack Conner, Tim used his staff to knock it from her hand.

“So you have been brainwashed by the ghosts,” she spat the last word. “Well I won’t let you win.” She kicked at his head and Tim ducked, using the motion to attempt to swipe at her other leg with his staff.

But she jumped over the attack and Tim had to roll out of the way of her downward kick.

“You’re quite good,” he commented.

“I’m a ninth degree black belt,” she said as she used the distance she’d gained to pull out a tube of lipstick. With a twist, she shot a laser at him.

“Creative, too, I see.”

Tim glanced over at the others to see Wulf had reappeared and was helping them. Unfortunately, though, Maddie was good enough that he had to keep most of his focus on her. She shot another laser and Tim used his staff to vault over it and close the distance between them.

“Look,” he said, “You don’t understand. Phantom is trying to stop the invasion.”

“He’s lying to you. All ghosts only want to hurt humans.”

Tim swung his staff and Maddie twisted out of the way. He still managed to graze her side and she let out a grunt of pain. He shifted his position so he could see his friends more clearly.

Only to watch the Mayor grab hold of Danny and fly him up through the ceiling. Two ectoblasts hit the area just after they disappeared. Wulf followed them through the ceiling and Bart ran off at the same time.

He was distracted enough that Maddie managed to kick him hard on the side. Tim let out a grunt of pain and tried to catch his breath. Before she could land a second attack, Conner was there restraining her.

“Thanks,” said Tim.

“Anytime. Sorry I wasn’t able to help sooner.”

Tim waved the apology off as he grabbed some zip-ties from his utility belt. “We’re both trying to help the people of Amity,” he told Maddie as he retrained her ankles and wrists.

“If you’re working with the ghosts, you’re only going to hurt them.”

Conner didn’t try to hold back his snort. “If you could see past your own prejudices, you’d see how fucking wrong you are. Especially about Phantom.”

“Superboy, take this”—Tim handed over a thermos—“go see if you can help Phantom. Wondergirl and I will make sure no one else’s hiding down here.”

They had barely started their search when Danny sunk back down into the basement with Bart and Conner in tow. Wulf followed them.

The sight of them had Maddie cursing up a storm again and Phantom sighed. “Ma’am, everyone is fine. I made sure of it. Here, I’ll take you upstairs where Da— uh, Jack is and you’ll see.”

“Phantom,” started Tim, but he had no idea what else to say. He just knew he didn’t want Danny anywhere near his parents while in his ghost form.

But Danny waved him off, picked up his mom, and flew them up through the ceiling again. Less than a minute later, he was back down.

“You know, she’d ground me for using even half of those words,” he said with a smile. No one laughed and Danny sighed. “So today was a disaster.”

“What did Walker do?” asked Tim.

Danny buried his face in his hands and groaned.

Bart ended up being the one to explain. “He held Danny to him and pretended Danny was kidnapping him in front of all the people outside City Hall.”

Tim closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “Shit,” he breathed out. “Disaster is right.”

Danny let out a slightly hysterical laugh. “At least Paulina now thinks I’m a good guy.”

“She does?” asked Conner. “She ran from Rob and I.”

Danny squared his shoulders and imitated slicking his hair back. “Guess it’s just my natural charisma.”

Tim laughed, but it was short lived. “I seem to have made things worse for you.”

Danny bumped their shoulders. “And I don’t doubt it would’ve been just as bad, if not worse, without you. Thanks for trying.”

“We shouldn’t linger here,” said Bart. “What if Maddie comes back?”

Danny sighed and pulled out his phone. “My sister will be looking for me, I’m sure. Let’s reconvene at the park in, like, an hour?”

“We’ll bring food!” offered Bart.

Tim pulled Danny into a hug. “See you then. We’ll figure this out.”

Danny just sighed. “I hope so.”

-----

Next

And that's the end of the action! Hope you enjoyed. Once this arc is finished, I'll probably take a hiatus to get this fixed up, Arc 1 of Ghost!Robin fixed up, and the Bad Reveal AU finished. I want all of those finished and up on AO3 before Christmas if I can manage it.

I no longer do tag lists for this fic, but please check out the Subscription Post if you want to be notified of updates.

[okminer07]

Mice Among Beasts Pt 1

A Baldur's Gate fanfiction.

The dungeon-like space smelled awful, like death, rot, and goblins. It was impossible to see where they were going, what with the cage constantly rocking back and forth with each step the goblin took, clearly taking pleasure in jostling them around.  

A look of shock was still painted across Willow’s face, her brain struggling to keep up. How had she been so stupid?! Trying to steal food from that camp, and without any sort of plan? Had she even taken the time to scope the place out? No! She had simply seen the food and gone for it. Now, she was facing the grim reality that they themselves might become food. Did goblins eat her people? It seemed like a very real possibility, seeing what had been on- 

She jumped when a loud, high-pitched wail filled the air, the source being right next to her. Belle had been sniffling and whimpering from the moment they had been captured, but now she was screaming.   

The goblin above them groaned. He gave the cage a good shake, sending the two tiny humanoids falling from one side to the other, “Shut up!” 

Belle only cried louder. Holding her aching head, Willow stumbled over to her. She wrapped her arms tightly around her sister's frail body and pulled her into her lap. Cooing at her and petting her golden hair very slowly quieted the girl down, being content to cry into Willow’s shirt.   

The two were both trembling, but Willow tried to mask it by slowly rocking the sobbing mess in her arms. The corners of her own eyes burned, but she gritted her teeth and tried to remain composed. It wouldn’t help anyone if both of them began to crumble. Then again, could anything help them now?  

She turned her head to glare at the underside of their captor's chin, “What do you want?” she hissed.  

The two shrunk away as the cage was brought up to the goblin’s eye level. He smirked, “Entertainment.” 

He lowered the cage back down to his side, pushing open a large double door with a guttural grunt. Willow peered through the bars, vaguely able to make out the room they had entered. There were two rooms on either side of them, but the goblin walked past them and down a short set of stone steps. All sorts of crates and wooden boards peppered the room's perimeter, but what caught her eye were the two large cells across the room, one on the left, and one on the right.   

The goblin turned right, going down another short flight of stairs. Willow’s eyes widened, seeing ahead of them a small group of even more goblins. Three looked to be young ones, all of which were cackling with laughter. A guard of sorts seemed to be supervising them, a look of content amusement on her face.  

“Listen! Did you hear it squeal?” one of the young ones laughed, pointing into the cell before them.  

“Make it do it again!”  

One of the goblins bent down and when they straightened, had a large rock in their grasp. They promptly threw it into the cell. A deep yet pained whimper came from behind the bars, pitiful and animalistic. Willow tensed at the sound, goosebumps beginning to pop up along her arms. What sort of animal did they have in there? Anything larger than a rabbit would have been enough to send her running.   

The group burst into laughter, “Hand me another one!” 

Willow flinched as their captor cleared his throat. The oldest of the group turned, her face lighting up with a similar sinister smirk.  

“Hey, Crusher! Come to join the fun?” 

“Actually, I plan to add to it.”  He raised the cage and gave it another harsh shake, exciting a shriek out of Belle, “Lookie what I got ‘ere.” 

The whole group descended upon them. All the kids hurried forward, pushing and shoving one another to get to the front and peer inside the birdcage. Willow’s arms tightened around her sister as the pairs of eyes on those hideous faces slowly settled upon the two of them.  

“Woah!” exclaimed one child, “What are those?”   

The goblin next to him gave him a shove, “They’re clearly some kind of fey, idiot.” 

“What kind though?”  

“Well… uh…” the smartass peered through the bars once more, “Uh… I’m not sure. Are they pixies?”  

The eldest pushed them aside, leaning her ugly face down to scrutinize the girls, “No… no, pixies got wings, and these nibblets seem smaller. At least from what I’ve seen.” she gave the cage a small shove, causing Belle to cry out once more, her bony fingers clawing into her sister. 

“Hah! They make even funnier noises!” Willow flinched at the volume of the child’s voice, wishing her hands were free so she could cover them, “Make ‘em do it again!”  

“Oh oh! Let me see!” the smartass lept forward, his massive pudgy hands groping for the cage.  

Their captor- Crusher he seemed to be called, held them higher up, chuckling, “Now now, you’ll all get plenty of time to hear them make their noises.” he shot the two a grin before turning to the other adult, “Notice you haven’t fed that furball to the worgs yet.”  

“Nah, I’ve been having too much fun with ‘em.” she peered over her shoulder, “But if we ever run out of fresh meat-” 

Crusher held up his hand, silencing her and turning to the kids, “How would you guys like to see a real show?”   

Those greenish-yellow faces lit up, “Yeah!” 

“You wanna see a real show?” 

“Yeah!”  

“Alright then.” he smirked from the cage to the cell, “This will be fun.”  

The cage started to sway once more as Crusher pushed past the kids, approaching the cell. Willow, her sister still in her arms, began to back towards the opposite side of the cage. 

They were suddenly lifted higher, being held right against the bars. Her heart hammered against her ribs as if trying to escape itself. She didn’t want to look, didn’t want to know, but her eyes betrayed her as they peered down into the cell.  

She gasped. Through the bars, standing in the very center, was a bear. An absolutely massive brown bear.  

Belle screamed, trying to backpedal further away to no avail. The goblins burst into fits of laughter, “What? You don’t like ‘em?” The cage was spun so now their backs were right up against the cell. Willow held her sister’s head against her chest as she whimpered. 

Chancing a glance over her shoulder, Willow saw that the bear’s eyes were fixed upon the cage. When Belle let out another whimper, its ears perked up at the sound.  

“D'aww look, I think he wants to be friends” teased Crusher, receiving more laughs in response.  

A shiver ran down her spine as the bear released a low, long drawn-out growl. Oh gods. 

“You wanna go in and say hello?” 

Belle shrieked, frantically shaking her head as if it would do anything.  

“Is that a yes?”  

“No!” she screamed. 

“Well, if you say so.”  

They began to be lowered, the cage nearly being touched down to the ground before the floor suddenly began to tilt. Willow hurriedly pulled her and her sister up the growing incline and wrapped her legs around the cage bars. Her sister screamed, clawing her way up her body and desperately trying to also grab onto something as their world continued to turn.  

Her arms began to burn as they became vertical, but she didn’t dare let them loosen their grip around Belle, not even for a moment. A large clawed hand came around and pried open the cage door.

“Come on now, “ Crusher gave the cage a good shake. Willow winced, straining to keep the two of them up, “Don’t want to keep ‘em waiting do ya?” His eyes zeroed in on what was keeping them from falling. Those clawed fingers crept towards her, nails slipping beneath her legs. A mere flick of the finger, and they were falling, falling into a death trap.  

She spun around in the air, putting herself between Belle and the approaching stone floor. An airless gasp escaped her as she collided with the ground. She coughed and wheezed, wincing at the throbbing pain now blooming across her whole back. 

Belle began to shake her and tug at her shirt collar. Willow pushed her away, forcing herself up. She froze as another low growl filled her ears. Grabbing hold of her sister, she looked up and wanted to scream. The bear’s eyes were fixed upon them. Even from afar, it towered over them, a huge mass of fur that could swallow them whole.  

Whipping her head around, her eyes landed upon the cell’s bars. The space between them was big enough for them to slip through. She ran for it, dragging her sister behind her. Almost as soon as she had started towards it, the goblins took notice. All of them crouched down in front of the cell to block her path, laughing at her pitiful attempt at escape.   

She spun around, heading in the opposite direction. Heart pounding in her ears, she began scouring the stone walls for cracks, holes, anything. The ground beneath them quivered and Willow looked over to see the bear taking a step towards them, head lowered and shoulders up.  

It stalked towards them, throwing her off balance with every step. She frantically continued to search the walls, running along the perimeter of the cell. When she reached a corner, she stopped, out of breath. She turned and froze. The bear was close now, its shadow beginning to cover the two of them. They couldn’t run now, they were cornered.  

Belle began to whimper. Willow stepped in front of her and began to back away. She only made it a few steps before they were pressed against the wall. Looking up in horror, she watched as the bear's head began to encapsulate her entire vision. The air around them stunk of its rancid breath. Its eyes were piercing, the gaze as sharp as its protruding fangs. This was it, they were dead. 

Willow’s arms came up to shield her and her sobbing sister. She braced herself as the beast closed in, opening its gaping maw. It descended upon them and she snapped her eyes shut, praying it would be a quick death for the both of them.  

Nothing. Nothing happened. She didn’t feel anything. Not the feeling of teeth tearing them to shreds like she had expected. Not the feeling of being doused in drool, not anything. However, she did hear something, the snapping of the bear’s jaws. 

Willow cracked open her eyes, freezing. The bear was mere inches away, its warm breath blowing back her silvery hair. It was still staring at them. It remained motionless.  

Suddenly, its massive form began to shift as it turned away from them. It began to make a noise that sounded like chewing. Willow hurriedly checked behind her, worried that it had somehow gotten a hold of Belle before her. But no, her sister was still huddled up behind her, looking up in terrified confusion. 

The bear continued to chew, at least that’s what it sounded like. She wracked her brain for an explanation of what else it could be but came up short.  

“Aw man, where’s all the blood?” rang out the familiar voice of one of the goblin children.   

Another voice sighed, “I guess if we wanted a real show, we should have thrown in something bigger, or maybe something that would have at least put up more of a fight. Ah well.”  

Willow’s eyes widened. Did they think that they had been- she looked up, seeing that the bear’s form was completely blocking them from the view of the goblins.   

“I guess we should get you lot back to work.” 

The young goblins all began to protest, “Aw come on! Can’t we throw more rocks at it or-”  

“Do you want to keep our True Soul waiting?” growled Crusher. 

True soul? 

“N-no. N-not at-” 

“Then get to it!” he barked, and Willow felt and heard the multiple pairs of feet hurry away, “Oh, and Butch wanted to see you, something ‘bout his worg. Won’t stop whining over it.”  

“Ugh, fine. Take me to him, will yah?” 

Another rumble of footsteps and the goblin’s grumbling murmurs slowly grew distant. With the slam of a door, the room fell silent.  

Hope you enjoy! and let me know if you want to hear more!