#like if every dog can go “am ball” and be on fire without burning

[diaryofamadsunwukongfan]

Guys, how would you make this canon

[hughiecampbelle]

Malignant (Homelander Oneshot)

((TAKES PLACE IN S4E4))

Character/s: Homelander

Word Count: 1,468

Warning/s: gore, sort of all the basic warnings The Boys typically has

Requested: Hii! I’ve just found your blog, read some of your works and loveee them! Especially The Boys Preferences and imagines! May I request a platonic Homelander x reader with the prompts: Fury, Shooting Stars, “Get away from me” ? Thank youuu! - anon

A/N: Y'all when I tell you you're not ready!!! When I say I love this I mean I cannot stop smiling!!! I am Victor Frankenstein and this is my monster lol. Thank you for requesting my love! I hope you like it!!! Feedback is always appreciated!!! 💜💜💜

Requests are open! 🔮

Get away from me. The words come out as a whimper, barely above a whisper. His features contort: insecurity, rage, struck dumb by your reaction. Despite himself, he smiles, trying make sense of it all. This is what we’ve always wanted. They deserved it, all of them. Why can’t- why can’t you see that? He takes a step closer and you react by moving further back, through the doorway. Your shoe makes a squeaking sound. Beneath the sole something squelches, wet and gummy. You don’t have to look down to know what you’ve stepped in. It’s splattered across the walls and ceiling. The entire room painted red. Faceless, headless, limbless bodies dropped across the floor. You’ve stepped on someones intestines, their insides strewn across the floor like shooting stars. Here and there are articles of clothing, a shoe without their twin, a name tag or Vought issued ID. You don’t recognize them. Many of them new hires. They weren’t around all those years ago. They took no part in what happened to you, to either of you. Bile rises in your throat. It’s the smell that’s the worst. Metallic. You can taste the iron on your tongue. Not just that, though. The heater was still on. Though the body was ash, the stench of burned skin and hair lingers. It’s thick, and hot, and disgusting. The warmth radiates off it, seeping into the rest of the lab. It leaves you fighting your nausea, your hatred, the two churning in your stomach. Why, why are you mad at me? He’s drenched in their blood. It’s dried across his face, his suit and in his hair. How long has he been with the bodies? You killed them, John. You killed them all. 

Despite what the media portrayed, your childhood wasn’t baseball games and apple pies. There was no mother to rock you to sleep or father telling you you were a great kid. There were no little sisters to play with or teasing from big brothers. No white pickett fence or a sweet, yet obedient, dog running around. There was sterility. There were test tubes, and locked rooms, and tests. There were knives, and guns, and fire. You and him, you were invincible. They wanted to test that. They wanted to see just how far you could be pushed before you broke. Your skin was impenetrable, but that didn’t mean it didn’t burn every time they shoved you into that chamber. You’d pound your fists against the door, begging and screaming, every inch of you engulfed in flames. Sometimes it still felt like you were burning. In dreams, maybe when the weather was warm. You were just a little kid. You thought (feared) this time would be the last time. This is how you would die. Your tears evaporated before they could fall. You’d call out for them, for the pseudo father figures. When that wasn’t enough, when they refused to move from their charts and lazy game of paper ball, you’d cry for John. Your companion, your brother, your friend. He’d be enclosed in his own hell. Eventually you learned to be quiet. Eventually you learned you would survive. No one was coming to save you. No one was going to stop this. You’d watch, day in and day out, first your skin, your muscles, until the fire kissed your bones. You’d come to hours, days later, completely healed. Not a single scar carved into your flesh. No evidence except your memories. 

If you were good, if you were well behaved, you might be rewarded. Taught a new game or trick. Tic-tac-toe had been an exciting discovery at the time. You’d liked playing O’s. John liked X’s. Hangman was another. Always with a dull pencil, just in case. You’d be sniffling, hiccupping, leftover from the sobbing, when they’d sit you on the lab table and ask you to guess a letter. They weren’t the kinds of words children should have heard, but how could you have known? Psychopath. Indestructible. Malignant. You didn’t know the meanings or, for a long time, how to spell them, but you heard them a lot. They were household names. If they were feeling generous, kind, they might give you more chances: add a face, a hat, a bowtie. Through tears you’d laugh at the ridiculousness, pointing out that the hanged man could not possibly be as accessorized as they were making him to be. You never liked when the game was over. Win or lose, it always meant the same thing. One man, much older than everyone else, would lift you up and carry you back to your cell as if you were his own. You’d cling to him, his shirt, clutching tight with your chubby, dimpled hands, watching over his shoulder as someone else would discard the pieces of paper, throwing them away. You wanted to keep them, have them to laugh at the silly stick figure when it was dark and you were all alone, but you wouldn’t dare ask. If not the man, then a young woman who’d lead you back, hand in hand, full of promises you both knew she would not keep. Talk of real games, with boards and pieces and cards. But when the time came again, when you did as you were told, all you were allotted was a piece of paper and pencil. 

Her body was the first you recognized. Faceless yes, but you knew her as well as you knew yourself. Barbara. She was like a mother to you. Albeit, a terrible one. A cold, uncaring, aseptic woman who studied you, who created you, made you the person you are today. Wasn’t that all mothers? She’d hush your cries, ask why you were so upset. You didn’t have the words, the vocabulary, and so she’d grow tired. Bored. When you could articulate yourself better, then you would be worthy of her time. Truthfully, you weren’t all that sad she was dead. She must’ve known what was going on. She must’ve seen or heard something. At night, when they came into your room. When they made you promise to keep it secret. Couldn’t she tell? Couldn’t any of them? Armies of psychologists couldn’t get the truth out of you, not that they were trying to. Their alliances rest elsewhere. Fear of abandonment had been ingrained into you. You’d cry even harder, begging her not to leave, not to go. She’d pretend she had no other choice, that it was your fault. You were a crybaby. A sissy. An imbecile. If you could not pull yourself together and act like an adult, she would have no choice but to get up. Beneath the hurt was a fury, a burning, but they had you trained well. Instead you screamed, begged, throwing yourself to the floor, into walls, harming yourself for an ounce of her attention. Affection. Circles of red stained the walls where your head had been bashed. Your clothes ripped and torn. Your tantrums were spectacular. Fantastical. Eventually you’d grow tired, exhausted. Bloody, you’d sit very still and breathe and wait for her to come back. Then, and only then, would she grace you with her presence.

You hoped the bitch suffered. 

Marty rests limp, his face crushed in, a hole lasered through his groin. You knew the story, the nickname. He tried to get you to call John that peculiar name, too. Try to get you in on the joke. You never did. He had names for you, too. Just as vulgar and perverted. No one ever stopped him. No one ever said it was inappropriate. You guessed when you were being gutted, sliced from collarbones to pelvis, turned into a living autopsy, harassment wasn’t such a big deal. You stepped over his body without a second though. Footsteps to follow from his skull (what was left of it) to where John stood. This is very bad. You find your voice again, inspecting the lab around you. The cake sits melted in it’s pink box. The lights flicker. There is an unsettling silence. But I, I did it for you. His eyes are wide, his pupils dilated. His grin is hysterical. John, you start, but the rest of your sentence clatters to the floor. He watches you, desperate for your approval, your appreciation. They did terrible things to you. They let terrible things happen to you, unspeakable things. Why should you be upset? Why should you mourn them? Why should their gruesome deaths fill you with anything but satisfaction? They deserved it. They were asking for it. You slide away the mans large intestine, wiping the blood from your shoe.  Thank you, you say finally, placing your hands on his shoulders, squeezing them. He breathes out a sigh of relief. Thank you, it means a lot.

[mab1905]

GOOD OMENS SPOILERS AHEAD !!!!!

I made another playlist ehehe

Crowley's Breakup Mix

I made a list of all the songs and the most important lyrics:

Denial

“It’s A Hard Life” – Queen I don't want my freedom / There's no reason for living with a broken heart / It's a hard life / To be true lovers together / To love and live forever in each others hearts / It's a long hard fight / To learn to care for each other “Cool About It” – Boygenius  But we don't have to talk about it / I can walk you home and practice method acting / I'll pretend being with you doesn't feel like drowning / Telling you it's nice to see how good you're doing / Even though we know it isn't true “Moon Song” – Phoebe Bridgers You are sick, and you're married / And you might be dying / But you're holding me like water in your hands / When you saw the dead little bird, you started crying / But you know the killer doesn't understand “I Want Someone Badly” – Jeff Buckley  Now I want someone badly / To burn in here with me / Better listen baby / 'Cause I cry all over madly / Don't do anything to it with me / Ooh I wanna know / Am I sure that I have your love / I want know / If you're leaving just make sure it's right

Anger

“Too Much Love Will Kill You” – Queen I'm just the pieces of the man I used to be / Too many bitter tears are raining down on me / I'm far away from home and I've been facing this alone / For much too long / Torn between the lover and the love you leave behind / You're headed for disaster, 'cause you never read the signs / Too much love will kill you every time “Drink” – Destroy Boys Heavens send someone down / I'm about to turn this confession to a smoke cloud / Who put me here it's hard to say / Nails bleed as I claw out of the grave / She understands me like you did / She really loves me / I'm a saint living in sin / She really loathes me / She really loves me “Vampire Empire” – Big Thief I see you there rejecting all your earthly power / Protecting and dissecting 'til you've emptied every hour / I wanted to be your woman, I wanted to be your man / I wanted to be the one that you could understand / I walked into your dagger for the last time in a row / It's like trying to start a fire with matches in the snow / Well, you can't seem to hold me here, you can't seem to let me go / You wanna be with me, you wanna be with him “Letter To An Old Poet” – Boygenius You think you're a good person / Because you won't punch me in the stomach / And I love you / I don't know why / I just do / You don't know me / I wanna be happy / I'm ready / To walk into my room without looking for you / I'll go up to the top of our building / And remember my dog when I see the full moon / I can't feel it yet / But I am waiting “Salt In The Wound” – Boygenius You put salt in the wound / And a kiss on my cheek / You butter me up / And you sit down to eat / You add insult to injury / You say you believe in me / But you haven't decided / About taking or leaving me / Neck full of mockingbirds / All calling your name / I tried to sing it all back / Like I heard it, it don't sound the same / I'm gnashing my teeth / Like a child of Cain “Francesca” – Hozier Do you think I'd give up / That this might've shook the love from me / Or that I was on the brink / How could you think darling I'd scare so easily? / Now that it's done / There's not one thing that I would change / My life was a storm / Since I was born / How could I fear any hurricane? / If someone asked me at the end / I'll tell them put me back in it / Darling, I would do it again

Bargaining

“Lover, You Should've Come Over” – Jeff Buckley Broken down and hungry for your love with no way to feed it / Where are you tonight, child you know how much I need it / Too young to hold on and too old to just break free and run / So I'll wait for you and I'll burn / Will I ever see your sweet return / Oh will I ever learn / Oh lover, you should've come over / 'Cause it's not too late “Dreamers Ball” – Queen Oh, take me, take me, take me / To the dreamer's ball / I'll be right on time and I'll dress so fine / You're gonna love me when you see me / I won't have to worry / You make my life worthwhile / With the slightest smile / Or destroy me with a barely perceptible whisper / Gently take me remember I'll be dreaming of my baby “Shrike” – Hozier I couldn't utter my love when it counted / Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now / And I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted / I had no idea on what ground I was founded / All of that goodness is going with you now / Then when I met you, my virtues uncounted “Silver Springs” – Fleetwood Mac Time cast its spell on you, but you won't forget me / I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me / I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you / You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loved you

Depression

“From Eden” – Hozier Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago / Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword / Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know / I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door “Your Best American Girl” – Mitski You're the sun, you've never seen the night / But you hear its song from the morning birds / Well, I'm not the moon, I'm not even a star / But awake at night I'll be singing to the birds “How I get Myself Killed” – Indigo De Souza Did you say anything on the night of my first hit / On the night of my first kiss / On the night of my first runaway / Something must be up, I have never felt so dumb / I have never gone so numb / I have never been so late before / This is probably how I get myself killed “Me And My Dog” – Boygenius I wanna be emaciated / I wanna hear one song without thinking of you / I wish I was on a spaceship / Just me and my dog and an impossible view / I dream about it / And I wake up falling “Lilac Wine” – Nina Simone When I think more than I want to think / Do things I never should do / I drink much more that I ought to drink / Because it brings me back you… / Lilac wine is sweet and heady, like my love / Lilac wine, I feel unsteady, like my love / Listen to me... I cannot see clearly / Isn't that he coming to me nearly here? “Promise” – Laufey I made a promise / To distance myself / Took a flight, through aurora skies / It hurts to be something / It's worse to be nothing with you “Not Strong Enough” – Boygenius I don't know why I am / The way I am / Not strong enough to be your man / I tried, I can't / Stop staring at the ceiling fan and / Spinning out about things that haven't happened / Always an angel, never a god / I don't know why I am the way I am / There's something in the static / I think I've been having revelations / Coming to in the front seat, nearly empty / Skip the exit to our old street and go home

Acceptance

 “Unknown/Nth” – Hozier You know the distance never made a difference to me / I swam a lake of fire, I'd have walked across the floor of any sea / Ignored the vastness between all that can be seen / And all that we believe / So I thought you were like an angel to me “Waiting Room” – Phoebe Bridgers And I can wish all I want, but it won't bring us together / Plus I know whatever happens to me / I know it's for the better / I want to make you drive all night just because I said maybe you should come over / I want to make you fall in love as hard as my poor parents teenage daughter / She'll be the best you ever had if you let her / I know it's for the better… “Night Shift” – Lucy Dacus Am I a masochist, resisting urges to punch you in the teeth, call you a bitch and leave? / Why did I come here? To sit and watch you stare at your feet? / What was the plan? Absolve your guilt and shake hands? / I feel no need to forgive but I might as well / But let me kiss your lips so I know how it felt / Pay for my coffee and leave before the sun goes down / Walk for hours in the dark feeling all hell / Don't hold your breath, forget you ever saw me at my best / You don't deserve what you don't respect / Don't deserve what you say you love and then neglect / Now bite your tongue, it's too dangerous to fall so young / Take back what you said / Can't lose what you never had “I Guess” – Mitski I guess, I guess / I guess this is the end / I'll have to learn / To be somebody else / It's been you and me / Since before I was me / Without you I don't yet know / Quite how to live

[jjungkooksthighs]

Anger flares from his core to the tips of his fingers that she’s pushed away not once, twice, but three times now. It’s like a wildfire in the way it burns through every part of him as it spreads uncontrollably. Even the edges of his vision are singed with it as his irises smolder her with the heat of ten thousand fires as he sets them on her. His voice is darker than the blackest of cinders when he growls. You little slut. I treat you so well, and this is the thanks I get? He sits back on his knees and then reaches behind him for something in the back pocket of his trousers. His expression doesn’t shift. It doesn’t even move a muscle. He doesn’t show how he’s feeling in his face, but she knows by the ashiness of his voice that he’s pissed. Somehow, that unsettles her more than any chagrin or chastisement could. He’d always been very expressive in everything he did. But this? This was new. He sighs in disappointment, and when he pulls his hand out from behind him, that’s when her eyes widen and her body tenses. I didn’t want to have to do this, but you leave me no other choice, you disobedient fucking whore.

She wants to stop.. but she can't. Not when she's this fucking close. She pays almost no heed to his words, but her heart continues racing with every word he utters. What's he speaking about? She can't dwell on it much, though. He growls, his voice dark and heavy. She'd never heard anything like it before. It has her heart pacing against time, almost as if trying to run. Normally, she would have run for it. But, she's much too invested in the pleasure she's giving herself to care. How foolish. Her breaths grow fast and shallow. She can feel her walls pulsing around her own slick-coated fingers. Small whimpers leave her lips, and tears leave the corner of her eyes once more, except this time, it's not out of frustration, but pleasure. Just a little bit more.. just a little bit.. Her body goes slack as her orgasm washes over her, a loud moan leaving her. Relief floods her system, and it has her blood rushing to her face. She has to force a hand over her mouth in the process to muffle her sounds. Her heart drops the next minute though, and it's as if she can feel the impending doom looming over her. Her eyes shoot open, and almost simultaneously, she feels as if her breath is knocked out of her.

Dismay grips the ball of emotion that had been rolling itself up in his chest, and it squeezes hard enough that his own lungs push any and all air out his lips as he draws out the longest, heaviest sigh he’s ever made.

The wind, as if trying to console him, brushes his cheek as his hands clench into fists at his side. It’s not enough. The airy embrace of nature isn’t enough for him.

The evidence of what she’d done reaches his nose gently, as if the wind itself had wanted to coax him. It only makes his fingernails dig into his palms as pain slices through the meat of his flesh.

She’d fucked herself without him. She’d really finished herself while he’d been sitting only feet away.

The sound of his blood pumping drowns the sound of his mate’s sporadic, uneven breaths as his fury flames and smolders him.

Fucking whore, he thinks.

Such a fucking whore.

She’s never going to learn. He sees that now. He should’ve seen it earlier. Perhaps he always had, and he’d just refused to acknowledge the fact.

Years, months, weeks and days he had spent loving her, and this was the way she returned his affection?

His teeth come down on his tongue as he bears holes into the thick tree trunk in the distance wrapped in the familiar silvers he’d had to wrap himself in.

“You know, if you can come that easily without me, what is the need of me you have? Why keep me around if you’re going to treat me like some sort of fucking dog? What am I to you if you cannot ever respect me?”

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Into The Thick of It (1)

Loki x Female Reader

Chapter 1: The Cult

Series Summary: Her work as an agriculturist nearly takes the readers life is not for a stranger (and his weird looking dog) who later turns out to be the God of Mischief. Thrown into a completely different realm, you want to figure out a way home while trying to stay out of the way of this literal God. But fate has its own plans for the two of you.

Written for @tarithenurse and her #Taris1Kchallenge

Warnings: torture, sacrifice, undertones of rape

Word Count: I am on a break. It feels good to just breathe without dreading the rest of the day. Why is work so punishing?

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

One single machine whirrs in this dull laundromat. The light above you flickers at intervals so regular you have already made a beat out of it. The only other sound distracting enough is some old music playing on the radio at the front desk where no one sits at this hour. And that fan that seems to be breathing its last over your head. "Yeah, it's unbelievably quiet here," you mentioned in a soft tone before looking around the empty space. "I guess I'm glad I only had to stop for three days here." "What? Are you not going to explore this place?" your friend, Zaira's voice crackles through the phone. You shrug despite knowing she cannot see you. "I don't know, Zai, this place gives me the creeps for some reason. I am only hanging around here because Prashant wants to revise the reports I sent him of the soil composition before he gives me a green light to leave this place." "Damn! That bad?" "Oh! You have no idea!" You look around once again. The front desk guy has just come back in his old Chevrolet and the clock has struck nine. "Zai," you whisper in the lowest tone possible, watching the man whistle as he gets out of his car without closing the door, "there are no kids in this village-slash-town." He walks to the back to open the trunk of his car, whistling a somewhat familiar tune. "That's...not haunting at all!" Zaira's sarcasm can be heard in her surprised tone. "Well, what's more haunting is the fact that the youngest person here is an eighteen-year-old boy who keeps showing up anywhere I go and keeps staring at me funny." The man shuts the hood with a loud thump and you can see a fresh bundle of store-bought rope, a baseball bat, a bottle of some chemical-probably for cleaning- and a pair of rubber gloves as he starts walking to the entrance. "Allah-" Zaira takes the Lord's name in surprise- "no wonder they have The Sacrifice playing somewhere there." The man sets everything on the front desk, still whistling the same tune, which you now come to realise is the song that is currently playing on the radio. "The...the what?"

"The thing playing in your background," Zaira comments, "it's playing on a two strong instrument with a looping chorus. It's a pagan ritual song that is sung by some orthodox communities that still present a sacrifice to their pagan gods. We learned this in the summer session for cult studies, boo. Oh, wait. You were back home that time. The chorus basically says 'here's your sacrifice, now pay my dues'." Not a word of what Zaira said is heard after the pagan ritual song because suddenly all the materials resting on the front desk are making sense. So is the creak of the back door that opens to let the only teenager of the town in. Your body is frozen in place, your mind has gone blank. One moment you are running for the exit. And the next, you are lying on the floor with the two men hovering over you while the song calling for your sacrifice slowly fades away. . It is the discomfort from the heat that wakes you up. The sweat and stickiness all over your body slowly registers in your brain that alerts of a throbbing ache at the back of your head with a bang. Everything is a blur for a few moments; till the lights morph into fire beacons and the sun transforms into a bonfire, the figures moving around you become humans with faces smeared in blood. Your clammy skin shines in the light of the bonfire, your hair sticking to any part of you. Tears are rolling down the edge of your eyes while your brain is registering this new pain altogether from the gag in your mouth. You try to move your hand to touch your skull where it hurts, but are unable to do so. My hands...I can't move them. Your dizzy brain gives your body the command again but in vain. "She's awake!" a raspy voice pierces through the air.  And within a speck of a second, all the memories start rushing in. Y/N? Hello? Babe, can you hear me? Adrenaline shoots up in your system and your senses are heightened. The smell of kerosene is heavy in the air along with the crippling stench of burning flesh. You have been bound to a pole with your hands behind you, the bonfire in front of you, the forest surrounding you from every corner and the moonless sky on top of you. The faces in the fire are all familiar. The residents of this town, all staring at you while you struggle to get out of the ropes cutting through your skin, stop their movement to pick up the bowls kept in front of them and drink its contents. Your cries are muffled; partly because of the gag and partly because of the sobs that want to escape your throat just like your tears. Your already broken body jumps when the oldest woman in the group starts shouting phrases in a language unknown to you. And just as she begins, everyone around her takes out a dagger and starts moving in your direction. Your heartbeat seems to drop for a moment. They can see the horror in your eyes. But that does not stop their moments. The woman's chants grow heavier as her hand moments grow more vigorous. The youngest of them all skips a step or two to straight away jump on the platform where you are kept on display. He looks around once and turns to you to move your sweat laden hair strands away from your face. His pale fingers are cold, almost icy to the touch. "Don't worry, I'll get you out of here," he whispers close to your ears. Your sobs turn to sniffs to hear his words and look into his eyes. Those grey irises are trying to dig straight into your soul. "Trust me." Your instinct- which has never been wrong in your life- is already moving your leg to bend the knee and get his balls. And you do. Watching him writhe in pain for one long satisfying moment as he curses you from heaven to hell. But he gets back up, with the eyes of a madman ready to kill. You are crying out still, for anyone who will listen, in heaven or hell, as he takes you by your throat. The venom in his hold is enough to take your life. "The only way out-" he says close to your face- "is through, you cunt." One last prayer comes out of you as a whimper before you wait for his dagger to meet you.  In the next heartbeat, everything turns white. . Everything is blinded by a white light. It does seem to be the end. Why did I have to die like this dammit?! A Buzzfeed Unsolved episode?! But something does not sit right.  The white light should be the end, right? Then why can feel something wet under my h- Before you realise you are tumbling down the steepness of the forest. Your body can feel every rock and every pebble on the way down the seemingly endless slope. It seems like a long while when your limbs finally skid on flat rocky terrain, bringing the ringing pain to a halt before it can bounce all over your body a bit louder in the deafening silence. The first thing your senses do is look for any sign of danger around you. The forest is dark. And apparently different than the one you were in before. The trees are taller and with trunks that would not fit in your hugs. You cannot see their ends in the sky from where you lay. Not weird at all. The silence too sends your wounded heart into an anxious stir. Not even the cicadas speak here. Am I...dead? Now that definitely stirs something out there. A twig breaks in the distance. You pause your breath and shush your racing heart. A soft rustle of leaves can be heard somewhere that lets your sweat run cold all over the body. It is hard to breathe through the gag as it is, and you are standing nowhere near a hiding spot, making your basic instincts run wild with any shadow you see in this treacherous night. So all you do is stand as still as a trembling mouse and wait. And that wait isn't long. Call it nature's mysterious ways or just a random event happening at the right time, a cool breeze stirs the air for the first time in this place. From where you stand, the breeze hits your back, tickling those sweat beads on the nape of your neck before letting you smell the odour of blood it carries with it. All the neurons inside you make you turn around and face a familiar figure emerging from the shadows with a dagger in his hand. The basic instincts inside you are already making your body break into a run in the opposite direction. The rush of the flight instinct is overpowering all the injuries and you forget for a second that your hands are still tied behind you as you speed straight ahead. But that devil of a man is fast. He has already closed the distance and his hands are grabbing your hair, pushing you both to the ground. He presses you down with his body, not giving you any room to get up or free your limbs. But he does untie your gag before turning you around and holding your neck in a choke-hold. "Please, please, please..." Nothing else is coming out of you at this point; except for hot tears streaming down the side of your face.  "Well," the bastard sighs, pressing down his pelvis on your abdomen while having the audacity to smirk when looking down at you, "we had to sacrifice a virgin. But surely it's going to work the same if I put that mouth to work." The dread of his words does not set in till his free hand reaches for the button on his pants to undo it. The more you try to push away from him, the tighter he grips your throat. Oh, Gods! Just let me die instead. He is halfway undoing his zipper when a sound cracks through the air. It almost sounds like a very quiet motor either just starting or just stopping. And the closer it gets, it starts taking the shape of a growl coming from the throat of an animal. The man is distracted now; looking for the source of the sound. Loosening his grip a bit, he turns around to let his vision get as far in the dark as it could to look for anything out of the ordinary. And while he is busy, it is you who notices its presence and choose not to make a sound. The man turns around to look right into red eyes gleaming at him from a distance of three inches, sending him jumping up and crawling back on the ground as far away from you as possible. Huge white canines visible even in this darkness are on display as this four-legged creature growls in your captor's direction. A twisted horn rests majestically on each side of its head. Paws as huge as a lion's, but claws twice as big and dark as the night are resting on either side of your shoulder. The fur seems dark and dense except for where pointed bones are protruding out on its back. The growl revving in this creature's throat is enough for the predator to crawl back further with his heart stuck in his throat. And before he can figure out what demonic hell this creature had walked out from, he comes to discover another wave of fear when he sees a shadow behind it in between two trees. That shadow seems human. Human enough at the very least until he thought he was hallucinating that figure with gleaming green eyes. "Wh-who's there?!" the man's voice starts in a scream ends up in a squeak. "Get that ugly dog away from here!" The 'ugly dog' shifts from your side to take a few steps towards the bastard, metaphorically pinning him in between the roots of the trees he was sweating in. "Hey!" he shouted again at the shadow, "can't you hear me?!" You sit up, watching the creature slowly ready itself for attack mode. Turning around, you too are able to see a figure. It looks tall and is evidently clad in something heavy. Is that a sword in his hand? But that sword is not as concerning as those illuminated green pupils. "You son of a bitch! Get the fuck out of here before I stab you and your filthy farm ani-" "Rífa hann í sundur," is all you hear in a low hum from that figure's end one second. The next, there are growls and blood-curdling screams emerging from behind you; haunting enough to make you jump and curl up where you sit but never move your eyes away from that shadow that still stands as still as a rock. Tears still fall from your eyes; your legs pulled as close to your chest as possible. The screams continue to come out for a long time...long enough for you to notice a snowflake fall on your knee. More snowflakes come after the first one. And once the screams die down, you feel something brush your hands, almost making your heart fall out, only to realise that creature standing right behind you nudging at your ropes to gnaw your hands out of them. The adrenaline rush has diluted now. The pain and exhaustion that comes with it now lie heavy in your bones. Your eyes cannot take it anymore. But they still want to see that figure which now takes the liberty to walk out of the shadows underneath the clear light of the nearest moon. Your body is ready to fall but the creature provides some support to your lifeless limbs. Its fur feels so good on your cheeks. And that pale face coming to a stop in front of you feels almost angelic. Those green eyes are looking at you with both concern and judgment but what your brain registers first is the moonlight falling on those otherworldly cheekbones framed with clean braids. You want to keep looking at that face for a few more minutes. But there is only so much your wounded body can take before everything is a blur. . You have already hit deep slumber when the God comes to stand before you. He gets down on his knees to get a close look at your face buried in the hound's face.  "What do you think she's doing here, Agni?" Agni huffs and shifts enough to let the God have a better look at the face marred with wounds and bruises. A face that still looks so serene after putting up such a fight. The long pale fingers move those few strands of hair away that are blocking your features under the light of the moons. Calculations have already been done in that mind. What's left is to figure out whether to leave you here in the depth of the endless garden or... "Agni-" that voice commands with zero emotions, still studying your features- "call out for help. We are taking this one back to the camp."

[icefire149]

For the writing prompt: 9) When baking chocolate chip cookies / destiel (because we all need more cute fic in our life)

Hi Amirah! This one kept me going yesterday and today while I needed a break from work so thank you <3 I hope you enjoy it!

#9 When baking chocolate chip cookies – Dean/Castiel

If Dean hadn’t already known that angels couldn’t sleep, he probably would have thought that Cas was deep asleep next to him. For a minute he watched the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, and the slight fluttering of his eyelashes. Normally, this wasn’t something he’d allow himself for more than a heartbeat, but it had been a few days since him and Sam saved Cas from Rowena’s attack dog spell.

Since they came home, Dean had barely been able to get his four hours of sleep. Every time he tried, he woke up in a cold sweat remembering the sweat and the blood smeared on Cas’ face. A part of him still wasn’t completely convinced that Cas wasn’t going to drop dead on him the second he let himself relax.

“Dean,” Cas breathed out. “I can feel your eyes. You’re staring.”

Since mid-morning, Dean set Cas up in his room for a movie day. They both sat with their backs to the headboard, but Dean made sure Cas’ back and head was supported with pillows he didn’t steal from around the bunker. Cas tilted his head up to look at Dean.

“What, am I not allowed to look now?”

“When I’m feeling better, yes.”

The corner of Dean’s mouth hooked into a crooked grin. “That kinda defeats the purpose, Cas. I gotta keep an eye on ya to make sure that you’re not getting sicker.”

“I’m not getting sicker, you know that.” He tried to readjust his head and back, but the pillows weren’t laying right. Cas scowled. “Rowena removed the spell. I’ll heal in time. I can’t go backwards. Nothing to worry about.”

Dean shoved the laptop further up the bed and pushed forward. He manhandled Cas and the pillows until the angel was comfortable again. Cas glared the entire time. When he was finished, Dean started the movie up again, putting himself and the laptop back into position.

After a pause, Dean spoke. “I’m always gonna worry.”

“You shouldn’t,” Cas said much quieter than before.

“Too bad. I’d be a sucky friend if I didn’t.” Dean lightly elbowed him. “Just deal with it.”

“Okay, Dean.”

-

Dean’s eyes opened a crack. He wasn’t sure when he had slipped and fallen asleep. Yawning, it was probably the best sleep he’d had in months. His content feeling faded the moment his memory caught up and he realized that he was alone.

Putting his feet to the floor, Dean felt twitchy. Not that he expected Cas to stick around, but…..he felt the angel’s absence like a hollow in his chest. He opened his bedroom door and a whiff of smoke tickled his nose.

“No. No. No no no.” Dean hurried down the hallway and into the kitchen. His eyes watered from the thick smoke in the room.

Cas quickly spun on his heels and let out a small squeak. “I...I, um.”

“What did you do?” Dean crossed the room and turned off the oven. All the smoke was from whatever mess was burning inside.

The angel’s eyebrows pressed together. His grip on the throw blanket that he had wrapped around his shoulder’s tightened. “I was trying to cook.”

“Yeah, Cas. I can see that. Congrats you made charcoal.”

Rolling his eyes, Cas pushed past him and swiftly exited the room.

Dean watched him go, and immediately regretted his words. With a deep sigh, he got busy figuring out how to fix the mess Cas made. When he got the tray out of the oven, the burned mess was completely unrecognizable. He disposed of it and started cleaning the mountain of dishes that were left in the sink.

After a while Sam wandered in wearing a confused look. “Was there a fire while I was out?”

“Apparently,” Dean shrugged, putting another dish on the drying rack.

“Oh, did Cas burn the cookies?”

“The what?” Dean dropped the spoon in his hand and turned around.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “The cookies, you know. They’re a snack people tend to enjoy.”

“Don’t be a smart ass.”

Sam sighed. “I supervised him before I went on my run. He was making cookies.”

“There is no way that’s what he put in the oven.” Dean dried his hands. “I pulled a burned brick out of the oven.”

“Oh, come on. It couldn’t have been that bad.”

Dean pointed at the trash can, and Sam crossed the room to take a peek. He cringed. “Okay,” Sam said. “I’ll hold his hand from start to finish next time.”

“Why was Cas making cookies in the first place? He doesn’t eat.”

“Dude, it’s not rocket science. He was making them for you.”

“What?”

“As a thank you, because you’ve been taking care of him.” Exasperated, Sam shook his head and left the kitchen. He didn’t have an ounce of energy left to walk Dean through his new crisis.

-

It was a while later when Dean found where Cas had hidden himself. He was bundled up in a ball of blankets in the corner of the library. There were a few booked scattered at his side on the floor, but he sat there with his eyes closed in that moment. His forehead was shiny with sweat, but Dean decided not to call attention to it. He instead placed a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies on the angel’s lap.

Startled, Cas jumped an inch. “What are you doing?”

Dean’s knee cracked, but he still climbed onto the floor to join Cas. “I brought you a snack.”

“While appreciated, I don’t need a snack.” Cas’ lip twitched as he glanced down at the plate.

“Fine,” Dean exhaled. “You got me, I need help then finishing this.”

The corner of Cas’ mouth curved up this time. “I think you’re more than capable of eating this many without my assistance.”

Dean plucked a cookie from the top of the pile, and took a bite. Cas didn’t take his eyes off of him for a moment.

“You’re missing out,” Dean winked. “More of the secret ingredient for myself then.”

Cas raised a curious eyebrow at Dean before dropping his gaze to the cookies. “What is it?”

“Wouldn’t be much of a secret then, Cas. It’s something you gotta taste for yourself.”

He took a bite, and Cas’ entire face pinched like he was trying to sort and identify every molecule in his mouth.

Dean smiled, watching the angel attempting to puzzle out the answer. I love him, the thought blossomed in his mind like it was the most natural thing. His heart immediately felt like it was on the edge of swan diving out of his chest.

He was almost dizzy, but somehow he didn’t mind so much. A tiny part of him hoped that Cas actually could taste it.

Ask me more writing prompts (I’m using these as warm ups so send a number and a ship)

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Love you too.

A/N: This was initially supposed to be smut but my brain went hay wire and ended in angst. More Mayans coming next week! 

MASTERLIST

Also, if I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or want to be tagged; please let know!

Word Count: 2210

Ezekiel Reyes x Reader

Warnings: language, angst, Ez being an asshole, heartbreak, more angst 

*****************************************

Ezekiel couldn’t resist ogling Y/N from across the overly crowded bar. Cigar smoke filtrated throughout, pool cues ricocheted, and Y/N dawned that brilliant smile of hers. Her candied glimpse combined with her impeccably short dress, and irrevocably sexiness drove Ez to the brink of combustion. Ez perched an elbow against the wood bar top watching Y/N’s hypnotizing demeanor. She shot him a playful glance unwilling to draw her attention elsewhere than from the beautiful man across the room.

Her voice oozed of alcoholic flirtation as she bit her lower lip catching his interest and walking his way.

“Come here often, hotshot?”

There was no denying the sly chuckle that slipped off his lips; “Smooth line. How often does that one actually work?”

Her kittenish nature only stoked his fire lighting a fire in his belly.  

“Well…my boyfriend usually falls for it but he’s kinda into that cutesy bullshit. Come to think of it, you might know him. Tall, dark, and handsome? Ring any bells?”

Her insinuated attitude was driving him crazy. Unbeknownst to Y/N, his cock stirred in the confines of his jeans. She wanted to force his hand, compel to his more dominant side. His blood seethed as his eardrums hummed of desolate waves. Ez bit his tongue to stop the trickle of words begging to slink from his lips.

“Sounds like a sucker. Didn’t think a pretty chica like you to be taken? Such a shame.”

Y/N’s raised an eyebrow in curiosity wondering how much longer she could push him before he turned into putty.

“Now, now. I don’t appreciate you talking shit about my man. It’d be best if you watch yourself.”

Y/N excelled when a challenge presented itself.  Defiance buried in her very pitch as she scooted closer to the man in question. Now elbow to elbow, Y/N rested her cheek against her knuckles coyishly.

“Baby, if you keep smiling like that, my panties will be drenched before we have the chance to do a damn thing about it.”

Leaning closer in;” Please don’t fuck it up.”

“Oh, so you’re admitting I turn you on…make you wet?” There was no hiding the devilish grin cemented on his perfect face.

Her face furiously flushed at his choice words; “Most definitely, E. In all honesty, I’m not wearing underwear because matter of fact just looking at that gorgeous jawline of yours is way too much for my ovaries to handle.”

His tongue met the roof of his mouth creating a tsk sound reverberating from his mouth. Y/N rubbed her thighs together in hopes of alleviating her eccentric inner bits. Y/N pushed her falling tendrils from her face tilting her head his direction. Her hand made quick work caressing her inner breasts as Ez watched her chest beat rapidly.

“Mmmhm, and this girl is hoping her boyfriend just might be able to sneak away from his boys for a minute to properly fuck his girl. But I’d hate to force your hand….”

“I hope you know the punishment that ensues for this behavior baby girl…”

“Oh, so you admit you’ll punish me? God, I’ve been dying for you to fuck me all night. Finally, you got the hint, Prospect.”

Ezekiel chucked at her cleverness. He’d long fallen for the woman before him, but he appreciated the constant challenge she reciprocated time and time again.

“What are you trying to hint at, Y/N?”

“You know exactly what I want and you’re playing coy if you don’t.”

Y/N rested her hand atop his shoulder as his hand perched upon the dip of her luscious hip. Leaning in dangerously close, she trailed sleek kisses against the slick of his neck. Each smooth trailed upwards towards his ear as Y/N leaned in seductively close.

“It’s cute thinking you don’t want to fuck the shit out of me here. Your bashfulness never seizes to amaze me.”

Her hands grazed down his defined abs brutishly stroking the outer layer of his jeans.

“But your dick seems to tell another story.”

Ezekiel gazed around the room watching his brothers too distracted by pool cues and babes to notice their interaction laughing aloud.

“If you haven’t noticed I’m still their bitch boy and I can’t just slip away without someone noticing.”

“Oh, but I promise you won’t have to travel far. The bathrooms are only a few feet away. So, if you’re interested in fucking your super-horny girlfriend, meet me there in five minutes. If not, I’ll just have to do the job myself. But don’t worry, I’ll send you the video.”

“You’re such a goddamn brat, you know that? …” Ez moved his hand grazing his clothed crotch as a moan alluded her.

“Can’t you feel how hard I am for you right now? It turns you on, doesn’t it?”

“Oh yes, dear boyfriend. If you’re bating me then yes, I do want to fuck you here and now.”

“So quick to make demands when you’re in no position to do so. Shit, I can’t wait to nestle so fucking deep within you, to hear you begging for me. Someone needs to fuck the brat outta ya.”

“Oh, it’s so cute you think I’ll beg. My pussy is your haven, don’t forget that.”

Y/N added just an inch of space between their sweltering bodies unwilling to give into him so easily.

“So, I’ll take your erect cock as a yes. You know where I’ll be…”

Y/N walked by him dripping in her own seductive nature. Ez reached towards her gripping her arm in exchange; “You have no idea what I want to do to you.”

“Well guess you can prove it to me.”

“Oh, you tease….”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out!”

“You little…”

“Brat? That’s right, only one person makes me act this way, feel this way and that person is you. So, whether you like it or not, deal with it.”

“Oh, I’ll deal with you alright. Soon enough you’ll be begging me to fuck you.”

“I completely intend on it. In fact, I’ll leave the ball in your court.”

Y/N sauntered past him making sure to graze her breasts against his trunk; “You know where I’ll be.” She winked his way hoping for Ez to catch her hint before walking towards the bathroom hoping the one person she’d hoped would follow. Ezekiel Reyes was genuinely her other half, someone who understood every intricate design she’d been allotted.

 Coco approached the Ez clasping his shoulder; “How are you the luckiest bastard outta all of us, Prospect? You get to tap that on the daily? Not fair cabrón.”

His angelic curls fell gently upon his forehead as that signature smirk of his appeared.

“In my defense, she’s a little shit that she tests my patience every damn day. But, yes, I gotta agree with you. I’m the luckiest bastard outta all of us.”

“So quit fuckin talking to me and go get yo girl, newbie.”

Ez nodded agreeing with Coco. He was torn between his club obligations and chasing after Y/N, his eyes bouncing back and forth.

“Don’t worry. I’ll cover you. 10 minutes… now go before I change my mind!”

“Thanks, brother. I owe you one.”

“Damn right you do, now go!”

His boots pounded against the wood; his strides picked up taking him quickly to his destination. Ez’s anticipation peaked as he neared the bathroom door rattling the handle. Ez stood dumbfounded to find the door locked…

“Querida, I know you’re in there. I’m gonna have to teach you a lesson, ain’t I?”

Y/N whispered back through the door; “I’m counting on it.”

The click of the door gave way unlocking as Ez stepped inside swiftly shutting the door behind him. He eyed Y/N like she was his last and final meal wanting to devour her from the outside in. The startled look in her misty eyes only excited him more. He stalked towards her; Y/N walked backwards in sync with him. Soon enough, the back of her thighs met the cold cabinet. Her skin crawled of goosebumps as her panting increased significantly.

“You bait me all night, wearing this ungodly short piece of fabric that barely covers anything on this gorgeous body of yours, and you have the audacity to talk shit?”

Electricity stifled their small quarters as Ez’s hands played with her hemline. Wet kisses tickled down her collar bone. Y/N tilted her head allowing Ez easier access. Torturously slow, Ez pressed the material upwards above her curvy hips revealing her bare pussy.

“No underwear. Glad to see you weren’t lying.”

Y/N slapped his chest in jest; “One thing I will never do is lie to you Ezekiel Reyes.”

“Yeah, yeah.”  

Only adding fuel to the fire, Y/N grasped his chin between her fingers forcing his gaze to remain on her and only her. She squeezed tightly enough to grab his fleeting attention.

“I don’t joke about that shit, E. I’ve never felt this way before. Don’t spoil it just yet.”

The crow’s feet near his eyes softened exhaling all the excess air loitering in his lungs. His infamous puppy dog looks triggered charging their electricity. Forgetting her momentarily exposure, Y/N closed the gap kissing him with every inch of might fathomable. She mustered every ounce of desire to which Ez gladly reciprocated.

Their moans intermingled as Ez tapped her thigh signaling to jump on the counter. Her legs spread unconscious creating the perfect amount of space for him to slide into. His hands travelled along her sides before finding home and squeezing the globes of her luscious ass.  Every dimple and indention turned him on. An illicit squeak was the only other sound accompanying their heavy breathing.

“Please, E.” A whiny undertone whirred to life.

“Please what? I’m right here.”

Her legs wrapped around his hips securely pulling him closer. His jeans rubbed deliciously against her exposed thighs only teasing her further.

“I want you. All of you, Ezekiel Reyes. Forever.”

Something unexplainable shifted in that moment as Ez gazed down at the girl pinned beneath him. For so long, he’d wanted this, dreamt of her, and now he wasn’t sure how to handle himself. The last time he gave himself so freely to another ended up burning him. Emily was his first love but Y/N, Y/N was his epic love. The twinkle in her eyes welcomed him time and time again silently begging for permission. Suddenly it wasn’t just about sex and pleasure but an opportunity of redemption.

“You feel it too, right?”

Y/N pulled back from his grasp embarrassed at her newfound honesty. “Ugh, I’m fucking it up, aren’t I? I didn’t mean for things to get so intense in a fucking bathroom of all places?”

Just as she moved to hop down, Ez stopped her. His this, this life he chose was no place for a woman like Y/N. And though his heart beat victoriously in his chest, Ezekiel knew what had to done. There was no way in hell he’d allow her to morph into his fucked-up life. He wanted to shout it to the rooftops; I’m in love with you too.

He was ripping at the seams dying to scream his unprofessed love but once again denying the beast within him. His silence was enough of an answer. Y/N frowned trying to hide the quiver of her chin. Looking away, Y/N furiously blinked hoping to will her unshed tears into oblivion. Her purity and compassion were too much at risk to sacrifice.

“Y/N….”

“No, don’t Ezekiel.”

“I think we want different things, things I can’t offer you.”

The rumbles in her chest cascaded violently like waves attacking a cliff. His rejection stung like ravenous bees.

“You can but you won’t. There’s a difference! God! I fall for this shit every time. You lure me back in and just when I break through your heavily guarded walls you pull back and shoo me away. How many times do you have to remind me you don’t want me, E?”

A lone tear streaked down her cheek. Sadness swallowed her whole plummeting to an unimaginable depth. His thumb inadvertently reached for the droplet but she flinched in the nick of time. Defeat coursed through his blood. His subconscious screamed for him to speak but nothing came out. Her words seared him, his own personal brand of pain. Calm down heart.

“Tell me you feeling nothing and I’ll never ask again.”

The somber quietness remained suffocating both parties. It was then that the truth finally dawned on him like boulders falling from the sky. Sometimes the hardest battle we fight is the battle within ourselves.

“Jeez, Ez. Guess I got my answer. Next time you have one of your urges, don’t call me, ever.”

Her warm palm pressed against his pectoral lightly shoving him. The minute distance was enough to destroy him. Her rejection simmered into her movements. With her strength fast depleting, Y/N craved fresh fall air. She stopped in place looking over her sunken shoulder; “It’s sad when someone you know becomes someone you knew. Have a nice life, Reyes.”

Now that she had nothing to lose, she was free. Free to mourn the love she so tragically denied. She distracted herself to save herself. After all, how often do we get a second chance…

~~~~~

Tags:  @twistnet @ifoundmyhappythought @angelreyesgirl89 @carlaangel86 @imagineredwood @gemini0410 @mayans-mc @reaperwalking @prospectfandom @emmaveale123 @peaky-marvel @kind-wolf @scorpio4dayzzz @starrynite7114 @penny4yourthot @breanime @thegirlwhowritesfics @star017 @threeminutesoflife @woahitslucyylu  @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass @blessedboo @lady-pswrld  @bigcreatorwombatdreamer​  @claytoncardenasbabymama @angelreyesgirl89 @cocotheclown​ @trulysuccubus @janeexo @itsjusttaralove @soaronmywings @bigcreatorwombatdreamer​ @sarai-ibn-la-ahad​ @starrynite7114​ @hermankopusortizorsumshite​ @fvckthisbxtchup​ @noz4a2​ @lharrietg 

[anubislover]

A Tea Party for Baby 5

(Gift fic for @velvety-love for the OP Secret Santa 2020! I really hope you like the fic - it was a ton of fun to write!)

It was quite the sight, the infamous Donquixote Doflamingo sitting at a small table in a child-sized chair, his knees practically pressed into his chest, but he would maintain that for a man of his status, any seat was a throne. Before him was a decadent assortment of pastries, chocolate-covered fruit, finger sandwiches, and quiches. Baby 5 had recently begun training to be the family’s maid, and this tea party would be a useful way to hone her serving skills. Since the eight year old girl was still too short to reach the dinner table, this was a perfectly reasonable alternative.

And yes, the dolls and stuffed animals sat up in their own chairs with cups and saucers was also absolutely necessary. She needed to learn to serve multiple people, after all.

“More tea, Young Master?” Baby 5 asked, hefting up the large china teapot, a hopeful smile on her face. There was a bit of tension around her mouth, though; visible strain from the weight of the pot that she desperately sought to hide for fear of disappointing him.

Doflamingo grinned, holding out his pink floral-patterned cup. “Yes, please.” The child had insisted on being useful to him, and while his main interest was in the deadly Devil Fruit powers she possessed, it was nice having some proper servants around.

However, her little arms trembled, the pot far too heavy for her, resulting in her inadvertently missing the cup and instead spilling hot tea onto his hand.

“Gah!”

“Oh no! Young Master, I’m so sorry! Let me get you a towel, or some ice!” she cried, nearly dropping the teapot in her panic. Luckily, Doflamingo was able to grab it before it could fall and set it on the table, preventing tea from splattering everywhere and staining his suit pants.

For a moment, his hand clenched and he glared down at her through the lenses of his fierce red sunglasses. The former Celestial Dragon wanted to be upset. She’d burned him! How dare she—

But then he looked at her distraught little face, eyes already wet with tears, and he was suddenly reminded of his precious little brother when they were children and how hard he’d tried to please him…

Picking up a napkin, Doflamingo wiped his hand clean of the tea. Honestly, it hadn’t hurt. Barely anything to someone like him. And she was trying. Really, it was impressive she could even lift the pot, considering it was nearly as big as she was and how thin her arms were. They really needed to get some meat on her bones—she wasn’t the half-starved waif who’d come to him in desperation anymore. She was part of his family. It was his job to take care of her.

Coming to a decision, Doflamingo removed a stuffed dog from the chair at his right and patted the seat. “No worries, Baby 5. Come here and I’ll pour the tea.”

“Ah! But Young Master, I—”

He gave her a reassuring smile, one as gentle as he could manage. “It’s fine, Baby 5; proper tea party etiquette says that the host should serve.”

“But then, you don’t need me,” she said sadly, small body slumping miserably.

Inwardly he grimaced. The last thing he wanted was for her to cry. So, he grinned more widely and picked her up by the back of the dress, plopping her down into the chair. “Sure I do! I need you to be a good guest! I can’t work on my hosting skills if I don’t have guests. These guys,” he said, indicating the dolls and toys, “are terrible conversationalists.”

Baby 5 visibly perked up, thrilled at still being needed in some capacity. “Oh! That’s true. Then I’ll be the perfect guest for you! I’ll be anything you need, Young Master.”

A small sigh of relief escaped his chest. Crisis averted. She was happy, and while serving himself was not ideal in most circumstances, the child could learn by example and he wouldn’t have to worry about his suit.

Getting an idea, he attached his strings to one of the dolls sat around the table, making it lift the teacup so he could pour. “Watch carefully; it’s important to hold the pot from both the handle and the spout to avoid spilling. We don’t want even a drop on the nice white tablecloth, do we?”

“No, we don’t,” she agreed, studying his technique carefully. Her dark eyes took in his every movement with near-reverence, her own little hands even miming him to ensure she would get it right later.

Satisfied, he filled Baby 5’s cup and offered her a blueberry scone. “Here, eat up—you’re a growing girl, and someone who works as hard as you deserves a treat.”

“Really?” she asked, even though she was already practically drooling as the smell of the pastries she’d baked that morning wafted up her nose.

“Really. Now have a scone, then some sandwiches, and then you can help yourself to the tarts and cupcakes.”

Practically glowing with happiness, she snatched one off the plate, but froze before she could shove it into her mouth. “Oh. Sorry,” she said, setting it on her plate and picking up her knife and fork.

Doflamingo shook his head. “Nah, you were right the first time. Eat the scone with your hands. Save the fork for the quiche.”

Thrilled that she was getting to sit at the Young Master’s side and enjoy the goodies she’d baked and laid out to his specifications, she tucked in, smile so wide her cheeks ached.

It was…kind of cute, seeing her so happy. Just a child eager to belong. Sure, she would make a fantastic assassin, but there was no reason not to let her have little moments like this, right? The chance to just be a kid and have fun? His father’s foolishness had denied him that joy after they’d left Mariejois, but he was far better than Homing.

He was the patriarch of the Doflamingo Family; it was his job to keep everybody happy. To give them all they could ever ask for so that they would do the same for him.

Looking her over, he wondered what else he could do. Her bow and dress were looking a little worn. He’d order replacements. Simple ones for everyday wear, but he was sure he could get her something cute and fancy as a reward the next time she got back from a mission. Dress her up like a doll and show her off. New shoes would be a must, too – he and his brother had constantly been outgrowing theirs, and while he doubted she’d every reach his exalted stature, she certainly would grow up to be a lovely young woman.

And lovely young women attract boys, he thought, scowling for a moment behind his teacup. Gonna have to watch her like a hawk once that happens. Can’t have anyone thinking they’re good enough for Baby 5 and trying to steal her away. I’ll make sure she’s got no reason to leave the Family. Who could provide for her like me, anyway?

On a whim, he got another idea – something that would surely amuse and delight her. Holding out his hands, he attached his strings to a pair of dolls. Like a puppet master with a pair of marionettes, he made them waltz around the table, chuckling while Baby 5 applauded and laughed with joy.

“Figured the least they could do was put on a show for us as thanks for our hospitality,” he explained, making a few more join in so it almost resembled a ball. “Too bad we can’t bring the toys to life—then they could dance without the strings.”

“Maybe there’s a Devil Fruit out there that can do that,” Baby 5 said excitedly, eager to help in any way she could.

“Hmmm, maybe there is. I’ll have to look into it,” Doflamingo agreed, rubbing his chin. The hand fell to pat her on the head. “What a clever girl you are.”

As she beamed up at him, there was a knock at the door, and without delay Corazon strolled in carrying Buffalo and Law by the back of their shirts like a pair of squirming kittens. Law even seemed to growl at his manhandling. Clearly, they’d been caught by his right-hand man doing something they shouldn’t, at least if the way he ground the cigarette between his teeth was anything to go by. However, all three of them froze at the sight of their leader serving tea to his maid-in-training surrounded by a bunch of dancing stuffed animals.

“What the he—” Law started, staring in utter bafflement.

“Ah, just in time! Baby 5 and I were having a tea party! Sit down and join us!” Doflamingo exclaimed cheerfully, indicating the newly-empty seats.

“Yes! Please, join us!” she chimed in eagerly. Even though they could be rude and mean, she considered the two boys her closest friends, so of course she wanted to have them involved. Corazon, too, even though he was grouchy and clumsy and might make the tablecloth catch fire.

Corazon looked between the tiny chairs and the uncomfortable-looking way his brother was sitting, then raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“Oh, come on, little brother! It’s perfectly comfortable,” he said, even though he could already feel his legs cramping up. Ah well. At least he wouldn’t suffer alone, and Baby 5 could have some time enjoying herself with friends. She needed more socialization. Maybe he should call up Vinsmoke Judge – he had a daughter about her age, didn’t he? Maybe they could set up a play date.

“I’m not taking part in some stupid tea party,” Law groused, glaring at the utter ridiculousness around him.

“Kid, you can either sit down under your own power or I can tie you to the seat,” Doflamingo warned with smile. He turned to the child beside him. “But thank you for providing Baby 5 with another valuable lesson – boys are obnoxiously stubborn.”

“Law, c’mon, let’s play along-dasuyan,” Buffalo not-so-quietly whispered, eyeing the tray of cupcakes.

“Fuffuffuffuffu! But they’re easily bribed with food,” he added, smirking when she giggled. Pleased with himself, Doflamingo gave the three new guests a terrifying smile. “Now, you gonna join us like proper gentlemen, or am I going to have to show you to your seats?” he asked, raising his hand meaningfully.

A shiver ran down their backs and neither Law nor Buffalo argued as Corazon plopped them both in a chair before gingerly taking the spot opposite his brother, grimacing at how sore his legs and back would be after this.

Pleased that her friends were in fact joining the party, Baby 5 instinctively rose to her feet to serve them. A large hand on her shoulder stopped her, though, causing her to look up at Doflamingo inquisitively.

The patriarch smiled down at her, sincerity in his tone. “Now now, I told you the host should serve. The hostess who made all the preparations needs to take a load off and enjoy herself. Let us take care of you for once,” he said, pinching her cheek.

Yes, he’d take care of her, she’d take care of them, and they’d all live together as a big, happy family. What more could anyone want?

@op-secret-santa-2020

[fereldenturnip]

But Don’t You Ever Let Me Go (3)

Primo Nizzuto/Majid Zamari Sugar Daddy Fic

Part 3/ ?

(Parts 1, 2)

Plus @ournextdoorneighbor has done several arts for #TrustTheWolf! Go check that AMAZING stuff out! :D

Majid wakes up at 10:58 am, completely well-rested. The evidence of his stale pleasure is glued to his body hair. The odd prickling promptly jump-starts his brain straight into freak-out mode. 

The car ride. Primo’s dulcet tones. The smell of him on his skin. The pleasure of release after so long without.

Majid leaps out of bed. 

Last night was a mistake. A weakness. One Majid is embarrassed to have committed in the first place. 

What’s shocked him most is the ferocity of his swift libido. Majid’s had fantasies before, lurid wet dreams inspired by exaggerated magazine spreads. Hot chicks in nothing but lingerie and ‘come hither’ stares. He used to go through bottles of lotion and boxes of tissues like crazy before he finally started having sex for real. 

Sex with women. 

Because Majid likes women. He isn’t gay! 

…Or, is he?

Fuck! Majid squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t know anymore! That tame, midnight fantasy was nothing at all compared to all his previous raunchy escapades, but it was also the most intense orgasm of his life. Primo’s very masculine body, his very manly voice, his very alpha-male presence awakens a dark need inside Majid. Hell, it knocked him unconscious for hours after emptying his balls all over himself. 

Still, Majid is confused. 

It’s the weekend. He’s off from work and that means no surprise visits from certain Mafia Dons. Hopefully. Just thinking about Primo overwhelms Majid and sends him into a wild frenzy around his flat. He spends most of his afternoon laundering his bed sheets and clothes, cleaning himself thoroughly in the shower…and then scrubbing down the tiles when he strokes out another Primo-induced orgasm. 

It’s absurd, but Majid suspects one look at him and Primo will know his shame. His cock gives a valiant twitch at that. 

Is this real life? Is Majid going to spend the rest of the weekend wanking off to Primo? He groans, flopping down on his springy mattress and hanging his head. 

What exactly is it about Primo that awakens Majid’s sexual urges when nothing else has? Objectively speaking, Primo is a handsome-looking older man. Any fool with eyes, gay or straight, can see that plain as day. After the first few encounters with the man, Majid scoured old newspaper clippings from decades past. Desperate to understand the gravitas behind the notorious Primo Nizzuto.

Gone is the ridiculous pornstache and bell-bottoms of his youth, exchanged for modern (albeit still flamboyant) facial hair and fashion. The floppy hair and thick thighs remain, plus the addition of one pierced ear that came about during the 80’s. In fact, Majid once spent an entire lunch captivated by a single teardrop-shaped pearl earring that swayed in time with Primo’s conversation.

He appears to have aged like a fine wine, hale and healthy, time only adding to his magnetic elegance. All that country air and good food is a testament to the wonders of Italian longevity. 

Add to that his influential power--and Majid isn’t that dumb not to notice the excited thrill he feels whenever Primo exercises said power on Majid’s behalf. Small, insignificant Majid, a real nobody that Primo pulls out all the stops for. Majid likes people watching? With a wave of his hand, Primo gets them a table with a stunning view for lunch. The gallery too crowded for Majid? One word and suddenly it’s just the two of them gazing at dusty old paintings. Primo could have literally anyone in the world, but instead he chooses to fill his days with Majid. 

It’s hot. 

It wasn’t like this with Hakan, who pranced around pretending to be his mentor so long as Majid continued making him money. Who coddled him while simultaneously collaring him. 

Yeah, but Hakan didn’t want to fuck your brains out, either. 

Oh, he knows exactly what Primo wants. Who he wants. Question is, is Majid willing to give it to him? 

Primo is sexually charged and aimed at Majid, ready to fire whenever he’s given permission. That the ball is even in existence and firmly in Majid’s court is pleasantly reassuring. Despite all his carnal hunger, Primo will wait patiently for his enthusiastic consent. In some small measure, Majid can exert his own special power over the man. That in and of itself is attractive.

It’s exhilarating and dramatic, daunting and intimidating. Has Majid been playing it straight this whole time because it was expected of him? 

Living in Italy only makes it easier to remove himself from the trappings of his old life and examine the bigger picture. For the first time, he’s outside of the rigid confines of tradition that mandated he be hard-boiled and repressed. Finally, Majid can breathe easy and freely explore what makes his cock throb without shame. Try as he might to abhor this “perverted” behavior, Majid not-so-secretly delights from the adventures, the conversations…the pampering. Maybe it’s alright to admit kneeling, crawling, and kissing Primo’s signet ring is exactly what he desires. 

However, if Majid capitulates to Primo’s wants and needs, what’s in store for him when he inevitably fucks up? What security is there that he won’t end up beaten into another bloody pulp, or worse--dead? Honestly, it’s the punishment that scares Majid more than the sex. He’s racked with crippling anxiety--pins and needles in his fingers and toes, air freezing inside his lungs, the memory of bone splintering while someone he trusted sits indifferent to his suffering. 

Surviving Hakan? Pure dumb luck. Surviving Primo? Not likely. Every moment spent with Primo is like lighting a matchstick around a puddle of gasoline. One wrong move and everything goes up in flames. Every nerve in his body is telling him to run, far away from Primo Nizzuto’s reach. 

Everytime he gets the itch to move, those damn captivating green eyes lure him right back again. 

You’re an idiot, Zamari.

++++

“Boss wants you to have this,” the man in the dark suit says.

It’s sunny as shit outside, enough that Majid squints an eye trying to adjust after spending so long in the auto shop. There’s a backdrop of power tools and air compressors whirring away behind him. In front, the Suit wears a thick pair of nondescript sunglasses over a neutral expression. He wiggles the package again.

Majid scrunches his face at the square box. It’s expertly wrapped in crimson paper that looks quite supple and expensive. It’s…a gift. A bloody gift, given the colour. Gulping, Majid wipes his hands off on a rag and clumsily accepts it. Suit goes absolutely nowhere, merely crosses his hands and waits patiently. Primo must have ordered him to witness Majid’s reaction and report back to him. Shit, Majid’s face burns hot and it isn’t from the sun.

The wrapping is just as buttery-soft as expected. It calms his initial, childlike instinct to rip and tear it open. Inside is a black box embossed with pale gold letters.

BVLGARI. 

Majid’s eyes widen comically. He stares at the box, then at Suit. 

Silence. Not even a shrug or head-tilt to acknowledge Majid’s turmoil. Nothing. Perfect, civil obedience. With his heart thumping loudly in his ears, Majid is almost envious of his observer’s detachment. His thumb edges the corners of the box and he immediately likens his situation to Pandora. What fresh hell is he inviting into this world by opening Primo’s gift? Just sign here on the bottom line...

Nestled on a cushion of creamy velvet is an all-black watch. The straps are a liquidy-soft metal of intertwining onyx teeth. The wide crystal face is ringed in matte black lettering (and fuck, it’s an actual Bvlgari) and tiny yellow-gold dials. Three perfect subdials catch a sunbeam and flare molten and golden, like miniature full moons in the midnight sky. 

Woof!

His brown eyes light up and dance at the superb craftsmanship. It’s edgy but sleek, confident and dangerous--whoever wears it will surely strike an intimidating figure.

Oh, who is he kidding? Majid is totally going to wear this. Already his wrist is heavy and itching with anticipation. It’s absolutely perfect and exactly to Majid’s tastes. It’s as if Primo saw inside his soul and plucked out all his wants and desires just to hand them back on a silver platter. A plume of heat rushes down his spine to settle in his extremities. 

Shivering, Majid reassembles the box and stares at the expectant Suit. He’s almost tempted to pass it back, refuse this precious (ludicrously expensive) gift, if only to gauge his reaction. The Suit wouldn’t mind, but he’d still have to deliver the news to the benevolent gifter. It’s already been well-established that Primo brushes off rejection like water off a duck. Or, in his case, a black swan. His first proffered gift was an entire damn vineyard. Dozens of meals and car rides later, a four-figure watch is innocent. 

His fingers trace the embossed logo. It’s such a thoughtful gift, too. 

“Please give Signor Nizzuto my sincerest,” apologies, “thanks.” Fuck. 

Suit nods stiffly, pivots on one polished heel, and returns to his nondescript car. 

Majid escapes the hot air outside and returns to the auto shop. The gift is tenderly tucked inside his personal locker, with the lock pulled twice just to verify it is indeed fastened. The rest of his work day is spent in a complete daze. Everything blends together--Majid can’t count how many car batteries and broken tail lights he replaces, his mind and eyes skittering back to bore holes into his locker. 

When he greets Primo outside his apartment for their usual Tuesday night dinner, Majid is clean of grease and clothed in his best black attire. There’s been an effort to tame his growing curls and trim his short beard. He looks handsome. 

The sallow streetlamp outside casts him all in shadow. Somewhere a dog barks.

This time, when the chauffeur opens the backseat door he lets Primo exit and meet Majid in the crisp night air. The two of them stand silently across from each other, only a scant few feet apart. Primo is dressed in a close-fitting red suit so dark it might as well be black. 

Beware, the devil wears red… 

Unabashed green eyes soak in his appearance, slow and sultry over all his edges and curves. Majid holds himself still, blazer tucked in the crook of his left arm. The purposeful posture highlights the gleaming watch adorning Majid’s wrist. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

Primo blinks once, tongue blatantly stroking along his bottom lip, “Do you like it, my boy?”

His husky words are a temptation, promising notes ringing in the air between them. Shuddering madly and unable to speak, all Majid does is nod. A smile carves its way onto Primo’s face, chiseling dimples in his cheeks. Those eyes of his are electric. He takes a step closer, bringing a cloud of that damn cologne with him--Majid inhales sharply--then promptly backing off to the side. A playful little dance that leaves Majid absolutely reeling. One gentlemanly sweep of his hand, Primo beckons him towards the belly of the rumbling car. 

…So tempt away, devil, Majid thinks carelessly and ducks inside. 

[secretlysheikah]

Man and Mongrel 

Looming Shadows chapter 2

It is finally complete! This chapter gave me some troubles, but I wanted to share before I talked myself out of posting it. I really hope you all enjoy!

As always I do not claim any ownership over the Linked universe that honor belongs to @jojo56830

I am but a humble writer who lives in an angst pit. 

Start here:  

They were gone, just gone. Sky had sunk into the cold spring water and Wild was tossed into the portal like a rag doll and Twilight was barely aware of the world around him. All he knew was the portal, Dark and the cold spring water that soaked his clothes and helped weigh him down. Once Wild had disappeared Twilight had forced himself to his feet with an energy born from desperation. 

“Where are they?!” Twilight yelled from his place in the spring. No matter how he tried to move forward on his weak legs he could barely manage two steps before he would sway and stumble. But he tried, there was nothing else he could think of to do except try. Blood still dripped from his neck where the sword had sliced him and his whole body felt little better than a lead weight. His mind was a confused jumble of skittering thoughts and mindless exhaustion. He was fueled only by the need to somehow, someway get his lost brothers back. 

“Don’t worry wolf boy, I will make sure to take great care of your friends!” Dark called from his place facing the portal. He didn’t even bother to turn around and look him in the eye. 

“Who knows, maybe one of them will even be alive when I’m through. One can hope right?” Dark laughed as he made to walk through the portal. Breathing heavily and without a second of thought, Twilight scooped up a rock from the spring bed below and with all the strength he could gather hurled it at Dark’s head. To his immense surprise, it connected with a crack and Dark spun to face him. Twilight stood as straight as he could and balled his fists at his side as he called upon all the rage and frustration that had built up in him over the last week.

“Bring them back,” Twilight snarled, a little breathlessly. Dark glared back in kind and cracked his neck, his glare slowly turned into a devilish smile. In the blink of an eye, Dark was standing in front of him, his hand shot forward and wrapped around his bleeding throat and began to squeeze. Twilight choked and clawed at the iron grip as he was lifted from the water. Twilight heard Time cry out his name, heard him begin his unsteady way over to them but one quick hand motion from Dark had Time crashing into the water. He heard Warriors shout as well but another gesture from Dark had Time howling in agony and suddenly there was no more sound, no more signs of movement. Twilight’s vision was beginning to fade around the edges, but he could see the pointed grin plastered all over Dark’s face. 

“I know I promised myself that I’d kill you all slowly, but I’ll be damned if you aren’t making it hard to keep that promise,” Dark snarled his eyes blazing with bright red hatred. Twilight could barely draw breath, let alone speak but he made due with spitting in Dark’s face. Dark roared his displeasure and tossed him away with ease. He landed hard in the spring, his head colliding with the rocks that hid under the water, his lungs dragged in a slightly water logged breath and he coughed and gasped as black specks burst in his vision. Darkness continued to flood his vision and he drifted in the water, dazed as the world around him spun in slow motion, his limbs relaxing against his will. 

As he drifted he felt his hand brush against metal, his brain turned over the thought for a moment before it clicked. It was the metal of his discarded sword, in a moment he snapped back to the present. As Twilight rose from the water he shook his aching head to clear it and he scrambled to find the handle. Just as his fingers found the hilt of the sword a foot connected with his side with enough force to bruise his ribs. He gasped in pain and he clutched at his side and tried to rise but another brutal kick sent him sprawling back into the water. 

“You are really testing my patience pup.” Dark snarled as Twilight lifted himself up shakily on his elbows. 

“Fuck... You,” Twilight coughed out and Dark let out a bark of laughter. He felt Dark grab at the back of his neck and he had just enough presence of mind to suck in a quick breath before he felt his head being forced under the water. He struggled against the hold only to feel the grip tighten. His lungs burned with the need to breathe and he felt his body give an involuntary spasm. He could feel himself fading quickly, felt the water replace the air in his mouth and just as he was about to take a deep breath in he was pulled out of the water. He gasped and choked as he took in desperate drags of the air around him. It tasted like metal and wet leaves but the air that filled his lungs was the loveliest thing he had ever experienced.

“What’s the matter pup, you look a little pale.” Dark cooed as he let go of his neck. Twilight fell into the water and rolled to his side, every ounce of energy spent. His lungs burned with each new intake of air and his body shook with cold and overtaxed muscles.    

“Aw, come on wolf boy, where’s that defiance? That can do attitude?” Dark pouted and Twilight felt him punch his shoulder playfully. If he had the energy he would have decked him, but as it was all he could do was glare. 

“Don’t give up now, you really had me on the ropes,” Dark’s voice was full of  false encouragement, like he was trying to build up his confidence again. Twilight swallowed painfully and he felt more coughs rack his body as he expelled some of the water that had made its way into his lungs. Dark chuckled lightly as if laughing at the silly antics of a child, it made Twilight’s burn with an imputant rage. Dark stretched a lazy hand toward him again but stopped when an arrow zipped past his fingertips and buried itself between him and Twilight.  

“Touch him again, I dare you,” Warriors shouted, eyes blazing with so much anger that Twilight was sure that if looks could kill, Dark would be a smoldering pile of ash. Warriors stood in the ankle deep water, his narrow frame poised protectively in front of the collapsed heroes on the sandy bank. His arm was raised, bow in hand and another arrow nocked and ready to fire.  

“And what do you think you’re doing?” Dark asked, his voice dripping with contempt as he stood from his place next to Twilight. Warriors snarled and drew the arrow back just a bit farther. Dark took a half step forward having seemingly lost interest in Twilight all together.

“Leave this place now shadow, or else I will skewer you with arrows,” Warriors commanded, and Twilight could see the barest tremble in his hand that held the bow. 

“Come now, you aren’t even going to demand I bring your little friends back?” Dark groused and put his hands on his hips. 

“Why bother, we all know you consider this whole thing to be a game. You must think it entertaining, you bastard,” Warriors spat and Twilight noticed that the slight tremble was starting to grow more noticeable.         

“Not as stupid as you look.” Dark said as he gave a light stretch and a smile. Twilight thought his tone almost sounded bored if it wasn’t for the undercurrent of excited energy that colored his voice. “I should be on my way, I have left my guests alone for far too long as it is.” He finished and he began to stroll forward easily. Twilight felt his soul freeze over. No, he couldn’t leave, not now. With a superhuman effort, Twilight worked to get his tired body to obey his will.

“No, Wars, don’t let him leave!” Twilight cried from his place in the water and he clawed desperately at the stones beneath him. His heart raced in panic, the only link connecting them to the others was standing right in front of him and they couldn't just let him leave.

“Be quiet Twi,” Warriors hissed, his eyes never leaving Dark. Dark for his part seemed to be enjoying the attention. 

“Wars, please, that bastard is our only chance to get Sky and Wild back,” Twilight pleaded but Warriors face only hardened more. 

“Enough! Stop begging like a dog, it’s what he wants,” Warriors spat and Twilight recoiled, stung by the rebuke. Warriors refused to look his way and Dark laughed openly at the exchange. 

“So callous! I expected something better coming from a captain of the royal guard.” Dark’s voice had a trill of amusement winding through his words.  

“Leave now, I will not give you another chance.” Warriors sneered, openly ignoring the jab that had been sent his way. 

A bright defiance filled Twilight’s heart and he worked all the more to get his feet under him but it was no use. He was too weak from the near drowning and from whatever poison Dark had cursed them all with. Dark didn’t say anything, just gave a little bow to Warriors before he walked off towards the portal. Twilight just managed to get to his knees when Dark reached the portal, turned and addressed them all. 

“It has truly been a pleasure, I can’t wait to see you all again, very, very soon. I’ll send your regards to your friends. Ta for now!” And with one last jaunty wave and a wink towards Twilight he stepped backwards into the portal and both man and doorway disappeared. 

******

Once the doorway disappeared Warriors dropped his arm, relaxed his tense grip on his bow and sucked in a deep breath of the metal tinged air. He didn’t want to admit it but he was glad that the shadowy bastard was gone. At that thought Warriors felt guilt tingle at the edge of his heart. That bastard had turned Sky against them, had toyed with and then kidnapped Wild and he had just let him go, and he was glad? Warriors forced the thought away, it wasn’t helpful to their current situation. Rising above the silence left behind by Dark’s exit, Warriors heard a soft, half choked voice rise from the spring just in front of him.  

“Wars, how could you?” Twilight whispered from his place in the water. Warriors couldn’t look his way, couldn’t face the pain and betrayal that laid there. He felt himself shutting down, locking away his emotions until later when he had time and quiet. The group didn’t need emotions, they needed a direction and a new plan. Slipping easily into command mode he turned away from Twilight and addressed Four who was in the process of standing. 

“Are you able to help the others into the spring?” Warriors asked tersely and at Four’s slow nod Warriors put away his bow and strode over to Wind who still hadn’t moved. He squatted down next to the boy and brushed his bangs away from his face. His eyelids twitched as he slept and Warriors didn’t want to think about what dreams Dark had forced on him. In one smooth motion he scooped up Wind and walked back into the cold spring water. He heard stumbling footsteps behind him but he didn’t turn around. 

Warriors could feel Twilight’s hard gaze on him but he didn’t acknowledge the glare. Instead he walked Wind over to Time and knelt down. Time looked rough, his breathing was labored and he was shaking hard enough that small ripples formed in the water around him. Warriors wasn’t sure if that was due to the cold water or from pain but either option had him grinding his teeth. This shouldn’t have happened and Warriors felt the cold shard in his heart grow.     

“Time, can you hold him for me? I need to help the others into the spring,” Warriors whispered as he swallowed back his hateful thoughts. Time took a steadying breath and sat down fully in the water, holding out his arms expectantly. Warriors hesitated for a moment before he carefully handed Wind over, keeping hold of him until he was sure Time had a proper grasp on him. When Wind settled in Time’s arms and came fully into contact with the cold spring water he gasped and jerked awake. 

“Oh, ah, what... What the fuck,” Wind muttered as he grabbed at the sides of his head and curled in on himself.

“Language,” Time sighed softly but there wasn’t any real rebuke behind it. He just sounded tired and sad.  

“How do you feel?” Warriors asked carefully and Wind cracked an eye open and gave him a flat look. 

“Like sunshine and ocean spray, what do you think?” Wind said with so much sarcasm and spite that Warriors couldn’t help but be impressed that he was able to muster the energy for it. 

“Good to know kid, I’ll be right back,” Warriors said with a forced laugh as he ruffled Wind’s hair. Wind grimaced and batted at Warrior’s hand irritably as he made to sit up but fell back against Time with a moan. Four and Hyrule came splashing up next to them shortly after and they both landed in the water with weary sighs, clearly spent. 

Warriors bit back his grimace, and forced his face into a stoic calm as he splashed over to where Legend was struggling to stand on the sandy beach. Once he was close enough he grabbed Legend’s arm and helped him stumble his way into the water. Their progress was slow and Warriors could see just how much Legend was struggling. Even with his support Legend seemed to stumble over every stone. His thin frame shuddered with the effort to stay standing and his breathing was distressingly labored. It would seem that the Vet had gotten a larger dose of magic than the others. Warriors grimaced to himself as he puzzled out why that would be. 

He supposed It made sense in a way, considering Legend had acted as the main healer for Wild, he had a lot of contact with that tar. It was a devilish plan, aim for the healers while also weakening and ultimately destroying the group when the healers are down and out? It was damn clever, and thinking about it, it’s a plan he would have considered using as well if he was in Dark’s shoes. Warriors footsteps faltered slightly as they walked, a bad taste filled his mouth as he realized he was in some odd way congratulating Dark on his plan. Warriors ground his teeth, he hated himself for even thinking that way. At the very least he should have seen this coming, he should have guessed that Dark would have no qualms about using a tactic as barbaric as this. He shook his head, poisoned pawn indeed. 

His mind worked ceaselessly as he and Legend hobbled through the deepening water and finally made it to the small group. Twilight had finally stumbled over to the group as well, he was bloodied and soaking wet and looking absolutely furious. Warriors lowered Legend into the chilly water as gently as he could before he straightened and faced Twilight, readying himself for the blow up. 

“You let him go,” Twilight accused, emphasizing the words with sharp jabs of his finger towards Warrior’s chest.    

“And what should I have done? Fight him? Gotten hurt in the process then let him leave? Please tell me, I’m curious” Warriors steamed as he clenched his fists at his sides. 

“You could have tried to stop him! You could have...” Twilight cried out and Warriors snorted loudly, interrupting the tirade.

“Okay, lets say I could have stopped that crazy fuck? Then what?” Warriors shouted and it took all his will power not to shake Twilight. He drew himself back a step and pinched the bridge of his nose and took a few steadying breaths before continuing.  

“I would have had to have somehow over power him, tie him up and then somehow keep him in line while also giving you all the time to heal up. All this is in the vague hope that I would also have been able to somehow get him to comply with our demands,” Warriors said, feeling exasperated and frustrated. Frustrated with Twilight and his refusal to think logically, frustrated at Dark, at himself for not being able to do more. After a steadying breath he lifted his eyes to look at Twilight, he could see the pain that was swirling in his tired cobalt blue eyes. 

There was silence for a beat as they locked eyes and he waited for Twilight’s response. He had expected more yelling, or maybe even stony silence but what he wasn’t expecting was Twilight to suddenly lurch forward and take a swing at him. It was clumsy and slow and clearly not well thought out. Warriors blamed the poison he had been exposed as well as the stress of the past hour, but that didn’t mean he was going to take the blow sitting down. Warriors shifted his weight and easily knocked Twilight’s arm to the side before grabbing his wrist and twisting his arm up and behind his back. Twilight struggled in his grasp but Warriors didn’t let up, he wrapped his free arm across Twilight’s chest and held him close. 

“Stop, just stop Twi,” Warriors growled deep in his throat. He really didn’t want to hurt him but Twilight continued to struggle. Warriors grimaced and hiked Twilight’s arm higher up, forcing him to stop squirming.  

“Listen to me Twi, I know you’re hurting but I will not hesitate to knock you flat on your ass, you need to calm down.” Warriors said as calmly as he could manage. Twilight was still trying to struggle but it was a failing endeavor. He was just on the edge of gasping for air and Warriors could feel the way his constant struggling was weakening as the seconds ticked by. 

“As much as I hate to admit it, I’m not good enough to single handedly fight, capture and force a psychopath to follow our demands,” Warriors said furiously when after another minute of silence only offered more stubborn struggling. 

“Let me go,” Twilight said in a breathless hiss and even though Warriors knew he wouldn’t be able to see it he shook his head. 

“Not a chance, not until you calm down,” Warriors said, his voice came out in a desperate whisper as he continued to hold Twilight close. After another few seconds of struggling Twilight gave a howl of rage that quickly dissolved into a choked sob. Warriors felt Twilight’s legs finally give out and he had to adjust his grip in order not to drop Twilight into the water. 

In one quick motion he spun him around and encircled him into a tight embrace. Twilight made no move to reciprocate the hug but Warriors didn’t mind. He could feel Twilight holding back his misery and Warriors felt woefully unqualified to offer any sort of emotional support. In war you had little time to process anything, let alone emotions when in the midst of battle. Even after the battle was done and he was back at camp he often would disappear into his tent safely out of view of his troops so he could process the day in peace. When you were looked up to lead it didn’t do anyone any good to see you crack. 

So when he joined up with this little band of heroes from the past and future alike he found he had little experience in comforting others. He would often leave that up to Sky or Hyrule but given that Sky was now gone and Hyrule was barely conscious and unable to help, Warriors was on his own. He felt distinctly out of his element and he silently cursed himself for having the emotional awareness of a potato. All he could think to do was squeeze Twilight a little tighter and hoped it would be enough for now. 

“Come on soldier, let's sit down,” He whispered quietly into Twilight’s ear and he could feel the barest nod against his shoulder. Carefully he lowered them both into the spring and he felt a shiver run through his bones. The day was coming to an end and the spring was bathed in the last dregs of golden twilight. He could feel the air around them growing cold and he hoped they didn’t have to wait too long in the quickly chilling water. Still Twilight said nothing and when Warriors pulled away from the embrace to look at his face all he could see were dull blue eyes. Twilight it appeared had shut down and that worried him. He had seen it happen in war before and the outcome was rarely good.  

“How long do we have to sit here?” Came a shaky voice from just behind him and Warriors turned to see Wind sitting next to Time, his teeth were beginning to chatter. Stealing himself he turned his attention back to Twilight. 

“You know this spring better than any of us, how does it work?” He asked and was met with a dead eye stare and a slow blink. He paused and tried again.  

“Do we have to pray? Do we just sit here and wait? What do we do?” Warriors persisted and when he still got no reply he felt his temper running short.

“Come on! Snap out of it! We need this spring to heal and you’re the only one who knows how to use it. Please we can’t sit here all night.” Warriors said and he gave Twilight a little shake for emphasis. 

“He’s right pup, you’ve got to come back to us,” Time ventured cautiously and Twilight sighed and closed his eyes. A visible shudder racked his frame and he slouched ever so slightly before opening his eyes once again to stare at his own rippling reflection in the water. Warriors thought his eyes still seemed faded and dulled but now there was something sharp, mean even, in the glare that Twilight gave himself.   

“They’re gone, and I allowed the one person who could bring them back to escape. I might as well have just tossed them through that portal myself,” Twilight whispered bitterly as he bowed his head and prodded at the edges of the slice on his throat.     

That quiet whisper was so full of pain and self-reproach that he felt himself flinch slightly. Warriors didn’t know how to even begin to respond to Twilight’s comment. Anything he could have offered to him now would best case scenario be ignored outright, or worst case scenario get him a punch to the mouth. He looked to the others to see if they had anything to offer but it was apparent they hadn’t heard exactly what was said. Warriors leaned in close, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“I promise, we will get them back. But we need to heal, rest and regroup first. Just...” Warriors started but he didn’t know how to continue. He had given more than his fair share of rousing speeches to embolden his troops when the going got tough, but this was different. He wasn’t trying to convince a battalion, this was his brother. His brother, who was clearly struggling and hurting in a way that he couldn’t even properly express and Warriors didn’t have the slightest clue how to proceed. He didn’t know how to convince a broken man to keep on moving. 

“Just one step at a time,” Warriors whispered imploringly, and squeezed his shoulder ever so slightly. There was a moment when he thought Twilight had just ignored him once again. He hadn’t made a move to acknowledge his words, so he was shocked when Twilight met his gaze. Warriors could see something new sparking in his eyes and Warriors wasn’t sure if he entirely liked that spark. Twilight gave Warriors a tight nod before he slowly got to his feet. 

“Where are you going?” Warriors asked as Twilight wobbled slightly. 

“I’m going to ask for some help,” Twilight said in a monotone, before squaring his shoulders and walking deeper into the spring without another look back. 

********

The air was indeed growing chill as the night crept in around them but Twilight still felt numb and empty. The water grew colder the further into the spring he went but he paid it no mind, it didn’t matter. He could feel eyes on his back, knew they were watching him closely but even that knowledge couldn’t shake the numbness. One step and then the next and before he knew it he felt the thrum of magic at the heart of the spring rumbling through his boots. 

Head bowed, he waited for the spirit of the spring. During his adventure he often would call upon the spirit of the spring for advice or help. But after his quest had ended, the spirit appeared less and less and oftentimes not at all. 

Honestly he was surprised that it had manifested enough to heal Wild at all. Twilight swallowed hard as he remembered how the black smoke poured out from his protégé and his subsequent collapse into the water. He stopped himself before he could tread back over the events immediately afterwards, he couldn’t bear to look at his own failure again just then. 

He watched the water darken with the fading light. The spring seemed lifeless in a way, cold and dead, and his mind pondered the fate of the spirit that resided there. Would it fade into oblivion, or was it merely sleeping? But that was a question to ponder another day. He gave himself a light shake and rolled his shoulders before he spoke quietly into the open air.

“Ordona, can you hear me?” Twilight ventured timidly, as he waited for a response he feared would never come. The wind whistled through the trees, leaves broke away and landed in the water around him. He could hear the other’s shifting in the water behind him. It took a few minutes for the response to whisper through the air and he was both relieved and terrified in equal measures.  

“Little hero, you have seen better days,” Came a gentle voice from all around him. He didn’t lift his head, he couldn’t even bring himself to respond. His heart gave a painful beat and he had to swallow down the lump that formed in his throat. 

“I apologize for today’s events. Truly if I had had another choice I would not have bothered you then or even now for that matter,” Twilight said thickly, his throat felt raw and tight. 

“Why do you apologize? Your calls for help are not a bother. Nor did you have control over the actions of the shadow and his conniving plans,” Ordona’s voice placated gently and Twilight wanted to recoil at the gentle tone. He did nothing to earn their patience, their kindness. There was a weight in the air around him and he felt a pressure building softly all around him. It was gentle and warm and oddly comforting, like a hug. 

“You place too much weight on your own shoulders, you are not responsible for the actions of others, and I hold no ill will towards you or the other heroes,” Ordona soothed and Twilight could feel hot tears streak down his cold cheeks. He didn’t deserve this kindness, he didn’t...   

“That will be enough of that, little hero.” The voice interrupted his downward spiral with ease. Twilight took in a shuddering breath as he tried to bring himself back to the spring, instead of throwing himself down a rabbit hole of despair. He dug his fingernails into his palm in order to ground himself back in the present. The pressure around him built just a little more and he felt himself calm slightly.  

“Do not lose heart and do not allow your courage to falter for you and your fellows are stronger than you realize.” Twilight lifted his head at that last statement but made no move to interject. He could feel the tingle of magic filtering in from all around him. There was a pale glow in the water around him just as it had done for Wild, but it was noticeably dimmer than before.  

“I may not be as powerful as I was, but I shall heal you and your fellows to the best of my abilities,” Ordona’s voice became a whisper on the wind. All Twilight could manage was a weak ‘thank you’ as he felt the warm glow of healing magic gently wash away whatever poison lingered in his veins.

“I am here whenever you are in need.” 

And just like that the spirit of the spring was gone, and the group was left alone in the dying light of day with only the whisper of wind to fill the air around them. Twilight turned around slowly and he felt the world spin causing him to catch himself as he stumbled. He was so incredibly tired and sore, and he supposed it was a mixture of stubbornness and spite that kept him on his feet at this point. He could see the glow in the water around the others, they all had their eyes closed as they each received the divine healing Ordona gifted to them. Warriors looked over from his place next to Legend, as he helped him stay in a sitting position. Twilight held his gaze and offered a small nod which Warriors returned stiffly before he turned his gaze back on to Legend. Twilight sloshed his way back over to the group at large, taking care not to slip on the slick rocks under foot.

“How are they?” He asked Warriors as the healing light began to fade. The others looked about the same as before but he did notice that some tension had bled away from all of them. Warriors opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Legend. 

“I feel like I’ve fallen off a cliff,” Legend slurred from his place in the water as he opened one eye to look around him. When he noticed who was supporting him he made an effort to sit up on his own, before he paused and flopped back onto Warriors, thinking better of his choice to move. Warriors lifted an eyebrow towards Twilight and he offered a small shrug in return.

“Well how about the rest of you?” Warriors called out and received varying replies claiming the same thing. They felt beat up and tired but otherwise better than before. Twilight supposed it could have been worse. 

“What about you Twi?” Warriors asked, his crystal blue eyes searching Twilight’s own cobalt blues as he waited for his response. Truthfully, he felt like he could sleep for about a week straight if he had the chance, and he knew that in the morning he was probably going to feel a more prominent ache. But that was something for him to deal with later, the others were more important. 

“I feel fine, I’ll be fine,” He answered blandly and Warriors offered him a squint in response. It was clear he wasn’t buying it but it seemed like he wasn’t going to call him out for his lie either. 

“Is everyone okay to move?” Twilight asked tiredly and was met with a chorus of equally tired nods and groans in affirmation. 

“Perfect, let’s get out of the water before we all freeze,” He said, rubbing his hands together to regain some of the heat he had lost. 

“Good idea, I can start a fire and if we find a relatively safe spot we can all rest without...” Warriors began but Twilight was already shaking his head. A low tired chuckle worked its way free from his throat. 

“I have a better idea, follow me.” He said as he bent down and helped Four to his feet. Twilight shot Warriors a glance from the corner of his eye as he moved on to help Hyrule to his feet. Warriors had a skeptical look plastered across his fine features and Twilight fought down a stab of annoyance that bloomed his chest. 

It took a few minutes to get everyone on their feet and moving away from the spring and down the road. Before heading off on their way Twilight took stock of the group. By far the ones the worst for wear were their healers Legend and Hyrule. They both looked dead on their feet and Twilight worried they wouldn’t make it the short trip down the road. He apparently wasn’t alone in his assessment because Warriors took one look at them and shook his head.

“Alright, I’m going to carry one of you. Who will it be?” Warriors asked with a steely look in his eye. Legend raised a brow and jerked his thumb towards Hyrule. 

“Take ‘Rule, he needs it more than me, I can manage,” Legend said pointedly ignoring the glare Hyrule sent his way. Warriors nodded and knelt down in front of Hyrule and waited for him to climb on his back. Twilight nodded easily and moved to stand in front of Legend.

“Come on Legend, you’re up,” He said and Legend balked. 

“I’ll be just fine, I’m not a child,” He sneered and Twilight leveled a stern look at him. Without another word he gently poked Legend and watched as he stumbled and nearly fell. 

“Yeah, just fine. Quit being an obstinate ass and let me help you.” Twilight snapped and after a few more minutes of tired arguing Twilight was hefting Legend up on his back. Once everyone was situated comfortably Twilight lit his lantern and took the lead as he led them down the pathway. 

It was only a matter of about ten minutes of walking to get to their destination. Nestled amongst the trees of the clearing was the treehouse Twilight called home. A wave of nostalgia crashed over him at the sight as he looked at the roughly carved wood of the ladder. Memories floated in and out of head as he took in the sight of his home. He remembered when he had to fix some of the rungs on the ladder after one of the kids had used it as a springboard of sorts and broke it. He shook his head as more memories flitted around his tired thoughts and began walking towards the ladder. 

As they approached Twilight had the ridiculous feeling of self-consciousness settle on his shoulders. He had left in a hurry and he didn’t quite remember how he had left the place. He hoped it wasn’t too messy.  It had been months since he’s been home and he was both excited and nervous at the same time. Once they reached the base of the tree he turned to face the group. 

“Welcome to my home, it’s small, but there should be enough room for everyone,” Twilight said as he hung his lantern on a hook next to the ladder. Its light was enough to illuminate the rungs before them. Time eyed the ladder carefully as if he was worried about it supporting their weight. Twilight caught his eye and offered a wan smile. Time offered his own encouraging smile and gestured for him to lead the way. He nodded and jostled Legend to get his attention. 

“Alright, I’m going to climb up, make sure you have a grip,” Twilight warned as he faced the ladder. He waited a moment and heard a tired sigh from Legend and the distinct feeling of hands being buried in the pelt on his back. 

Twilight made quick work of the ladder and pushed the door open to the darkened room. The hinges gave a low moan as if they too were tired. The house smelled lightly of dust and earth and the floorboards creaked with each step. Twilight walked over to a chair covered in blankets and as gently as he could dropped Legend onto the plush surface. Legend gave a light sneeze as dust puffed out from his landing but made no other comment. Twilight grimaced but forced the urge to clean to the back of his mind. He could hear the others making their slow way up the ladder and he wanted to get the fire started. 

He walked through the darkened house with ease and grabbed some wood from next to the fireplace and struck a match. The fire was slow to build and he nursed it as he called out for the others to make themselves at home. He could hear the others as they fanned out through the dimly lit bottom floor of the house. Someone collided with the edge of the table just behind him and he snickered as  that was followed by a string of curses. He forced his amusement down but didn’t bother to turn around, instead he gave instructions on where to find more blankets and to where the pantry was. 

After about ten minutes the room was filled with light and warmth and various sleeping spaces were set up all over the floor. When Twilight was satisfied that everyone had changed clothes, had some food and were resting comfortably he gathered up all the wet clothes and hung them up to dry by the fire.

“Twi, come and rest. You look like you’re about ten seconds away from collapsing,” Four called out to him from underneath a pile of spare pelts one of them had found in an old chest in the basement. Twilight offered him a smile and a little shake of his head. 

“I’m fine, I just want to get some fresh air before it gets too late,” He said easily and Four gave him a quick once over before he nodded and laid down. Everyone seemed to be in different states of rest and sleep. Legend hadn’t moved from the chair that he had dropped him in when they first arrived. Hyrule had somehow managed to squeeze himself next to Legend on the chair, and then someone, Time probably, had draped a thick blanket over them both. They were sleeping peacefully, Legend had an arm thrown over Hyrule’s shoulder and Hyrule was curled up as best he could with the space provided.

Time was slumped over where he leaned against the wall nearest the fireplace, arms crossed over his chest and head leaned up against the wall. His slow breaths ruffled the hair that fell over his face. Twilight walked over quietly and laid a thick blanket across his mentor’s shoulders and surreptitiously checked his forehead for any signs of fever. Time had spent a fair amount of time in the water and Twilight wouldn’t be surprised if he fell ill. Hell if Time did get sick, he would probably go on to deny it too. Twilight didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry at that thought, he couldn’t bear it if one of them got sick on top of everything else that was happening. 

He turned to face the room again and scanned it finding the dark corner where Wind and Warriors were laying against a small pile of blankets. Wind was wrapped up in the Captain’s scarf and breathing steadily, the occasional twitch signaling that he was dreaming. He couldn’t see the Captain’s face, but judging on his body language it appeared that he too was fast asleep. Twilight let out a small huff of relief and very carefully slipped out of the tree house. 

He didn’t go far, just a little ways out into the woods where he could see the light of familiar stars above him. The forest around him was quiet, the only sounds were his feet crunching of leaves, small rocks, the splash of water as he trod through puddles and the hoot of an owl. Before too long he found a place to rest and he sat down gratefully. The fallen log wasn’t the most comfortable place to rest but he didn’t much care just then. He just wanted to be left alone, just for an hour and then he would go back. 

He leaned down resting his upper body on the tops of his legs and let his head dangle. He was tired, so very tired but he felt like he couldn’t rest. His brain while feeling empty and numb was also a buzzing bee’s nest. However there was no variety in his thoughts just the same loop on repeat. No time to waste, find and destroy Dark, get the other two back, better hurry. He stared blankly at a puddle at his feet, the dark water reflected the stars above and he watched them flicker and spark in endless twinkling. 

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that but he was sure it wasn’t an hour when he heard the distinct sound of footsteps coming his way. He sighed, he probably should be concerned but at that point he almost wished a bokoblin would show up just so he had something else to focus on rather than the endless looping thoughts.

“So this is where you disappeared to,”

Twilight tilted his head to the side to look at the newcomer with bleary eyes. It took a moment but it didn’t take long for the slender figure standing before him coalesce into a bedraggled Warriors. Twilight eyed him thoughtfully for a moment. His hair was mussed, shirt rumpled and missing his blue scarf as well as looking as exhausted as Twilight felt. 

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” Warriors asked as he rubbed at his eyes. Twilight just offered him a snort in response before letting his head fall forward again to resume staring blankly at the puddle between his feet. 

“So what, you’re just going to sit out here and mope?” Warriors pressed, his voice holding a forced levity that rubbed against Twilight’s frayed nerves. He could feel Warriors weight settle on the log next to him. A tiny bubble of anger threatened to burst in his chest and he took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. 

“What can I say I have a lot on my plate,” He said bitterly, he could feel Warriors stare on his back but he refused to lift his eyes. 

“You aren’t alone you know,” Warriors said softly and Twilight balled his fists in his pants. 

“Could have fooled me,” Twilight muttered, his stare so intense he was surprised that the puddle hadn’t boiled away. 

“That’s not fair Twilight,” Warriors said reproachfully “We did our best, there wasn’t much for us to do. We will get them back. Honestly what is the matter with you?” He asked and Twilight sat up fully and finally turned his way. He desperately wanted to snap and yell at him, but one look at Warriors tired eyes stopped him. He took a steadying breath and focused on keeping himself calm.

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m feeling, Goddess I don’t even know,” He sighed and put his head in his hands.  

“I guess it’s like I’m a dog worrying away at a bone...” Twilight said, feeling as Warriors shifted uncomfortably next to him. Twilight couldn’t look his way, a strange mix of anger and sadness pulled at his thoughts and he just wanted to be alone.

“I need to apologize to you Twilight. I should have never addressed you like that,” Warriors said as he too leaned forward on his elbows and stared out into the forest. Twilight felt an odd sense of surprise at the apology, he never thought he would get one. They didn’t speak for a little while, the only noise that filled the space between them was the wind whistling softly through the trees. 

“You know, I don’t make it a habit of telling people what I can do.” Twilight said softly, lifting his head so he could rest his chin on his hands. Warriors said nothing as he waited for Twilight to continue.

“The few people that have found out, either through the grapevine or rumors or what have you, have without fail have made subtle jokes about me being nothing better than a dog.” Twilight began emotionlessly. He could feel Warriors turning to look his way, but he didn’t want to look at him. Instead he continued.  

“Some have openly called me a mongrel. Hell, I’ve even had rocks thrown at me.” He paused for a moment when he heard Warriors soft exclamations of anger but only shook his head.

“Don’t hold it against them, they associate me with a beast, a mindless killer that decimates livestock and makes their lives difficult.” Twilight said softly. 

“That doesn’t make it right,” Warriors continued hotly and Twilight could only nod slowly. 

“No it doesn’t, but I have come to terms with it.Sure I feel free when I allow myself to transform, but I tell no one about it if I can help it. This ability of mine, it is my burden to bear alone. Or it was until I met this little band of misfits.” He said with a sad little chuckle. 

He glanced over at Warriors and noticed that he was biting his lip. He could see Warriors running through the early months of their adventure where he would disappear on ‘patrols’ only to have a wolf wander into camp, and watch until he would ‘return’ from his ‘patrol’. It had taken a lot of courage and a nip of alcohol, but eventually he had finally come clean about his ability. Twilight remembered how he couldn’t meet eyes with anyone in the group for days. Now with this new information out in the open it was clear that Warriors understood why now. Twilight’s throat felt dry and he swallowed roughly but found he couldn’t continue.     

“I’m sorry, I truly am. If I had known, what you’ve been through… Well, I just  hope you can forgive me for my poor word choice. I also hope you understand that I will do everything in my power to get our brothers back. I wish there could have been more I could have done, but, I...” Warriors started but Twilight leaned back and gently clapped him on his shoulder, stopping him mid sentence. 

“I do forgive you, it’s not like you guys were aware of that particular part of my history.  And I hope you can forgive me for acting poorly. They’re my brothers, but they are your brothers as well. I shouldn’t have insinuated that you stood idly by,” Twilight said with a soft smile that slowly morphed into a little grimace. 

“I also shouldn’t have tried to punch you in the face, I’m sorry about that too,” He finished lamely as he coughed lightly into his hand. Warriors couldn’t hide the small smile that turned the corners of his mouth up. 

“We will get them back, but first we need to rest. You especially Twi,” Warriors said firmly, his hand coming to rest on Twilight’s back. He felt himself sag forward slightly, Warriors was right. He felt completely drained and he would be lying if he said sleeping in his own bed didn’t sound nice. His eyes drifted to the puddle again and he watched the starlight flicker and dance. 

He watched curiously as he saw something shift in the water. He squinted and he thought he could see a faint outline of a silhouette deep in its depths. He leaned closer to get a better look but just as he thought he could make out a flash of bright blue eyes, ripples suddenly burst across the surface of the puddle and obscured the image. Twilight pulled himself to his feet before he knelt next to the puddle and waited for the ripples to subside. Warriors made noises of curiosity but Twilight waved him off. After a minute the ripples finally calmed but all he could see in the still water was twinkling stars.

“Twi, are you okay?” Warriors asked tentatively as Twilight slowly got to his feet. He wasn’t sure himself to be honest. He wasn’t sure what he had just seen was his mind playing tricks, or if, somehow, he had just seen cub in the puddle. Twilight shook his head, he must have been seeing things, but still the thought lingered. 

“I’m fine, I just thought I saw... I don’t know, I must be more tired than I thought.” Twilight said dismissively. Warriors gave him a skeptical look but slowly nodded his head. 

“Alright, how about we head back to your house. I think it’s time for us to get some rest,” Warriors said with a yawn. Twilight offered his own yawn and nodded as he stumbled forward slowly. Warriors wrapped his arm around his shoulders and together they made their slow way back to the others who were slumbering peacefully back at the house.

[epiphany-of-a-madwoman]

The Last Dragon | The Witcher & Game of Thrones

Chapter 10 | Cintran Ale and Lingering Ghosts

Summary: Visenya Targaryen is the eldest and only surviving child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. When Robert Baratheon’s rebellion was won, instead of being slaughtered by the Mountain like her mother and siblings, she was saved by Ned Stark and taken as his ward. Years later, after she’s killed at the Red Wedding, she wakes up outside Blaviken. Now she finds her destiny intertwined with the White Wolf on her quest to go back home.

Word Count: 5029

Note: Click here to read the previous chapters ♡  Also I finally decided on a faceclaim for Visenya and to no ones surprise I chose Katheryn Winnick. She does Targaryen too well to not!    

💕 Shout out to my Beta: @thisbreakableheaven, I stan you so much! 💕

Splash.

The water pours out of the wood bucket, falling over Geralt’s hair and onto his body. The selkimore guts, now floating in the tub, the stench not nearly as burning as it had been previously. Like a dog, he shakes his head, droplets of water hitting the walls and Visenya. Without moving her gaze from the novel in hand, she wipes it away, turning the page immediately after.  

“Could you be a dear Jane, and grab me more of that soap?” Jaskier asks, setting the bucket down on the ground, wipes away the water on his forehead, and pushes his puffed sleeves to cuff around his elbow. 

“No.”

Flick.

“Isn’t she just lovely, and so helpful too?” Jaskier exclaims, sticky sarcasm coating each word like honey as he glides across the room, only two paces away from Visenay’s left side. He reaches up, standing on the tips of his toes- despite the shelf being within comfortable reach -  and grabs a bar of soap, a distinct lavender scent following it. He twirls, like a dancer on a stage, his large sleeves lightly smacking Visenya’s cheek. She reaches up to swat him with the palm of her hand, but he’s already danced away from her, twirling and spinning his way back to Geralt. 

“Oh I’m helpful alright, I help you empty your coin purse.” she mutters, pursing her lips into a tight line.

Flick. 

Geralt snorts, a smirk on his lips as he watches Visenya, his amber eyes practically glowing in the dim light. Their eyes meet for a second before Visenya snaps her gaze back to the book. 

“You know, maybe the two of you should travel together, you’re both so angry, like a pair of old people - you moreso, Geralt.” Jaskier says, his tone similar to that of a spoiled child groaning about not getting its way. “At least Jane cracks a joke and a smile once in a while.” He picks up the wooden bucket, filling it with clean water. 

Geralt grunts, glaring at Jaskier, his white hair slick against his face; Visenya just shows Jaskier her middle finger.

Flick. There’s only ten pages of the book left, yet Visenya can’t remember the name of the leads in the story…, or even it’s plot.

“Now, now, stop your boorish grunts of protest.” 

Water hits Geralt from above, his hair nearly clean of monster innards as they get washed away from him. The water pooling in the tub ripples, small waves flying out as new water takes its place. Instead of shaking his head, Geralt scrubs at his face, nearly growling as he does so. 

“It is one night, body guarding your best friend in the whole wide world, how hard could it be.” Jaskier says, turning around, and tosses the diary rag from his hand onto a bench, before circling around the tub until he’s standing on the opposite side of his previous spot.

“I’m not your friend.” 

“Oh, so you normally let strangers rub chamomile on your lovely bottom?” Jaskier’s tone is teasing, a smirk on his lips. 

Geralt turns towards Jaskier, arms on the side of the tub, lips set in a thin line with eyes burning like hot coals.

Visenya bites her lip, and despite her desperate attempt to hide the smile that’s pulling at the corners of her mouth, laughter escapes from her tightly pressed lips. Immediately after, she coughs, a fragile and ill attempt to disguise the noise. Even a mute with a bad left eye however would see through the coverup. Jaskier turns and meets Visenya’s gaze, flashing her a wink before looking away. 

“Right, that’s what I thought.” 

“I thought you were paying Jane to make sure you don’t get stabbed or robbed?” Geralt asks, tone low and raspy. 

Flick, eyes scan the book, only retaining every other word carefully written in aged black ink, keen ears intently listening to the conversation. 

“I am, and she does a very good job at that. The only wounds I’ve sustained since hiring her are the ones she inflicts onto me. But this isn’t just any old party, my friend. This is a betrothal feast, hosted by the Lioness of Cintra herself! There will be suitors from all over the world, powerful lords vying for the chance at winning the hand of her daughter, who I hear is very beautiful.”  

“And?” Geralt asks, raising a single ashen brow.

“And Jane won’t agree to go...but if you go, I’m sure she’ll agree to it!” Jaskier says.

“I’m right here.” 

“Yes, reading a book you claim is stupid and frivilous. So pointless, in fact, you haven’t put it down all day.” Jaskier says, turning to face her, a smug grin on his face that’s short lived.

Smack.

The book flies across the room, narrowly avoiding Jaskier’s face by only a few inches. It hits the wall with a resounding thud, pages crinkling as it falls to the ground. Geralt curses under his breath, grip on the wood tightening enough that veins begin to faintly pop out. Jaskier however, remains unphased, simply turning away from her to face Geralt once more. 

“Don’t mind her, she's just a bit cranky, she’s been having nightmares I think.” Jaskier says to Geralt, tone nonchalant and even, as if a book wasn’t just thrown at him. 

“Shut up.”

Geralt levels his gaze to Visenya, raising both his brows at her, an unspoken question in his eyes.

‘Are you okay?’

 She shakes her head, lips in a tight line as she rolls her eyes, not willing to delve into all of her childhood trauma that’s reared its ugly head since that first dream all those nights ago. She’d been successful, nearly all the memories locked away in that same box in the darkest corner of her mind, yet just enough remained to taunt her in her dreams.  

Lingering only a second longer, Geralt shifts his eyes back to Jaskier, who bounces on the balls of his feet, watching the two of them as if they were the only entertainment he’s had in weeks. 

“How many of these lords want to kill you?”

“Hard to say. One stops keeping track after a while: wives, concubines, mothers - sometimes.” 

Both Geralt and Visenya look up at Jaskier, looks of equal incredulousness and annoyance painted on their faces. 

“Oh, yes, there’s that face --” Jaskier sits on the small stool that’s pushed up against the tub. “-- scary face. No lord in their right mind would dare come near me with you there!”

Geralt’s jaw clenches just a hair, his eyes twitching ever so slightly that it could be written off as a trick of the light. He reaches over and grabs his mug of ale, bringing it to his lips, but Jaskier intercepts him, pulling the cup away from him as if Geralt was a child. 

“Ooo, on second thought, might want to lay off the Cintran ale, a clear head would be best.” Jaskier pats Geralt on the shoulder, stands from the stool and moves towards Visenya.

“A gift for My Lady!” Jaskier exclaims, lowering into a deep bow as he passes Geralt’s mug to Visenya, amber liquid spilling over the brim as he carelessly carries the cup. Face void of any emotion, she grabs the cup...pouring out the entirety of its contents on the ground, far enough away that the liquid won’t touch her feet. Jaskier just huffs, feigning anger as he turns around and moves towards the small vanity pushed up against a wall. He grabs a jacket that’s dark blue, the fit and fabric suited for a party rather than travel, distracting himself by holding it up and then setting it down, only to repeat the cycle. 

“I will not suffer tonight sober just because you hid your sausage in the wrong royal pantry. I’m not killing anyone, not over the petty squabbles of men.” 

He sets it down a final time, refolding it, and turning back to Geralt.

“Yes, yes, yes, you never get involved. Except you do, all the time.” Jaskier says, huffing as he moves towards Geralt. “Is this what happens when you get old? You get unbelievably cantankerous and crotchety. Actually, I’ve always wanted to know, do Witchers ever retire?”

“Yeah when they’re slow and get killed.” Geralt says, his tone aggressive but lacking the usual ferocity and fire found in it. 

“Come on, you must want something for yourself once all this monster hunting nonsense is over with?” Jaskier says, pressing the conversation further and further, fiending for anything Geralt will tell him. 

“I want nothing.” Jaskier looks down at his nails, then moves his gaze back to Geralt. He walks forward, leaning down so his elbows rested on the edge of the tub, facing Geralt. 

“Well who knows, maybe someone out there will want you.” Jaskier’s eyes flash to Visenya, but she isn’t looking at him, too busy pretending to be occupied. 

“I need no one, and the last thing I need is someone needing me.”

“And yet, here we are.” 

It's silent, each moment dragging on as the three of them wait for the other to break it. Geralt breaks eye contact, looking left and then right, eyes burning in the dim room.

“Where the fuck are my clothes, Jaskier?” Geralt says, snarling like a rabid animal.

“Oh, I had them taken to be cleaned, they were covered in selkimore guts, but you’re not going to the feast as a Witcher tonight.” Jaskier says, a mischievous glint in his eyes, ever present when Geralt is around it seems. 

Geralt opens his mouth,a stinging response on the tip of his tongue, but Jaskier interrupts the words before they can fully form. 

“But no need to worry about that.” Jaskier waves his hand, straightening his postures and gliding around the tub, and moving towards Visenya. “Now my dear Jane, will you agree to go with me now that our mighty, heroic Witcher--” Visenya just looks at Jaskier, face hard as stone.

“No. I already told you I’m not going.”

“But why not! Please, your presence is absolutely necessary with me!” Jaskier practically throws himself onto his knees, face like a begging puppy.

“I don’t like parties or weddings or betrothals.” She maintains the facade, not willing to break or show any weakness; cold and unfeeling, anything less and Jaskier will never let it go. 

“Why not.”

“Because I was murdered at one.” the words are like oil on her tongue, always just a few seconds from slipping out, but they don’t. She won’t let them. If she says the words out loud, it means they’re real, and if they’re real...she doesn’t know what she’ll do. 

“I just don’t.” It’s a lie, but an easy one, one she’s gotten good at telling. 

“Leave her alone Jaskier, I’ve already been pulled into your mess, no need to drag Jane into it, I’m sure she’s dealt with her fair share of predicaments, thanks to you.”

“Whatever, I'll have you know all of my messes, both intentional and not, are lovely.” Jaskier tilts his nose into the air, sniffling like an injured child playing into theatrics for attention. “I’ll leave you two grumps to it, maybe you can convince her with a smoldering gaze or something.” 

With one last teasing grin towards the both of them, Jaskier quickly exits the room like an actor leaving the stage after a staggering performance. The door closes behind him with a soft click, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent room. 

Visenya looks at Geralt, who looks at her, neither moving an inch. 

“Jane.” 

In that moment, with Geralt saying the fake name she gave herself all those months ago, it makes her realise just how much she misses hearing her real name. And she wonders how it would sound coming out of his mouth, whether the word would be like honey, sweet and smooth, sticking to her brain for the rest of her life. Or would it be harsher, his tongue having difficulty wrapping around the Old Valyrian name she stole from Queen Visenya I, like a petty thief. She remembers how Renfri would say it, somehow making her own name, something she’s heard a million times in her life, like sweet Southern sweets melting in her mouth. 

She remembers how...nice it felt, being able to be completely open and honest, when her life has been nothing but deceit and shadows for so long. And she almost breaks, pouring out everything from the moment she came into the world, banishing away the darkness that hung over King’s Landing, screaming and crying as she did. But she doesn’t. Fear claws at her mind, doubts that he would think her crazy or a deranged monster trying to work into his life assaulting her all at once. And it’s dizzying, so much so she nearly faints from the feeling.

“Jane.” Geralt says again, firmer this time, banishing away her inebriating fears and worries, everything clear within a single second. 

“Geralt,” 

She smirks at him, but it’s awkward and strange, looking more like a grimace than anything. 

“You alright?” he asks, and even in the dim light, she can see the lines in his forehead, brows furrowing. And for the second time that day, she considers telling him everything. But the same fears hold her back. 

“Aren’t I always?” she tries to joke, her voice going up three octaves as she tries to keep out the heaviness that always seems to follow her. 

“Hmm.” 

Silence washes over them, unspoken words and questions ricocheting off the walls and making everything feel smaller. 

“Thanks for the broach by the way.” Visenya breaks the silence first, motioning towards the broach that’s pinned to the left side of her tunic, hanging above her breast. 

“It looks better on you than it did me,” Geralt says, a smile that shows all his shiny white teeth on his face. Visenya nods her head, standing from the bench she perched herself on the moment Jaskier pushed them all into the room. Slowly and calculated, she begins to walk towards Geralt, each footstep ringing in the room until she’s by the tub, sitting on the stool Jaskier previously claimed. 

“I know, does wonders for my eyes when the light reflects off the gems,” she teases, crossing her left leg over the right. “It was the least you could do after leaving me to wake up by myself.”

“I didn’t realise you wanted me to stay.” Geralt rebuttals, raising a brow as he waits for her next move. 

“Oh don’t flatter yourself, I just wasn’t happy to deal with Jaskier’s prying questions alone. Do you know how many times I had to threaten to stab him, rob him, and then leave him for dead until he shut up? And even now he still makes subtle jokes about it.” Visenya says, rolling her eyes, resting her elbow on the edge of the tub, only a few inches away from Geralt. 

“My apologies for leaving you in such a dire situation.” Geralt leans forward, mimicking her light tone. 

“For shame Geralt, for shame.” 

“Is there anything I could do to make it up to the Lady?” he asks, leaning just a hair closer, and like there’s a magnetic field around him that pulls her to him, begging her to close the gap and feel his steady breaths fanning over her face. 

“The broach was a good start.” she replies, trying to not sound as breathless as she feels. 

She’s burning, her body all over electrified in a way it hasn’t been since the last time she saw Geralt. 

And then it’s suddenly cold, all the warmth being forcibly ripped from her body. The water hits against the tub as Geralt moves back, his body pressed against the other end of the tub, all coy smirk and smug eyes. 

Payback for last time it seems. 

Visenya rolls her eyes and straightens her back, eager for the flush that covers her body to disappear as quickly as it came. 

“Yeah whatever, you're naked and vulnerable, I could take you.” she says, waiting a moment before her eyes widen a fraction, Geralt smirk widening. ‘With my sword, that is. I could stab you with my sword and leave you dead. That’s what I meant, nothing else.” 

“Hmm, is that so?” Geralt’s eyes glint with amusement, the candles reflecting like roaring fires in his eyes. He’s beautiful in the dim glow of the flickering flames, skin glistening with droplets of water sticking to his body, further accentuating his rippling muscles and broad shoulders. 

“I hate you and Jaskier equally, just so you know.” Visenya says, huffing like a child, rolling her eyes and glancing at the bare wall, eyes tracing over the wooden panels, counting each grain as she does. 

“I’m sure. So what’s the real reason you don’t want to go to this feast? Jaskier drags you around to all his other parties, why not go to this one?” Geralt asks. Visenya’s eyes flicker back to Geralt. Her mind is blank, yet brimming with a million different words and phrases that jumble together until she can hardly find any words to speak. 

“I guess I’m not a fan of weddings or anything related to them.” is all she can say. “It’s not a big deal, just a weird tick I guess.” She nods her head, trying to make the words seem convincing to both her and Geralt. But it’s impossible to swallow the lump forming in her throat, nearly suffocating as Westeros hits her mind, the calamitous memories physically painful. 

“Bad experience?” 

Her face still sour from the fight with Robb, nearly breaking her jaw from how tightly she kept it clenched.

Lady Catelyn looking shrewd and nervous, but slowly softening to Talissa and Robb’s relationship.

Everyone celebrating and getting drunk in the room. 

“I’ve never been a good dancer,” she says, the words are soft and light, a tentative smile forming on her face. 

Robb falling to the ground, like a pincushion for crossbow bolts, choking on his blood despite being dead the second he entered the keep.

The camp burning.

Everyone around her dying. 

“And if I promised you wouldn’t have to dance?” Geralt says, leaning towards Visenya.

Her heart dropping when the slaughter started, frozen like a statue in the dead of winter, bolted to the floor and unmoving. 

Screams lighting up the room, ricocheting off the walls as they were stabbed, bludgeoned, and strangled. 

Greywind locked up outside, unable to help and dying alone, butchered like a pig.

“You seem desperate for my presence there, Geralt of Rivia.” Visenya teases.

The wail that ripped through her throat, leaving her drinking her own blood and tears.

The pit in her stomach as her legs gave out.

Their snears and taunting words as the world grew dark.

“If I have to suffer the night sober, I would prefer good company.” His lips pull into a smirk that’s lopsided, making his left eye crinkle an inch further than the right. 

And that little piece of her who wished she had died with the rest of her family 17 years ago. 

“And you couldn’t think of anyone else?” Visenya replies with a smile on her face that grows, eyes bright as Westeros and all it’s demons dim, leaning her chin onto the palm of her hand. 

“Well I’d bring my horse, but I don’t foresee them allowing Roach into the palace.”

“No, I imagine that wouldn’t go over too well.” 

Visenya sighs deeply, closing her eyes as she does, resolve breaking with each passing second that Geralt looks at her. 

“Do you think Jaskier would give me any say in my dress?” 

The door flings open, crashing into the wooden wall and causing it to shake for a moment. 

“Have no fear, My Lady, I’ve already got the perfect one!” 

                                                   o0o0o0o

The water is scalding hot, steam rising from the water and dissipating into the air. But it doesn’t burn, not in the way it should, instead every muscle in her body relaxes the second the it touches her skin. Small waves ripple through the water as her body twists and turns into a comfortable position. A small sigh leaves her mouth, echoing in the smaller room only to be swallowed by the door opening and closing.

“I don’t need help bathing.” Visenya says, weaving annoyance and mild anger in each word. 

Just one moment alone would be nice.

“And I’m not here to offer it, I just wanted to quickly discuss a few things,” Jaskier says, completely ignoring any warning signs and moving further into the room. 

“And then you’ll be out of my hair?” Visenya says, water splashing out of the tub and onto the floor as she pinches the bridge of her nose. 

“Well funny you should say that, actually…” She doesn’t need to turn around to see how his brows are furrowed, eyes unsure and a touch afraid that Visenya might fly off the handle. He’s never fully learned all her triggers yet, but to be fair, neither has she. 

She groans, loudly, sinking as far into the water as much as the tub would physically allow, wishing to be swallowed into an abyss. Always something with the hair, whether it’s pleads to let him style it or to tell him why she keeps dyeing it. 

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!” Jaskier exclaims, in an attempt to defend himself, feigning innocence he doesn’t possess when it comes to meddling. 

“I don’t have to. The answer is still no.” Visenya’s voice is firm and stern, unmovable like a stone wall. 

His footsteps echo in the room, the heels on the boots clicking against the wood flooring as he approaches, each step tentative and slow. 

“Well that just isn’t acceptable, you won’t even give a gentleman the simple opportunity to--” 

“Just tell me what you want so I can tell you no again” Visenya interrupts Jaskier, breathing heavily through her nose. 

“Alright, alright, tough crowd--”

“Jaskier!”

“Okay, alright, your hair! I wanted to talk about that.” Jaskier says, voice raising in volume as many octaves it did. “How do I say this while still keeping my life… it looks, well-- like a wild animal lives there and has lived there its whole life.”

The water splashes and ripples as her hand breaks through the stillness, joining the rest of her body beyond her head and the tops of her shoulders underwater. Jaskier holds his breath, waiting for Visenya to either tell him to fuck off or pretend he doesn’t exist at all. 

“I know.”

Jaskiers loudly exhales, physically deflating. 

“So I was thinking, what if we made it not look like that for the feast? You really should look your best before a monarch.” Visenya turns her head and glares at Jaskier. “I know you dye your hair, heavens know why, so I was just thinking what if you...washed it out.” 

“So you want me to wear my natural hair color for the feast?” Visenya clarifies, her voice not indicating anything she’s feeling. 

“Yes, exactly!” Jaskier exclaims, tone becoming more jovial and ecstatic, bouncing on his feet as he does. 

“No.”

“But--”

“I said no.” 

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“Come on, it can’t be that bad.”

“I said no Jaskier.” Visenya growls, the edges of the wooden tub crack under the pressure of her grip, splitters getting pushed under her nails. 

“Don’t be so dramatic, let’s see what color your roots are--” Jaskier moves closer, hands outstretched, desperate to see the silver hair shining under the dry brown. Visenya grits her teeth, anger pulsing under her skin, mind going white as all the sound in the room silences for a painstakingly long moment. 

“I said, no!” The words are piercing and sharp, nearly leaving both of their ears bleeding. The walls shake, the structure of the building itself rejecting the shrill words rolling off of Visenya's mouth. Her eyes flash like fire, burning anything in its wake; it’s dangerous and untamed, wildfire barely contained in two eyes.

Her hand flies up in the air, palm nearly meeting Jaskier’s cheek, but he manages to duck out of the way, stepping back far enough to avoid the slap, the residual heat radiating from her hand nearly singeing his hair. With wide eyes, baby blues watching her with bewilderment and a small tinge of something else- something she never wants him or anyone else to ever look at her with again. 

Fear.

Visenya inhales sharply, simply staring at her own hand with dazed eyes. It’s still hot, she’s still hot. The previously scalding water that had begun to cool, heats up again with a vengeance, boiling wildly around her. Small beads of sweat form at her temple, the room growing smaller with each sharp breath Jaskier takes. 

“I’ll just-- I’ll just leave you to it, just… forget I asked, I guess,” he says, the words jumbling and melting together, nearly disappearing into the wooden walls that seem to close in.  

Click.

Just as quickly as he entered the room, he exits, leaving behind nothing but the faint smell of his perfume and hair styling product. The room is silent, unbearably so. Visenya turns, water languidly splashing, her back facing the door as she stares at the bare wall, eyes glazing as she attempts to focus on every small detail of the wood. Her mind is blank, yet at the same time it’s a storm, ferociously raging in her head, until her ship is pulled under, thoughts drowning her. 

“Fuck!” The palm of her hand smacks against the water, a barrage of droplets sticking to the sweat beads. A growl of anger and frustration leaves her mouth as she thrusts her hands forward, creating a wave that forces a large amount of water to spill onto the ground, forming a small puddle of anger and guilt.  

Regret weighs heavily on her, like wearing a suit of full plate in the middle of the ocean. She shouldn’t have snapped at Jaskier that way, she wishes she hadn’t. He’s just trying to help, to pull Visenya out of this hole she’s happily buried herself in, clawing at the dirt with perfectly manicured hands and a velvet outfit, humming a sweet melody as he digs. She’d yelled before: threatened to hurt him in every way imaginable, screamed so loud her voice nearly vanished. She’d smacked his chest and shoulders under the guise of seriousness with a sly smirk playing on the corner of her lips. And he took it in stride, laughing it off with a charming smile and a witty quip, bouncing back instantaneously, because she never fully knocked him down. 

She tries to believe this isn’t any different, that she’ll walk out of this room, only to be bombarded by Jaskier’s incessant teasing. But no amount of rose-tinted lenses can bury her in that delusion, because this time is different. She could see the way he looked at her, the way he crumbled under the fire in her eyes and rage simmering under her skin.

Her fury in that moment was harsh, but true, and very much directed at him with intent to harm. All because he wanted to see her hair. How could he ever understand that it’s more than that to her. How does she explain how the same silver strands that crown her a Targaryen princess, something that marked her a paragon of her ancestors, but a pariah to the living. She’d never be able to explain how it was the one unmistakable trait that marked her as the daughter of the man who stole away Winterfell’s princess, staining her a traitor to all of Westeros. 

No one here knows who House Targaryen was or what her ancestors did -- both horrible and great. And maybe it’s better that way. To wipe her home and family name out of her memories, drown Westeros and all the hurt and pain and misery that came with it until she can’t remember anything prior to Blaviken. 

Because what did they achieve, what did any of them really achieve? Aegon the Conqueror along with Rhaenys and Visenya Targaryen formed the Seven Kingdoms. They brought war and then peace, only for that to be lost 300 years later due to the madness of a single man, that apparently bled into his eldest son.

With Fire and Blood, they took what they wanted and bathed the rest in dragon fire as they reigned calamity upon their enemies. Some were kind and fair, but most were cruel and callous, seeing themselves higher than the rest because their eyes shone like amethysts with hair threaded from silver.

What did being the daughter of Rhaegar Targaryen ever give her, except for despair at the loss of the family he abandoned to the whims of a madman. What did being the granddaughter of the Mad King Aerys give her, beyond the crippling fear that would leave her awakening in the darkest part of the night covered in sweat, fears that she’d descend to that same madness that haunted him. That she’d lose the ability to control her own mind until she was put down like a dog, something Robert Baratheon would’ve done happily as the people whispered ‘What a shame she went mad.’

What did being a Targaryen ever really bring her if not scars and lingering ghosts? 

The last time she fully embraced her blood, standing as tall and regal as a Targaryen should, how she believed they would, she burned down half a village.

No, it’s better this way.  

Even if it’s just hair. 

She sinks further into the boiling water, breathing in the steam like the smoke from a fire, praying and hoping she would just disappear. She continues down until her shoulders and underwater, then her neck, until the back of her head touches the bottom of the tub, eyes closed as her water floats around her face. And surrounded by the boiling water, washing away the day and all her mistakes, salty tears leave her eyes, being swept away into the water. 

                                                    o0o0o0o

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[peachyteabuck]

study buddy, part v

series summary: after crushing on you since freshman orientation, Natasha finally gets the guts to ask you help you pass her postmodern lit midterm, to which you agree.

chapter summary: one restaurant date, two confessions, and three grades that will make or break natasha’s degree

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

words: 4,881

trigger warnings: overstimulation, use of a safe word, teeth rotting fluff, strap on sex, ball gags, explicit conversations about whorephobia, orgasm control, angst if you squint

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

part one, part two, part three, part four

The warmth of the sun filtered through blinds is what woke you, wrapped tight in Natasha’s arms. The sex-stained blankets were as messy as can be, some of them hugged your intertwined bodies like a tightly wrapped burrito while others were nearly falling off the bed.

It was messy, beautifully and wonderfully so. If you felt the need to move (which, of course you didn’t because who in their right mind would try to disentangle themselves from such a lovely human person) you doubt you could’ve; Natasha held you with arms too strong and heart beat too soft. You wouldn’t dare disturb her if the house was on fire; then again, if the world was burning down around you – you’d rather die in her arms than reach for uncertain safety. It’s there that you fell back into sleep, tucked under her chin and running your fingers through her hair.

Eventually the growling of your stomachs woke the both of you up, each respective organ desperate for nourishment – and the two hard-boiled eggs, sour gummy worms, gluten-free bread, and half a container of mustard wasn’t gonna cut it. The waning sun was an ominous sign of how long you’d truly gone without food, and you soon didn’t feel all that bad about poking your poor g-

Poking poor Natasha awake.

You didn’t feel all that bad poking Natasha awake as your insides beg for sustenance and your head feels light and holy shit, if you didn’t eat right then you were going to start taking bites out of her – and, for the first time, not in a fun and/or sexy way.

“Hey,” you pressed your forefinger to her nose. “Nat.” You poked the end of each eyebrow, then at various locations of her forehead. “Natasha!” Still, she remained asleep, and buried herself further into the blankets as some unconscious act of survival. “Nat.” You poked her right cheek. “Naat.” You poked her left cheek. “Naaat.” You poked each cheek with each hand at its softest part, pushing until you felt her teeth.  “Nat wake uuup.”

She just grunted and pushed you away before she nuzzled back into the covers. “Go away. I want to die here. Let me become a body without organs.”

She paused.

“Or is it organs without bodies?”

You sighed but make no move to displace her. “One, Natasha, we have the midterm coming out soon. If you do not know the original work done by two far left authors from the sarcastic critique by another far left author, I’m breaking up with you. Two, that’s not what that means and you making a vague reference to some postmodern concept does not mean I am going to stop being annoying. Three, would you like to come get dinner with me?”

Natasha shot up, flame-red hair messy and shirt disheveled – it made her look like the top of of a thicket of trees during a forest fire. Along the side of her face, you could see indentations from where her skin was pressed to the pillowcase. “Food?”

You nodded, pushing the strands from her eyes. “Yes, darling, food.”

She wiped at her face and pushed the covers from her legs, eyes half-closed. “Food.”

You picked some of the crust from the corner of her eyes. She blinked indignantly at you but made no move to stop you. “Do you care where we go?”

Natasha shook her head left-to-right silently, then moved to wipe her face once more.

“Okay. There is a very good Chinese place that I want to show you. Is that okay with you?”

Natasha nodded and made a mmhmm noise.

“Cool.”

You kissed the tip of her nose before you got up and scrounged together a passable outfit that would cover the bruises that still littered your body and shield you from the cold. After a few moments, Natasha opened her eyes wide enough to see a few feet in front of her and did the same.

There was s a wonderful silence that filled the air, the comfortable kind. Like the day of that quiz, it’s a wonderful kind of cozy – soothing and sweet.

You could get used to this…

It was a short walk to the restaurant, one you were all-too familiar with due to your many, many nights there. It was the first place you ate at on campus (that wasn’t one of the mind-numbingly mediocre cafeterias) the day you moved in and it had become some pseudo-home, the place always warm and waitstaff always nice (and always willing to let you eat as much as you pay for and abuse their free WiFi).

The menu hadn’t changed much (by “much,” you mean they’ve fixed two of the five typos) since you first started going there, so you should have already known what you want. Still, you opened the folded, laminated paper and read each item with genuine interest, just as Natasha did.

You looked up at her once and awhile just to see her again. Every time you tried to keep her out of your line or sight for more than a few seconds you’d almost burst at the seams, like a sunburst than could only be quelled by looking at her.

“What year are you?” Natasha asked, which broke your unbelievably tender train of thought.

Your brain, which was still very fried, did not compute. “What?”

She reached over to point to the Chinese zodiac calendar on your menu with one of many of her fingers that was inside you last night. “What year are you?”

You mumbled something and shrugged, fake-intense-reading as your neurons attempted to rebuild your capacity for speech. Luckily, Natasha seemed determined to continue the conversation.

“I’m the year of the dog,” she said, nonchalant, as if you were not losing your goddamn mind on the other side of the table. Your brain was fried, your mouth was gaping like a fish out of water, and were your hands shaking? What the fuck were you supposed to say? How should you respond?

Think, you fool! Think!

“There’s a feminist critical theorist who fucks her dog,” you blurted.

Natasha just smiled – god her smile was so big and wide and beautiful - and laughed. “Part of me thinks you’re lying, but part of me worries you’re telling the truth.”

You laughed then, too, smiling big as she did. It set the tone for the rest of the night, mood light and happy as the tired, probably-high waitress took your order and then brought you the food a suspiciously-short amount of time later. It was good, very good.

“And my mom turns to me and she goes,” you wrinkled your noise in an effort to properly invoke your mother’s nasally tone. “This family does not get Fs or Ds or Cs. You better fix this or else.”

Natasha almost choked on her soft drink at your impression. “You were supposed to make an omelet for a foods and nutrition class, what did she want you to do!?”

You took another bite of orange chicken before you rolled your eyes and shrugged. “I have no idea what that woman wants from me now, let alone when I was fuckin’ fourteen.”

You were both laughing as you took food from each other’s plates and swapped small stories. Natasha told you about her own coding mishaps (apparently it was easy to hack into news websites and create fake stories involving certain celebrities and a certain large bird and many, if not too many, phallic objects), you told her about the time you stress-cried in the bathroom so much the janitor kept tissues in a secret compartment for you.

One hand from each of you remained occupied as you held hands on the side of the table farthest from the prying eyes of fellow college students (as if any of them were sober enough to notice, though. Along with being great to you, the restaurant’s very greasy menu meant it was a good spot to quench munchies or quell the pain of an especially bad hangover).

A phone – your phone, you realized – vibrated obnoxiously on the other side of the table. Previously forgotten, you broke from the moment to reengage with the (seemingly) hundreds of people who were attempting reach you via text. At first you thought it’s an email from a client – but then you realized it was a text from a classmate. Specifically, the girl who sat front and center in the lecture hall you and Natasha shared.

“Who’s that?” Natasha asked.

You furrowed your brows as you texted, swallowing the last bit of food. “Oh, Lindsay from our class. She wants to know what I got on the quiz.”

Natasha then realized she never bothered to figure out her grade, and it brought all her anxiety about graduating on time and also making sure you’d never leave her and oh my god what if she failed this fucking quiz?

A few moments of soul-crushing silence passed before you put your phone back down. Natasha watched you like a cat stalking a fake mouse on a string, or a drunk mom at a Christmas party eyeing a dessert table; the drive was genuine, but the goal? Ridiculous. Absolutely, totally ridiculous.

You didn’t press her like she expected, though, didn’t even stare at her with that evil eye Natasha’s sure you got from your mother on more than one occasion. You just went back to eating your food, and put your phone back out of reach.

You noticed her staring at you when you went to borrow (steal) another piece of food from her plate.

“What?”

Natasha furrowed her brow. “Don’t you…Don’t you want to know what I got on the quiz?”

You shook your head as you stole another few bites worth of food. “Not unless you want to tell me.” You shrugged as you swallowed. “I’m not gonna, like, push you if you don’t want to tell me. I’m not my mother.”

Natasha smiled at that and left the conversation there. She was unnaturally quiet for the new few minutes as she listened intently while you told more stories and commented on the food and thought out loud about school and the rest of your life and should you go shopping soon?

Throughout all of it, Natasha remained incommunicative – to the point you started to worry.

“Are you okay?” you asked and reached across the table to put your hand over hers. She smiled, softly, before she replied.

“I really care about you, you know,” she said, low and almost inaudible. You said nothing in return. “And I’m very bad at this. I’m so bad at this. I spent a lot of my childhood in rooms with therapists who said less than I did. I’m not good at,” she waved her hands as she tried to find the right words. “I’m not great at emotions. And expressing them and telling people about them and all that shit. Okay?”

You swallowed the last tastes of duck sauce that coated your back teeth. Despite the sweet substance being a liquid, it felt like a waterfall of boulders cascading inside your throat. “Nat, I-“

“This isn’t me saying I love you, but I want…” Natasha was on the verge of crying, just as you were. She averted your gaze as she continues, staring at the booth cushion directly behind you. “I want to commit to you in some way. I like you, I like the person I am when I’m around you. And I don’t want to lose you because I was too much of a pussy to make a move.”

You said nothing, did nothing. Despite her not looking at you, you stared at her very serious facial expression and watched every muscle twitch for some signs of lying. You saw none.

“I…,” Natasha met your eyes as you spoke. Your mouth was so dry you nearly coughed – but the idea of making any sound terrified you. “I…I need some air.”

You didn’t wait for a reply as you pushed yourself out of the booth and ran out the front entrance.

Natasha didn’t wait for the door to close behind you before she chased after you. She left both of your phones and wallet at the booth, not wanting you to get out of eyeshot but also terrified of the waitstaff thinking the both of you were dine-and-dashers (and terrible ones, at that).

She followed you outside, ache in her heart an excellent distraction from the nighttime chill that dug tiny knives into her pale skin. Still, as her breath was visible in a faint fog in front her, no pain was as unimaginable as the one as losing you.

“Babe, plea-“  began, voice small and nonthreatening as possible.

You interrupted her and avoided looking into her eyes and picked at a loose thread in the sweater you were wearing – Natasha’s sweater you were wearing.

You worried it was the last time you’d ever see her again, and yet you refused to look at her. You refuse dto look at her large eyes and the bags under them, at her nimble hands – thin and agile from years of typing; at her plush lips or beautiful hair or-

Wasn’t that the cruelest irony of all? Of the cognitive dissonant fear of missing something while desperately avoiding looking at it. Still, you chose to jump off the proverbial cliff with your eyes clenched shut and nails digging into the pads of your soft palms and blood rushing in your ears louder than anything you’d ever heard in your life.

“I’m a sex worker.”

Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed and she breathed heavily, like when your mom got mad at you for bringing home that C your freshman year. “There’s-“

“I’m a sex worker. I make my own porn. I sell my nudes. It’s my main,” you sighed. “It’s my only source of income. It’s how I make money. It is how I will continue to make money. It’s how I stay mostly-independent from my very judgmental mother. It’s how I plan on staying mostly-independent from my very judgmental mother and my very judgmental family and the very judgmental world. And if you think that’s morally wrong of whatever, or that I’m some sort of sub-human, or that I’m evil, or that I should stop…”

For the first time that night, you looked her straight in the eyes. No smiling, no laughing, no wishing to see her beautiful face. Power. Authority. Truth. You tried to channel the red you saw on all those feminist theory books you’d had to read for the class that brought you and Natasha together.

“If you don’t believe in the validity of my labor I cannot and will not date you,” you were snarling as you stomped toward her until your toes nearly touched. “I’m not going to let someone who can’t love what I do love me.”

As you stood there, teeth bared and hands balled into fists, stories of rage flashed like lightning in your brain. Narratives of horror from your media studies class, of actresses whose only chance to scream was in front of a camera. If you had sharper nails, sharper teeth, glowing eyes that would be some award-winning monologue where people clap and call it “mind-blowing” and give it “five out of five stars.” You’d be a prime example of how satisfying rage can be as a subversive practice.

But no. You were no antihero(ine), no supernatural being caught on tape. You were not on the silver screen, you were not being streamed on some overpriced platform, you were not the subject of dissertations on media studies or really good articles on feminism or whatever else academics were doing with their time in tenure. You had filed-down nails and wide eyes and soft skin and an uneasy stomach and shaking hands and breath that faintly showed in the air when you exhaled. You had tears that threatened to fall. You had fear.

Natasha’s eyes flitted nervously, her lip between her teeth. For a moment, neither of you said anything.

Natasha was the one to speak first. Her voice sounded as terrified as you felt – with words that were spat through a set jaw and teeth bared.

“Who hurt you?”

You took a half-step back, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What? Natasha, what the fuck are y-“

“Who hurt you?” she whispered, words like knives and eyes just as dangerous. You stepped back, almost scared of her and what she could do to you.

You were pressed against the side of the building then – you could feel the brick and mortar itching at the skin of your back through your top. “Natasha what the hell are you talking about? I don’t kn-“

“Yes,” she stepped back, but grasped at your left hand as she did so. She was a ship tethering to a dock, floating out on the water but always willing to come back to port. “Yes, you do. You know exactly who, what, I’m talking about. What they did. Just tell me who they are, and I’ll ruin their lives.”

You looked for the joke, the punchline. You looked for a glint in her eye that said she was fucking with you and was waiting for you to laugh it off. When you were in seventh grade you got asked out as a joke and the football player made the exact same facial expression you now hunt for.

But you found nothing, no teasing or set up in a larger scheme to mock you. She was serious as you’d ever seen anyone be. “What in the fuck-“

“Tell me who they are. Tell me the name of every person who ever made you feel like shit and I’ll ruin their lives. I’ll steal their identity. I’ll make it so they can never get a job, or a car, or a house again. I’ll do it in a heartbeat,” Natasha let go of your hand and held your face in her food-warm palms. “I will destroy the very existence of every person who ever made you feel like this, because you deserve someone who will protect you from all that bullshit. And I want to be that person.”

The silence was painful, almost. But also comforting. Still, you broke it so speak. “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Natasha smiled, and pecked your lips. “Good. Now come finish my food with me, it’s getting cold and our waitress is definitely judging us.”

You broke into a fit of laughter, nearly wheezing as she guided you back inside. The food was good, even though it had cooled considerably while you were both outside – greasy and thick with flavor and hot in your mouth along with your soul and Natasha held your hand on the table and fed you with her fork and you stole bits of her food while she was distracted. At one point, Lizzo played on the restaurant soundtrack and Natasha sung low with you, and you ordered more food to take home and it was hot, too hot in your hands as you carried the large brown paper bag soaked with grease to her apartment. Maybe you were going eat the food in the morning, maybe you were going eat it later tonight. It, truly, did not really matter.

There wasn’t much time between when you put the leftovers in the fridge and when Natasha pushed you onto your knees in her (and your) (it was now shared) bedroom. There also wasn’t much time between when your knees hit the ground and when Natasha grabbed the ball gag from its place in her toy drawer.

“I’m so happy you’re mine,” Natasha cooed as she adjusted the matte black straps. She kissed at your temples when it was secured, murmuring sweet words into the top of your hairline. If there was anyone else watching you, if there were some voyeur witnessing this profession of ownership, you doubt they could hear her. The entire world could be gazing at the two of you under a microscope and they would know nothing. Wasn’t it something wonderful, to share such, dare you say it, love that cannot, will not be observed by a single being outside your pairing? “Such a pretty little thing, a beautiful little toy for me.”

You didn’t dare move, worried even a flinch would disappoint her. Even as spit began to fall down your chin and between your breasts, as it pools in the gap between your legs, you successfully resist the urge to wipe it away. Natasha walks to the end of the bed, perching herself on the covers. The silence isn’t thick or uncomfortable, rather something closer to electric, something you can feel on the insides of your nose as you sniffled.  

Slowly, she raised her right hand and crooked her first finger. You understood immediately and you got on your hands and knees to crawl across the room to her. When you reached the end of the bed you waited, obediently, for her.

Like at the restaurant – you were nearly bursting out of your skin with excitement as you awaited instruction.  

“You’re so pretty, baby,” she cooed. “Now come up on the bed and let me wreck that pussy.”

You do as you’re told without hesitation, scrambling to get on the bed and onto your back. Natasha grabbed a bottle of lube out of seemingly nowhere and poured it over the same strap from the first time she fucked you.

You moaned deeply and reached for something, anything; you whined high in your throat as she pounded into you, the bed smacking against the stained wall with each thrust.

“You’re too pretty for your own good, you know,” her voice was breathless as she spoke. “Normally I would try to keep my toys intact, try to keep them in good condition, but I just can’t seem to help myself around you.”

With each word your back arched farther, your fingers tightened around the sheets.

“F-fuck,” you moaned around the thick plastic sphere in your mouth as you tried to push your back closer to Natasha’s chest.

She grabbed your hair and bit at the curve of your ear before she spoke in a low voice that sent another wave a slick down your inner thighs. “What do you belong to?” she hisses. “Who does this pussy,” she slapped your cunt and you cried out at the stinging pain. “belong to?”

You didn’t hesitate. “You Mommy, I belong to you!”

In that moment, you wondered whether Natasha’s neighbors could hear your screams. But in the one right after, you realized you really, truly, di not give a single flying fuck what they could hear.

“Fuck yes, you’re mine,” she growled as she pressed your face into the sheets, as she loomed over you like a god would punish some human exercising an unholy level of hubris. “Don’t you fucking forget it.”

You couldn’t speak because of the ball gag – didn’t even try to – yet Natasha seemed to know exactly what you wanted to say.

“You wanna cum, love?” she cooed, still fucking into you. “You wanna cum over Mommy’s cock?”

You nodded, the whines high in your throat resembed something close to a please yes please Mommy please I wanna cum I wanna cum I wanna cum.

Just like the lube, Natasha grabbed the hitachi out of thin air before she turned it on low and pressed it to your neglected clit. It was something, it was enough, but only just so. Your muscle tensed and you wailed out as you bucked your hips, as you tried to fuck yourself harder onto the toy. Natasha notices and slows her thrusts, laughing as you become more and more desperate.

“You’re so pathetic,” she hissed. “Such a pathetic little toy. You’ll do anything to cum, won’t you?”

You nodded; words garbled.

Natasha laughed again. “Of course you would, slut. You’d do anything for me, right? You’d do anything I told you to? You’re just a mindless little toy for me, just a dumb little thing with no thoughts besides how you can please me…”

You were drooling around your gag so much it covered your cheeks and pooled on each side.

You’re blissed out, eyes glazed over and body wonderfully lax. Natasha’s isn’t done with you yet, though, because of course she isn’t. You’re now officially her girlfriend, officially hers, and maybe it’s that satisfaction or excitement or whatever in her blood but it it’s letting her stop, not now, not when you look so ethereal with a halo of sweaty hair and the sheets looking like wings and your skin practically glowing.

Not just any angel, her angel – her perfect little blessed creature, sanctified even as she degrades you in such a sacrilegious way.

“I want you to cum when I count to ten,” Natasha murmured as she pushed the sweaty hairs that had escaped their confines from your eyes. “Alright, baby?”

You nodded and tried to chase the fleeting feeling of her fingers as they dusted over your feverish skin.

She turned the Hitachi up a setting, smiling as it met your clit and you cried out.

“One,” she mumbled, rubbing the head against you in small circles. It was something, but certainly not enough.

“Two.”

Natasha knew this. She knew you didn’t orgasm all that easily.

“Three.”

Regardless, she agonizingly slowly turned the toy up a setting. Just as you feared, it remained insufficient.

“Four.”

God, nearly halfway there and you were terrified what would happen if you couldn’t cum. Part of it was exhilarating, but part of it gnawed a small hole in your stomach that left you…empty, somehow.

“Five.”

She ticked it up one, two more settings. You sighed in relief and moved your hips with what little mobility she’d allowed you.

“Six.”

She increased the vibrations again and reveled in your squeals.

“Seven.”

You cried out and wanted to beg for mercy.

“Eight.”

You didn’t.

“Nine.”

You felt like you’d forgotten how to breathe, lungs shriveled up into nothingness. It was as if you could feel each of your cells as they begged for oxygen, as your blood desperately tried to each your heart and brain.

“Ten.”

You came with a deafening scream, your whole body shaking for what feels like forever.

When you came down, your girlfriend was next to the bed, holding what you could only is another section of rope. What she planned to do with it, you had zero idea.

“How ya doin’, baby?” She asks. Natasha could sense something was off, but worried about misreading the signs.

It’s obvious she was not incorrect, though, when you tapped at your thigh three times.

Immediately, Natasha drops the toys in her hands and rushes over – untying the gag and freeing your limbs.

“What’s wrong, baby?” She scanned your body – terrified of finding blood or something worse. “What do you need?”

You swallowed what little spit you could find, your voice hoarse as you spoke. “Red,” a pause as you attempted to swallow once more. “Water.”

It was  all Natasha needed before she was rushing off to the fridge to grab a chilled bottle of the stuff and one of those reusable straws she stole from your apartment.

When she returned to the room she pulled you into her lap, keeping you upright as she leaned against the wall.

Natasha watched every muscle, every twitch as you drank from the straw. Your body seemed unwilling to move itself, relying on Natasha to hold you upright enough so that you didn’t choke. The room was silent except for the sound of your noisy swallowing (and, soon, the slurping of last droplets of water). You were about to ask for more, but Natasha found an unopened plastic water bottle within reach and held that for you, too. It reminded you of the first time the two of you fucked, and suddenly the world didn’t feel so cold anymore.

“I’m done, Mommy,” you told her when half the water was gone. “I’m good.”

“You sure, babygirl?” her voice laced with deep, genuine concern. Her eyes reflected the same emotion.

You nodded, leaning into her and rubbing your knuckles where they laid against her thigh. “I’m sure, Mommy. Thank you.”

Natasha closed the bottle and tossed it into the half-open bedside table drawer before she wrapped you in her arms. “Of course, honeybee. I’m proud of you for using your safe word, thank you for trusting me.”

You mmmed and laid there for a moment, your breathing in rhythm with Natasha. You two sat there, comfortable in the silence. If there was anything else to say, you’d say it – but for the while you enjoyed the wordless space you and her existed in.

It took a long while, after your heart had slowed and your breathing had evened out, but you eventually fell asleep in Natasha’s arms. It was peaceful, deep – somehow impossibly more satisfying than any of the other times you’d fallen asleep, even the times you’d fallen asleep with her. There, secured from harm in her arms and wrapped in blankets, you felt secure. It was indescribable, it was wonderful, it was safe. And to you, in that moment, it was heaven.

[hi-hey-haechan]

#112 and #95 with felix (skz) pls 💕

Thank you for requesting! This is my first prompt ask with a Stray Kids member, and it was fun to write. I’m so soft for Felix, and he’s an angel whose smile brightens up the whole world. Now please enjoy this smut that is the opposite of soft ;)

95: “Is that a promise?”

112: “What are you doing in my bed?”

Warnings: Fingering, masturbation

“What are you doing in my bed?” Roommate!Felix’s deep voice pulled you out of your pleasure-filled daze, suddenly making you feel trapped. Your heart threatened to leap out of your chest as soon as the door to his bedroom opened. His voice wasn’t angry, just amused. He was hardly ever angry; much less was he angry at you.

The quilt was up to your waist, lucky enough for both of you. However, your legs were spread, and you were sure he could see this through the outlines of you in the covers of his bed. If you closed your legs, he’d know they were apart in the first place, just in case he couldn’t see this right now. Two fingers were buried knuckles-deep in your pussy, but your hand had stopped its movement as you stared at Felix like a deer in the headlights.

You couldn’t bring yourself to explain how you were getting yourself off, and his bed smelled like him, which only helped you further in this circumstance.

He was your roommate. He was your best friend. Best friends don’t jerk off to each other. Then again, what were you just doing? In your mind, you wanted him in every way possible. Your heart longed for him to say that he loved you, with his beautiful, big eyes staring at you as though you were the entire world. Your core, however, begged for him to drill into you harshly until you were screaming his name.

“I...um...I was looking for something?”

“In my bed?” he inquired, looking more confused than skeptical. “And then you decided to take a nap?”

“Look,” you sighed, carefully planning out your words, “I didn’t know you would be home so early.” This wasn’t a lie. If you’d known, you’d be doing this in your own bed.

“So...when I’m not home, you sleep in my bed? And why are you sweating?”

Felix wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly what you were doing, with one hand down under the covers, your legs spread apart under the sheets. You were getting yourself off. To him. And that turned him on to the max. He wanted to see how long he could continue this, how far this could be taken.

“I...it’s hot in here?”

Without waiting another second, Felix darted over to the bed and pulled back the sheets, seeing how completely correct his suspicions were. You couldn’t even resist; it was so sudden.

Felix looked at your bare torso, your shirt hitched up a bit to expose a bit of your stomach. Your fingers were as deep as they could be inside of you, but you weren’t moving them, despite your neediness only increasing.

You closed your eyes, not wanting to make eye contact with him. “Fine,” you sighed, “I was jerking off, in your bed because it smells like you. There, I just fucking embarrassed myself. Happy? I’ll be going now.”

Before you could grab you shorts, which were bunched around your ankles, Felix grabbed your wrist. When you met his gaze for just a split second, you already felt so much. His eye contact was a strike. HIs pupils were dark, and he looked fierce and dominant. “You’re just gonna get yourself off alone? Without help? Let me give you what you want, baby, and let me make you feel good. I’m gonna make you cum harder than you ever have in your life.”

Baby? Did he just call you “baby?” You didn’t know what his intentions were from saying that, but damn, it was hot, especially in his deep voice.

“Is that a promise?”

Felix, the soft boy who smiled at the sun and cuddled with dogs and had the most beautiful, light dusting of freckles across his nose, was speaking less-than-innocent words. And you had to admit that it made your core gush even more with heat and fluid. He didn’t answer your question. Instead, he pulled your hand and fingers out of your dripping core. His tongue, however, had different plans. He slowly brought your fingers to his mouth, licking and sucking your arousal off of them. He enjoyed the tangy taste of you.

The sight was incredible: His plump, perfect lips were enclosed around your fingers, which were slick with your juices. His tongue darted out, tasting you. It was so hot, so incredibly attractive, that you could have cum right there, had he been pleasuring you, as well.

He then dragged his fingers up and down your exposed core, his actions painstakingly slow. His fingertips hardly grazed over your swollen clit, but it caused you to buck your hips up to try to meet his hand, begging for more friction. “F-Felix,” you groaned, “please.”

“Tell me what you want,” his beautiful voice sounded. He was close to you, for when he exhaled, his hot breaths fanned against your skin. The sensation itself caused goosebumps to break out across your skin. That, added to his teasing, were already killing you.

His fingertip teased the outside of your hole, barely pushing in, before withdrawing. He traced a slow circle around your pussy, before leaving one tap on your clit. Your body jolted, and you inhaled sharply. “Need your fingers inside of me,” you whimpered, his teasing causing the fire in your core to only grow. You needed Felix to satisfy your hunger, your cravings for him, for his entire being.

Your hole was already dripping, which made it easy for him to insert a slender finger. His fingers weren’t much bigger than yours, but damn, they could reach everywhere that you couldn’t whenever you fingered yourself. The heat of your core pounded around his finger. You needed more. One finger was nothing, no matter how he curled it inside of you.

He added another, a squelching sound audible as he did so. You moaned, feeling more of your juices escape your pussy from the stimulation. Felix’s other hand came down to rub slow circles over your clit, swollen from lack of attention. Your hips bucked against his hands, pushing you deeper on his fingers and grinding you harder against your clit. “F-fucking hell, this feels so good,” you whined, shutting your eyes.

His fingers curled against your sweet spot in between the fast pumping of his fingers. The circles he rubbed on your clit matched the speed of his fingers, pleasuring you to an even further extent.

Yet another digit entered your sopping wet core. Your juices were dripping down onto the bed, the fire in your core only growing as he continued to finger you. Three was harder to take, and you felt a stretch in your stomach and hole as you clenched around him, trying to get used to the feel. Your arousal dripped onto his hand, but he didn’t even care. Hearing you moan so beautifully for him was so hot, and seeing his fingers slide in and out of you was a sight he’d only dreamed of.

At some point, he had stopped thrusting his fingers, only curling at the deepest parts of you, right against your g-spot. Felix circled your clit with more pressure and more speed, causing the darkness behind your eyes to turn to white.

He was fingering you with such skill, and you were hurtling towards your high. The fire in the bottom of your stomach burned, a string pulled taught, about to snap any second.

You were almost sobbing from the pleasure, clenching around his curling fingers with such intensity. “Fuck fuck fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you mewled. Your fingers had balled up, grabbing the bedsheets for something to anchor you.

“Cum for me,” he said, the deep richness of his voice sounding in the midst of your pleasure.

And then the string snapped. “Felix!” you cried out, back arching violently as your orgasm hit you with such intensity. Your toes, which had curled up from the pleasure minutes ago, were cramped up, but you couldn’t even feel it. Nothing in you was present except pleasure, his fingers thrusting and curling as you rode out the violent spasms of your clenching walls and the shaking of your legs. The walls rang with your crying repetitions of Felix’s name, until finally, after an eternity, you finished riding out your high. You’d never climaxed so hard in your life.

You took a minute or so to calm down, and Felix’s fingers were glistening with your arousal, which he licked and sucked off of his digits.

“Y/n?” he inquired. “Why were you in my bed while masturbating?” It was very out of the blue, yet it was appropriate regarding the situation.

Shamelessly, you answered, “because I was thinking about you while doing so, and I couldn’t reach my high, so I thought at least your scent would help send me to the edge.”

“You think about me while getting yourself off?” his voice was full of disbelief, but a tinge of hopefulness was also present.

Silence.

“Do you think about me in that way?” he asked again.

You took a deep breath, almost afraid to answer. “Anything I say will ruin our friendship. And I can’t lose you. We can just act like this never happened.”

“But I don’t want to.” At his words, you made direct eye contact with him. “Fuck, Y/n, have you not seen how madly I am in love with you? Do you know I’ve also gotten off to you so many times, and that I so badly want to show you in every way how much you mean to me?” It was a declaration of love, simplistic yet bold, and it was every word you could have ever asked to hear. “It’s okay if you don’t think the same. But I can’t lose you.”

Your response was a light, glancing brush of your mouth against his. You captured his lips completely, both of you knowing your answer.

[dragonblobz]

Part 2 of the request from @lilfriezatyrant for a fic of caring for the injured lizard. Thank you girlie for the amnesia idea. Fits pretty well!

Injuries Part 2

Everything within your body is utterly frozen. Your blood. Your marrow. Your fingers are leaden and tingly as the nails bloody your palms. You’ve never been this close to a bear. And it’s muzzle alone is nearly as long as your fore arm. It’d take several copies of you to fill the circumference of its mammoth neck. It’s so close, the gamey wild smell of it brings terrified bile up your throat.

It isn’t looking at you. It’s looking at him. And somehow you’re thankful for this. You summon some ghostly remnant of courage and turn to look at him as well.

He hasn’t moved one iota. But the rage in his eyes has dimmed to something akin to disgust. As if the bear were some particularly grotesque insect.

His leg!! He cant move because of his leg! Your mind flickers with the possibility of escape. After all. The bear appears to be focused on him. This is immediately followed by guilt. Shame burns in your tummy. You aren’t like his people. His life matters just as much as yours does. But everything is happening so fast. Maybe if you hit the bear and run……..

It would be suicide. And the bear could simply return to finish him off after it’s done with you. You feel the first insipid tickles of despair.

He moves. Slowly. Every action as smooth and calculated as you’d imagined it’d be. The leg nearest you, his left leg, his good leg, slides from your cot, knee bending, to rest his foot upon the floor of your tent. He rotates the upper half of his body to face the bear. His back straightens. His left arm straightens and rises, in a slow blatant display of liquid grace, as his hand balls into a fist. He extends his pointer finger. His mouth creases into an angelic and confident grin which is directly negated by the evil crease of his large eyes. His tail curls behind his body like that of a scorpion.

The entire atmosphere around you begins to change. The hair on your arms prickles with static electricity. Your vision hazes. Your ears pop. You smell a scent that reminds you of when you were a child and lightning had struck a tree near you. Acrid. A metallic bloody taste saturates your tongue. Something is happening. You can feel it. It’s as if the very earth around you is erupting with power.

The bear can feel it too, apparently. It gives a frightened grunt and pulls its maw from your tent. You can hear brush crackling as it thunders away.

The thing on your bed. The alien. He hasn’t moved. But something is different. The air doesn’t taste wrong anymore. Whatever you had been feeling is gone.

His pupils flick to you now and you startle. In a smooth movement, he rotates his body, without moving or bending his arm, to aim that same finger at you. It reminds you of someone aiming a gun.

That same prickling feeling returns. But ceases again just as fast.

He’s wavering. His muscle structure trembles as his arm finally drops. He raises a hand to the bandage upon the side of his head and his body sways as if he’s dizzy before he falls back onto an elbow. His good foot is still on the floor of your tent. Whatever he has just done, with that odd change of energy in the air, seems to have taxed him greatly.

His voice is a shock to your system. Male. Higher pitched. Bored. Each consonant enunciated in a careful and precise way.

“Who are you?”

Your voice trembles and cracks, but you manage to answer.

“(Y/N). My name is (Y/N).”

A look of pain ghosts over his face and his pupils dilate as an elbow leaves the bed to place this hand upon his face to touch the bandage on his head.

“Well, (Y/N), I’m afraid you have the advantage here. I cannot seem to remember my own name.”

Doesn’t remember? Amnesia? From the head wound?

He reaches up and begins to peel away the bandage from his head.

“Oh no! Don’t take that off! If you get dirt in that wound, you could get an infection!” You scramble to your feet and hurry over to him.

He huffs and finishes removing his bandage, then reaches down to start pulling the bandages from his chest, before tossing them all carelessly upon the floor of your tent. He then returns those unsettling eyes to yours. Vermillion pupils assess you as if you are an errant child.

You are still for some time. Then feel shock as you finally become brave and look him over.

The wounds on his chest are completely gone. You lean, trying to look at his head, but he rotates it to follow your movements.

“Your head, sir. I need to see that wound.” You try, and fail, to sound authoritative.

He flops his free arm back to lean upon it as he is the other and looks at you as if he’s the neighborhood watch and you are the fresh pile of dog shit which he’s just stepped in. But he complies.

You cant believe what you’re seeing. The wound, which had been a deep ugly gash yesterday, is now a large scab which is well along in healing. There’s only a little swelling.

“Impossible.” You breathe.

You look down upon his leg. It’s still quite swollen. You insert your finger into the splinting, checking to make sure it’s not too tight. He hisses at this.

“You’re a bold one. Touching me without my consent.”

You feel a slight flare of annoyance but quickly subdue it. “I’m just checking your splinting. Making sure it’s not too tight.”

“I’m perfectly aware of this. You are still alive, aren’t you?” He’s glaring at you.

“Look. I’m just trying to help you, okay?” You try as hard as you can to subdue your ire. “Are you hungry?”

He doesn’t answer. Just that same unsettling gaze.

“I don’t have a lot.” Your stomach growls, as if on cue. “But I do have some granola bars. And some peanut butter.”

“This place is filthy.” It’s like he hadn’t even heard what you’d said.

“Well, your people kind of fucked that to be honest.” You simply couldn’t quite maintain your bedside manner. “It’s just you. And me. This piece of shit tent. And some peanut butter. Now are you hungry, or not?”

“My people?” His face looks confused for a moment before looking irritated. “Am I your hostage? Is this truly how you house your hostages?” You don’t know why he’s being so hateful. You certainly don’t deserve it.

“Like I said, buster. You. Me. Tent. Peanut Butter.” You realize the heinous quality of your own statement and blush, stammering. “N-no. You’re not a hostage. You can leave any damn time.” He doesn’t seem to care.

“Very well, maggot. Feed me.”

You glare at him for a moment. But you comply.

He takes one bite of a granola bar and his eyes widen as he looks at it and chews slowly before glaring at you.

“Passable.”

Your own stomach growls and you figure you’d better go try to find something for yourself.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He’s not pleased.

“I’m hungry too. And since you get the easy food, I’ll just have to go find something else.” You truly don’t mean to sound so bitchy. Not even with his attitude. But you’re hungry.

He studies you as he munches his granola bar, still very much propped on one elbow. And, despite your need to find food, you can’t help but watch. He hasn’t blinked. Not once. And he eats very carefully, the bar pinched between his slender forefinger and thumb. After he’s finished, he continues eye contact as he primly brushes his fingers upon your blanket.

After several more minutes of looking at you, he relaxes into your cot as his eyes close, the foot upon the floor of your tent slowly sliding back under your blanket. His voice sounds tired.

“Very well. Run along.”

This raises fresh ire, but you do not answer.

Your hunt is more fruitful today. Literally. A tree sagging with apples. It had taken hours to find it.

You eat till you feel almost sick. Then gather as many apples as you can in a knapsack.

You stop at a stream to fill your canteen. You’ll have to boil the water. But luckily you have some already at the camp which has been treated. You know that apples are a diuretic. But you had just been too hungry to care.

The sun is very low when you get back to the camp. He appears to be asleep. You are almost surprised he’s still there.

The breeze feels a little cooler today, so you stoke up the fire and boil that water.

You offer him some of the water you had already treated because it’s not hot. He seems very tired. Almost contrite, as he props himself on an elbow again and drinks it. Just as slowly as he’d eaten. And staring at you just the same.

“Thank you, (Y/N).”

You hadn’t expected this. Not in a tone so much softer than his earlier voice.

“You’re welcome……. Whoever you are.”

He seems amused by this, chuckles lightly. Allows you to take his cup and once again settles into repose, his eyes falling closed.

It’s now, quite dark. And quite chilly. You sigh and adjust your pack on the floor again, prepared to curl up just as you had the previous evening.

You’re going to have to move. The camp and him. But you’ll worry about that tomorrow. He seems to be healing quite fast. Maybe you’ll be ABLE to move him.

“It’s cold, (Y/N).” You openly startle at his voice. You can see that same purple flickering upon the top of his head as the night before. And his pupils glow like rubies in the darkness. He laughs at your jerking movement.

“Ohohoho! You needn’t be afraid. There is no monster on this globe which is more dangerous than myself. And the safest place to hide from a monster is, of course, behind a bigger monster.” He’s laughing at you. And although the words seem to be intended to comfort, you can’t help but be unsettled by them.

“So……….. you remember who you are now? Your name?” Your voice is trembling.

He laughs again.

“Not at all! I just know that I’m a monster.” You can hear the smugness, thick as cotton, in the darkness.

“Oh…… well…….. ok……..” you feel a little scared.

He repeats himself.

“It’s cold.”

“I don’t have any more blankets. I’m sorry.” You feel badly. You’ll be colder. But he’s injured and cannot help himself. Even if he IS kind of an asshole.

His chuckle almost sounds more like a growl in the darkness.

“Oh I wasn’t concerned about myself.”

At first, you prepare to deny him, thinking that he’s about to offer you the only blanket. But this is not the case.

“There’s plenty of room under here, (Y/N). Unless…….. you are too frightened of me?” His amusement is palpable.

You blush madly. The offer is innocent enough, but the TONE of his voice…. The sinister predatory quality…… is enough to make your thoughts shift to frightening things.

“No….. no thank you. I mean….. thank you but…… n-n-no thank you.” You flop down on your pack. Curling away from him.

He sounds almost annoyed. And bored.

“Very well. Suit yourself. Squander my generosity. I’ll not make this offer again.” And he finally falls silent.

And the ground is already cold and uncomfortable under the floor of the tent. You’re already shivering. You hug your knees. Try to adjust yourself.

“If you’re going to shuffle and move all night, please take it outside. I can’t rest with all your racket.”

You nearly snap. Sitting bolt upright, you turn to him, doing your best to keep a scathing reply from issuing forth. But your retort dies as you realize that you can see his perfect glimmering teeth in the darkness. The bastard is laughing silently at you.

“That does it!” You fumble at your boots, untying them and kicking them off your feet. You stand, hugging yourself with your arms, still shivering. And as you march towards your cot, your bravado goes cold.

He isn’t laughing at you anymore. His tail is protruding from the blanket, the tip flicking and undulating. His hands are behind his head. And he’s staring at you intently, his eyes a pair of hot coals. You can just barely see his dark lips in the firelight. They’re sneering.

“What do you think you’re doing, simian?”

“You said I could share…..” You are simply too nervous to continue.

“I did, indeed. And you refused me. If you are wanting under here now, you must ask me quite nicely.” His voice is icy.

This doesn’t make you as angry as it should. Anger isn’t nearly as easy to conjure now that you are standing here, looking down into those flaming eyes, seeing that assessing intelligent gaze. You briefly consider sleeping outside.

“Well?” He snaps. “I have dreams to attend to, (Y/N). Have you anything to ask me?” His tone is patronizing now.

“Can I…….” You are now glad of the darkness. Maybe he can’t see how badly you’re blushing. “Can I share?”

“Share what?” he’s being deliberately dense.

You can hardly talk and your face burns as you splutter.

“Can I sleep with you please? You’re right. Its cold.”

“I suppose. But you’ll be removing those garments first. They’re filthy.”

You feel a little part of yourself die from embarrassment. But you kick off your thick jeans to stand before him in your shirt and underwear.

“That’s better.” His voice sounds smug as his tail raises, effectively pulling the blanket back, then pats the cot 3 times. Slowly.

You walk towards him. And you’re trembling as you crawl onto the cot with him.

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from Scream Queens Ep 1 "Pilot" & Ep 2 "Hell Week"(Note: Offensive content, use at own discretion)

Something really bad happened.

Did you just get your period all over yourself?

This isn't my blood.

Who told you you could have a baby here tonight?

I'm sure I can walk if I can just get some Gatorade.

I don't care if you can walk.

How are we supposed to get you to the front door without everyone seeing you all gross and postpartum?

No one wants to see that at a party.

This is super embarrassing.

I didn't even know I was pregnant.

You guys, they're playing "Waterfalls."

Is that a baby? Amazing.

I am not missing "Waterfalls" for this. "Waterfalls" is my jam.

Give the baby some mojito to quiet it down.

How do you know she's dead?

These are my minions. I don't know their names. I don't want to know their names.

I have a colonic at 10

Life is a class system.

Oh, still a lot of puke to scrub.

Yeah, you have an amazing skill at telling people what they need to hear.

I'm sorry. Did I ask you to pull down my panties and blow a compliment up my butt?

I hate sororities, and I hate you.

First of all, I'm not a lesbian.

You see, out in the real world, people just don't talk that way to other people. It's not normal.

Well, that sure sounds suspicious.

No one forced that goat to get as drunk as it got.

Historically, short people are sneaky backstabbers, like Napoleon or Paul Shaffer.

I could actually handle that you're built like a Thai ladyboy, but what I can't stand is that you think you're my heir apparent.

Don't you want me to spray-tan you?

I would honestly rather not have you around.

The police still can't figure out who filled that tank with hydrochloric acid.

It's good enough for me, and the D.A., who, last I heard, considers the case closed.

What is that skirt?

Your organization might want to find a lawyer.

I'm a pretty smart cookie.

I would not get personal with me, sweetheart.

I don't fight fair.

I am sentimental.

Look, girls are vicious, okay?

I don't have any of my own memories.

Just like we planned. Three-second silent hug, and then you leave.

Ooh, somebody call CSI, because there was a murder scene in that bathroom.

Someone puked in the sink and I'm pretty sure I saw an actual ringworm climbing up the wall. I'm not afraid of anything, but that bathroom scared the crap out of me.

This is gonna be a year of infinite possibilities.

Hold this. It's too heavy.

You didn't knock!

Look at them. They're the dregs of society.

Each one of these gashes is worse than the next.

She smells like hot dog water, and probably sprained her neck giving blumpkins down at the local bowling alley.

Look, I'm not saying that all heterosexual sex is rape. I'm saying all heterosexual sex is gross, and that deep down, every woman knows this.

All that girl's after is a whole lot of bikini burger.

Hey, girl, can I just ask you, what's up with your outfit?

God knows what they're talking about, basic bitches.

What fresh hell is this?

I need you to stay popular, 'cause if you want to stay at the top of the list of the pieces of ass I'm getting, there's criteria. And the criteria is you got to be popular.

Okay, I'm gonna stop you right there, because I'm getting really pissed off.

Stop fake crying.

Anyone you dated would be popular. I mean, they would be popular because they're dating you.

My ego, it's super strong, ok, but it's not strong enough that I can just go around dating garbage people.

Like, yes, I could find a random girl who wasn't popular, and, yes, if I started dating her she would then become popular.

But you said you loved me.

I do sort of love you.

I would love you a lot more if other people loved you, too.

Okay, I need you to leave because you're bumming me out

We're just trying to have a nice day hitting golf balls at hippies.

Pretty girls, like you and me.

That's why I'm gonna burn your face off.

Ugh! You burned the milk!

Next time, I get you fired, or worse.

Actually, I just want a regular coffee. Those white girl pumpkin spice lattes annoy me.

I like to think of myself, uh, as an investigative reporter.

I had to get a restraining order.

I tend to get a bit passionate about things.

Look, you intentionally led me on.

You kept acting like you liked me just so you could humiliate me.

Enter, ye who dare.

I love a creepy collage.

It's about kicking the living crap out of someone when they disrespect you.

I was just in your room, where I noticed you have a sizeable shrine with evil burning candles, photos of me with my face scratched out and pairs of my stolen panties.

How about I just drown you in it?

Well, of course she's dead! You just burned her face off!

You don't die from getting your face burned off.

There's a dead woman in your kitchen.

I'm going to the authorities.

That's not how I saw it. And my witnesses agree.

You're an awful person.

Who wants cocktails?

How did my life turn into this?

Have you seen the way girls dress on this campus?

I'm sitting in the same office I used to throw bricks into.

You're awful in bed. Are you aware?

I'm gonna take a pair of your panties.

I'm gonna barf on your face unless you get out of here.

Try to figure out who gave you such disgusting mommy issues.

You loaded a dead body into a freezer.

What are you proposing?

I want to help you with your exposé, secretly feed you info.

You need eyes on the inside.

I don't know what to do with the body.

Are you saying dead bodies don't turn you on?

You are so lame, you know that?

God, I love all that death stuff.

Show me the body.

Show me the dead body.

This blood oath will ensure solidarity among us. We are all related now.

I just Googled "blood oath" and this is what came up.

What does this oath even mean?

I just need you all to not say anything about what happened, and I figured a blood oath was cheaper than buying you all presents.

Wait, what about STDs?

Idiot, you don't get STDs from blood oaths.

You get STDs from dirty toilet seats and drinking the water in Mexico.

Um, "STD" stands for "sexually transmitted disease," which means that it's transmitted sexually.

When were you in Mexico?

You know what, forget the blood oath.

I can't stay silent!

I'm calling my mom, and I'm going home.

Okay, Pissy Spacek, you and I have a few differences we need to iron out.

I want you to be one of my minions.

It's the gateway to the top of the heap.

You put on a good front, but you're miserable.

Don't you think any of that has anything to do with the fact that you've created an atmosphere based solely on negativity and raw ambition?

Can we talk for real for a second, please?

I mean, you're so confident without being mean. What antidepressants are you on?

Don't you see that all that's happened isn't a crisis? It's an opportunity.

Yeah, no, I tried. See, I really tried. But all of this flowery, peace-on-Earth crap, it makes me want to puke.

You haven't even seen half of what I'm capable of!

Totally spit in your coffee, bitch.

I don't mean to be a contrarian, but I'm enjoying this.

Is that killer noises or am I hallucinating?

I'm gonna ask one more time, will you speak up?

What can you tell us about the murder?

There's an exodus right now.

The risks are real, but we need to close ranks.

I don't feel comfortable with a man protecting me. It's representative of the patriarchal, post-colonial culture that encourages violence against women.

We buy a pig and feed it the body. Pigs will eat anything.

Don't go skating on those poop lagoons, because if you fall in, you'll drown in the poop and come springtime, there'll be nothing left of your body.

Here's what you should do. Pulverize her teeth, burn off her fingerprints, and disfigure her face. Once her body is unrecognizable, we can create an incision on her inner thigh and drain out all of her bodily fluids. That'll give us more time to deconstruct the body.

Truly grinding down a body takes a lot of work. You need a really good food processor, and you run the risk of fouling the plumbing, which is why you should only do it if you know how to clear out meat and bones from a drain pipe.

I'm willing to help in any way possible.

You're obviously a psychopath and those ideas are insane!

Why are you trying to terrify us?

Can I call you Mom?

I feel so loved and protected by all of you.

Actually, it's a new pop culture trend where young women desperately in need of role models call other girls they look up to Mom.

I thought you'd be cool with it.

I mean, I did just give you several ways to dispose of a body.

Okay, fine. Just stop talking.

You are so friggin' creepy!

Someone just mowed off a deaf girl's head in our backyard.

I mean, as you can see, I'm not licensed to carry a sidearm.

Wait, so you don't have a gun?

I have pepper spray. And I have a walkie talkie that I can use to call the police, who do have guns.

What good are you?

Get the hell out of there. Run away, real fast.

Now, I would give you my number, but my cell phone is off right now.

If you want the place clean, maybe you shouldn't have burned the maid's face off.

Don't you wonder what's in there?

People have been whispering about that house for years, that it's haunted, that something really bad happened. I mean, there's no way there isn't some real-life story behind it, right?

I'm gonna have to break in.

I mean, I don't think anyone's gonna get killed in the 30 minutes we make out, right?

Can you stop talking?

You're kind of ruining whatever was good about it.

Please try to understand the situation I'm in.

I don't give a rat's ass about your job.

You know, I find good parenting incredibly attractive.

You're a snoopy little bugger.

Whose bloody clothes are those?

Supposedly, it was a super fun party.

We're all gonna pay for this.

I think it's all crap. Just a myth.

What happened to the baby?

Sometimes I picture myself like Derek Jeter, you know?

I'm gonna choke you out.

There's a serial killer on the loose.

Please don't say you want to choke me.

I'd love having sex with your corpse.

I'm sorry. This isn't working for me.

Well, I sort of am your boyfriend, and I'm protecting you by having sex with you.

No! I don't need a man to protect me.

How could I have wasted this much time?

Is my self-esteem really that low?

I'm sorry. I think we need to take a break.

I need you to leave right now!

You know, it would really help me feel better if I could just crawl into bed with you for a few minutes.

Are you gonna touch my wiener, or you gonna leave my wiener alone?

I'll leave your wiener alone.

Where are your hands?

He has a huge boner!

Why don't you go in there and ogle his big old boner?

Okay, uh, first of all, I'm not gonna go ogle his big old boner, because I'm not gay.

Look, I'm sorry everybody wants to have sex with me. Okay? I can't help that.

I'm hot. Everybody wants to get with this. Women, men, animals in the zoo, plants, probably.

You're gonna have to go right now, 'cause I am breaking up with you.

Excuse me, I broke up with you!

I regretted what I said, and I just wanted to come here and tell you that I am so sorry.

Well, I accept your apology. And now I'm breaking up with you.

Do you know why I'm breaking up with you?

You can't deal with how hot I am.

Sorry, I just broke up with you.

Can you please put some clothes on?

Um, they said, uh, I shouldn't be alone, you know, in case I fall asleep and die.

Can I just get you a robe or something though?

So you're saying I'm the killer?

Okay, this isn't about me thinking you're boyfriend material.

God, I was so gonna go to third base with you tonight, too.

What if we stapled their earlobes?

Private like the parts on a man you like putting in your mouth?

I want to publicly come out as gay on my own.

I mean, you guys have to accept everybody, right?

I actually think that's illegal.

I will come after you, do you understand that? I will destroy you.

I trust you'll consider my offer.

Name one bad thing that ever happened at a Best Buy parking lot.

You're just, like, super attractive.

Um, well, I was trying to be inconspicuous.

It's better than losing your life.

I have a thing for playlists.

Someone's got a poo belly.

Sweet Yeezus, I don't even know where to begin with you.

Bitch, I'm about to smack you so hard, your tampon's gonna pop out.

I heard screaming.

So you think the serial killer is still up there?

Upstairs to get the killer before he gets away!

You just said that you think the killer is up there, and that's where you want to go?

This is freakin' terrifying!

The killer is in the house! You hear me?

I need my damn inhaler.

What, am I supposed to be scared?

Don't even come out. We plan on getting drunk, and I don't want your bad attitude ruining it.

We're headed down to White Stallion to pick up some sluts, baby!

Yes, okay, I burned her slightly, but stop saying that I killed her.

That was a tragic accident.

I am a kind and devoted and loving friend to all.

I'm not some crazed psychopath.

Maybe you're the killer.

I will not be put on trial.

The truth is we don't know who the killer is, and, yes, I suppose it could be someone in this room.

You want to go first?

I banged, like, 50 chicks.

What took you so long?

[areyoureadyforsomemeatballz]

Cast Away (8): Tomorrow the Sun Will Rise

Summary: After a mission gone awry, you end up stranded on a deserted island. While you know that you have the skills to survive in the desolate paradise, you’re not sure if your heart will.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1,500

Warnings: Swearing (as per usual). Descriptions of a panic attack, if you want specifics please message me before reading.

A/N: I’m back! I took a break from the craziness that has been work and was able to finally finish up my draft for this part. The next part is already in the works, too. I hope you all enjoy, if you have a second please, please, please let me know what you think! Beta’d by the lovely @throwmyheartawayagain​ thanks so much, baby.

Bucky was right, neither of you dried before dark. Instead, you stayed close to the fire, wrapped up in each other. Your clothes do nothing to fight off the chill in the early evening air so you nuzzle closer to his warmth.  Bucky’s chest rumbles beneath you and you peek up at him. His soft smile is contagious. 

“Are you asleep?” 

His eyes crack open and meet yours. “Mm-mm.” 

“You’re snoring.” 

“And you’re killing the mood.” He can’t help the bright smile that breaks across his face.

“The sleeping mood?” 

He shakes his head and turns you on his chest so he can fully look at you. “Nah, the ‘this is the best night of my life’ mood.”

You snort and he dips his head to catch your lips in a long kiss. Your fingers dig into his shirt as his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip. A whine escapes you as he drags his lips away from yours. 

“I was enjoying that…”

“I’m serious,” he murmurs as he strokes your cheek. 

You grin at him and lean into his touch. “So am I. You’re a really good kisser.”

He scoffs and then goes completely quiet, not pushing you any further. 

After a few minutes you wiggle in his arms and his arms tighten around your waist. You snort and try to push off his chest. 

“Buck…” 

A horn cuts through the still air around you and you shoot out of Bucky’s arms. He’s on his feet just seconds behind you. 

“Was that a-” 

Before you can finish he’s taking off towards the beach. You follow close behind, not quite able to keep up with his speed. Had he been going slower around you this whole time? 

You plow into his back and you let out an undignified cough and he throws a grin over his shoulder. 

“Walk much, babydoll?” 

You elbow him and your eyes scan the horizon until a string of lights catches your attention. Another horn blairs, this one sounding much further away. 

You dive towards the fire pit Bucky had set up for just this purpose. The flint in your hand won’t catch and you curse in frustration. A rough pair of hands closes around yours and you drop the little stone. Your heart drops as the lights float further away. 

“Buck, the boat…” you whisper. “We’ve gotta… I can’t…” 

You scoop up the flint and thrust it into his chest. As soon as you know he’s got it you jump to your feet and take off into the shallows, waving your arms wildly. 

“Hey! We’re here!” You scream at the top of your lungs, cupping your hands around your mouth. “We’re right here. We’re here! Don’t leave!” 

There’s a flash behind you and a sudden heat and you whip around. You’re back at Bucky’s side in an instant and each of you take a stick to dip in the fire. You wave the sticks until they are charred almost all the way down to your fingers. 

Bucky wrenches your branch from your hands with his metal hand. “You’re going to burn yourself!” 

The branch lands in a pile of leaves and another burst of flames erupt at your feet. 

“They’re getting away,” you mutter. “We need a bigger fire!” 

You move to run to the forest for more kindling, but a solid arm around your middle stops you. “They’re gone, Y/N. Look, they’re gone.”

“No.” 

He angles your body towards the water, but you refuse to look out towards the darkening skyline.

“Honey, I need you to look at me,” Bucky’s soft voice breaks through your defenses. 

“No!” 

Bucky’s arms drop from you as if he’s been slapped. You take the opportunity to throw the palm tree branches you can reach into the already roaring fire. 

“Buck, help me,” you reach out for him. “Baby, please…” 

His face crumbles as your voice cracks. “You gotta stop. You’re going to set the whole fucking island on fire.” 

“I don’t care!”

“You’re going to kill yourself!”

“I don’t care!” You reach for a nearby branch and suddenly his arms are around your waist again.

You ball your hands up into fists and pound on his chest, willing him to let you go again. He drags you a safe distance away from the blaze and you start to scream. The lights on the water are nowhere to be seen. 

Bucky’s hands cup your cheeks and he forces you to look into his eyes. The normal crystal blue is marked with worry and you can’t hold back the sob that tears its way from your throat. You bury your face in his neck as you cry. 

He presses a soft kiss to your hairline and stokes his hands down your back, whispering soft words that you can’t make out. Your head is spinning when you realize you’re not crying anymore. Your eyes are trained on the horizon, only to find the night sky dissolving into an even darker ocean. 

“We’re never getting off this goddamned island,” you croak. 

“Don’t say that-” 

You pull back, a burst of rage filling you. “We might have if you had helped me.” 

He grits his teeth and his hands ball up at his sides. “Excuse me?” 

“You just stood there!”

“Well someone had to protect you from yourself,” he says. “You could’ve killed us...” 

You roll your eyes. “Fuck you! I knew what I was doing.” 

His hand circles your wrist and he brings your fingers into your line of sight. There are blisters forming on the tips and you reel back as pain shoots through them. 

“I’ve had worse,” you mutter. 

He snorts and you glare at him, pushing yourself off his lap. “Whatever, Human Torch. I might have some first aide skills, but charred skin is a little out of my wheelhouse.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“You wouldn’t have been.” 

“Bullshit, Barnes. I’ve survived this long without you and your holier than thou attitude.” 

“This isn’t my fault!” 

“Maybe if you hadn’t been making puppy dog eyes and professing your undying love we would’ve been able to act faster! You didn’t let me up fast enough!” 

“That was before the goddamned boat blew its horn and you know it, princess.” 

“Don’t you fucking call me that!” 

“Don’t you fucking try to blame this on me! You were a more than willing participant in everything that happened. Except for maybe the cuddling… Was that too real for you?” 

“You are such a jackass!” 

You’re through the trees before he can even get to his feet. You sigh when you hear him stomping behind you. 

“Go back to the beach.” 

“No.” 

“Go back to the fucking beach.” 

“Ask nicer.” 

This stops you in your tracks and he smirks. He fucking smirks. 

Your shoulders tense and he leans against the tree beside him, crossing his arms. “Go ahead, sugar. Yell at me. Let it out.” 

“I’m going to murder you in your sleep,” you seethe. “Believe me, I will. And not that it matters, but I can make it look like an accident.”

He snorts and you want to slap the smile off his face.

“Why do you think I got recruited by the team?” 

He lets out an annoyingly melodic laugh and a smile splits across your face uncontrollably. “You done?” 

“No.” 

“Oh joy.” 

“You don’t have to be here.” 

“I want to be.” 

“So I can threaten you more?” 

“Mm-hm. It’s actually pretty cute.” 

“You’ve got a weird kink, Buck.” 

He laughs again and you step closer to him. His arm curls around you and you sag into his chest. “What, you? Yeah, you’re pretty weird. And somewhat terrifying.” 

“Somewhat? C’mon I’m trying my hardest,” you say with a small smile. “Why can’t you just let me scare you away, huh?” 

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes and you squeeze your eyes closed as he cups your cheek in his palm. Fuck. 

“Look at me?” 

His voice is barely a whisper and you can’t help but look up at him. His lips are on yours and you force yourself closer to him, pushing every ounce of yourself into the kiss. He sighs against your lips and your arms work their way around his neck. 

You pant and pull back a fraction, breathing in his comforting, woodsy smell. “Bucky?” 

“Yeah?” 

Your lips move, but no words come. He smiles sadly and kisses your forehead, dropping his arms from your waist. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs softly. “It’s okay.” 

You force the tears to not spill down your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you choke out. “I’m so sorry. I wish-”  

He squeezes your hand and shakes his head. “Don’t. Let’s go get some sleep, yeah?” 

You nod and follow him back to your camp, not understanding why your heart felt like it had been torn out and left to dry.

Part 9 (coming soon)