#oh nothing just Barb thirsting as usual

[misc-obeyme]

First of all, I’m pretty sure I’d give both my legs to hear Barbatos call me his sacrificial lamb. Like can you imagine him saying it to you just before he goes down on you?

Second, who is this taste tester?? My top guesses are Diavolo, Little D No 2, and Solomon. I would’ve said Luke but let’s be real, Barb loves him too much to make him a test subject. He’d have Luke be a taste tester for something he knows is delicious.

And lastly… “I jest.” I just know that if I spent any time with this man, I would end up talking exactly like him. I’d be saying that instead of “just kidding” to one of the bros and they’d just be like you’re spending too much time with Barbatos again. And I’d say no you’re wrong I’m never spending enough time with Barbatos 😡

[zooophagous]

Strauss marched stiffly behind his companion. No, companion was far too friendly a word. She needed a different descriptor. He mentally combed through what English his racing mind could cling to. She was something more of a jailor, or perhaps a carnivorous bird of prey, more of a captor.

If there was an English word for someone who captured another and forced them to commit violence, he couldn’t find it in his lexicon. He had an idea, however, that he may fit the definition of “hostage.”

He had tried to imagine himself more of a shepherd, or a “sheep dog,” a chaperone or someone who could perhaps persuade Frau Pietra not to behave badly- at least while he was with her. How foolish to imagine this was a sheep, and not a wolf. 

Sylvain’s psychic prowess did not, as far as he knew, extend to the wholesale reading of minds. She didn’t really need to. Her confident posture and the sense of direction with which she was leading him gave the sense that she already knew very well what he was thinking.

“I hope this walking is working up your appetite.” She called glibly back at her shadow. “I know it’s working for me.”

“I am not hungry.” He replied glumly.

“Yes you are. I can hear your gut growling at you. We are going to find something, and you WILL eat.”

“Where are we going?”

“To find a worthwhile target.” She muttered. “Don’t you worry, Herr Strauss. I know you. I know you’re picky. Too picky to take just anyone. I’ll have you know I hand picked a vile, nasty little son of a bitch who’s evaded justice for quite some time. Just for you. I know that’s your MO.”

“What is MO?”

“Modus Operandi. The mode in which you operate.”

“Is that how you think I operate? Picking off alleged villains to slake my thirst and spare my conscience?”

“Am I wrong?” She looked over her shoulder at him. “We both already know your history. You really gonna try and deny it?”

“If you truly knew anything about me, you’d know I subsist on charity.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Not murder.”

“Don’t sell yourself too short. You also subsisted on medical malpractice and on soldiers and prostitutes. A crook isn’t much different.”

“I do what I have to, Frau Pietra. I am not always proud of it. I do not need to do this.”

“Oh no, you do. Just not for your usual reason. I went through the trouble and you’re going to follow through.”

“Where are you even taking me? You still haven’t told me.”

“You can see it from here.” She pointed at the skyline of the city. It wasn’t an impressive skyline, but part of it stood proud against the dingy orangish clouds of the light polluted sky. A black, barbed spire, the pointed shape of which was nearly reminiscent of the stakes found hanging in the halls of the Van Helsing Institute. 

“The cathedral?”

“Got it in one, chief.” She smirked. “What’s the matter, scared of a little crucifix and holy water? I don’t know how much you’ve bothered testing it, but that doesn’t work.” Her face grew dark. “Ask me how I know.”

“God would have to care for that to be real, and he does not.” Strauss replied softly.

“There is no God.” She snapped. “For at least one poor asshole, we’re going to prove it.”

“And if I refuse?”

“You won’t.”

Strauss crossed his arms protectively over his torso. His mind raced while his footsteps deliberately dragged, trying to buy precious moments to think. The looming silhouette of the cathedral only grew larger with every step. 

Maybe he could make a break for it. No, she could find him. Unless he ditched the watch, but then Artemis wouldn’t be able to find him either. Maybe he could tackle her. And be publicly rent limb from limb. Also less than ideal. But, to save a human life perhaps? He wasn’t sure his altruism stretched so far as to sacrifice his own life for a stranger who meant nothing to him. As bleak as it sounded, perhaps it was better the stranger than himself. What an awful way to think, though, and one he was sure would disappoint Artemis if she could hear it.

His internal monologue had failed to illuminate the correct way to proceed. What was worse- it also had failed to buy any time. The pair of vampires walked abreast down the sidewalk to the tall form of the church that stood lit up in warm light against a starless sky. 

Sylvain stepped into the lawn of the holy place, undeterred by the watchful gaze of a marble statue of Mary that glowered down at them. She stalked around the side of the building, away from the main doors, with a purpose that indicated she knew exactly where to go. 

“This way.”

Strauss obediently trailed behind, stooping low to try and hide in whatever shadows he could afford with his height. Sylvain found her spot by the wall, and, placing her hands against the bricks, began to climb. 

Her claws deftly found whatever thin holds the bricks could offer her, and she scaled it fearlessly to the second floor. A little window glowed from within- some poor soul working late in the office wing. She peeked into the lit room and tapped ever so gently at the window pane, catching the attention of the occupant. Even from his position on the ground, Strauss could see her face twist into a cruel smile. She curled her finger in a beckoning motion. She was a difficult request to resist.

A man appeared at the window. He had no sooner opened it when Sylvain shot her claw into the opening and seized him by his shirt and yanked him off his feet. She clung to the wall with one claw, and turned outward to hold the terrified, whimpering target with the other.

She dropped him.

Strauss ducked forward and caught the dead weight of the half-hypnotized prey item roughly. He stumbled onto his knee, and spilled the stranger onto the yard. The man scurried backwards away from his savior. Sylvain dropped down in front of him and landed squarely on her feet. She reached for him once again and dragged her prey to a standing position.

“Keep your Goddamn mouth shut or I’ll rip your scalp off.” She growled to the terrified man. She could have spared threats, her psychic sway was more than enough to keep him quiet, and he was too scared to challenge her. 

“This is your worthy target?” Strauss snarked at her. “An elderly priest? I have no love for Catholicism, but I thought you had a bit more… suitable fare.” He almost sounded disappointed as he quietly mocked her. “The only thing going for him is that I suppose he’s technically supposed to be a virgin.”

“Not just a priest, Lu. What you have here is one Father Gregor White. He’s a bit new at this parish, aren’t you Greg?”

“What does that have to do with it?”

“Nothing. It’s just that before he was moved here a year and a half ago, he was in South Carolina for four years. And then in New Jersey before that for two. Seems to have a hard time staying put, doesn’t he?”

“And?”

“You can’t be this dense, Lu. What big important high profile reason might the church have for sending a priest away to a new parish? Do you think perhaps they had a few complaints?”

She stressed the last word sharply. Gregor feebly muttered a stuttered response of “it’s not true!” before receiving a kick in the ribs for his protests.

Strauss winced with empathy and stepped forward to separate the two. Sylvain pointedly stuck herself between them. 

“What, this one not good enough for you? After all the trouble I went through to really pick out a good one?”

Strauss glanced down at the glassy eyed and lost looking priest. 

“I recognize him. The day I escaped, I had no shirt. I fell from a roof, and he gave me his jacket.”

“Oh, so that little act of kindness covers a multitude of sins?”

“No. But I still have little interest in killing him.”

“Why not. Did you go soft? Did Ursula defang you? Or maybe she just neutered you.”

“I simply refuse to bite when there isn’t a need to.”

“You’ve killed pedophiles before.”

“Yes, and that killing is what got me hunted down and captured in the first place. I lost my home and my freedom and my entire life was permanently upended. I would be an idiot not to think of consequences now.”

“Should have known better. Practically gift wrapped a hot meal for you and you turn your nose up at it like a spoiled lap dog. I was told you were a tiger. Now I can’t tell if I see stripes on you or just the outlines of your ribs. Do you think you can survive on altruism? Would you starve to death to let this scum live?”

“I have survived on altruism for over two hundred years. You have barely survived five, and have done so by living on the periphery of humanity like a kicked dog. Abandoning my harmlessness and hunting humanity is what nearly got me killed.”

He stepped towards her with his teeth bared. “Go ahead then, if it’s that important to you that he dies, you do it. That seems to be your “modus operandi,” as you so aptly put it. Why bother making it mine? Clearly you’re the superior hunter here. Show me! Show me how it’s done!”

“This isn’t about me, Lu.”

“Then tell me straight up. Why does it matter so much that I be the one to spill blood here?”

“Because I’m fucking TIRED of you denying your nature.”

She shoved him hard in the chest. Strauss stood firm and didn’t move. Sylvain stumbled backwards a step from her own force. 

“You and I both know you’ve got a hungry mean streak deep as the sea beneath that meek little facade, Strauss. You won’t control it if you don’t fucking acknowledge it, don’t you get that? Maybe you could get away with that in that stupid fucking hole in the ground but that’s long gone. Now you’re HERE. Here and pretending you aren’t one bad day from ending everyone around you.”

“I believe you’re projecting, Frau Pietra. I may have bitten, yes, under duress. But I am not the one leaving spent corpses in the park like a drunk leaving a trail of broken bottles.”

“What the Hell are you talking about?” She tilted her head to one side. “You think I kill people? You think I’m stupid enough to pick off people in the town Ursula Harker comes to get coffee every day? Do you honestly think that little of me?”

“If you don’t even hunt, why the Hell should I?!”

“I already told you this isn’t about me. Honestly Lu, you want the truth? It’s not about you either.”

“Then what is it about?”

“It’s about HER!”

Sylvain yelled in his face. “It’s about Artie, ok? You happy?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of fucking course you don’t. You don’t understand fucking anything. Or at least you’re real good at playing dumb. I told Artie, I fucking warned her not to keep messing around with vampires. I BEGGED her to quit. I didn’t want what happened to me to happen to her.”

Gregor tried to crawl away, only to be snatched by his shirt collar and flung against the wall.

“I was the best hunter they ever had. Maybe even more so than Ursula. If I could fuck up and get turned into… THIS then it could happen to anyone. It wasn’t worth it to keep the Institute open. But no. She was just like you. Weak. Too weak to make a hard choice. Too weak to finish me off when she had the chance. And even losing her eye wasn’t enough to teach her a lesson. After losing me, she goes and gets you. You! A half feral grave dweller, who had just skinned a man alive.”

She laughed bitterly as she ranted.

“Getting you out of there and letting you loose is what you deserve, I’ll give you that. But it wasn’t about you. I had to get you away from her. I had to get vampires, including myself, away from my girlfriend before she got herself fucking killed. Now here I am handing you freedom, and you’re too stupid to take it and run.”

“Ex girlfriend.”

“Excuse me?”

“Artemis is your ex girlfriend. Not your girlfriend. I don’t think you can rightfully call her yours after you took out her eye.”

“What’s it to you if she’s my girlfriend or not? Are you jealous or something?”

“Artemis is my friend. Is it not natural to want to protect your friend from a former lover who injured them?”

“Please. She isn’t your friend. She’s your OWNER if anything. She doesn’t care about you beyond her project.”

“I know for a fact that isn’t true.” He replied a bit more slyly than he should have.

“What do you mean by that?” Sylvain asked suspiciously.

Strauss was silent.

She abandoned her assault on the priest and turned now to Strauss. She grabbed him by the throat with sudden ferocity.

“I SAID what do you mean by that?”

Strauss stared wide eyed in shock at her. He was instantly aware that she was exerting her will on him. Quite a bold move, to try that on another vampire. He had only a split second to decide whether or not to fight it. Such a distraction would probably get her mind off of ‘hunting,’ but only at his own expense. While his mind grappled for a foothold, his mouth was already bending to her will.

“I know because I love her.”

Sylvain laughed cruelly in his face. “You love her! That’s rich! I knew you had Stockholm syndrome but woooow Lu. This is pathetic even for you. You really think she reciprocates?”

“Yes. Considering how many times we’ve slept together.”

Oops. 

Strauss clamped his claw over his mouth. Too little too late. Sylvain stared him down with a hard incredulous stare. She was in apparent shock, and for a moment was silent, though the heat of her anger rising out out a noise at a frequency only vampires could hear.

“You… and Artie.”

Strauss shot a look to the priest, who was now slowly rising to his feet and trying to slip away. He hoped the look conveyed “you’re welcome and get out quickly,” but that was a lot for such a stoic face to say. He made hard eye contact with Sylvain.

“Yes.”

She struck him. She struck him again. One two in rapid succession across the face. Hot pain seared his cheek from the rip of skin under her claws. She made to swing again. He caught her arm and swung her bodily into the wall. She stopped stunned for a moment.

Her eyes were wide and her breathing heavy and ragged. A deep growling voice choked out of her between desperate angry breaths.

“I’ll kill you. I’m going to wait for her to show up and I’ll kill you right the fuck in front of her.”

“She isn’t showing up.”

Strauss pulled the smart watch from his pocket and crushed it in his fist.

Sylvain descended on him with a shriek. She jumped and caught him in her claws and sank her teeth into his neck.

Strauss felt her many rows of sharp teeth pop through the skin like a man biting an apple. He returned the favor sinking his own teeth into her neck and shoulder. Vampire blood was some rare delicacy. Metallic and viscous but cold. Difficult to consume.

He didn’t have long to play sommelier. Her hand was on his face, trying to find an eye with her claws. He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her off of himself. She clung to him and left long blood trails down his body with her claws.

He held her aloft by the scalp, she dangled and hissed and spit like a feral cat. He slammed her head first into the brick. She fell into a crumpled heap, but shot out a leg and caught him squarely in the groin. He doubled over and she jumped him once again, raining blows on his back and head.

He flung himself to the ground, using his superior size to pin her. She kicked and fought beneath him and threatened to split his hide and spill his guts. He got up and backed away from her. Strips of skin and pulled hair hung from him in bloody tatters. 

Sylvain did not get up. She groaned and grunted, and writhed on the ground as if in terrible pain. Dark hair began to appear around her face and her arms.

Time to go. 

Strauss turned and broke into a run away from the church and down a dark alley. Sylvain’s cries of pain echoed behind him, soon replaced by a mighty rush of wind that bore down faster than he could run.

An immense bat, larger than any eagle, swooped low and swiped him with its sharp clawed feet. He fell to the ground on his stomach. Before he could think, it was there again, piercing his body with claws like meat hooks.

She ascended into the sky with her captive. Straight up and out, over the city, and gaining altitude quickly.

The faint tears in Strauss’ eyes began to congeal into frost as she bore him higher and higher into the dingy clouds. Thick mist surrounded him, blinding and confusing. He didn’t need to breathe but the air still felt cold and thin and hurt his chest.

She brought him to her zenith, outside of the city, alone in the dark ove a desolate barren field.

She dropped him.

Strauss fell like a stone. The rush of cold wind cut through his clothes and froze his hands and feet into stiff useless shapes. He fought with his shirt, desperate to maintain composure to escape it and focus. The cold dampened the pain of transformation. Newly sprouted black fur flew in the wind and offered no protection from it.

He fell out the bottom of the cloud and saw the earth growing larger beneath him. He bit his lip and forced his frozen fingertips to spread. The earth was closer. He willed his torn skin to right itself enough to form a wing membrane. Closer still. He beat his arms in a frail attempt to catch the wind. Closer. He righted himself and positioned his keel even with the earth. Now below the height of the tall cathedral spire. Impact imminent.

Twenty feet before becoming a bat-shaped crater, his wings took, and he flew. Up and up and away quickly, but not quickly enough. Sylvain shrieked at him once again and slashed at his back from above. He went straight up back into the clouds to lose her. 

She was on him still. He turned to face her. The two great bats flew at each other hard and fast and clipped into each other like jousting knights, each trying to break the other’s wing. Sylvain turned in a wide loop and flew at him with her jaws wide. Strauss ducked and swiped at her with his clawed feet, catching a stray piece of her leftover clothing.

The two spiraled downward, the centripetal force swung them wide in a useless circle as their altitude plummeted. It was a game of chicken now, who would let go first. It wasn’t a game he could win. Sylvain hung on and became a dead weight, content to crash and take her opponent down with her.

The earth was approaching rapidly again, but this time Strauss had no time to change trajectory. He let go of Sylvain and she was flung afield. He braced his wings out like a parachute to slow his fall. Too late. He made contact with the earth and bounced, and bounced again, and skidded roughly through the dry hard sticks of a former corn field. 

His skin had given up the ghost. Holes decorated his wings like bloody stars. He shrank painfully back into his now naked human form. He was spent. He began to crawl away on his hands and knees, only to have the nude form of Sylvain appear before him, glowering down at him with fire in her eyes.

“I should kill you. I should rip your dick off. I should give your head to Artie as a Christmas present.”

“Then do it.” He grunted in defiance.

“No.” She grinned, and let out a choked laugh. “Don’t need to. Sun will be up soon, and you don’t have so much as a shirt.” She looked around, pleased with herself.

“You know what, Lu? I’m not even mad you broke the watch anymore. Artie can have you. If she can fucking find you.”

She turned and walked off, her proportions growing weirder with every step until finally she was fully winged and flying off once again, leaving Strauss mercifully alone in the dirt.

Or perhaps unmercifully. Strauss shakily found his feet and took a few wincing steps before falling to his knees in exhaustion once more. He repeated this process, though unsure of where he was actually going.

This field was a wide gape of treeless expanse. Beyond it, a gravel road, and more field beyond that. The faint rosy fingers of dawn began to claw at the horizon. Strauss forced himself to stand. The ache of fear produced a low whine in his chest. He needed rest, rest he couldn’t afford. 

Shaky step gave way to shaky step. The air was growing warmer now. Larks, singing beautifully, heralded the break of morning. At last the bloody red sun crested on the horizon and bathed the field in awful color.

Strauss tried to run, to even jog, but his battered body was at its limit. The light became warm, and soon after, became uncomfortable. Itching gave way to burning. Strauss hunched over, covering his face with one hand and his genitals with the other and turned his back to the sun and began walking as quickly as he could in a blind straight line. Whatever he ran into would have to be shelter.

A wetness began to trickle down his back. Sweat? No. Blisters had begun to form on his burned skin, and the largest of them had already burst. New blisters formed swiftly beneath the old, and in minutes had burst anew, rapidly spilling the water in his already dehydrated form.

The pain had nearly stopped now, his skin ruined to the point of numbness. Dead strips of it clung to him like snakeskin. He hazarded a glance up, un-shielding his eyes for a moment to get his bearings. The light painfully blinded him, and as he blinked through the dancing green after image he saw nothing. Nowhere to run to, and nowhere to hide.

His knees gave out again. This time, for good. He would not be standing back up. He gripped the dirt with his now stinging, red hands and braced for the end. Insects and birds assaulted the field in a cacophony of annoying noises. He would not even die in peace. 

Another animal was in the field, at the periphery of his blurred vision he saw a small brown shape. It was a mouse.

A wild field mouse stopped just short of his hand. It looked at him with blank black eyes, then turned back to the dry dirt of the field. It began to dig in the loose dry soil, and was gone.

Strauss watched it go, and shifted the loose earth beneath his claws a moment. He gathered his failing strength and furiously began to dig.

[kevwriting]

A Waltz of Powers

Love Hurts as Nothing Else

Hearts lie heavy,

Always weighted down,

By the grief, and love, and beauty,

A gentle sunrise on a small town.

So has Syrae's,

He knows no love without pain, or hurt

For him, it is eternal.

No one without the other.

A rainstorm on a winter night,

Fog clouding eyes on hills,

Tears, flowing, a constant stream,

That is how he lives his years,

A nightmare or a hellish daydream.

The stream never ceases,

Relenting only when the other stream,

The stream of power

Is let loose,

With its wake of destruction to follow.

The world is fortunate the stream lies in his hands,

For it would long have been dust,

If it was any other.

A Chance at Recklessness

A landscape is called barren,

When it lies devoid of life.

If that were true, Autumn would be no less.

A person whose soul was more extreme

Than the driest desert,

Or the highest peak.

In a world of beauty to the eye,

She is blind,

For nothing can be beautiful that is not appreciated

And nothing can be appreciated that does not deserve it.

Autumn is loath to believe anything does.

Many objects are loved, in this world,

As a soft rainbow in a sunny sky,

A chirp from a bird in a quiet night,

Or a gentle breeze in the midst of summer.

None appeal, to the stone that is her heart,

She would simply call a diamond,

For what beauty can the most beautiful object see,

When there is nothing more so than itself?

Love From the Heartless

There has never been a time,

Where Autumn and Syrae

Have not loved each other.

It is an absolute truth.

Does the sun rise each day,

At dawn, as clockwork?

It would be foolish to ask,

As it is known, that it does.

Does water quench thirst?

Or fill the sea?

Does a lion hunt a deer?

Nobody would dare to ask.

It is the same, with the two of them,

Because there has never been a time,

When Autumn has not been at Syrae's side,

And he at hers,

It is known.

Most Stories Never Wish to Begin

They who are known,

they who are envied,

For being known from a story,

Are often envious of those not.

It is rarely a boon to be seen,

To be known in such a way,

That a mere mention of your name evokes the thought of you.

Oh, to be forgotten.

Syrae desires for joy,

Good, in the world.

There is rarely ever enough,

Through his eyes,

And all he can ever do is try,

Him against evil.

It feels so, that it is only ever him.

The force of good has always been too small,

Yet it oft prevails,

So is the force of it.

So is its power.

So is his.

The Inevitability of Inevitability

As inevitable the victory of the kind is,

So is the rise of cruel.

It is as thorns on roses,

Always present, ready to prick,

Only sated with the taste of blood,

No lesser than a bloodthirsty beast.

And so, however much so Syrae would wish otherwise,

It rises.

Much to his disappointment, and chagrin,

It grows.

And his is the only power strong enough.

Souls, and hearts, full of life,

Laughter and joy and smiles,

Are what he prizes most,

Light prevailing over darkness.

That is the cost of being kind,

Kindness tested in forges with more heat than the sun,

And more difficult than wars,

For if there a hundred swords,

Made of the strongest iron,

Not one will refrain from drawing blood,

None, but a human,

Forged in no furnace,

But the furnace of life.

Destruction, Unimpeded

It is usual for life to grow,

Thrive, in its settlements,

Fester, until it simply is,

The place inseparable from the living.

And just as usual for it to be destroyed.

But even the tallest of trees,

Is no adversary,

For it is but ash in the wind,

Simply a victim to flames blazing,

Crawling up its bark.

Fire makes its own path,

Burning through even the thickest of bushes,

And the toughest of trees.

It has no opponent strong enough to withstand its power,

None powerful enough to face it down.

But one crafty enough, its victory over the flames guaranteed,

A flood to the ignited fuel,

But when it is not present,

Nothing can survive its wrath.

And as half the world burns down,

The water too far to attempt extinguishing,

Syrae's heart hurts.

It hurts too much.

Guilt and blame,

Regret flaming in his heart,

For even if his stream was no flood,

It was the best there was. He was the best there was.

And he failed.

The Fierceness of Betrayal

Oft, swords in the back sink in deep to the hilt,

Blood spews from the chest, tears from the heart,

Until there are no more tears to cry.

Regret is often strongest during this time,

As is anger,

For how would one feel,

To turn eyes to a hand holding a dagger,

Sunken deep into flesh,

To see a smile made stronger by love,

Love they had given themselves.

Syrae knows not,

Of the pain heading his way,

The tears his eyes are yet to shed,

The blood he wishes he had shed from his own chest,

A pound of flesh he would pay,

If only to save hundreds.

Regret to flare of his own ignorance,

And anger of the loss of trust,

Both not far in his future,

Eyes to see a familiar conniving smirk,

Throat to gasp at the surprise.

Sweet, Sweet Blood

Autumn wishes, against all hope or luck,

That it could not be so,

That she did not feel so.

But she did.

It was a quaint pleasure,

To sink a blade into deep flesh,

See a drop of blood dribble out,

And then a flood pour through.

The joy on her face shone bright,

The eyes twinkling with sharp sadism,

For it was only her who smiled,

As the screams rung through the night.

Unrelenting.

It was only when she tired of smiling,

That she set him on fire.

Her stream of fire. As was Syrae's of water.

A Waltz of Powers

They dance for hours on end,

Her flames a stinging barb into his life,

A stark warning of death,

One he cannot ignore.

He stands strong,

His face tinged with weariness and despair,

For how do you unleash upon one that you have loved,

That you have given your heart to,

That you have trusted?

She harbours no such fear,

No such regard as he does.

Who is the better person,

The one with a conscience,

Or the one without?

For if the latter wins,

They do so without honour,

But in the end,

Is honour really as important as life?

Or is it nothing but dust in the face of the enormity of life,

The possibilities it holds,

The beauty it encompasses?

They waltz for hours,

Each step a perfect match,

Each move directly matched by the other,

A waltz to be admired, to be watched.

A waltz of powers.

[whatissleepeven]

Evil Within Shitpost (Feat. Deanobeanoqueero)

It’s-...

It’s exactly what you think it is-

My bro @deanobeanoqueero is the one who got me into this series, and also finished streaming Evil Within 2 for me today. I had a lot of laughs and scares with you Dean, and I just want to say thank you for the wild ride!

(*Slaps roof of this post* this bad boi can fit so many JOKES)

Dean and Sleep’s Happy, Sunshine, Flowery Day With the Bois (Now Comes With Rainbows!)

“We’ve received a distress signal from Beacon Hospital. We’re en-route; ETA five minut-”

“Dean, bro, we’re almost there you can silently thirst for Joseph once we’re out of the car-”

The beginning cut-scene is supposed to be dramatic, but for the two rookies it’s just Sleep teasing Dean about simping for Joseph and Sebastian

Sebastian’s just trying to guess what might be happening so they can go in with a few ideas, and the absolute tomfoolery happening in the back is ruining the atmosphere

Sebastian sighs. “Can the peanut gallery pipe it down back there?”

Dean winks at him in the rear view mirror, not once missing a beat. “I don’t like peanuts, but there’s one half of that word that I certainly do like~”

Joseph nearly chokes at Dean’s words. Kidman turns to the side to stare out the window, raising a hand to hide the growing smile on her face.

“...Peas.” Dean clarifies, although the smug grin on his face spoke a thousand words. “I meant peas. I like peas. Get your heads out of the gutter, would you?”

They’ve all been working together for nearly a month, Sleep and Dean knowing each other for even longer (about three months). This sort of banter was familiar to the five of them, but-

“WE’RE HEREEE- Oh my good fuck.”

They all hop out of the car, staring up at the hospital. Dean’s scoping out the area, Kidman and Joseph are discussing something in hushed voices, Sebastian’s making his way towards the steps, and Sleep-

-is still by the car.

She laughs nervously. “With how hard this rain’s coming down, this place looks kinda...ominous, don’tcha think?”

Sebastian’s withering look makes her gulp. “It’s too late to turn back now.”

“Sleepus.” Dean says as he reappears, slapping her on the back and getting her to stumble forward. “All five of us are finally on a case together. Let’s just go in, hope nothing steals our toes, and get out so we can play that ghost game we bought.”

Sleep nods. “You’re right...FOR THE GAME!”

“Kidman, stay out here. You’re our backup.” Sebastian commands, removing his gun from its holster. “Joseph, Dean, Sleep, you’re with me. We watch each other’s backs in here.”

All three of them nod their heads, hands hovering over their respective weapons.

Sebastian opens the door. Suddenly, a high pitched noise reverberates throughout the hospital, and soon after darkness quickly overtakes them all...

Inside of STEM

Sebastian comes to with a groan, quickly finding that he’s hanging upside down.

He twists his head to either side of him, seeing the other (really, really dead) bodies tied up in the same manner. “What the-”

“-actual-”

“-fuuuuuck...”

Sebastian nearly yells once he hears the other voices. To his left hangs Dean, the rookie taking in his whereabouts with an equally analytical and disgusted look in his eyes. Further down is Sleep, swearing up a storm under her breath as she tries (and fails) to cut her rope.

“Oh this is not a vibe, bois.”

Sebastian shoots Dean an incredulous look. “Now’s not the time for-”

The butcher walks by them all, going for a- oh that’s a writhing body on a chain, how did they not notice that before, and now-

-Now it’s a non-writhing body on a chain, the sounds of a blade slicing flesh filling the air as something wet splatters against the floor. Heavy footsteps pass by them, and Sebastian tilts his head back to see a...a thing dressed as a butcher cutting up a slab of meat on the table.

Sleep swallows harshly. “Ahaha...yummm, ham...”

Dean chuckles weakly, a hand reaching for his combat knife. Sebastian would’ve smacked his own face if the sound wouldn’t alert the crazy monster in the next room.

Out of everyone he could’ve gotten stuck with...

He cuts himself free once the butcher leaves, dropping to the floor like a sack of potatoes. He staggers a bit as he stands up, the blood rush temporarily distorting his view, and quickly gets to work on Dean’s ropes.

Dean drops to the ground much like Sebastian did, except unlike the experienced detective he had someone to catch him. 

The rookie smiles up at him. “Thank you, Sebastian.”

“You’re welcome. Can you stand?” Sebastian sets Dean down once he’s sure he’s okay, cutting Sleep’s ropes with no remorse as she plummets to the floor.

She immediately stands back up, unfazed. She jabs a finger at Sebastian, eyes narrowed. “Is this payback for eating your gummy worms the other day?”

Sebastian moves past them with a crouch, swiping the key card from the other room. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The two also drop to a crouch, following him towards a red door to the left of the hanging bodies. Heavy footfalls start growing louder, prompting them to get through the doorway as quickly as they could and shut the door behind them.

“I was hungry! You were like “Sleep; don’t eat the packing peanuts!”, and I was digesting myself, what else was I supposed to do?!” She whispers harshly as he opens the door. Sebastian gets the sudden urge to bang his head against a wall.

They all ascend the staircase, unaware of the horrors they would face...

Dean would sometimes miss all of his shotgun shots. It didn’t happen often, but he always took a second to lament his gun afterwards while Sleep patted his back

Sebastian leads the way. If there’s danger, he’d rather run into it first than Dean or Sleep

Explosions are Sleep’s jam. Th-...That’s it, send tweet.

Dean is the master of sneaky-sneaking. He always finds hidden items and ammo, pointing out little gems like a Bioshock figurine. 

“My sneaky little gremlin hands are gonna steal all of your stuff~!”

The ragtag group’s first exposure to Ruvik begins (and ends) with Sleep insulting him. “Look, I get he wants to make like My Chemical Romance and join the Black Parade, but he clearly got the wrong memo with how much white he’s wearing.”

Long walks usually end up with Dean singing a song. A favorite is “Country roaddddd, take me homeeee, to a plaaaaace, I belonggg!”

“-WEST VIRGINIAAAAA”

The two hang onto each other like they’re in a drama film, extending their arms out towards an unseen sunset. It’s very wholesome and sweet and pure.

Sebastian wants to slam his head against a wall.

Sleep whispers the Mission: Impossible theme whenever they’re sneaking up on enemies

Dean starts singing in a panicked tone whenever there’s a high-stress situation. “AHH, I love running from zombies with my brooOOOOoOoOS..!!”

Code phrases

To release tension, Dean and Sleep say “Number 15: Burger King-”

“Don’t you dare,” Sebastian cuts them off with a hiss as they sneak around a zombie wrapped in barbed wire.

- They do it anyways

They get chased

Dean likes the Lady In Red. She’s terrifying, but she’s cool despite wanting to yoink your toes!

Sleep likes the Keeper the best. He has a safe for his head; that’s awesome!

Meeting up with Joseph = immediate simp on Dean’s end

Dean likes to share theories with Joseph, helping him work on opening doors and solving puzzles. Sleep wanders around the room in that time, poking fun at Sebastian.

Dean + Sleep = Lore Goblins, the Goblins of Lore

Dean really helps keep Joseph’s suicidal ass alive and in check; also calls him Jo Jo when he wants to get his attention

Sleep does her best to protect Leslie because he’s babey

Sleep repeatedly says “I will never financially recover from this” when something goes wrong

Dean counters with “I will never emotionally recover from this” once Kidman shoots Joseph

Oh look, Ruvik’s coming to attack them in his manor? Sebastian is tense as he dodges, but Dean and Sleep-

“No no, don’t touch me there; this is, my No No Square. No no-”

“Dean, Sleep, what the fuck are you two doing-”

Once they manage to defeat Ruvik, the trio stumbles out of the hospital and immediately go back to the office to play Mario Kart (Sebastian was forced to go)

They purchase a book called How To Deal With Trauma: For Dummies and sit in a circle and read it

[hawkbucks]

Okay, so I usually don't send this kind of asks or prompts, because I don't have any wishes - I'm happy with whatever I get. But if you're up for it, I'd really love some HEAVY Tony-centric angst. Ship or no ship, whatever you prefer more, and sad end - or if you're not comfortable with that not more than a hopeful end. I just want you to crush my heart and make me cry. A lot. If that's nothing you want to write, that's okay, I love your writing anyway! Thank you for all your hc's and fics! :)

HELLO, FIRST OF ALL, I AM SORRY FOR TAKING THIS LONG AND SECOND OF ALL, THANK YOU FOR BEING WILLING TO WAIT. 

I hope this quenches your thirst for angst! I’ll admit to not really? Writing angst that much? So I’m not sure how this holds up, but I hope it’s okay! 

Loosely inspired by canon.

As a child, Tony comes to the realization that he is not meant to be loved. 

His mother tries. Oh, God, she tries. She brushes his hair in the mornings, places bandages over his bloodied knees whenever he went to play out in the garden and inevitably fell due to an untied shoelace, but nothing--nothing--she does makes up for the way his father treats him, the way those barbed words wrapped themselves around his heart and lungs and squeeze until he could barely breathe. 

See, dear old dad makes sure that his dissatisfaction with Tony makes itself apparent at every turn. Tony isn’t smart enough, he isn’t quick enough, he isn’t careful enough, he isn’t tough enough. He cries too much, clings too tightly to his mother, spends more days reading about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table than brushing up on his advanced mathematics courses. 

“You're useless,” he remembers his father sneering, smelling faintly of alcohol and cigar smoke, while he desperately bites his lower lip to stifle his sobs as he picked up the remains of his toy car on the floor, “spending your time on those things instead of studying. I don’t see why Maria bothers. I certainly wouldn’t.” 

Clutching the scraps of metal to his chest, Tony runs out of the room as fast as his legs can carry him. He throws them in the trash, nearly retching up his entire lunch as he does so before going into his bedroom and curling up in his bed, buried under a ridiculous amount of blankets. He doesn’t know what to do to make his father happy short of running away and risking his life on the streets. 

He doesn’t know what to do to make his father love him. 

He keeps to himself at school. People don’t seek him out, and he doesn’t seek people out. He gets labelled as the “eccentric rich boy,” which is fine by him. 

Except there’s this other kid, James Rhodes, around 3 years older, that won’t stop trying to get him to come out of his shell. It probably helps that they’re roommates, otherwise Tony would be giving him a wide, wide berth. As in, making detours to the other side of the campus kind of wide. 

“C’mon.” Rhodes slides him a plate laden with a microwaved chocolate croissant. “Talk to me a little.” 

Tony eyes the plate. He hesitantly reaches forward, like he’s afraid that Rhodes is going to snatch it away from him at the last second, before bringing it towards himself. He nibbles at the edges of the pleasantly warm croissant. “Why do you care so much?” 

“Because you seem scared every time that I see you?” Rhodes answers. “Listen, Tony, you’re young. Younger than anyone else on this campus. I’m... worried, you know? You need someone looking out for you.” 

“I don’t need a babysitter.” 

“And I’m not trying to be one. I’m just saying that you’d be better off having someone who cares for you. I’m not going to swaddle you and put you in diapers.”

Tony wrinkles his nose. “You better not.” 

Rhodes smiles at him. Tony finds himself smiling back.

It’s nice, having someone with him at school. He and Rhodes--or Rhodey, as he now calls him--are basically attached at the hip. They do anything and everything they can together. Tony has almost forgotten how it’s like to be this happy. 

He tells Rhodey one day, tentatively excited, that he’s found this girl: Sunset Bain. She’s a brunette with hair all the way down to the middle of her back, she’s wicked smart with a rapier wit, and, most importantly, she doesn’t care that Tony’s a Stark. 

“Stop growing up so fast,” Rhodey complains. “It’s making me feel old.” 

“You’re 19.” 

“I feel old.” 

They go on dates--nice ones, but not expensive. 

He has his first kiss with her. It’s quick and chaste, but he liked it. She doesn’t push him to go further, and for that he’s glad. 

He holds her hand as they walk under the trees. 

As it turns out, Sunset did a little snooping in his stuff when he’s distracted and made off with Stark company secrets right after they celebrated their 6th month together. 

“Stupid boy,” his father snarls, slamming a hand down on his desk. Tony’s heard it all before, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less. He doesn’t look up from the floor, hands clasped behind his back. 

Tony croaks, “I didn’t--”

“Didn’t what? Didn’t think she’d take advantage of you? Did you actually think she loved you?” 

Tony doesn’t respond. He doesn’t want to appear to be even more of an idiot, because, yes, he actually thought she loved him. She would whisper as much when they cuddled on the couch, anyway. 

“Unbelievable,” Howard mutters, taking Tony’s silence as confirmation of that fact. “Get out. I have to deal with this mess that you made.” 

Tony nods. “Yes, sir.” 

He leaves, each step heavy. Everything after that is a blur. All he knows is that he left that room and he ended up back in his dorm, face down on the floor, sobbing his eyes out with a half-empty bottle of Vodka lying next to him.  

His parents die at some point. Car accident.  

He sobs into his pillow. He wishes--

He wishes he was in the car, too. At least he’d be with his mother.

Rhodey has been his anchor through all of this. He lets Tony ruin his shirts with his tears and his snot. He brings Tony coffee and cupcakes whenever he thought he could use some cheering up. Hell, he even offers to TP Sunset’s house--a tempting offer if he didn’t know that Rhodey would end up arrested for doing so. 

Like most good things in his life, Rhodey ends up leaving to join the Air Force. Tony wishes he could be selfish enough to ask Rhodey to stay a little longer, but he doesn’t. 

He gives him a hug and a pat on the back, and Rhodey is gone.

Rhodey tries to contact him. He calls, sends letters, e-mails, but Tony doesn’t reply. 

He knows it’s self-sabotaging. He knows that it’ll end up ruining one of the rare positive relationships he’s ever had in his far too long-feeling life, but he doesn’t care.

He’s never deserved Rhodey’s love. 

Tony is unsure if he should feel the glad the morning he wakes up and doesn’t see a missed call from Rhodes sitting in his inbox. 

He drifts along in life. Stark Industries was handed over to Obadiah Stane, and Tony has no plans on taking it from him. 

He drinks, orders takeout, spends his days on his phone or laptop. He’s rich enough that he doesn’t ever have to lift a finger to work in his life. It’s a boring--if safe--life. 

Crossing the street one day, he literally runs into a guy: tall, broad shoulders, with pretty blond hair. He apologizes profusely, but the guy brushes it off, tugging him over to the other side when a car honks. “I’m Tiberius,” the guy says, holding a hand out.

Tony takes it. “I’m Tony.” 

He falls in love with Tiberius fast and hard. It’s like Sunset, but a million times more intense. There’s just... something about the man that makes adrenaline pump in Tony’s veins and gives him a high that he has to spend hours shaking off afterwards. 

Of course, he’s terrified. Rhodes isn’t going to be there if something goes wrong (and something usually does go wrong when he’s concerned). 

Then Tiberius kisses him right before he leaves Tony’s apartment, and he melts. 

“No one else could love you like I can, Tony,” Tiberius murmurs against his lips, the movie they were watching all but forgotten in the background. 

Tony hums. He wraps his arms around Tiberius’ neck and draws him closer. Tiberius loves him. Maybe all of his insecurities were wrong.

“Ty,” Tony says in his best soothing voice. “Leave him alone. He didn’t know.” Tiberius is weirdly territorial. He won’t let anyone near Tony, man or woman, young or old. 

“Like hell he didn’t.” Tiberius continues to glare at the trembling man in front of him. “I should knock his lights out.” 

“Don’t.” Tony grabs onto Tiberius’ bicep and starts to pull him away. “C’mon, let’s just leave. We’re going to miss our reservation.” 

Tiberius rips his arm from Tony’s hold. “Oh, so you’re siding with him? Maybe you should go on a date with him if you care about him that much!” He stomps away, leaving behind a scared, slightly frazzled Tony. 

“I’m sorry about him,” Tony says to the man next to him, trying his best to put on an assuring smile. “He can get riled up.” 

“It’s--it’s fine,” the man replies. “I should be the one apologizing to you. He’s... you’re going to be alright, right?” 

“Of course I am,” Tony replies, confused. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

The man looks at him with pity.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Tiberius says, arms around Tony’s waist, kissing his neck. “I just love you so much.” 

“Yeah.” Tony’s tone is empty. Tiberius has... well, he’s changed a lot. Tony thought that he was possessive before, but now he’s like a monster. All the woman did was wink at him and Tiberius yelled at her to the point where she was on the verge of tears. 

He still loves Tiberius, though. He thinks he does. He’s not too sure. Tiberius loves him, though. He knows that. 

Tiberius pauses. “Do you not love me anymore?” 

“What?” Tony places his hands on Tiberius’ shoulders. “I do!” 

“Why didn’t you say it back?” 

Tony swallows. “I was... distracted.” 

Tiberius narrows his eyes, gaze going steely. “Are you thinking about her?” 

“Ty--”

“You are, aren’t you?” 

“You’re being ridiculous--” 

Tiberius’ hand moves up to the back of Tony’s neck, and Tony feels the ice cold grip of fear in his stomach. “Who else is going to love you if not for me, Tony? I’m the only one who can put up with you.” 

Tony feels bile rise up the back of his throat. This isn’t healthy. This is far from it. 

But if this is the kind of love that he deserves, then he’ll take it. 

[maxolotl67]

children of dust and ashes

Triple H x Reader (gender-nonspecific)

Summary: Set in a Mad Max-esque future, a scrapper enters the court and good graces of a mysterious king.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: The following is VERY not safe for work. There is swearing and sex. Please read responsibly.

Notes: So, uh. This ended up being way too long. And porny. Oops. This is directly inspired by Triple H’s WM35 entrance, which I loved far more than is probably healthy. Title comes from a song in Natasha, Pierre, & the Great Comet of 1812, a highly underrated musical.

Coughing weakly as a breeze kicked up a dust cloud, you shielded a hand over your eyes and scanned the horizon. Nothing for miles save desert and rock.

No one knew you were gone yet, but it wasn’t likely to stay that way for long. With any luck, maybe they would forget about you and drive off in the other direction. But that would still leave you stranded.

Shade. Water. Options. Three very important things that you currently lacked. Still, it was better than staying and risking death. Or worse. You resolved to keep walking, quickly and quietly and as far away as possible.

Minutes stretched out into hours. Maybe even days. Your feet hurt, there was dirt in your eyes, and you’d long since lost track of which tire tracks were the ones to avoid following. Had the sun moved at all? You couldn’t remember. The horizon stayed the same no matter which way you turned your head. Was this hell? Had you died in that ramshackle camp and this was your punishment? That distant growl was probably the devil’s hound out for your blood.

Wait. Growl?

Far off to the south, the horizon had suddenly changed. You were no longer alone. Over the crest of a dune came a single solitary wagon, its engine baying like an angry predator. It seemed to be heading north - that was, until it made a sudden turn straight for you.

You wanted to flee, but every part of your body screamed in protest at the idea. It seemed unlikely that you could even get away or think to hide. You fell to your knees, exhausted. Hopefully this one would at least think to kill you quickly.

The car was clearly built for speed, exchanging size and practical armor for mobility and acceleration, yet the iron chains and barbed wire wrapped erratically around its sturdy frame suggested its builder was familiar with combat. There was only one rider. They wore a mask and hood, obscuring their face. You closed your eyes, resigned to your fate.

The engine fell silent. Two heavy boots hit the ground.

“Your reverence is appreciated,” a deep voice said, with more than a hint of amusement. “Though in your case, it isn’t necessary.”

Looking up and blinking against the light, you saw the rider had removed his hood and mask. He was a tall man, bald and muscular, with loose-fitting leather clothing, rust-colored eyes, and a commanding bearing. Your immediate reaction was one of awe - he was at once the most intimidating and the most intriguing person you’d ever seen. Perhaps this wouldn’t end in your death after all.

You shakily rose to your feet, politely refusing his outstretched hand when he offered it. “Why’s that? Are you a king?”

He smiled mysteriously. “The king of kings, baby.”

You groaned inwardly. Men. “If that’s the case, why are you out here alone? Don’t kings usually travel with an entourage?”

“Heard scattered reports of raiders traveling through our lands. Wanted to check for myself.” He squinted back in the direction you’d come from. “Small time, by the looks of it. Not worth bothering with just yet. You see them?”

“Came from their camp, actually. Bastards stole my wagon.”

He looked you over, raising an eyebrow. “Must not be a smart bunch, letting you out of sight. Why don’t you come with me and we can discuss it?”

Discuss? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Could this kingly stranger be trusted? Was this another cage waiting to happen? You sighed. Even if this man was a tyrant, riding with him back to wherever he came from sounded better than dying of thirst out here. “Fine,” you said after a moment. “Though I doubt I could tell you anything you don’t already know, your highness.”

That earned you a laugh. “Please, call me Hunter.” He gestured for you to take the gunner post. You did so with a satisfied smile.

Hunter threw the wagon in gear, and it set off back south with a mighty roar. Yours had barely held together even at the best of times, so it was a refreshing change of pace to ride on a rig built for speed. If you played your cards right, maybe you could score yourself a setup like this.

Over a number of dunes and through a maze of stones the wagon flew, until you came to the edge of a dried lake bed. Or was it a crater? At the center lay a massive fortress adorned with flags. You didn’t recognize the emblem from any of the groups you’d come across in the wasteland - black fabric with a big yellow X.

So, an insular society ruled by a reasonable king, with fast rigs, a presumably large force, and a willingness to talk with strangers? This would be interesting.

The garage was cool and dark, an instant relief from the hellscape you’d left behind. Again Hunter offered you his hand, but you climbed off the wagon yourself without a word. King’s guest or not, you wouldn’t be patronized to today. 

“What’s the word, boss?” A voice called from a high catwalk. You couldn’t see their face clearly, though you did see an impossibly long braid dangling over the edge of the railing.

“Trouble brewing in the southwest,” Hunter called back. “Get Lorcan and Burch out there. I need numbers, I need defenses. No engagement, got it? Purely an assessment.”

The person with the braid gave him a lazy salute and skipped off. Hunter gave you a smile that left a fluttering feeling in your stomach. “One of my kids. Not literally, of course. You’ll get to know them.”

Of course. A large group like this would need a familial bond to stay strong. As you followed Hunter through a series of hallways, you took note of the dormitory-like rooms, a few small armories, even a communal kitchen. Maybe an extended stay here wouldn’t be completely awful.

The two of you came to a large space, clearly meant for group gatherings. The high ceilings and second floor walkway around the room you understood, but what you found most notable and most perplexing about the room was the raised square platform in the center, surrounded by ropes attached to posts. A combat arena? A space for the king to address his subjects? Both?

On this platform, two men were exchanging blows. Not hard-hitting ones, though. It looked like they were training, though to what end you couldn’t guess. Hand-to-hand fighting wasn’t common in the wastes, or at least that was the case with the raiding groups you’d met.

“We have a guest,” Hunter boomed, stopping them in their tracks. “Johnny, stay here. Tommaso, I need Dream and Shayna in here now. See if Hanson and Rowe are back, we’ll need them too.” His tone was a lot different with his followers than it was with you. His authority definitely wasn’t to be challenged here.

The man with the grizzled beard nodded and ran from the room. The other jumped down from the ring with a smile. You saw then that his belt buckle was exceptionally large and made of what looked to be gold. It was marked with the same emblem you’d seen on the flags outside. “Johnny Wrestling,” he said, extending his hand to you. “Good to have you on board.”

“Don’t get excited,” Hunter corrected as he ascended the stairs on one corner of the ring. “They’re not signed just yet. Let’s hear their story before we decide anything.” You appreciated Johnny’s welcoming nature nonetheless, so you shook his hand politely.

A tough-looking woman entered the room, followed by a man draped in black linens. Both of them had belt buckles similar to Johnny’s, but otherwise their contrasting styles and demeanors almost made you laugh. If the people here were all this diverse, you’d fit right in.

“The Era’s been looking for you again, your highness,” the man drawled. “Always on and on about their rematches. Frankly, the Dream is tired of it.”

Hunter groaned, a long-suffering kind of sound. “Thank you, I’ll deal with them later. Everyone in the ring, now.” The three with the belts climbed between the ropes, until all the eyes in the room were on you and you realized that he had meant you too. Oh right, this was supposed to be about you. You scrambled in and stood awkwardly next to Hunter, who cleared his throat.

“As you know, since we’ve decreased the number of border teams there’s been a bigger need to keep an eye on movement outside our territory. Now, the last thing I want is to weaken our force by sending those teams back out there. What we need is to look into the possibility of more long-range recognizance. Outposts, checkpoints, whatever’s necessary to keep outsiders out of our territory. I want each of you to talk to your friends, have them talk to their friends, and start drafting plans. No idea is too small or too dumb. Have it on my desk as soon as you’re able.”

You were so caught up by Hunter’s expert calculations and contagious confidence that it took a moment to realize he’d turned to smile at you. “In the meantime, I’ve brought in someone you might call an expert. Our new friend here can give us a better idea about what goes on in just one enemy camp. Care to start from the beginning?”

Clearing your throat, you told them everything that you remembered about the raiders and their camp, from the details of your capture, guesses at their defenses and social structure, identifying markers and symbols, to numbers and potential weak points and how you’d escaped. You weren’t exactly a tactician, and it was hard to tell from their faces if they were impressed, but hopefully your information would be helpful to them in some way.

“And, uh. That was where your king found me,” you finished with a sideways glance to Hunter. “I’m glad he did. Without my wagon, my chances out there weren’t great.”

The corner of Hunter’s mouth formed part of that mysterious smile you were starting to like. “Well, you did well to make it as far as you did. Flying solo takes guts.” He turned to the others. “Let that be a lesson to everyone. You were once independents just like our friend here. You’re here now because you’re strong. Clever. Resourceful. The best at what you do. We will endure because of you. What’s our name?”

“N-X-T!” they shouted back, chests puffed and faces flush with pride.

“I can’t hear you,” he roared at them, beaming.

“N-X-T!”

“WHAT’S OUR NAME?”

“N-X-T!”

“Dismissed.”

Their determination was utterly infectious. As they filed out of the room, leaving you and Hunter alone, you were grinning. “Interesting bunch. Are all your kids like this?”

“Most of them. If they aren’t yet, they’ll get there with time.” Hunter stood opposite you in the ring and gestured to the walls around you. “That’s why I built this place. To shape the future. You know as well as I do that the wasteland doesn’t make warriors. It breaks them. Only by standing together do we have a chance to change the world.”

You hummed in careful consideration. “That’s quite a goal. You think you’re the one to make that possible?”

He smiled again. Damn that smile. How could a simple smile transform a face so completely? “I know that I am. And I know that everyone in this place believes it too. And I want you to help me make it happen.”

You blinked slowly. “Beg your pardon?”

As if impassioned by the mere utterance of his mission, Hunter stepped forward and took both your hands. “Stay,” he implored. “Train with us. I see in your eyes the same spark that laid the cornerstones of this place. The same spark that will ignite the flames of the future. You could be safe here. Food, water, a family to watch your back and help you grow into a champion. You could stand by my side as we build a better tomorrow.”

This was too good to be true. There was no way it could really be that simple. You were just a scrappy-looking scavenger, not a champion, and certainly not someone who could change the future. What was Hunter seeing in you that you somehow missed?

You exhaled shakily. “I don’t know. I...I don’t think I’m good enough for this place.”

The look in Hunter’s eyes was warm and reassuring. No one had ever looked at you like that before. “That’s alright. Give it a few days. If it’s not the right fit, you’ll know. For now, get down to the mess and get some dinner in you. Find Shawn. He’s my second-in-command, he’ll get you set up with your own bunk and a schedule.”

You’d only just arrived here, and already you were allowed to go places on your own? What a strange family. Hunter sent you off, saying something about royal duties awaiting him in his office, and you were eventually able to find your way through the narrow hallways to the expansive kitchen.

Shawn proved to be easy to locate. His laughter was uproarious and jovial, and the small crowd of young drivers behind him spoke to his respectability and experience. He knew you were Hunter’s guest before you said a thing - he waved it off as fast-traveling gossip - and after sitting down with you and a hearty bowl of stew, he peered over a pair of dusty glasses at a long list of names.

“Let’s put you in with Kushida for right now,” he said, scribbling a note. “He’s a newer face. Confident, experienced in the ring, and he needs a driver. You two can learn from each other.” Looking up, he flashed you a wry smile. “Boss must like you. He normally doesn’t bring in new blood unless he knows what they can do in the ring. You get a name yet?”

You frowned in confusion. “Name?”

“Yeah, your ring name! Or your family name, if you like. People who come here, or who are running away from what’s out there, they get a chance to start over.” Shawn gave you a roguish grin. “You think the king lets just anyone call him Hunter? That’s just for people he likes. His ring name is Triple H. Last poor sucker that called him Hunter without permission got two months kitchen duty. A name for you just means you’re part of the team now.”

Huh. You’d never considered the possibility of using any other name but your own before. But then, you’d never been a part of anything quite this meaningful before. Maybe this would be a good place to start over. To have a family.

You must have looked lost in thought, because Shawn then nudged you with an elbow. “Don’t stress about it too much. If you’ve got ideas, he’ll hear you out. He’s our king, sure, but he’s not a complete asshole, y’know?”

You nodded. That made sense. Just as you were about to ask more about Hunter, the doors to the kitchen swung open with a loud bang. Four men entered, looking very angry, and marched toward the front table where the gargantuan stew pot rested. One of them stopped and glared at you, his eyes a startling blue. You wondered what you’d done to earn his ire.

“You the new stray?” he asked. “His majesty wanted to see you after dinner.”

“Watch it, Cole,” Shawn warned. “Don’t make it worse for yourself.”

Cole, or whatever his name was, scoffed and sauntered away. You kept your head down, staring at the dregs of your dinner. Men like him didn’t scare you. There were more important things to think about. Like what your new name could be.

-

You stood outside the massive wooden door longer than was probably necessary. Every time you thought about raising your hand to knock, your stomach did a couple backflips. There would be no going back from this. Hunter was accepting you into his fold, more or less agreeing to care for you and train you to be a fighter. Someone who could stand with him without fear and face the future. Nothing you’d ever done before carried this much finality. Once you accepted your new name, this place would become your home, and Hunter would be your king.

A fleeting worry crossed your mind - what if he was disappointed in you, what if you failed to please him, what if he never spoke to you again after today - but you did your best to push it away. Unable to bear the waiting anymore, you knocked three times.

“Enter.”

You did, and the luxury that you beheld was instantly overwhelming. There was a cushy rug under your feet, the walls were lined with carefully crafted portraits and well-worn golden buckles, and the heady scent of incense hung in the air. So not only was this Hunter’s office, this had to be his personal room. Only a king would go out of his way to make his space as befitting of his station as possible.

Hunter sat in a massive chair behind a polish metal desk, bent over a stack of papers. He looked up when the door shut behind you and smiled. That was enough to get your heart pounding. “Settling in alright?”

“I’ll find my feet soon enough,” you replied with a huffed laugh. “What are you working on?”

He raised an eyebrow, and right away you felt sheepish, realizing he probably wasn’t used to being questioned so openly. It must not have bothered him too much, though, since he didn’t react beyond that. “Keeping records. Every driver, every match, every result needs to be kept for posterity. We don’t have much from the old world, so it’s important that we leave what we can for future kings.” He made another few scribbles before he set down his charcoal and smoothed his fingers over the immaculate surface of his desk. “That includes what you bring to us. Did Shawn explain our naming tradition to you?”

You nodded and swallowed. “I, uh. I did have a few ideas. But I’ll trust whatever judgement you make.”

Hunter rose to his feet, circling around the desk to stand in front of you. He was close enough to smell the incense on his skin. You tried not to think about it. “I always have time for new ideas. Let’s hear it.”

“Sparks.” Even now, it sounded like the most natural sound in the world. “Ty Sparks. If I am to spark the fires of the future, my name should inspire that.”

Hunter seemed to consider this for a moment, then smiled. “We sort of already have a Ty, but you’re on the right track. Sparks. I like that. What about Cadence Sparks?”

“Cadence. Cadence.” You rolled the sound around a few times in your mouth. It had a heroic feel to it. You beamed. “It’s perfect.”

“Then kneel.” You did so hurriedly, as Hunter placed a warm, heavy hand on the crown of your head. “Cadence Sparks, there are many warriors in this world, but none like you. Do you wish to stand with us and prove your worth?”

“I do.” Your heart hammered with excitement somewhere in your throat.

“And will you protect this family with your life just as we will protect you with ours?”

“I will.”

“And should you stand out among our ranks and become a champion, do you swear to defend your title with dignity and honor, setting the best example you can for the champions of tomorrow?”

“I swear.”

Hunter’s hand moved down, his fingertips skimming oh so gently over your cheek to cup your chin and tilt it up. It was like looking at him for the first time, the handsome king that came out of the horizon to save your life and change your world forever. “Rise, Cadence Sparks. And welcome to NXT.”

Suddenly overcome with emotion, you leapt to your feet and threw your arms around his neck. You panicked for a split second - this was most certainly not how you showed a king his due respect - but to your surprise, he embraced you back and chuckled into your hair. You felt your face flush a deep red. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“It’s alright,” Hunter murmured, as if he could hear your thoughts. “This is a big moment. It’s okay if you need to cry.”

You laughed. You knew you should probably have let go by now, but every second you held on, it got harder and harder to consider pulling away. Something about Hunter’s arms around you felt so safe, so warm, so much like home. “I just...I’ve never had a family before. Not like this.”

“Mmm. That’s what I love most about this place. The bonds that are forged here last forever.” You inhaled sharply, realizing that he had begun stroking the small of your back. “Some go deeper than others. Some may only exist in passing. But all are equally unbreakable.”

You swallowed, daring to hide your face in his neck. “Like...like this one?”

“Indeed.” Hunter pulled back a little, though he was still smiling, still holding you close. “Though, uh...I should warn you, there is an informal tradition for my personal recruits. Once they’re named and sworn in, I make the effort to personally make them feel welcome.”

Something about his words, combined with the gentleness and intention in his touch, set a deep heat stirring in your belly. Feeling emboldened, you moved even closer, your lips barely an inch apart. “I’m feeling pretty welcome already.”

“Then allow me to seal the deal.” Before you could blink, Hunter closed the distance between you, kissing you with a fierceness you’d never experienced before. His hands dropped to your hips, holding you in place. Not that you would even dream of pulling away now.

Pressing impossibly closer with a soft moan, you allowed your hands to wander, learning the defined slope of his shoulders, the smoothness of his chest, the hard strength of his biceps. Maybe this had been what you were looking for all along - not just a family, but even just one person you could place your whole trust into. Whatever Hunter asked for now, you knew you would do anything to make it happen.

Hunter’s mouth moved to claim other parts of your face and neck, all pretense of gentleness gone, his hands busy with removing both your clothes. It proved difficult to blindly shift over toward his bed with both of you unwilling to separate for longer than necessary, but he more than made up for it with his confident and knowing touch. Every inch of your skin that he covered felt electrified.

His fingers found the spot between your legs that made you cry out just as the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. But he didn’t let you fall back just yet. He pressed on that spot over and over, rough and desperate and everything you wanted. “You like that, baby?” he whispered hotly, briefly sucking the shell of your ear between his teeth. “Gonna let me do whatever I want, isn’t that right?”

“Yes!” you keened, too flushed with desire to think of how wanton you must have sounded. “Please, God, don’t stop!”

He released you when out of desperation you started to buck at his hand, standing over you for far too long, just looking, just taking the sight of you in. “God, look at you,” he said, lost in thought, a hand reaching down to palm his cock. “My perfect prize, all spread out for me. Gonna give it to you so good, baby.”

You whimpered, straining with the effort to keep your legs spread, shamelessly putting yourself on display. “Please,” you begged again. “I’m all yours. Whenever you want me. However you want me. Please, Hunter, touch me.”

“Careful. ‘M gonna want to keep you in my bed forever with talk like that.” At this point, you were very willing to consider that. He spat in his palm, and it was only a little disgusting, but he did at last put a hand on your hip. When at last he finally pushed in, all the breath seemed to leave your body at once. You had to close your eyes then, as the sight of Hunter inside of you, all around you, on top of you, was overwhelming.

He appeared to steady himself as well, just for a moment, before he began to thrust. Both his hands were on your hips now, holding you in place on the edge of the bed. You almost wanted to tell him to grip harder, to leave bruises, but at that point forming words was impossible.

You felt his mouth on your chest then, learning with his tongue what his fingers had mapped out only moments ago. You gasped when he hit a nipple, opening your eyes just in time to see his grin. “So fucking hot,” he murmured, thrusting hard enough to make you groan. “Say my name again.”

“Hunter,” you gasped. You reached down with one hand, unable to help yourself. “God, Hunter, that feels so good.”

“Yeah, that’s it, baby, touch yourself.” His thrusts were brutal now, almost boneshaking. You wouldn’t even have to ask for bruises this time. “Who’s your king, Cadence?”

“Fuck — you! It’s you, Hunter, you’re my king.” God, your name sounded so good in his voice. With your free hand you gripped the sheets, desperate to ground yourself, desperate to finish with him.

“You need to come, don’t you? Gonna come on your king’s cock? Show me, baby, show me how good you take it.” His breathing came sharply, but he didn’t take his eyes off of you. You’d never seen anything so beautiful in your life.

“Oh God, Hunter, I — “ But you couldn’t even finish your warning. You came with the force of an oncoming storm, hard and fast and forever stuffed into a few seconds. And just as the world seemed to right itself again, Hunter came inside of you with a guttural moan.

You both laid there for a while, just breathing, just memorizing each other’s warmth, the feel of each other’s skin. He arranged both of you under his blankets, which was a good thing, as you were still too boneless to be of much help. Thankfully he didn’t seem to mind. There were a few more words, a few more lingering and lazy kisses, but you fell asleep in his arms soon after, confident and assured that you were exactly where you belonged. 

[fanficshiddles]

Lust or thirst?, One Shot

Thank you, Sigridlaufeyson for the prompt: What if u were in a hospital and Adam came to hospital too and you are looking for a nurse, wandering in the empty hallway alone and Adam sees you and he feels a whole new kind of thirst that is more like lust cuz he finds you beautiful

Non-con!! 

Adam was irritated that he had to wait for his usual supply of blood. The idiot doctor had went away for lunch early, forgetting their little arrangement. But he wasn’t going to leave without it.

Sigrid had badly hurt her arm. It was cut, a pretty deep wound and wouldn’t stop bleeding. She was worried with the amount of blood she lost, so she went straight to the hospital. But it was really quiet and she got lost through all the corridors looking for the A+E section.

Adam just so happened to turn down the same corridor. He got a whiff of her first, stopping him in his tracks as he smelled her. But what surprised him was that it was not just her blood that got his heart racing, but the smell of her.

He had to have her.

Sigrid sighed in frustration as she couldn’t see anyone. And the sign for A+E was suddenly telling her to go the other way. So turning around on her heels she nearly walked straight into a tall body.

‘Shit. Sorry…’ She trailed off as she looked up at said body, startled to see a very handsome face.

He had long, messy hair and beautiful eyes that she could easily get lost in. His smell wasn’t anything that she could put her finger on. But she imagined he was like what nighttime would smell like, if it had a smell, for some reason. A hint of mint too.

‘Don’t worry, darling. Is there anything I can help with?’ Adam asked, concerned as he looked down at her arm that she was holding with a towel wrapped around it, covered in blood.

‘I was trying to find A+E.’ Sigrid stuttered, finding her voice eventually.

‘I can see why. Let me help you. I’m on my break anyway.’ Adam smiled.

‘Uhm… I don’t want to be a bother. I can just go to’

‘No arguing, come on. Let me see what you’ve done.’ Adam motioned towards a room to his left that was empty.

Sigrid didn’t think anything of it, as he was wearing doctors’ overalls, white coat and everything, with a stethoscope around his neck. So she followed him to the room and walked in, her breathing hitched as she felt his hand on her lower back, guiding her in.

The room he led her into was a simple consulting room with the usual chairs, computer on the desk and bed for examining. Adam motioned to the bed, where Sigrid hopped up and sat with her legs dangling down the side of it. She never noticed Adam locking the door behind them and putting the key in his pocket.

‘How did you do this then, love?’ Adam asked as he walked to the back of the room to gather up what he needed.

But he took that time to take a deep breath and contain himself. He wanted nothing more than to sink his fangs into her and fuck her at the same time. His body trembled at the thought of that. Having her sprawled out beneath him, her neck bared to him.

‘I was out walking and someone ran into me, they knocked me into a barbed wire fence. Luckily it was just my arm that got the brunt of it.’ Sigrid sighed.

‘Did they not stop to check you were ok?’ The fake doctor asked, surprised with how it happened, as he willed himself to stop thinking about her in lewd ways. A doctor with a tent in his trousers wasn’t very professional… Not that he was a real one anyway.

After a few minutes, he turned around and walked back over towards her. He smiled warmly at her as he started to unravel the towel she had used.

‘No, he didn’t. Asshole kept running. Didn’t even apologise.’ Sigrid hissed when the towel was removed from her arm.

‘Sorry, it will hurt a bit more soon.’ Adam said softly as he tried not to breathe in through his nose, her scent was driving him nuts.

‘Thank you so much for this. I hope you still have time for your break.’ Sigrid said as she watched the doctor clean her arm. It did sting, but she just gritted her teeth and took it.

‘No worries. I couldn’t just leave a beautiful damsel in distress.’ Adam smirked, making Sigrid blush.

It took all of his will power to resist leaning down and licking the blood straight from her wound. He could feel his mouth starting to water. He shook his head to concentrate better. No matter how difficult it was.

‘What’s your name by the way?’ Adam asked.

‘Sigrid.’ She smiled.

‘Well, it’s nice to meet you, Sigrid. My name is Adam. Let’s get this wrapped up.’ Adam smiled as he got a bandage and wrapped it around her arm after putting on some cream and a gauze.

Sigrid’s skin tingled from where he was touching her. She couldn’t take her eyes off of his long fingers as they worked, briefly thinking about what else those fingers could maybe do. And she wasn’t sure if she imagined it or not, but she was sure that his fingers lingered longer on her arm than was necessary.

‘Thank you, Adam. This is much appreciated.’ She smiled.

‘You’re welcome. At least you don’t have to wait for ages to be seen now.’ Adam chuckled.

‘That’s true.’

‘Keep the bandage on for a day, then keep it clean and covered.’ Adam said as he cleared the stuff away.

‘I’ll leave you to it now. Thank you again.’ Sigrid slid off the bed, but as she was about to walk to the door, Adam put her hand onto her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks.

‘Hold on, darling. What’s the rush?’ He asked with a warm smile when she turned around.

‘Wh… What do you mean?’ Sigrid asked shyly.

‘You just seem in an awful hurry to leave.’ Adam smirked as he dropped his hand from her shoulder down to her upper arm, noticing the goosebumps that rose up on her skin.

‘Oh… I didn’t mean to be rude, sorry. I was just… Um, I don’t want to be a bother and you’ve already been great.’ Sigrid rambled.

‘You’re not a bother, not at all. You’ve been a rather lovely change to my otherwise dull day.’ Adam purred as he reached up and slid a strand of her hair behind her ear, making her blush even more.

Sigrid could feel her heart racing from the affectionate act. She knew this wasn’t normal of a doctor, at all. But she found she didn’t actually mind…

‘That’s… Nice to hear.’ She grinned up at him, not able to keep eye contact for long.

Adam stepped in closer to her space, her smell was intoxicating. Taking over all of his senses. He couldn’t think clearly, all he knew was that he wanted her, badly… In every way possible.

‘Has anyone ever told you, how beautiful you are?’ He whispered as he leaned in and brushed his lips across her neck.

He smiled against her skin when he heard her let out a gasp. She automatically tilted her head to the side, to give him more access to her neck. The way his lips moved across her, made her insides churn with desire.

‘I want you, Sigrid… And I always get what I want.’ He growled.

He was unable to contain himself anymore. His fangs slowly slid out and he dragged them across her skin, not enough to break it but enough for her to feel a little pain.

‘Ow.’ She said as she jerked slightly from the sharpness, but Adam’s hand shot out and wrapped around her waist, holding her to him.

‘What… What’s that?’ Sigrid asked, her voice shaky.

‘Nothing, love. Just my teeth. You are simply delectable, I could eat you all up.’ Adam said smoothly as his fangs retracted before she could see.

He lifted his free hand up and cupped her cheek, his thumb brushed across her skin softly.

‘Is… Is this not wrong?’ Sigrid squeaked out as Adam started to back her up towards the bed.

‘Perhaps… If I was actually a doctor. Then it would maybe be breaking a few rules.’ Adam smirked as he trapped her against the bed, her bum hit the edge of it. She was trapped.

‘What do you mean?’ Her eyes widened, fear started to trickle into her body. She didn’t know what exactly was going on, but she didn’t like what he said.

‘I’m no doctor, dear Sigrid. Just a man, with a hunger for you.’ He slid a hand into her hair at the back of her head and he pressed his lips against hers hungrily.

Sigrid was shocked and a little taken aback. Before she could get into it, there was a knock on the door, stopping them both.

Adam leaned back slightly but put his finger up to his lips.

‘Shhh.’ He whispered.

‘Who’s in there?’ Someone called through as they knocked again. But Adam and Sigrid stayed silent.

Sigrid was worried when the person outside the door started to unlock the door. Adam’s eyes widened slightly, but in lightning speed he rushed over to the door and held it shut, regretting that he took the key out in the first place.

‘Sorry. There’s an examination going on in here.’ He called out.

‘Oh, sorry about that.’ The man called back through.

Adam made sure the door was locked again and he put the key inside the lock so they wouldn’t be disturbed again. He turned to look at Sigrid and saw fear in her eyes. That sent a rush of arousal straight through him. His predatory instincts heightened as he eyed up his prey.

‘What’s wrong, dove?’ He asked as he slowly stalked towards her, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

‘You… How did… So quick…’ Sigrid stammered out as she backed up towards the back wall.

Adam grinned wickedly, not hiding his fangs as they came out from their hiding place. Upon seeing them, Sigrid let out a sob of fear but covered her mouth quickly. She was terrified.

‘I guess the secret is out now. I am no doctor, or man…’ He chuckled as he took more steps towards her, enjoying the way she tried to sink back against the wall, nowhere to go.

‘I am much more. And you, my dear Sigrid. Are my prey for tonight.’ He growled hungrily as his eyes turned glowing red.

Sigrid wanted to run, but her body had just frozen up entirely out of fear. She tried to get her brain to connect to her legs, to make her move. But she could only cry as he approached her.

Next thing she knew, she was dragged over towards the bed and pushed down onto it. She tried to fight back against him, but the vampire easily over powered her. He ripped at her clothes and it wasn’t long until she was completely naked beneath him. In lightning speed he stripped off his own clothes, scaring her further.

‘Please don’t… Don’t hurt me.’ She cried.

Adam ignored her pleading as he pinned her down, one of his strong hands held both of her wrists down above her. He forced his way between her thighs and touched her with his free hand. He let out a chuckle as he found her aroused. He ran a finger over her sensitive clit, enjoying the way her body jerked from his touch.

He could sense the fear coursing through her veins. That only added to his fuel as he couldn’t wait any longer to take her. He spread her wide open and positioned himself just right. Looking up to her face, he saw her eyes pleading with him. That’s when he thrust his hips forwards and slid into her.

It felt like she was being split in half as his cock thrust into her. But it didn’t take long for her to start moaning in pleasure, much to her dismay, as he hit the right spot with every thrust.

Adam lost himself too as he fucked her hard on the bed. He had never felt anything so exquisite before. She was everything, and more, that he had imagined.

He could feel her close to the end, just as he was. He leaned down to press his chest flush against hers, her breasts squashed against him. He kissed her lips first and nipped against her plump lips, letting her feel his fangs and sending fear back through her again amongst the pleasure.

Tightening his grip on her wrists, he kissed the side of her mouth and down over her jaw. As he reached her neck, he flicked his tongue out to lick along her neck. Letting out a hum he snapped his hips against her roughly.

Then he felt his cock starting to pulse, he was nearly there. So was his little victim, she was clenching around him, writhing and moaning beneath him with every calculated thrust. Even though she was scared, she was extremely turned on.

Adam grabbed that moment and he timed it right. So as soon as he was about to spill his seed into her, he sank his fangs into her neck. The taste of her blood flooded his entire body, she was nothing like he had ever tasted before. He emptied his load of sticky sperm into her as he suckled on her blood, drinking as much of her as he could. Her wails and screams of pain only added to his pleasure as he kept coming and coming.

Sigrid had felt no pain like it. The force of his fangs into her neck was agony. But the feeling of her blood being drained out of her made her mind go fuzzy and blank. All she could feel was the pain and the pleasure as he filled her up. It made her orgasm harder than she ever had before.

Then she passed out into the darkness, sure she was dying.

Adam licked her neck clean, making sure there was no blood left on her skin. When he pulled out of her body and slid off the bed, he saw her body was completely lifeless. As pale as a ghost. He smirked as he started to dress himself again. He could feel her blood as it trickled down over his chin. But he didn’t waste it, he wiped his chin and mouth with the back of his hand and then licked it up.

‘Mmm. So delicious.’ He hummed.

His ears perked up when he heard Sigrid’s breathing come back, just as he expected it would. She let out a big gasp for air and her eyes shot open…

And they were bright red.

[thatlongspringnight]

oh my god Ieyasu #2 I literally can't get any further into the list because of this need

A request I was happy to fulfill for my beloved thirst lord Han. (Although, there is no smut in this particular piece) Hope you like!)

Ieyasu/MC

“After everything you did, you’re asking ME to apologize for snapping at you ONCE?��

It was one of those days, you thought, staring down the blonde hair of your beloved. Beloved, you mused,  being a loose term at the moment. It was one of those days where nothing went right, and everything seemed against you.

And now this.

Normally his harsh tone, his barbed insults, they rolled off of you like water. You were used to it, at times it was almost endearing, how he felt he had to hide everything behind that cruel shell. Endearing and a little sad, really.

But today was not the day.

From the moment you had woken up, an hour earlier than usual because your lord demanded you come hawking with him this morning. You knew the stars had not aligned for you. You had slipped in the early morning dew on your way to the horses and he had laughed, snickering about how you, the kitchen wench, couldn’t even walk outside of a kitchen.  Had stared at you, snickering, as you hoisted yourself up, feeling the formation of a bruise on your lower back.

Hawking had been interesting, you were clearly mostly there to observe. But once that brief respite was over.

So was your peace.

You had gone back to the kitchens, the only place you were worth anything apparently, only to find out that there were guests coming to the castle, something your lord had failed to mention although he had had all morning, and that you were expected to prepare a feast.

So you had spent the next over six hours on your feet, your sore back screaming for relief, as you tried to get all the food ready.

That is until Ieyasu decided to show his face, peeking in and looking you up and down with almost visible disdain. You were sweating, clearly frazzled and in disarray, and his only words to you  cemented your surety that the gods were out for your head today.

“You look like a demon, even less human than a kitchen wench should, I suggest you go clean yourself up, unless you plan on being absent from the feast.

Oh.

Oh no.

“I’ll be glad to milord.” You strode up to him, hands on your hips, glare on your face. “Just as soon as you go and clean up your horrible personality, although that might take a while, considering the years you have let it build up.”

Everyone in the kitchen had gone silent.

You two stared at each other, neither one willing to back down

“I see you want to meet the end of my blade tonight.” His hand was on his sword, aggravation clear on his face. “You need to be reminded of your ran-”

“Just shut up!” You huffed, storming past him. “I don’t need to be reminded of anything! I need you to stop being such an insufferable cad!”

And you had left him there, storming back to your room.

It wasn’t until several hours later, after your had bathed, after the feast you hadn’t attended, that the guilt began to eat at you.

Okay, yes. Maybe you had taken out your horrible day on him.

But…But who says that to a person!?

And it wasn’t like this was the first time he had acted this way, this was just your…last straw.

But…You knew you had overreacted, and you knew he just be feeling hurt, right?

You sighed, rising to your feet. You would need to make food for this.

With daifuku in your hands you walked down the dark hall, stopping at Ieyasu’s door. A flickering candlelight let you know he was still awake. You took a breath, reaching up to pull the shoji door open, when it flung itself back.

You hopped back, almost losing your balance, but steadying your feet in time to see Ieyasu’s molten copper eyes reflect surprise at your presence.

“Ieyasu.” You breathed out his name. He looked away from you, a soft blush on his face, like he had been caught doing something embarrassing.

Had he been about to come to you?

“What business do you have here, after your little performance earlier, I would think you’d be packing your bags to go back to your family.” He sneered, his words barbed.

Oh you’d really hurt his feelings huh?

“Let’s talk. Can I come in?” You kept your voice level, hoping he’d make this easy.

“You need to apologize, then maybe I’ll consider it.”

Oh no.

“After everything you did, everything you do, you’re asking ME to apologize for snapping at you ONCE?” You couldn’t hold it back, all the control you had prided yourself on, told yourself you would have, was out the window. He took a step back and you followed him, all but pushing him into his room, dragging the door closed behind you. You set the daifuku down with a slam.

You were not in the mood.

“If you are so mistreated here, you should go home.” His voice is cold, but you aren’t fooled. No, you know him too well. He is scared, scared you’ll leave him and as much as your heart cries to relent, apologize, pull him into your arms. You won’t.

“I am not leaving you Ieyasu, I am just trying to talk to you!” You jabbed a finger into his chest, glaring up at him. His eyes were colored with uncertainty. This obviously had never happened to him before. “You just don’t seem to understand!”

“What is there to understand? You’re the one who came in here intent to add insult to injury!” He huffed, looking away.

“Insult to injury…” You trailed off. “Ieyasu, You woke me up before the sun rose today, laughed at me when I fell down and then to actually add insult to injury you left me in the kitchens all day and had the gall….the  gall to tell me that I didn’t look good enough to go to your stupid banquet!” You fell silent after that, staring intently at him.

It was up to him, but you weren’t willing to let this go.

Nothing was said, and just as your shoulders began to sag, defeat flowing through you, he moved.

He reached out, tugging you into his arms, one of his hands holding you at the waist and the other buried in your hair. His head dropped down to your neck.

“….sorry” A mumble, you barely heard. You craned your neck a bit. Tokugawa Ieyasu had actually told you sorry. Your body relaxed. For him to apologize. You knew he understood.

“I’m sorry, what did you say milord?”

“I’m not saying it again.”

Oh, but you did love him, didn’t you?