#the way link slowly fell into the darkness with a blank face

[yasmeensh]

The comforts of palace life are still within reach for Zelda with the Tri-rod ✨

[liminalpebble]

Between the Lines, Chapter 7

Masterlist link

Between the Lines, Chapter 7

You say nothing as the tempo of your breathing slows and your tears continue to fall in warm rivulets down your cheeks. Everything goes empty and blank as an unmarked page. Time moves slowly and strangely as you watch his respiration still alongside your own, his broad gold chest plate rising and falling.

It's the calm at the eye of the storm, the calm of the unwritten and unknown, and you fear that it cannot last. A catalyst is coming.

There's a kind of relief to failing spectacularly, you observe.

The green tentacles of magic still gripping you emanate a pulsating glow, cutting through the late evening darkness with a preternatural liquid luminescence. With the dusk, the cold smooth walls of marble, and the ghostly light, his chambers feel like a tomb, all the warmth of the day banished by their master's mood. You wonder, in fact, if this will be your tomb soon. You shiver visibly.

Without the sorcery securing you, you might have collapsed by now. Standing feels far beyond the capability of your shocked system. All you can do is hang your head, tremble, cry, and await execution for your insolence.

Gods, what have I done?, you wonder.

Gods, what have I done to her?, he wonders.

“Look at me. Meet my eyes,” he orders haughtily, but his voice sounds oddly brittle, as if he's about to cry. Yet, when you obey and gaze upon him, there are no tears, no...anything. He looks like a perfect, stunning sculpture; alabaster smooth.

The snaking vines of magic recede and his arm supports you instead, sliding gently around your waist. His nimble hand rubs a comforting little circle against the small of your back. He's suddenly so careful, like he's holding porcelain.

Loki scolds himself for not realizing that you could actually be breakable, that you would have cracks in your armor just like everyone else. The pedestal he kept you on was too high up to see them.

His brother had always been the one accused of handling his “toys” too roughly, but Loki is horrified to realize he is guilty of the same crime, albeit in a different way.

It shocks the prince to see that his cruel games may be a good deal worse than Thor's less convoluted sins. Thor is a hammer, recklessly swung; Loki is a subtle poisonous knife, surgically precise in the violence he causes. His harm is persistent, insidious. The God of Mischief can shatter anyone and anything into a thousand pieces, whether he intends to or not.

This time, he didn't intend to. This time he regrets it to his core. This time, he would do anything to fix you.

Must I unravel every good thing? Must I even make love so terrible and twisted?

He shook his bowed head, heavy with culpability, trying to banish the thought.

“May I...may I show you something?” the prince asks, carefully.

You nod, unsure of what else you could possibly do but follow him in shaky, adrenaline-addled, steps while he supports you.

With a swallow, you find your raspy voice and ask the dreaded question. “Are you taking me somewhere to kill me?”

Loki stops in his tracks, holds your face as he gasps out, “No! No. How could I destroy such a priceless treasure which I labored so hard to find...to have here with me?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I'll show you. I'll show you everything.”

------

The prince leads you into a smaller alcove off of the main hall of the library, some kind of curated collection. As you peruse the volumes, you notice every spine has the familiar imprint of your name. Every one of your books, your works, your essays, stand meticulously organized on elaborate shelves.

Loki steps away from you, carefully releasing you from his grasp and pacing away, avoiding your eyes as he confesses.

He asks, “Now, do you see? I fell in love with you long before I ever saw your face.”

You open you mouth to speak, but no words come out. No one had ever told you they loved you; not your honorable but unaffectionate family, not your esteemed colleagues. There were no friends. There was no time for them when you had so much to achieve. Your family had praised your accomplishments in tightly-admitted “well done”s and “congratulations”. Your colleagues held you in the highest regard; bestowing awards and glowing letter of recommendation .

But love? No. Love was never something admitted outright. Love was conditional. Love was earned, and you could never be sure if it was actually love or something more like pride or respect or approval.

But this god-prince is standing before you, telling you he loves you; for your mind, for who you are. He loves you for those words you've sent out on paper, like origami boats sailing into the night; patiently crafted love letters to a world that never loved you back. The irony isn't lost on you; he loves you for your words, yet now you can't find any to offer him.

He continues, still unable to meet your eyes.

“I loved your stories, most of all. What splendid worlds you build out of thin air! Such beauty, such poetry,” he says wistfully, gently brushing his fingertips along the spines. “But, they always had such a bittersweet loneliness about them...a loneliness I imagined we both understood all too well. And because of that, for once in my life, I didn't feel alone.”

He meets your eyes, finally, and a shimmer of green light flickers down his face. The alabaster mask of his composure vanishes and unveils his true face, flushed a raw, pale, pink over his ghostly pallor. His large bright eyes glimmer with tears. His expressive mouth presses tightly shut as he wages war with his tumultuous feelings.

With a shuddering breath he goes further. “And I deeply admired your work, your vision, your desire for Asgard to leave its ignorant dark ages behind and move into the light of reason and equality. A society where knowledge of the broader universe is the right of all, rather than a horded commodity for royalty.”

You take careful steps towards him. Though you feared this might be yet another trick, he seemed heartrendingly genuine.

He's being honest, and it's tearing him apart.

As you near him, he takes your much smaller hands in his. He's suddenly painfully aware of how much more powerful he is than you, and how paradoxically fragile and formidable you are. He lifts one of your hands, the same one that had struck him, and settles it carefully against his cheek with an affectionate nuzzle. Then he turns his head, pressing a kiss softly to the lifelines of your palm and staying there, letting the moment settle around him like sand in an hour glass.

You find your words, and wince because you know they're not really the right ones. “I...I'm so sorry for hitting you. I've never done anything like that before.”

Loki chuckles...a genuine one this time, an amused little puff of air that pushes up the apples of his cheeks. You feel the contour of it shift where your palm still curls against him.

“It's alright,” he says with a sniff. “I rather deserved it.”

His smile fades and he meets your eyes. This time the aquamarine orbs shine brightly with the varnish of tears, and the frame of faint pink lining his tear ducts only emphasize them more strikingly. He's stunning; rapturously pierced and vulnerable like a saint in a Renaissance paining. It's impossible to look away from him.

“I adored you for your truth, your freedom, and your goodwill, and yet I've rewarded it with deception, captivity, and cruelty.”

You just stare at each other for a long moment. He's taken your breath away (something you didn't think could actually happen, something you always assumed was only a cliche). You try desperately to find some air in your lungs in order to speak again. Yet again, you feel as if you're not saying the right thing. Your responses seem so common and clumsy after these eloquent speeches from his silver tongue.

“I'm sorry. This is new for me. I don't know how to do this,” you explain, fidgeting with your hands.

“Do what?”

You rise to your toes, bracing your hands on the golden armor around his shoulders.

Be brave, you tell yourself. Be brave. Be brave. Be brave.

@lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @peaches1958 @thenerdyoldersister @thedistractedagglomeration @muddyorbs @mischief2sarawr @icytrickster17 @goblingirlsarah @sweetsigyn @unlucky-number-13 @mochie85 @acidcasualties @alexakeyloveloki @loz-3 @jennyggggrrr @ladyofthestayingpower @mischiefmaker615 @loopsisloops @sailorholly @coldnique @smolvenger @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @gigglingtiggerv2 @anukulee @azula-karai-27 @eleniblue @marcotheflychair @litaloni @gruftiela @literatureatthebowofnails @meowmeow-motherfucker @wolfsmom1

[queen-haq]

Fic: Grudgingly Yours (Part 1)

Summary: You are a general surgeon, working in a hospital that’s slowly sucking the life out of you when one day you’re given the offer of a lifetime. 

A.K.A  - An arranged marriage fic :)

Pairing: Billy Russo x You

Rating: R

Masterlist (contains links to my other stories and this one)

Part 1

You stared at your husband, noting the tightening of his jaw, the way his beautiful face glared back at you with utter disdain. His dark eyes brimmed with hate and condescension, ready to eviscerate you at any moment. He was dressed in jeans, an olive knit top and a leather jacket - not a tux or suit - because this may have been his wedding day but that certainly didn’t mean he was going to put in any fucking effort. Of course his casual outfit didn’t deter from his good looks. Dark hair slicked back, darker eyes, and a chiseled face that made him look like devil himself. He was one of the richest bachelors in the country and the eldest son of a prominent New York family, so he could have had anybody – but it was you who was marrying him and he wasn’t happy about it. No, he was fucking pissed and everyone attending the ceremony saw it. But you didn’t care. What he felt didn’t matter, because he was your ticket out.

 “Do you, William Russo, take Y/N to be your wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until parted by death?”

 Billy didn’t respond, and a stunned silence fell across the room. With every second that passed, the tension in the room grew. It seemed to you like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for him to say no and make his escape. You kept your face blank, but cast his grandfather a quick glance. The old man may have looked deceptively frail sitting in his wheelchair, but you saw his steely gaze, mirroring the man across from you, and knew instinctively there was no way anyone would defy the head of the family. To do so would mean losing all of the wealth and privilege afforded by the Russo name and your soon-to-be-husband was much too smart to give it all up.

 “Sure.”

 Not ‘yes’, not ‘I do’, but ‘sure’. A lazy, insolent drawl of a response. So very much like him. And it would’ve made you snicker if you weren’t required to put on an act for everyone.

 The officiant turned to you, and repeated the same question.

 It was your turn to pause. For a moment sheer panic surged through you. What the fuck were you doing? Is this really what you wanted? To tie yourself down to the kind of guy you absolutely loathed?

 “Why me?” You asked, wondering once again.

 Alistair Russo, Billy’s grandfather, had made the offer a week ago with a deadline of today to get back to him. True to his word, the man was now sitting in your office after waiting several hours for you to get out of a surgery you’d been performing.  

 “You saved my life. And this is how I repay that debt.”

 You quirked your eyebrow. “Saving you was my job. I would’ve done that for anybody.”

 “But I’m not just anybody, and I don’t like being in people’s debt.”

 You exhaled a long breath, leaning back in your chair. You’d been in surgery for more than 7 hours. You were tired and desperately needed some sleep. All you wanted was to crawl into bed but you couldn’t because you still had several hours left on your shift. And now here was this rich, old fuck back to tempt you with an insane plan that had already kept you awake for too many days. “Fine. Pay off my student debt and we’ll call it even.”

 The old man gave you a condescending smile. “That’s not how this works.”

 You smiled back. “So it’s not really about being grateful, is it? There’s a reason you want me to marry your grandson so why don’t you just spill it.”

 Alistair cocked his eyebrow, his expression cold. “This marriage is meant to be a consequence of his actions.”

 “In other words, punishment.”

 “Something like that. My grandson has a brilliant mind but he’s too busy cavorting with leeches to make something of himself. He was given many chances in the past to rectify his behaviour but now we’ve reached the stage where this can no longer continue. He needs to take responsibility for his actions.”

 “So why not marry him off to one of your society people? I’m sure there are plenty of women who would love to get with him.”

 “Billy is a charmer, Ms. Y/N. He’s also a master manipulator. I need someone brilliant who won’t fall for his charms.”

 Ah, false praise. it was obvious where Billy learned his tactics from. “You still haven’t answered my question, Mr. Russo. You could get anyone to help you with this plan, but you came to me specifically. Why?”

 There was a short pause, as if Alistair was contemplating his words carefully. “As I said, this marriage is meant to be a punishment, not a reward. You are not the kind of woman he’s normally seen with.”

 You smirked. There it was. “I’m not his type. And this marriage is intended to embarrass him.”

  Alistair cleared his throat, seemingly uncomfortable with your abrasive assessment. “This is not meant to be a lifelong commitment. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain. All you have to do is stay married to him for a period of three years, and after that you’ll both be granted a divorce. I will pay off all of your debt, and after the termination of the marriage you will receive a lump sum of $5 Million.”

 “10 Million,” you countered.

 Alistair quirked his eyebrow. “That is a lot of money, especially considering the benefits you would already be receiving You would be married to someone handsome and wealthy, with no need to work.”

 You learned forward, balancing your elbows on your desk. “Maybe not in the hospital anymore, but I would still be working. Your Billy sounds like a massive pain in the ass and I’m guessing it’s not going to be easy to keep him in check. Because that’s essentially why you’re hiring me, isn’t it? To control him and make him the man you want him to be.”

 “I have no such expectations from you, Ms. Y/N. You will never wield that much power over my grandson.” Alistair’s voice was filled with cold disdain. “You have over $500,000 in debt. While you make a decent income, it’ll take you years to pay it off. I gather your plan is to stay in this hospital so you can benefit from the loan forgiveness program but that will take ten years and from what I can see, this is not an environment you enjoy working in.”

 Bastard. He had honed in on your exact weakness. What you really wanted was to work in poor communities like the one you had grown up in where there was a desperate need for good care, but your debt prevented you from being able to pursue what made you happy. Instead you were stuck working in a hospital with a toxic work environment where leadership only cared about revenue, and it was sucking the soul out of you.

 “While I won’t offer you $10 Million, I will do something else. I understand your brother’s business is failing. If you agree to this offer, I will ensure there is an influx of cash into his business. That should keep him out of trouble for the next little while.”

 You took a deep breath. “He can’t know the money is connected to me. He won’t accept it.”

 “And my grandson can not know this marriage comes with an expiry date.”

 You ran your fingers through his hair. “Understood.”

 Alistair Russo finally smiled, and it was not a pleasant one. A cold shiver ran through you, like you’d just made a deal with the devil. “And just in case you start dreaming about a lifelong marriage with Billy and tying yourself to my family permanently, please remember I will destroy your career, any chances of you ever working anywhere in this continent, and I will end you and your brother. Are we clear?”

 “We’re clear.”

  It was Billy’s tight squeeze of your hand that brought you out of your reverie. You took a quick glace around the room. There was only Billy’s immediate family and three of your friends in attendance. No one wanted this marriage, not even you, but you had to play the part.

 “Should I ask again?” the officiant asked.

 “I do,” you replied in a loud voice, sounding much more confident than you felt.

 Billy shot you a look of disgust before returning his attention back to the officiant. While the rest of the ceremony passed in a whirl, you kept your mind on what mattered the most. You. You were doing this for yourself and for your future, fuck everyone else.

 ***

 You made your escape to the honeymoon suite while the party was on full swing in the reception area. Today had been a long day after a series of long weeks and all you wanted was to sleep. Working the crazy hours you did meant no time to unwind or disconnect, it was always go, go, go and just for a little while you wanted to sit and breathe and not think about the choices you made and what it meant for everyone. You just wanted to breathe.

 Today was your wedding day, something most women dreamed of, but to you it meant nothing. It was simply a means to an end. And you didn’t even have a choice about the date, it was what Alistair picked after you and him had come to an agreement and signed the proper documents. Hell, you didn’t even know how he’d conned Billy into the marriage. You met the man twice before today, and both times he’d looked at you like you were nothing. He had a taste for tall, slim, beautiful women, like most of the world, but you were the farthest thing from that. You were short, curvy, more cute than pretty, and you were fine with that. But seeing the look on Billy’s face today when you walked down the aisle in the last-minute white dress you purchased, it was clear he wasn’t.

 Whatever. That was his problem. You just had to suck it up for three years and then you were free.

 You strode over to where the champagne bottle was stored and poured yourself a glass. You closed your eyes, enjoying the taste as the liquid washed down your throat. It was fucking heaven. Probably the best champagne you ever tasted.

 “You made the biggest mistake of your life tonight.”

 You whirled around at the sound of a stranger’s voice, only to see that it was Billy standing a few feet away. His leather jacket was now gone, bringing attention to the way the knit jersey moulded over the lean muscles of his arms. He was tall, too tall, not at all your regular type.

 Sighing, you took a sip from your flute. “Have I?”

 “You think you can fuck up my life and get out of it unscathed?” The threat on his voice was palpable, his dark eyes growing more wild as he approached you.

 For the first time you felt dread in his presence, a tight ball of fear slowly unfurling in your stomach with every step he took towards you. But you were a fighter, always had been, and you knew showing fear was inviting death. Jutting out your chin defiantly, you glared back at him. “This is a marriage, not a prison sentence.”

 “It’ll feel much worse than prison by the time I’m done with you.”

 “Don’t know why you’re pissed at me. Your grandfather wanted this, Billy,” you reminded him.

 “You didn’t have to say yes.”

 “And turn down my chance at marrying the William Russo?” Taking on a melodramatic tone, you pressed your other hand to your chest. “Impossible.”

 He closed in on you, removing every inch of personal space as his hand wrapped around your throat. Panic surged through you but you reminded yourself to stay calm. You still had the champagne flute in your hand. If he made a move, you wouldn’t hesitate to smash it on his head. “I’ll make you regret every fucking minute you spend with me.” His voice was a hoarse growl, dangerous, meant to frighten you. And it did. He frightened you, even more so when he applied pressure to your throat.

 Growing up the way you did, being attacked wasn’t new. The neighbourhoods were rough, there were always gang wars going on and while you tried your best to stay out of it, inevitably the wrong people would be pissed off and there would be fights. Which meant you had learned to control your fear a long time ago.

 In an instant you shattered the flute against the table behind you and held the remaining jagged figure to the corner of his neck. A piece cut into his skin but you maintained careful control not to dig it in too much. “Two can play at this game, Russo. Hurt me, and I’ll destroy your pretty face.”

 He didn’t back off, but the pressure around your throat loosened. For the longest time he simply stared down at you, as if burning your face into his mind. You wondered what he was thinking, planning, but his expression was blank and completely impossible to decipher.

 The same hand that was clutching your throat now moved up your neck, and you swallowed an audible breath when his thumb roughly wiped the red lipstick off your lips. “A pig in makeup is still a pig.”

 His words were meant to hurt you and destroy your confidence. Except you found yourself breaking into sudden laughter. You couldn’t help it. It was hilarious. He backed off right away, staring at you with a curious expression as you giggled and struggled to catch your breath.

 The audacity of men, they were all the same. Threaten them and they always went after women’s looks, as if being insulted for your looks was the worst thing imaginable.

 “What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you high on something?” Billy asked, his forehead furrowed with concern.

 Placing the half-broken flute on the table, you shrugged your shoulders. “No, Billy. I’m not.” You tipped your head to the side, staring up at him with a smile on your face. “You think insulting me is going to hurt me? I’ll go running because you called me a pig? That’s not how this works, Billy. You and me, we’re married.” It was your turn to close the gap between you two. “Committed to each other. Legally. Because that’s what your grandfather wanted. And that means I’m here to stay.” You’re not sure what possessed you to do it, but you stood on your tip-toes and reached up to grasp his face, pulling him down so his lips were merely an inch away from yours. Your same lips he bruised pressed against his while you kept your eyes firmly on him, making sure to stain his face with the lipstick the way he did you. “Our fates are tied now, husband. There’s no getting out.”

 Billy watched you intently, his eyes fixed on you with an unwavering gaze designed to intimidate you. “If I go down, so will you. And you’re the one who has everything to lose in this fight.”

 A slow smile spread across your lips, and you noticed how his eyes followed that smile, the way he smoldered at you even as he tried to figure you out. “Bring it on, husband,” you murmured, loosening your grip on him.

 He stood still, his gaze piercing through you, not moving away. And then suddenly he jerked back, as if finally realizing there was nothing physically connecting the two of you and he really was free to walk away. Turning his back to you, he stormed out of the suite and slammed the door behind him.

 Chuckling, you started cleaning up the broken pieces of glass.

 To be continued...

Um, yeah, so thoughts?

[keirawantstocry]

May i request my brain goes blank for pacbo 👀

im ngl this one kinda got away from me a bit, i had a bit of this written ages ago and then i saw this request and go inspo to finish this with your request!

-

Pac loved men. It was something that had always been true of him. He just loved them so much. Honestly who wouldn't? There was so much to admire. Tall, dark, and handsome? Absolutely, sign him up please. Scowling and brooding? Another absolutely. Giggly and full of big smiles? A big hell yes as well. He had known since he was a teenager that he didn’t quite seem to view relationships the way other people did. That was made clear ages ago when one girl had asked him who he wanted to marry most. Looking back it was clear she was trying to flirt with him but he was 13 at the time and had no idea so he was honest. Squinted at her first before really truly considering it. 

“Mike,” he had said with all the confidence a 13 year old boy could possess. Mike, who was standing right beside him at the time, nodded much to the girl’s chagrin. 

She laughed a bit. “Não, nao. Isso não é…” she trailed off. “He’s your best friend. You don’t have romantic feelings for him.” 

Pac remembers blinking slowly at her. “What does romance have to do with it?” 

“That’s why people get married. For romance.” 

That didn’t make any sense to him and honestly to this day he believed the same. “Well I will get married for friendship then.” 

Even now he wasn’t quite sure what to call himself. Labels never seemed that important to him. He would love who he would love, be that in a kissing way or not. But he soon realized that he would kiss a whole hell of a lot of people. 

The island certainly wasn’t the start of that discovery but oh did it help because there were so. Many. Hot. Guys. Almost every day was just him internally panicking while Mike laughed at him over their internal mind link. 

He honestly thought it might calm down after he got with Fit. He loved that man so much and honestly wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. But oh men were still so attractive. 

The worst now for him was Tubbo. Those eyes were entrancing. Swirls of colors lived inside his eyes. Soft hair fell over his eyes in a tangled mess every day. Pac just wanted to run his hands through it until it was soft and untangled. Until Tubbo was looking at him softly with those wide blue-green eyes. Until his gaze was drifting down and Pac could catch those soft pink lips with his own. 

He smacked himself in the head when he realized he had been staring at the man in front of him for an uncomfortably long time. “I'm sorry what?” 

Those gorgeous eyes glittered back at him. “I said where's your head man, you keep zoning out.” 

“My brain goes blank when I look at you.” 

Tubbo stared at him, those deep eyes going wide. “I'm sorry?” 

“I…” Pac felt his face start to flush. “Well. You're botino. Pretty boy.” 

The tips of his ears went pink. “Oh. Thank you, Pac.” 

Pac averted his eyes and tried not to laugh. “Yeah, yeah no problem.” 

“I didn't uh realize you thought that.” 

Pac couldn't help but gape at him. “But you're so handsome.” 

“Nahhh,” Tubbo scoffed. “I. You don't have to say shit like that to me.” 

Pac couldn't help but grab Tubbo's face in his hands. His skin was so warm agaisnt his palms. “I am not just saying it.” 

He allowed himself to really study the man in front of him again. Get lost in those ocean eyes and the adorable flush on his cheeks. The feeling of his soft skin under his rough fingertips. “How can I convince you?” he asked. 

Tubbo shrugged but Pac watched as those eyes fell to his lips and his mouth nearly split open with the grin that followed. He surged forward to kiss the boy on the lips. The lips against his were chapped but tasted oh so nice. Every movement burned as Tubbo sighed against his mouth and fell into him. His mouth was opening and it was so warm. Damn near perfect. Life could not get any better than this.

[monsoon-of-art]

Donut Hole - Chapter 14

The Cave

But I will hold on hope And I won't let you choke On the noose around your neck And I'll find strength in pain And I will change my ways I'll know my name as it's called again

[Barry finally gets a little break and Gaeric gets pissed. Bit of a smaller chapter, but big things will happen soon!]

[ao3 link]

Barry walked. And he walked. He wasn't sure where he was going, lost in a snowstorm with Pest on his head and Fern by his side.

The fogginess of his mind hadn't completely gone yet, and all he could think was that he needed to keep moving.

If he kept moving. If he kept moving. Things would work out eventually…right?

That mind-fog melted rather quickly once Barry tripped and landed face-first into a snowbank. Immediately his freshly-awakened mind jumped to panic.

He squirmed, internally screaming at the horrible, awful feeling of snow and ice creeping down the cracks and crannies of his clothing.

Ever-patient, ever-helpful Fern carefully gripped Barry’s waist and pulled the boy back up. Barry stood for a total of three seconds. Upon trying to step forward, he slipped backward and fell flat on his back.

“I think I’m going to start screaming,” Barry said, feeling the snow drifting around him, slowly burying him. “And I will not stop.”

Sitting up, Barry realized he was practically shaking. “H-How’d we even get here anyway? W-Where is here?” He pulled Pest off his head, holding the bug like a stuffed toy. “And why are you blue?!”

His memory was a terrible, fuzzy haze. All he could remember was traversing the mountain, running into Ingo(?), then suddenly being …here. Wherever here was.

Squinting through the snowstorm that surrounded them, Barry could see the peak of the mountain, the dark storm ominously looming above it all. It looked much different though, the smaller peaks were at different locations-

“...ARE WE BEHIND THE MOUNTAIN?!” he screamed, voice lost in the winds. “I can’t believe this - we worked so hard to climb that stupid mountain and now we’re back at square one! And! And! And! FREAKING SUBWAY BOSS INGO-”

Of all the things Barry expected in an alternate reality where Cyrus somehow won, Unovan Subway Boss Ingo wasn’t even in the ballpark of guesses. And he looked weird. Like he had somehow fallen into a woodchipper, or like he had died at sea, or something.

He also had a hideous gogoatee.

But he had challenged Barry to a battle. And for the briefest of moments, Barry let himself have hope. Ingo didn’t have any insignia to show he worked for Team Galactic, and he didn’t seem to recognize Barry. All he wanted was a pokemon battle.

Then Ingo called him Palmer. And Ingo kidnapped him. Just recalling the events, as fuzzy and distorted as they were in his mind, it almost made Barry want to spit up bile.

That was the last straw. He was hopeful with Commander Mars. He was hopeful with Palina. He was hopeful with Ingo. None of them wanted to help. All of them were liars and crooks and kidnappers-

Barry could feel himself trembling not just from the cold, but from anger.

(He was also shaking from the cold. Very badly. He was very cold.)

"OK! I need to think! How to survive a snowstorm!" Barry said aloud, looking between Fern and Pest. Unfortunately, his mind was drawing a terrible blank. He sat in the snow, his pokemon expectant for orders…but nothing was happening.

“Uhm. Uh,” so he sat there like a dope, feeling the snow beginning to creep up his legs and cover his shoulders. “...uh.”

Fern carefully placed his bag in his lap. Then, it turned to a sloping hill covered with snow, and it began to dig. It dug and dug, shoveling out the snow and using it to form a sort of ‘tunnel’.

When finished, it was a little burrow in the snow. “Uh. Good job, buddy-” Barry began to say. Then Fern gripped him by the shoulders and dragged him inside. It was still rather cold, but at least they weren’t being snowed on.

Barry rummaged in his bag, feeling the wooden pokeballs containing Mystery and Jen. Part of him was terrified that Team Galactic did something to his pokemon, and he needed to check.

Releasing them, he noticed that Jen’s beak was a bit chipped. “Wh-Wha happened? Did they do this to you- or-” Barry suddenly remembered the Rampardos in the mountains. “Or was it the giant dinosaur?”

Jen peeped to signify the latter. Mystery, meanwhile, settled next to the boy and puffed out its feathers. Barry was suddenly very aware of how warm the birds were, and how very cold he was.

Wordlessly he snatched up Jen and Mystery for cuddles. They didn’t seem to mind very much.

“O-OK. Shelter. And Warmth. And-And-And-” he paused, noticing the clean bandages around his leg. “I…didn’t change those.”

Why would Team Galactic change his bandages and clean his wounds? Didn’t they want him dead? Wouldn’t cleaning his wounds do the opposite of killing?

He wanted to explore this idea further, but a stabbing sensation in his stomach grabbed his attention. Curling in on himself - much to the concern of the two pokemon he was currently holding - he once again looked through his bag.“Ack- R-Right. Gotta eat.”

Unfortunately, all he managed to pull out were the smashed pulp of pecha and oran berries. “Crrrrrrap.”

Fern grunted as it stood, placing Pest on Barry’s head once more. It gestured - pointing at Barry, then pointing at the ground, as if telling him to ‘stay here’ - then carefully left the little snow fort.

Where was it going? Barry hadn’t the foggiest idea.

He could feel Mystery grooming at his hair and Jen pecking at his soot-covered clothes. "Jen. Jen. Cmere. Cmere-" carefully the boy held the penguins face, observing the chip in his beak. "Aw buddy…I'm so sorry. That's all my fault, I should've recalled you."

Jen chittered, nuzzling against his cold hands. 

Pest had joined the cuddling session, producing silk from his mouthparts to try and patch up the many holes in Barry's clothing. All three of the pokemon huddled close to the boy, trying to keep him warm.

Barry was cold. He was so cold. It felt as if every scrap of warmth and energy was being drained from his body, even with three pokemon currently laying on him.

Maybe…he should close his eyes. Just a moment of rest. He could feel himself slipping into sleep. Just a moment. Just a moment. Just-

“Chanseeyyyy!”

Barry sat right up. Chanseys and happinys carefully shuffled into the little snow fort, leading the way for an enormous blissey. Behind all of them was Fern, looking mighty pleased with itself.

Barry rubbed his eyes, convinced he was dreaming. Weren’t chanseys rare? And happinnys and blisseys too? Vaguely, he could recall Lucas telling him how chansey and blissey eggs were overeaten in the past, leading to their small numbers. But now he had a gaggle of them right in front of him.

“Uh. Hey?” he said, voice cracking slightly. The group of pokemon chirped and chittered amongst themselves, occasionally looking to the large blissey for guidance. Fern would walk to Barry, gesturing to his bandaged leg and various bruising with a mournful croon.

The enormous blissey thought for a moment. Then, she gave a slow nod and started stepping closer.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa-” Barry immediately began backing up, terrified of what this pokemon was capable of. Sure, blisseys were tanky, but they could still learn a lot of moves that could do some serious damage.

Instead, the enormous pokemon knelt down, handing Barry the egg from her pouch.

“I-I don’t think I’m ready to be a dad,” he squeaked, carefully taking the warm egg from the blissey’s paws.

His pokemon squabbled and squawked to get his attention, Fern mimicking eating something as it sad besides him.

“I…I don’t-” It took Barry a moment to realize what they were trying to tell him. “OH. OH YOU WANT ME TO EAT IT- OK, that makes more sense. OK.” he paused. “Wait you want me to eat a raw egg? Like. Raw? Won’t I die?”

He wasn’t a stranger to having raw eggs on some rice for breakfast, but those eggs were under strict scrutiny by machines and people alike, before being packaged and sent to stores.

This was potentially a raw egg from a wild, giant blissey.

Barry glanced up at her. She nodded.

He then carefully cracked the egg, finding it cooked under the shell - Soft Boiled.

There was no way he could eat this egg without being a bit messy. It was a good thing he really didn’t care right now.

The way Barry and his team tore into the giant, soft boiled egg was almost barbaric. The egg didn’t stand a chance. By the end of the frenzy, all that remained were bits of egg shell littering the snowy floor.

He immediately felt so much better. He really should try to eat more consistently - and more frequently. But to Barry’s credit, he was unconscious for…honestly he wasn’t sure.

Cleaning the bits of yolk off his face, Barry spoke to his team. “Once it starts to warm up, we gotta get back up that mountain! But for now, I guess we have to wait…”

It was as if the hoard of egg-shaped pokemon were waiting for him to say that. Happiny and chansey swarmed further into the den, filling every little nook and cranny to form an enormous, cuddly pile of pokemon. The enormous blissey then sat in front of the entrance, using her giant body to shield them from the freezing winds.

Barry was warm, and he was full, and he was currently in a giant pile of squishy, egg-shaped pokemon that wanted nothing more than to cuddle and snuggle. He could feel himself drifting off. Mystery, Jen, and Pest were already asleep.

He turned to Fern, sitting near the front entrance with the blissey, wide awake and alert. “Fern buddy, I wouldn’t have gotten this far without ya,” Barry said with a sleepy smile. “Come relax and get some rest. Then, we’ll charge up the mountain and kick some galactic butt!”

Fern returned the sleepy smile, moving to sit by the cuddle pile. It sat almost in a meditative pose, but its eyes were closed, and it looked relaxed enough.

With his pokemon taken care of, Barry let himself drift into a much needed, but still hesitant, rest.

---

Gaeric descended upon the half burnt settlement like a winter storm.

“I WAS GONE. FOR A HALF HOUR,” he barked, finding the rest of the wardens by Irida’s home. “A HALF HOUR. I return to Lord Avalugg, turn around, and EVERYTHING IS ON FIRE.”

Irida looked ready to cry. Palina sat beside her, looking almost equally as miserable. Ingo was unable to meet the man’s gaze, staring off into the vast distance. Calaba looked tired from it all.

“His mothim knew flamethrower,” Palina answered, voice barely above a whisper.

“HIS WHAT KNEW WHAT?!”

As if still in a trance, Ingo replied, “Incorrect, Mothim is incapable of learning any fire-type moves, with the exception of Sunny day-”

He stopped immediately, finally aware of what he was doing, and aware of the horribly dirty look that Gaeric was giving him. “...Sorry.”

“I told you this was a bad idea,” said Gaeric as he stomped closer. “I told you - I told ALL of you! This wasn’t our problem! We shouldn’t get involved! And HERE WE ARE!”

“Gaeric. Stop,” Irida stood. “No one could have predicted this-”

“I THINK I PREDICTED THIS, FAIRLY CERTAIN I DID.”

“Getting upset won’t fix it!” she barked back.

Irida and Gaeric were locked in a stalemate; Irida bristling like an upset starly, Gaeric huffing like an enraged walrein.

Eventually, Gaeric backed down, but he was clearly still upset. "If we're involved now, by God, I'm going to be involved."

"Gaeric-" Palina squeaked.

"No! No, I'm INVOLVED now! And with Sinnoh as my witness I'm going to solve this once and for all."

Without clarifying what that ominous statement meant, Gaeric stormed out of the village, just as furious as he came.

Once out of earshot, Ingo asked in a voice much quieter than normal, "Do you think he is upset with me?"

"Yes," deadpanned Calaba.

"I am going to Jubilife." Irida said, determination in her voice. "And I am going to tell them what's been going on. This has spiraled out of control."

[lamamasjamas]

NEXUS

Nexus /ˈneksəs/ n 1 a connection or series of connections linking two or more things. 2 a connected group or series. 3 the central and most important point or place.

Chapter 2 Summary: You give up.

Part 1 here!

A/n: He looks so big, beefy, and large in this gif, hence why I used it mwehehe... I was too depression yesterday to post but here I am, pow pow pow. Boom. Din and reader are so cute, awww. Black hole, aaaah!

Warnings for the series: Dead Dove Do Not Eat!!!, getting lost in the unknown regions, Death, Gore, cosmic horror, very heavy topics, smut, angst, fluff, dark themes. This is a dark fic; you have been warned!

He was getting more frustrated as time progressed and you still couldn’t find your way. As the five hour mark passed you felt your hope dwindle. You glanced at the clock and it read 23:40. At least that was still functioning. It was getting late and you could feel your eyes drooping slowly. Your knees were up to your chin, arms around your calves and staying locked over each other for the past few hours.  

Staring at the viewport was stinging your eyes, all of the soft red and pale gray matter scattered outside and floating was imprinted in your eyelids. Closing them, you could hear the thuds each time Din failed to evade the debris, now becoming more frequent and louder on par with his fatigue.  

Your limbs burned as you unfolded from your position. You stood and placed your hand on his shoulder, he jumped slightly. His head ticked in your direction before facing forward again. 

“We should rest.”

You hunched over, head now closer to him as you spoke softly. He ignored you, maneuvering the ship in the direction you both agreed you thought was the one you came from.  

“Din.” You shove his shoulder lightly, “Din come on-” He slammed his fists against the panel, jolting you and making you straighten your back.  

“I need- we need to at least find a signal.” He sounded desperate. He's clenching his fists; his gloves creasing deeply and so frequently you could faintly hear the crinkling as he scrunched and released his hands. 

“I got us into this mess… I just…”  

You sigh with him. The sound of his voice through the modulator was rough, it shook and cracked. He hadn’t taken off his helmet, no matter how crooked it was. He hadn’t even made a move to touch it. 

“It’s not your fault-” 

“It is!” He waves his hands in front of him exasperatedly, chest heaving in panic, anger . 

“I should have listened. I should have paid attention-”

You grab his hands, for a moment tugging at them to stop his movements, “It is not your fault! Keep your head!”  

You’ve never been one to raise your voice, you sigh. You were on the verge of wanting to break, you were frightened, you didn’t feel like yourself. 

“Look, we'll go to sleep for a few hours and clear our heads. Let’s turn the systems off until then, t-to not waste any fuel.”  

He didn’t like the way your voice trembled; you were scared. He could see your eyes glisten despite your blank look as you stared off into space. You tug him up to stand and move towards the door to the cockpit, grip now on his forearm, as if the space in front of you was going to crawl into the cockpit with you both, suffocating your breath. 

His hand lands on top of yours. He knew what you were thinking of, a nightmare, as if it was a memory. A nightmare you had explained to him when he prodded you to tell. It was months ago, when Grogu had been taken. You had woken up sweaty, the fabric of the tunic stuck to your chest stickily. 

You were shaking, crying and denying yourself of his touch. It felt so real, he was so cold and you were both floating endlessly, hands flailing and getting cut with the glass of the viewport that had just shattered mid flight. 

Your skin still prickled with the bite of the frost, the crystallization of your blood as you attempted to reach for the baby or Din. The second your hands met, his arm having reached out to you, your mind finally fell somewhat at peace. Then his body crackled, skin bursting and the fabric of his flight suit ripping along with the flesh that was frozen and almost fused together with it. 

You saw him shatter, break apart and float around you. And yet you were alive, unable to move as you groaned and sobbed with your mouth still frozen shut and your throat threatening to snap in half as the vibrations of your cries reverberated inside your head. 

You couldn’t bear the thought of feeling his cold, dead hand in yours, so you didn’t want to touch him for a few minutes, fearing that somehow and in some way your dream might come true. 

He holds your hand tightly, still warm, still strong and he nods, wordlessly switches off the lights and engine. The decrescendo of the engine made your heart race.  It wasn’t normal to completely shut down everything, it was instinctual to worry. 

The only thing that was running was the oxygen recycling unit.  

The silence was all consuming. You didn’t realize the hum of the engine made traveling through the middle of space more manageable. It made the ship feel alive. Now it was just a husk. 

You both laid down on the bunk. Your back to his front. You grasp his hand in yours and hold it tightly against your stomach. He feels you shake, your muscles aching to move or shut down completely in a reaction akin to fight or flight. 

“We’ve been through worse.” You shiver at your own words and wince. It sounded like a question rather than a statement. He doesn’t respond either way. Instead, he curls up against you and rests his head on the back of your neck.  

He didn’t sleep, you didn’t either.

A few hours later you were both in the cockpit, using the same method as before, trying to find anything that would indicate that you were going in the right direction. So far, every rock you’ve passed has looked the same, and every time you think you’ve made progress it turns out you were back to where you started. Fuel was only going to last a few days now.  

And power would only last a few weeks thereafter. 

It was then decided that you would get in further, past the asteroid belt, in order to find a planet, a habitable planet. If you ran out of fuel before you could, so be it. You would take shifts, letting someone rest while the other mindlessly piloted.  

That plan failed, you kept on seeing him slump against the chair only to wake up sporadically. You practically dragged him to sleep with you in the bunk. You promised him that the ship would only be shut down for a moment, that you'll make progress later. 

He collapsed into darkness the second your hands clasped together, a shawl pressed up to your necks, in a need for comfort. 

…

You both woke up in panic, alarms were blaring and the ship was spiraling. Half asleep you both rushed towards the cockpit, tripping over yourselves and slamming against multiple flying objects. 

In the dark you feel something crash into your side. It knocked the wind out of you and you felt as if you couldn’t breath for a second from the sheer pain. 

Everything was spinning so much that you were starting to stick to the wall. Lifting your head from the side made you just turn the other direction as if someone was pushing your skull back down again. A tight ring of pressure was developing across your head. You couldn’t help but shout out in frustration as you barely skimmed the ladder with the tips of your fingers.  

Din hears your groans of frustration, he grits his teeth on his own. His muscles strain when he lifts himself up onto the handles of the ladder, objects swipe at his back and he hopes you weren’t close enough to get burned. 

The room lit up as Din lifted up the ladder using the force of the thrusters strapped to his back. You had to squint from the light as it stung your eyes and further increased the developing aching ring wound temple to temple. 

You could hear him collapse inside the pit, making it to the pilot seat with a garbled yell, his body straining from the pressure urging him to fall to a sturdy surface like the pilot’s seat.  His arm straightens and pushes as he takes hold of the steer. The lights and engines started back on. He was able to stabilize the ship slightly, stopping the rotations abruptly.  

You fall, your knees giving from underneath you. Your ears ring, vision still blurry with spins of the room. You call out his name and the muffled sound of your own voice echoing in the hull makes you uncomfortable. He didn’t respond back. 

As you got up to the pit, legs still feeling limp and mind still in a daze you were met with darkness, the ships facing an endless pit of nothingness, a black hole. The ship groaned as it was being pulled into two directions. From the sides the thrusters flickered on and off. Metal shrieked, as if it were screaming in pain. 

Din was flicking buttons and levers and you couldn’t figure out what he was doing from the speed at which he moved. It was mesmerizing, despite his panicked voice, calling your name, urging you to help pull a lever.  

He ultimately had to do it himself, your feet stuck to the floor and keeping you from moving.  

You were starting to go into shock, the only thing you could hear were the repetitive beeps from the upper right console and what seemed like a roaring in your ears. 

You could feel your heart beat loudly, the pit in your stomach on the verge of exploding. You wanted to scream, out of frustration, anger, fear.  No sounds came out and you could only stare at the infinite darkness in front you.  

You only ever really see black holes in holos, and they gain attention every time someone’s spacecraft is reported missing from going too far into restricted zones.  No one dared go near one. No one really knew what happened when something went through. 

The most popular theory was that the intensity of the gravity in and around it would rip anything that enters its center into bits. Another less popular theory, if one is lucky or unlucky, said black holes could create a wormhole. Those who have traveled through have never come back to either confirm or deny such theories. 

You were reminded of school, the memories of when the empire was still around and you were granted a scholarship to the Royal Imperial Academy . It was prestigious, and you just wanted to be able to survive and secure a future. Despite everything, the school helped in giving you an upper hand, you knew more than most did. Knowledge is valuable in your line of work, it was valuable to the Empire. You trained as a medic but you had to learn about most things, even astronomy. 

You didn’t know if knowing the possibilities of your outcome made you more fearful than not knowing anything at all. You turn to Din, you hoped he knew less than you.  You had a feeling he didn’t. 

He grunts in frustration, the ship wasn’t advancing and was even being pulled forward. It was going against the most powerful energy in the universe, you knew it was going to lose, eventually. You stand next to his seat reaching for him. His hands strain against the steer, pulling back, as if he could push against the force outside; as if it were an enemy. 

You shook your head lightly, he sighed, hands falling to his lap, shoulders slumping. He also seemed to have given up, having slumped against his chair and staring into death itself, listening to the way panels of the ship were detaching, how the thrusters were starting to spittle and give up in pitiful coughs of fire and fuel. 

The cockpit lights were suddenly shut down, the only things running were the engine and the oxygen filters. The back of your eyes prick, your nose twitches and it burns, almost urging you to let go from your stubbornness in keeping your tears in. 

For a moment you both watched outside the viewport, it was too dark, the light was being trapped inside the black hole. He takes off his gloves, slowly pulling pieces of his armor off, ultimately lifting his helm to the pitch black dark.  

He finds your hand easily, so warm that he could sense it hovering over his bare shoulder. 

The only light visible was the steady flicker of an alarm, the bug.  You could see the hopelessness on his face, the defeat. With each flicker he could see your tight lipped smile grow, it looked forced, sad and weak. With each lurch of the ship you feel yourself squeeze his hand tighter. Like an echo, he squeezes back.  

You could hear the screams and moans coming from outside, like an infinite inward gasp. It was mangled and you winced when they all shouted in synchrony. It sounded like an animal. You imagined this was what an ash-rabbit felt like, struggling in the gaping mouth of a predator, waiting until it finally finished the deed and snapped their neck with its sharp jowls in mercy. 

As you lay in the bunk holding each other you think of all the memories you have made together. In a final act of whatever it is that you and Din were, you whispered your love, your dreams, and your hopes until your words slurred and your bodies shut down. 

Ending everything in thoughts of each other and the life that could have been. 

[willingcannibalvictim]

BABY’S FIRST FIC ON TUMBLR :D

Welp here we go

[ao3 link]

Private Donut may or may not be made out of food (but there’s only one way to find out)

TW: Vore (duh), accidental fearplay, and accidental foodplay (??)

Caboose and Donut were sat in the Blue base. Due to Donut’s lack of intelligence, he had recently been captured and taken prisoner by the Blues, having Caboose to watch over him.

“Church told me I have to watch over you to make sure you don’t run away.”

“Yeah. That’s kinda how prisoners work.”

“Oh.”

Donut continued to braid Caboose’s hair, which was longer than his, making it more braid-able. Sure, it was still short, but Donut made sure to not pull too hard on the Blue Team Member’s scalp.

“You know. I guess this is what you’d call the calm before the storm?”

“I call it nap time. And before that is food time! And after that is…” Caboose paused for dramatic effect.. “Food-Naptime!!”

Caboose’s started salivating as he recalled the routine, his face lightening into a smile. It made Donut smile too, finishing off the small braid in his hair.

“Speaking of food time, I’m getting hungry. But Tucker told me I couldn’t leave. You could run away.”

“I know. I probably would haha.”

Caboose turned his head a bit to glance back at Donut, his pupils dilating larger and small bit of drool dripping from his mouth. “Private Donut…that sounds like private biscuit.” He muttered, pondering something.

Donut was confused by who he considered a friend after this interaction’s stare. It was blank and wide like a shark who caught a wiff of blood. “Why are you looking at me like that?” He said, his voice slightly shivering.

Caboose turned his body a bit more to face the private in pink armor, still sitting criss-cross apple sauce, but his knees had stopped their swinging. He repeated the statement quietly. “sounds like private biscuit…”

Donut slowly started to back away a bit more before his back hit the wall, leaving him unable to scramble away from the hungry maws that inched closer to him, soon standing over his body. A small droplet of drool fell onto his head, which he quickly wiped away with a dissatisfied “ew.” When he looked back, he felt a tight grip clamp down onto his head. The wet muscle beneath him licked him all over, relishing in the taste of his flesh.

The private furiously kicked his legs around as his body was further and further down the Blue Team’s Private’s gullet. The wet, pinkish-red flesh encased him on all sides, coating him in saliva and other fluids. His feet were still dangling outside of Caboose’s mouth, but were quickly pushed into with his teeth coming down with a satisfied click. Donut slid down deeper and deeper until the wet slip finally stopped.

The chamber felt a bit more roomy, sure, but still extremely compact. The churning stomach walls hugged him on all sides. It was like his eyes were closed based on how dark it was. He let out a dissatisfied kick of retaliation, displaying his urge to be let out. He heard a slightly muffled “OW!” from the outside. Despite his frustration, he couldn’t help but feel a bit…betrayed. A person he thought he’d been bonding with reduced him to nothing more than a snack. Just to satiate his hunger? He didn’t cry, he didn’t pout. He just…sat.

A couple of swallows later, Caboose rested his body onto the back wall, breathing heavily due to the large meal just taken in. He ran a hand over his stomach bulge, being able to actively feel Donut’s restless squirming, then a violent and agitated kick.

“OW!!” He yelped. Even after the impact, he still felt the sting flutter through his nerves afterwards. Still, his goal had been complete, his hunger satiated. But the private didn’t really taste like how his name described…weird, Caboose thought.

Finally, the squirming stopped, leaving his body still for once. The feeling of the profound weight that dragged him down was soft and comforting. Rather ironic, in a sense. The elastic polymer fibers underneath his titanium armor strained to comply with his form. His eyes became more hazy and his mind became more tired, wishing for him to fall into slumber, something Donut would despise if it found out occurred. But, Caboose didn’t mind this, knocking out with his head tipped back against the wall almost immediately.

[alexagirlie]

Behind Enemy Lines

Chapter 1

This is not a new fic but realized I never properly posted it to tumblr just linked to my AO3 which is locked to non-registered users so I am reposting here.

Pairing(s): Sihtric/Bloodhair (ch 1 only) Sihtric/Finan/Uhtred (main) Summary: Things do not go according to plan while Sihtric is undercover in the Danish camp. He is presented with a hard choice and has to live with the consequences. Warnings/Tags: dubcon, rough sex, oral sex, anal sex, forced orgasm, bruises, biting, angst, hurt/comfort, canonical character death, DDDNE

Chapter 1

Sihtric was trying to be discreet as he attempted to eavesdrop on what appeared to be a meeting between Cnut, Brida and Haeston, Bloodhair was nowhere in sight. He was slowly making his way through the shadows between two tents when a voice rang out, loud and laced with impatience.

"BOY!"

Sihtric stepped out of the line of sight of the group he was trying to spy on before he turned to look at who had called him. To his dismay it was the missing Earl Bloodhair walking with purpose towards Sihtrics position. He thought for sure he had been caught and the Earl would bring him before the rest of the leaders for being a spy. 

His heart sank, not only at what would surely be his excruciatingly painful death but also at the knowledge that he would have failed his lord, one of his loves, who had trusted him to see this mission through. His heart broke further at thinking he would die with Finan believing him a traitor, a ruse he had hated with every breath he took.

"Boy! I will not ask again. Follow. Now." The mans voice was stern and tinged with frustration.

Confusion filled Sihtrics' chest as Bloodhair turned sharply, his long dark locks whipping around his head and strode off in the opposite direction. Away from anyone whom he could report Sihtrics treachery too. Instead he lead the way towards his own tent which was located closer to the edge of the camp.

He was walking so fast Sihtric had to practically sprint in order to catch up and fell in a pace behind and to the left of the Earl.

Sihtric dared to speak up, hoping for an explanation "Lord?" 

"Quiet, boy." No explanation then and Bloodhair's tone was now edging from frustration towards anger.

They arrived at Bloodhairs tent and the man didn't even hesitate before stepping through the doorway, Sihtric close behind. Once inside Sihtric hovered just inside the entrance, completely unsure of what was happening or what to do next. He had been convinced his cover had been blown but now he wasn't so confident.

"On your knees, boy." The command came out of no where, practically a growl ripped from the sword-danes throat.

"Lord?" Sihtric was sure he had not heard the other man correctly, he couldn't possibly mean…

Suddenly Bloodhair was directly in front of Sihtric and one his hands flew out and took a harsh hold of Sihtrics hair and pulled hard enough to force a sharp cry from Sihtrics mouth. He used that hold to force him down until the young man crashed to his knees in the dirt.

"I said on your knees, boy." Bloodhairs voice had dropped even more, filled with anger and an edge of violence about to boil over. Sihtric steeled himself for whatever was coming. Bloodhair must want to kill him quietly and hidden for some reason.

"I heard a rumour about you, boy. A rumour that you… used to warm the Dane-Slayers bed." Bloodhair's voice had dropped to a grumbling whisper.

Sihtrics heart froze in his chest and he knew his confusion and growing alarm showed clearly on his face. The turn of events had completely ruined his mask.

"I… Lord?" He racked his mind trying to come up with a response but he came up blank. This was not a scenario Uhtred or himself had planned for at all.

Bloodhair used his hold in Sihtrics hair to shake his head harshly. The pain in his scalp was sharp and immediate and Sihteic grit his teeth against the noise he almost let out.

"Skade tells me you were his little whore and that the real reason you left was because he had replaced you with her. That he wanted her more than he wanted you."

The words hit Sihtrics like a stab wound to the gut and his face burned in shame. It wasn't the truth but it very well could have been. His bitter words while sitting around the fire the day before about Uhtred not being sure if he wanted to kill the witch or hump her had been true. Uhtred had become worryingly obsessed with the blonde seer, as much seduced by her dangerous beauty as he was concerned about the effects they all faced while cursed. 

He remained silent. His mind was reeling and he wasn't sure what Bloodhair wanted  in response to his words.

Sihtric quickly got his answer as Bloodhair released the hold he had on Sihteic hair and ran his fingers down the angular curve of Sihtric's face, almost gentle as he cupped his chin in the palm of his scarred hand. "So you should know what to do while on your knees then boy." Then he forced his thumb into the corner of Sihtrics lips and pried his mouth open, all semblance of gentleness gone in an instant. 

His grip was bruising and Sihtric had a feeling he knew where this encounter was headed. He prayed to the gods he was wrong. 

Bloodhair was still talking, his words muffled to Sihtrics ears, like he was underwater and the young man struggled to take it all in.

"You better be a good boy or I will let any man here who wishes a piece of the Dane-Slayers former pet to have you. Then I will have your used body delivered to your former master. Understood?" Bloodhairs eyes were intense and locked onto Sihtrics own, the pupils blown wide with lust.

Sihtric steeled his resolve, he could not afford to fuck up here. The mission must be completed or the cost will have been for nothing. He sent a prayer to the Gods for his lovers to forgive him for what he needed to do.

He couldn't talk with Bloodhair holding his mouth the way he was but Sihric forced his body to relax. He settled more firmly onto his heels and voluntarily opened his mouth as wide as it could go, letting his tongue hang out. He knew the sight he made, knew how enticing the promise of his willing mouth could be.

"Good boy." The words were a purr and Sihtric held back a shudder of disgust as Bloodhair released him long enough to hastily unlace his breeches and pulled his half hard cock out into the cool air.

He closed his eyes as the Earl fed his cock into Sihtric's waiting mouth. His pace was… brutal. He didn't care if Sihtric could breath or if he choked the other man on his cock. He didn't care if hot, wet tears slid down his face. He forced Sihtric to take his cock down to the hilt, to keep it down throat until he filled the young man's mouth with thick ropes of his cum.

"Swallow it all, boy"

Sihtric obeyed. He imagined the words coming from the lips of one of his loves and forced the vile salty liquid down. Once he was done he opened his mouth wide to let Bloodhair see how good he could listen. He hoped it would satisfy the other man.

It only partially worked. He got another unnervingly gentle caress on the side of his face, a calloused thumb brushing away a smear of white from the corner on his lips and feeding it back into his mouth. Sihtric forced himself to close his mouth around the invading digit and brushed his tongue firmly against the pad to clean it thoroughly before he swallowed again.

He met Bloodhairs gaze and hoped that the Earl could not see the hate and contempt in his eyes.

Sihtric couldn't help but feel irrationally slighted that the other man still looked impeccably put together for one who had just spilled his release down a warm throat.

His voice was also surprisingly gentle when he spoke next. Almost like he regretted what he was about to say. Sihtric knew it was an act, a front.

He was proven right with the next words out of the man's mouth, "Take off your clothes."

Sihtric hesitated, mind racing as he tried to think of a way out of this next command. A way to end this encounter with Bloodhair satisfied with just his mouth. He could think of nothing outside of a direct refusal and he knew that was not a real option, not if he wanted to keep his cover.

"Now boy." Whatever motive Bloodhair had for his gentleness was gone and that edge of violence was back in his voice.

Sihtric scrambled to his feet and raised shaking fingers to the laces which held his armour tight on his chest. He hoped Bloodhair didn't notice his nerves as he turned away and pulled the leather over his head and dropped it to the floor with a soft thump. His belt, weapons and boots were next, followed swiftly by his shirt and breeches.

He crossed the last few paces to the cot and hoped that Bloodhair could not see how soft he was as he crawled up on all fours.

This time he did not wait to be commanded. He needed to have some control over what happened next and so he tried to trick his body into showing some enthusiasm. He closed his eyes and pretended that it was Uhtred or Finan he was waiting for. He arched his back and dropped down to his elbows so his ass was in the air and spread his knees far enough to show every intimate part of his body.

Sihtric shivered at the loud moan the other man let out at the sight. The soft sound of clothes hitting the ground and the clink of metal as the Earl joined Sihtric in his nakedness. 

Sihtric felt the cot dip as the older man crawled up behind him and ran a possessive hand along Sihtrics back and flank, his nails biting at his flesh in a burning line of pain. He hissed between his teeth and bit down a moan of discomfort. 

Bloodhair was as unrelenting here as he had been when he had used Sihtrics mouth. Oh he had spared a few moments to slick his way first, two fingers only, quick and barely enough, more for his own comfort than to save Sihtric any pain and painful it was.

A palm splayed between his shoulder blades and Sihtrics was pushed down until his chest was all the way down flat to the bed. He was forced to turn his face to the side or else be suffocated in the piled furs. This change in posture forced his back into an even more harsh angle and Bloodhair held him there for over a minute before taking a firm hold of Sihtrics hips with both hands.

Sihtric smothered a scream into the furs as Bloodhair shoved his entire cock in, all the way to the hilt and his hips were pressed flush to Sihtric's ass. He gave Sihtric no time to adjust, no time to relax around his girth to make it easier. Just unrelenting fucking.

Bloodhair pulled out until only the tip of him was left inside, Sihtric felt as his rim stretched around his cock. He took an even harder grip of Sihtrics hips and used his hold to slam him back in the next thrust and the next and the next. His pace was deep and hard, only focused on taking his pleasure from the body below him. 

It seemed to go on forever, the furs under Sihtric's mouth soaked with his saliva and tears. He wasn't sure how much longer he could take it. Then Bloodhair made it infinitely worse.

For reasons Sihtric couldn't even begin to imagine the man behind him suddenly adjusted his grip so he could wrap one arm around Sihtric's middle and pull them both up to a kneeling position. He kept his other arm gripped firmly into Sihtrics' hip and pressed the younger man against his chest.

The next thrust up made Bloodhairs cock slam right into the bundle of nerves inside of Sihtric and pulled a scream of an entirely different sort from his throat. Again and again and to Sihtric mortification his cock began to harden between his legs as Bloodhair forced the young man to feel something other than pain at their coupling.

Once his cock was an angry, red, leaking mess the other man reached down and wrapped his sword calloused hand around it. "Cum for me boy."

To Sihtric's shame he did. He screamed again as he came so hard he blacked out and didn't come too until he was a heap on the furs. They were wet with his splattered cum and he could feel Bloodhairs spend leaking from his abused hole and sliding down his thigh. A spot on the back of his neck throbbed with each beat of his heart and he knew the other man had bitten him, hard.

Another moment of gentleness from Bloodhair saw the man wiping the worst of the mess from Sihtric's body before he collapsed on his front beside the younger man and promptly fell asleep.

As Sihtric lay there beside his sleeping enemy he fought back tears at the sense of betrayal that ripped through his body. They would never forgive him for this, and he would never forgive Skade for whispering her poison into this man's ears. 

He swore that if Uhtred chose to hump the bitch he would kill her in her sleep, curse or no curse.

[dancingisdangerouss]

Heyoo, hope you're doing well!

This is a dexter morgan x fem!reader request!

Consider this, established relationship, hot smut.

That's it.

(I am starved for dexter morgan fics)

So I definitely think Dexter would 100% be into bloodplay, and hope you don't mind that I went in that direction! With his obsession with it and keeping blood trophies from his victims, it just makes sense to me.

Summary: Reader does not know her boyfriend is a serial killer, but she does discover that he has a thing for blood, and suggests they bring it into the bedroom...

Warnings: Blood/bloodplay, slight ignoring of safe words, dark content, sexual content. Dexter is a serial killer and has been known to be unfeeling for the most part, and unable to control himself at times. Read at your own discretion.

“Fuck!”

You winced and dropped the paring knife, which clattered into the sink. Vinaceous blood rose to the surface, pooling in the palm of your hand. You set aside the potato on the cutting board, cursing yourself for such a clumsy slip.

“Y/N?” Dexter called from the living room. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, no worries, it’s just a small cut. I think,” you hollered back, turning the faucet to the cold setting. 

Just as you eased the handle up to start the water, Dexter materialized at your side, catching your hand in his.

“Oh! Hi, babe. You scared me,” you laughed as he drew your hand closer to himself, scrutinizing the wound.

As your eyes lifted to his, a shiver spiraled down your spine. An eerie shadow had crept over his eyes, an almost hungry glint present there as he lightly squeezed your hand, watching the fresh beads of blood dribble out. You cringed.

“Dexter?”

The blood spatter analyst drew your hand up to his mouth. His tongue flicked out to lap against the slice, slowly collecting the blood as it darted across the open wound. His warm saliva stung your skin.

“Dexter! What the fuck—?”

Dexter withdrew and met your gaze, startled, as though he were just now really looking at you. That corybantic shade lifted from his eyes. 

“Shit! Sorry, Y/N, let me—” He hastily turned on the faucet, thrusting your hand beneath the cool stream. His broad shoulders shook with a nervous laugh. “I was just messin’ with you. You should’ve seen your face, it was adorable.”

You weren’t buying it. Grinning knowingly, you shut off the faucet, your hands running up and over his chest to link around his neck. “Well damn, Dex. I knew you were into blood in the streets, but I didn’t realize you liked it in the sheets.”

The poorly-hidden panic in Dexter’s face quelled. “Sorry?”

“There’s no shame in a blood kink, babe,” you reassured him with a wink. “You should’ve just told me! We need to be honest with each other if you want this relationship to work.” 

“Oh…” Dexter’s lip quirked, relief tinging his expression. It was so cute, how he seemed to think he could hide things from you. To everyone else, Dexter was an unknown—a strange, unreadable man with blank pages inside. But you’d known him long enough to pick up on his emotions. There was nothing he could hide from you.

“Sooo…” You released him, fishing a clean paring knife out of the wooden knives block. “What say you? Wanna put dinner off a bit? Maybe…” you stroked the blunt end of the knife along Dexter’s collarbone and he stiffened, “we can explore this a little more?”

Dexter’s breaths quickened. “You’d…want to do that?”

“I can’t say yet whether I’m into it or not, but…” You kissed the tip of his nose. “For you? Anything.”

Dexter’s lips crashed into yours so hard, you nearly fell backward. He slid the knife from your hand and tucked it in his back pocket, beginning to lead you carefully toward the bedroom, all the while moving his mouth feverishly with yours. 

You’d never seen him so excited before. Sure, he seemed to enjoy your sex life plenty, but you had yet to see this…animalistic side of your lover. You liked it.

Dexter kissed you all the way to the bed, only momentarily parting from you to root around in his closet for something. A shuffle of clothing and boxes later, he withdrew with a large plastic sheet in his arms.

“Well isn’t that convenient?” you teased as he spread the tarp out across the bed. “You’ve been wanting to do this for a while, haven’t you?”

Dexter chuckled, lifting you effortlessly onto the mattress as if you were made of nothing more than styrofoam. “Why else would I have giant sheets of plastic in my closet?”

Crawling atop you, he made quick work of his own shirt and belt, unzipping his pants but not yet removing them.

“You got a safe word in mind?” he asked as he retrieved the knife from his jeans.

You stared at the ceiling fan thoughtfully. “Fava beans.”

Dexter wrinkled his nose at that. “Is that a Silence of the Lambs reference?”

“Yup.”

“Isn’t that a little…morbid for this?”

You giggled, pulling him to you for another kiss. “Not when you’ve got a morbid boyfriend.”

Dexter smirked. “Fava beans it is. Quick question: How attached to that dress are you?”

“Huh?” You looked down at your handsome green sundress, which you had picked up years ago at a second-hand shop. You liked it, but it wasn’t anything special to you. “Not…not a whole lot. Why?”

With a feral grin, Dexter nudged the sharp side of the blade between your breasts, cutting a slow split down the fabric from cleavage to navel. His large hands slipped beneath the dress, ripping the last parts of the seam open to the bottom, fully exposing your undergarments.

“Ahh, okay, I can dig it,” you purred, wiggling as he began to peel your panties off. 

He had the decency to at least remove your bra and panties by hand, tossing them haphazardly over his shoulder before bringing the knife back into play. He very carefully and meticulously drew the blade along your exposed throat, tickling the skin teasingly. Dragging it down your neck, he chose a spot at your collarbone, easing the knife into your flesh just enough to let a thin line of crimson follow in its tracks.

You shivered, wincing. The knife froze in place.

“Fava beans?”

You shook your head. “Trust me, Dex. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. He ran an index finger gently along the new break in your skin, smearing the blood like red fingerpaint in little circles. You had a grotesque fascination with the look on his face as he did so, his wild eyes burning like hot coals as he leaned in to dab his tongue along the streaks.

You groaned against him and his hips bucked lightly into yours, that telltale hardness scraping at your core. The knife made its way down to your belly, nipping deeper into the skin than before as he allowed more blood to bubble up to the surface. He sighed contentedly at it.

Dexter’s fingers tucked into his jeans, yanking them down the rest of the way. He kicked them off, his boxers following suit before he re-planted himself over you, pumping his length while he sucked and licked across your bloodied stomach, groaning lustfully at the taste.

He flipped you onto your back, pulling your hips up to his as he ground against your ass, the firm head of his cock nudging at your entrance. You whined, wiggling encouragingly as he circled his hard erection around your weeping slit. 

“Please,” you begged, digging your fingers into the bedsheets.

His cock breached your welcoming walls, fully plunging into you in one hard, quick thrust. You both moaned in unison at the intrusion, and his teeth raked across your shoulder.

Dexter began a slow rhythm, thrusting fully in and out each time in long strokes. All the while he continued to indulge himself with the knife, leaving thin little trails of blood artfully along your back and between your shoulder blades. How he managed to steadily cut you with such precision while simultaneously fucking you from behind, you’d never know.

Between cuts, he occasionally squeezed handfuls of your flesh between his fingers, forcing more blood to rise up and trickle down from the cuts. He licked all over the punctures as he continued to strike his hips against yours, teeth even nipping at the edges of the open wounds.

Heavy panting escalated alongside harder thrusts, and he groaned throatily as he dug the knife into a spot near your upper back, piercing deeper than before.

“Dex…” Your eyes fluttered open, the pain beginning to overwhelm the pleasure. “That’s a bit much, babe.”

But Dexter continued to thrust with reckless abandon, grunting and panting as he forced the knife deeper in time with his thrusting, his eyes rolling back. You couldn’t see his face, but you almost felt the shift in the air, the change in his movements as he pummeled you. 

“Ah! Fava beans,” you whimpered, unable to handle it anymore.

Dexter said nothing verbal, still moaning deeply as he rammed into you, the knife now feeling like it was tearing through cartilage. It was almost like he had tapped into some other place inside of himself, and couldn’t even hear your cries.

“Fuck! Dexter! Fava beans, fava beans!”

As if breaking out of a hypnotic state, Dexter suddenly ripped the knife from your shoulder. Blood and cum gushed forth from flesh and cock as Dexter came hard, yelling out your name as he held himself still, hips rocking throughout his powerful orgasm.

The knife clattered to the ground and you fell forward as he released you, gasping for breath. Having snapped out of his reverie, Dexter pulled his soft cock from between your nether lips and scrambled off the bed, rushing to your side. 

“Y/N! Shit, I didn’t mean to—” He frantically grabbed his shirt off the floor, pressing it to the gaping wound on your back. “Shit. Are you all right? Don’t worry, I can stop the bleeding, it’s not deep enough for stitches or anything. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even realize…” 

“Clearly we need a new safeword,” you grumbled, sitting up on your hands and knees as he held the t-shirt firmly in place. “I mean, fuck, Dex, it’s almost like you’ve stabbed someone before.”

You never noticed the guilt-ridden look on his face.

[randomwritingsnips]

Poppys’ Playtime Ch oneshot - A Possibly Superiorly Stupid Decision. (Mommy Long Legs and Reader)

This is just a one shot with really nothing much in it, feel free to take this and write with it, but link back so others can if they want to.

Do not read if you have yet to play or see Ch.2, Thank you.

You cried out as you fell into what appeared to be a pitch black abyss, crashing down as you groaned, forcing yourself up.

"Ouch…" You groaned as your body flared in pain, gazing around at your surroundings as your eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, registering you were now in a long and narrow hallway.

Forcing yourself up, you slowly began to walk in one direction, fear and uncertainty coming over you as you began to see more and more webs.

You couldn't have fallen right into her…?

And then a voice sounded from above, filling you with terror as you jumped back, seeing the Stretchy Pink, Spider toy fall from the ceiling, now covered in grime, and glaring right at you with Green eyes.

"YOU!"

"I asked you to play fairly, and you cheated!" She called out, her face getting right up into yours as she appeared deeply displeased.

The feeling to shrink and hide growing, as if you were actually being scolded by someone you care about, as crazy as this sounded.

"Now, I want you to play one last game…" Her smile returned as her eyes relaxed again, yet your terror did not.

"It's called…Hide and…SEEK!" The Pink Spider toy yelled out with a smile on her face, her pupils comically widening.

"Ten…nine…eight…" She began, sending a chill down your spine as you turned and dashed as fast as you could, turning through the corridors as you then jumped down a hole, panting heavily.

"Crap, crap, crap…" Despite being exhausted, the fear of her right behind you at this point forced you to spring right up, and continue down the path, trying to find any way to keep distance between you and that freaky Spider-human thing.

What was Ludwig even thinking, playing like this!? Is there no end to money, or is he just an A modern day war criminal, but without the war?

Eventually, you come to a stop once you couldn't hear her for a while, and panted, trying to regain control of your breathing, turning your head in every direction you could conceive of her hiding in.

So much darkness…it's a nightmare, it has to be.

Then of course, Huggy Wuggy had to come back to mind, causing you to curse under your breath.

If it wasn't a nightmare then, then it wasn't a nightmare now.

With your panting dying down, you remained silent as you walked slowly, trying to look over the door to the hallway as you caught sight of that Candy Cat, sighing as you pulled at the lever, opening up an all too familiar conveyor belt, throwing you down a hole as you landed on your butt with a grunt.

Forcing yourself up, you wandered until you came to another lever, opening it up as you rushed briskly, keeping your eyes open, only to flinch as you turned a corner, coming face to face with one of those Posters, this time of the abomination of the hour.

"Mommy knows best!" it said as she had one eye open, pointing to herself, trying to look cutesy.

With a blank expression, rose up your actual arm this time, and in one fowl swoop, ripped the poster from the wall, and tore it into pieces.

You were starting to hate that phrase. And you did not know if you'll ever recover from that one thing alone.

You stared into the fire pit as you sighed, savoring the bit of warmth the flames gave off, before an idea came to mind as you gazed down at the gear mold in your hands, smiling as you thought of what you'd need, rushing around to see if the mold could fit into anywhere, and smiled after hoping back, watching as a new gear was commissioned.

After carefully dumping it into your satchel, you turned and attempted to find the best place to shove it in, wandering around until a feeling of fear came to you once more, and then you saw it slowly start to climb up the side of the wall in the distance.

"Damn it!" You cursed as you dashed as fast as you could, searching for an exit way as you came up with something fast, using your grab bag, the fire was triggered to activate as you jumped into the other side of the room, creating a barrier between you two.

She laughed as she slowly ran towards you, only to have the doors shut in her face as you waited for a few moments, before turning and running once more, looking for another way to put more distance between the two of you.

As you crossed between the rooms, you had gotten used to pulling at any lever in your reach, only to learn what a terrible factor that was, as you assumed it would turn on a fan.

Little did you know that it would bring her right up to you as your eyes met yet again.

With a scream of terror, you dashed down the nearest pathway, running on virtual instinct between the corridors.

You eventually had no choice but to jump down yet another pit, panicking as you saw one of her arms stretch towards you as you zig zagged around them, coming to a seemingly dead end, only to see a saving light right above yourself as you activated your Grabpack, it grappling you up towards the next level as you sucked in a breath of air, and continued to run, turning another as you jumped over a narrow pit, and came to a halt long enough to pull another lever, slipping below the door, sighing as it auto locked behind you.

Standing up, something told you you were almost free of her, as you attempted to dash towards the other end, only to be just about out of any energy.

"Come on…just a little more…" You muttered as you activated your grabpack, a hand flying forward as it smacked against a hand scanner above the door.

Suddenly, dread returned to you as you looked back, seeing the other door right at the end slowly open up as the spider toys' all too familiar smile met you once again.

Panicking, you looked back and tried again, and again, the dang door wouldn't open, causing you to hyperventilate until finally, it began to crack, and you slipped right under.

Assuming the lever in front of you would give you some more time, you tugged it down, expecting the door to close as you turned, and finally regained a third…fourth wind?

It was one of them, as you began to run, only to turn and catch sight of Mommy Long Legs as she was right behind you, only to stop and spin around as you heard her give off a horrid scream.

Scanning the situation, you realised it was a…grinder.

And now it looked like she wouldn't be able to escape it finally as relief began to wash over you as you took yet another step back.

"What have you done!?" Mommy Long Legs yelled out as she glared at you with a disdain, and a growing mixture of fear in her eyes as she attempted to draw her arm back, only to be horrified when it wasn't working, and her added leg for support was being sucked in as well, as tears began to well up in her eyes.

"You'll make me part of him!" She screamed out in horror and desperation, trying to escape back down the corridor, only to be pulled back, all fighting proving useless.

Something about the sight of that filled you with such…pity.

Your stomach felt as if it was going to turn as soon as blood began to leak out the machine, as well as her.

"N-no…no, you can't do this to me!" The memory of everything you've learned on this venture came to mind as you practically jumped at her, holding onto her waist for support as you tried to pull her away from the machine, only for your effort to stretch her a little,, granting you some time at least.

"Damn it, come on…!" you panicked as you kept pulling her with you, not willing to let her go, even when the machine seemed to be unbreakable.

It would be risky with the bit of lost support, but it had to be done. wrapping a leg around her torso, you released one of your arms and grabbed the trigger of the Grabpack, shooting out, and forcing the lever back.

Huggy Wuggy made no attempt to speak, but this toy…this person appeared to still be conscious it seems, even if she just tried to kill you near the end, she appeared to still have some kind of self control… you didn't know what you were thinking, but with Poppy, maybe she

could also…

Slowly, the machine came to a halt as you slumped over, panting heavily as you landed onto the floor, trying to recapture your breath after all the stress, still holding onto Mommy Long Legs, unknowingly to your oxygen deprived brain as one of your hands landed on what should have been your chest, only to be on top of something else.

As your brain tried to kickstart itself once again, you slowly relaxed, your body aching after all of that, trying to place your hand over your heart, only for it to land on whatever was on top of you. slighting confusion was bubbling in your head and you ran you hand over it slowly, not understanding what on earth it was, only for your breathing to suddenly stop as you remembered.

You had never let go of her this entire time.

You could have ran, but you were so stupid to-

Slowly, with a cold chill running down your spine, you rose you head, along with your upper body slightly, catching Mommy Long Legs' giant eyes gazing at you, your hand on her head, unintentionally meaning you had been stroking her hair.

Your own eyes gazed into her large green orbs blankly as you slowly moved your hand back, continuing the stroke unintentionally, when you were actually trying not to spook her or snap her out of whatever…you suppose it was like a deer in the headlights? She did almost get crushed, after all.

Until you saved her over…wait, why did you-

As you slowly tried to unlock your legs from her waist, you moved your hand back up to her hair again, and back down again. Slowly, it surprisingly worked as you managed to free your leg again, only to still be in the predicament that she was laying on top of you.

There didn't feel to be a way out of this situation, as you continued it, panicking inside as you kept the gentle motion in place, unwilling to stop as you tried to think of a way out of this.

Even if you were to run, her limbs would still be long enough to catch you now, before you go too far, rendering escape impossible, even if he just shoved her off of him.

You were even stuck staring into her eyes, unsure when was the last time you blinked, out of fear of her snapping out of it and killing you instantly.

This entire situation was awkward, here you are, in a Madmans' toy factory, with what was possibly a worker transformed into a living, breathing toy, laying on top of you, having tried to murder you, and you had to choose now to be even a bit sentimental towards one of these things, even after it tried to, KILL YOU.

Who's to say the last one wasn't thinking too? Was it really speech that sealed your fate here, and with it a few tears?

Slowly, you began to panic as her mouth slowly opened, only to close again a second later, leaving you to assume she was trying to say something, but was as confused right back as well.

You raised your hand again, and gently stroked her strange plasticy hair a few more times, until something came into view, a hand right off behind the both of you to the left, that was creeping under a door.

Survival Instincts kicked back in, you forced yourself up as you scooted away from the door, keeping distance between you and whatever was now feeling around the floor, before growling heavily, punching the floor, causing cracks to appear as it slipped back under, disappearing.

The gesture caused you to flinch and wrap your arms around yourself, only for you to feel something wrap around you as well, quite a few times, actually.

It was then you remembered once again the fact that you have once again messed up, and should have thrown her to whatever was under that door, and instead, now have the Spider wrapped around you entirely.

She seemed to be shaking a bit at something even.

Fearing this may be your end now, you took a peak downwards, only to see Mommy Long Legs staring at the crack below the door, shaking as if she were a frightened Chihuahua.

Seeing the reaction she was giving, and the fact she was so distracted by whatever the hell this was, it gave you some time to think…maybe of your last words instead of a way to escape, since thanks to that thing, if it wasn't impossible before, it sure was now.

Seeing the opportunity to at least stand up, you released one arm as you used it to support you legs as you forced the both of you up, snapping clearly Mommy Long Legs out of her current focus as you kept your eyes focused on the crack, ignoring her eyes now refocused on you again.

Raising an arm slowly, you gently pushed chest closer to her head and you gently began stroking her again, in a bid to try and see if it can keep her docile a bit longer as you slowly stepped closer to the machine, it managing to work, though you were certain you felt her eyes rotate, still peering up at you as you now stood in front of the her crushed arm and leg shrink, She shuddered ans her hand gripped on hard to your waist, thinking quickly, you lowered your lips to her head, as you planted chaste kiss on it, causing the hand to relax as you kept your lips to her forehead, reaching with your now free hand, as you tried to tug at the limbs trapped i the machine, feeling around, wondering what you could possibly do to release her from this thing.

She appears to be docile for now, but who knows how long this luck will last?

You can't just sit and stand here until the end of time, unintentionally hugging one another, while you tug at her trapped limbs.

Eventually, she groaned in a bit of pain as some blood came from the other side of the limb in the machine.

Withdrawing your hand, you stroked at her head hair again as you reapplied a kiss onto her forehead, confused at the growing warmth her head was starting to give off.

You truly are an idiot.

—-

Feel free to use this if you want to make a story out of it.

The ending made me feel bad when I played, so I made this to post.

Just be sure to mention where you got this small piece from if you use it to write a story, so if others want to read it or take it, they can write some of their own.

Remember, don't be a Yoshi, pay your taxes.

Unless you're Batman, then keep doing what you're doing. Unless it's looking behind you.

Because they are still dead.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Fierce Meeting (Hyrule Warriors era Link and the Fierce Deity)

Summary:

At the end battle, Link finds that his young Forest Sprite is still wearing the mask of the Fierce Deity. Which leads to a whole host of problems, because Link's pretty sure that guy's bad news, right? Mask had said as much. But the Fierce Deity is still there and he is not going away anytime soon because he has a mission to accomplish. Warriors meets the Fierce Deity, and it doesn't go as he expected. But at least he gets to sleep, which is a miracle for him.

(Click here to read on AO3)

The young Hero grunted as he sliced upwards with his sword, cutting a beast clean down the middle. Its blood spilled in a smattering, speckles landing on the child and making him flinch. He stepped back at the monster fell and turned when he heard another one coming his way, ready to fight, when he instead saw a blade pierce through its heart before retracting.

When the beast fell, Link appeared, blue scarf dyed red from the long battle. He gave a quick onceover of the younger Link and a pulled smile. “You alright, Sprite?”

Mask nodded, and the battle resumed.

As the fight continued, one thing became apparent to the Hero of Time: this was not a battle they were winning. He’d run enough losing scenarios before, had to escape within an inch of his life and a hasty magical song whistling through his ocarina, and start over. He knew when reinforcements were needed.

He’d honestly hoped he wouldn’t need the Fierce Deity mask this time around. He’d been using it so much it was draining him almost as much as his sleep deprivation and constant fighting. But he knew what was needed and he would do it. Perhaps the stamina potion in his system would help him not feel as terrible when he took the mask off.

Grabbing the painted wood, he felt its power surging through his arms as he pushed it to his face.

It’s up to you now, Fierce, he thought, hoping the dark magical deity encased in the mask could hear him.

XXX

The battle hadn’t been looking good, Link had to admit grimly. There were just too many enemies. The Hylian army had no reinforcements waiting, and despite the outflanking maneuver they had pulled, which had temporarily given them the advantage, they were still being pushed back.

Until the littlest soldier among them put on that mask.

Link had mixed feelings about the Fierce Deity mask. He was a force of nature on the battlefield, and his prowess was certainly welcome. But he was menacing, unnerving, and worst of all, painful to Mask. Wearing the mask wore the boy so thin Link often had to carry him from a battlefield after he’d used it. The young Hero had started to resort to using stamina potions just to get from day to day, and Link hadn’t had time to address the issue yet. For that reason, he often argued with command on whether to utilize the mask or not. It made sense for them to push, to use such an obvious aid and achieve victory, but when the only person who could wield it (or at least Link assumed that was the case, no one had actually tried to put the mask on aside from the boy) would be weakened and ill after each use, it was not the most efficient way to handle this war.

And Link just didn’t like seeing Mask in that state.

The battle was over. Soldiers were regrouping and trying to help each other. Link had just carried one to the medical tent, but his eyes were searching for Mask. The boy no doubt had taken the mask off by now and was collapsed somewhere in the carnage. It made Link’s stomach churn just thinking about it.

The field where they fought had rolling hills, but nothing with such an extreme gradient that he couldn’t see clearly for miles. This made the tall figure stick out all the more.

The Fierce Deity.

Confused and wary, Link approached him slowly. Why was he still here? He usually took the mask off as soon as the battle was over.

Link cleared his throat, his body tense. The deity turned to look at him, towering over him. Link felt the slightest twinge of fear as the blank gaze pierced into him.

The deity’s fingers twitched a moment. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. Then he said, “There are no more injured over here. I already carried them to camp.”

Link jumped a little, caught off guard. He’d never heard the mystical being speak before. His voice was deep and smooth and surprisingly quiet, though it held an energy and power to it that made his skin crawl.

Most unnerving of all, it reminded him of his little forest sprite. Young Link’s voice was also soft and quiet and held power and authority that the boy shouldn’t know how to convey at his age. But it was much higher in pitch, still untampered by time and hormones.

Link swallowed, processing the words. “T-thank you. For all of your assistance. I… must admit I wasn’t expecting to find you out here still.”

The Fierce Deity stepped forward, his body radiating energy and authority, and it took all of Link’s willpower to hold his ground. Fierce reached forward, his hand passing overhead of Link, who watched with apprehension and bewilderment, when he felt the long, clawed fingers grasp the back of his tunic.

And pull.

Link yelped, his feet dangling in the air as he was suddenly, essentially, being held by the scruff of his neck.

“You look exhausted,” the deity stated, now at eye level with him.

Link flailed. “Put me down!”

“I’ve watched you,” the Fierce Deity said as he started to walk towards camp. “I’ve watched how you care for Link, and I’ve watched how you wear yourself too thin.”

Link halted his protests, bewildered. “What are you talking about?”

How much could this mystical mask see when his sprite wasn’t wearing it? All he really knew about the mask was that the younger Hero had said it was dangerous, held a mystical being, and shouldn’t be messed with. All he knew from the battlefield was that everything Mask had said was correct.

“You are a capable warrior,” the Fierce Deity explained. “But you do yourself and your men harm by hurting yourself so. You need to rest.”

Now wait a damn minute, he was not—he was not—

Was this mystical dark being lecturing him?

“I can take care of myself, thank you,” Link argued, beginning his pitiful attempts to wrangle himself out of the deity’s grip once more. He couldn’t believe this; there was no way he was being hauled into camp like this. “Kindly take off the mask so I can have my Sprite back.”

“Link needs to sleep just as much as you do, Captain, if not more,” the Fierce Deity said calmly. “Foolish little Hero has been pushing himself far too much. And at his age that can be dangerous. He also hasn’t been eating enough, you know. I don’t think you’ve realized how he’s tried to ration out the meals provided for him.”

Link tried to get a word in, but now the deity was practically on a tirade, though his voice never changed in pitch, making the conversation bizarre but also eerie. Much to Link’s horror, he also heard the footfalls of soldiers and the sound of many voices and activities happening.

They were at camp.

Link twisted in the being’s grip and nearly landed a kick in his chest. The captain froze, suddenly terrified of retaliation from a monster that could annihilate entire armies, but the deity seemed unbothered.

Or, really, he just changed tactics.

Link felt himself get launched forward, and he got the wind knocked out of him when his abdomen collided with the Fierce Deity’s shoulder as he was draped over it. A strong arm wrapped around the back of his knees, locking him into place.

Somehow, this was worse.

Link was very tempted to just lay limp on the deity’s shoulder; at least if he looked unconscious, this pathetic position could be excused. But he was too proud to allow others to think he was knocked down in the battlefield and had to be hauled back to camp.

Not that his pride was going to survive this anyway.

“That’s enough,” Link said, trying to brace his hands on the deity’s armor so he could push off his shoulder.

“This is nowhere near enough,” was the deity’s rebuttal.

Link watched helplessly as they entered the camp. The soldiers watched them uncertainly, one dropping his sword with a startled yell. Fierce slipped his foot under the hilt, kicking the sword into the air effortlessly and catching it before dropping it back into the wide-eyed soldier’s slack grip.

“I need to speak to your chain of command,” Fierce said as he continued to walk.

“I am the chain of command!” Link snapped. “I’m the captain!”

“But you take orders from those above you.”

“I’m not telling you where they are,” Link huffed. He felt like a petulant child, but he didn’t have much else to barter with.

“I don’t need your input to locate them.”

Link scrambled for something to get him out of this situation as they attracted increasingly more attention. Thankfully the majority of the army was more in awe or intimidated by the sight than entertained. After all, they’d all seen what the deity was capable of on the battlefield, and none had seen him linger once the fight was finished.

Which still led Link to wondering how in the world this situation had occurred in the first place. Surely the Fierce Deity hadn’t stuck around just to humiliate him?

Then again, if his lecturing was indicative of anything, it was more of lingering concern for Mask than anything else. Which in itself was… interesting. It wasn’t something Link had considered, simply because it hadn’t even seemed within the realm of possibility. Who would assume a mask powered by dark magic sealing a mysterious warrior deity away would be anything but, well, dangerous?

The deity’s walking stopped, jostling Link out of his musings.

“Hylia’s offspring, I presume?”

Link jolted, completely bewildered by the term before it clicked, and then he started twisting and turning. “What? Zelda? Where?!”

There was silence as the deity seemed to be waiting for something, and then Sheik’s familiar voice broke it.

“My name is Sheik,” she said. “I am a Sheikah warrior.”

“A Sheik named Sheikah?”

“No. A Sheikah named Sheik.”

Fierce was silent, and Link could practically feel the deity judging the woman he was speaking to.

“Right,” Fierce quipped. “Anyway, whatever name you choose, golden child, I can still sense the Triforce piece and the bloodline. So I assume you’re in command.”

Sheik was silent, as was Link. He tried twisting again, still attempting to piece together what he’d just heard, when Fierce spoke up again.

“The captain will be unavailable for the remainder of today and tomorrow morning. In addition, the one you call Mask will also be unavailable for that period of time. I will be inspecting your army to ensure proper form and combat skill. Have a good evening.”

Link felt himself whirl as the deity twirled on his heel and headed in a different direction. He locked eyes with Sheik once she came into view, and he saw her staring, her visible eye a little wider than normal, though he wasn’t sure if she was dumbfounded by the being’s words or if they rang true.

He’d have to investigate that… once he managed to detangle himself from the Fierce Deity’s steel grip.

“That isn’t Zelda, you know,” Link informed him, giving up on fighting him off for the time being.

Fierce hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Whatever you wish to call her, I know of what I speak.”

“How can you sense the Triforce?” Link asked.

“I am a being of greater power and ability than your meager fleshy mind can comprehend.”

“Meager?!”

“Be quiet, little soldier. You need to rest.”

“Hard to rest when I’m shoved against full plate armor,” Link muttered irritably.

Apparently the Fierce Deity heard him, because before he knew it he was slipped off the deity’s shoulders and secured snugly in his arms.

“W-what are you—no, this is not—put me down!” Link hissed, his face flaming red as they passed more soldiers. “What is wrong with you, you’re supposed to be this super soldier who goes away when the fighting’s done!”

The Fierce Deity paused from his quick stride, staring at Link. The captain shriveled into the cradled hold a little at the intensity of the stare, sufficiently guilty at the assumptions he’d just stated aloud.

After all, the deity did seem to care… even if it was on the overbearing side.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” the deity said softly before resuming his pace.

Link remained still and silent, regardless of the shame his situation brought him. When they reached his tent, he said softly, “I’m sorry. I… nobody really knows much about you aside from what we’ve witnessed in battle.”

The mythical being halted in the middle of the tent, looking at Link once more, though this time his stare was less intense, his face softening. “There is far more to me than battle, Captain. Just as there is far more to you than your title. But you should be aware of my status and abilities. I am not some lowly soldier for you to order around. I once ruled over a land in an age before your people even existed. That is to be remembered and respected.”

Link swallowed and straightened, nodding in acquiescence and acknowledgement. He could understand that much.

“Now, it’s time for you to rest,” Fierce continued.

Link blanched. “Wait, what? Are you kidding, the battle just ended, I have reports to write, meetings to attend—”

“You will do no such thing.”

“With all due respect, I am a captain and have duties to fulfill—”

Fierce finally plopped Link onto his cot, and the captain landed with a decidedly undignified OOF, bouncing on the mattress briefly.

“Honestly, I am a deity and a warrior and I’m relegated to babysitting because certain heroes can’t be bothered to take care of themselves,” the deity muttered, disregarding Link's earlier words and poking Link so forcefully that he collapsed onto the bed entirely.

“Hylia only knows why I ended up with such a fate,” the deity grumbled, grabbing Link’s armor and slipping it off with practiced ease before the captain even had a chance to protest. “I still haven’t even gotten any word about Hylia, how does an entire people just forget the woman they’re named after—”

“Will you stop it—” Link snapped as his boots got yanked off.

“As you said, you are a captain, which means you should know better, how are you supposed to lead troops in a state like this—”

“I can handle it!” Link yelled, standing on his cot to be at eye level with the mystical overbearing mother hen.

Fierce huffed, grabbing the clothes and armor he’d managed to obtain and folding them, placing them in a neat pile in the corner of the tent. Then he proceeded to grab other items that were discarded and started to organize them.

“What are you doing?” Link asked, exasperated.

“This place is a disaster,” Fierce replied.

Link stared at him. This was—he didn’t—all right, this was ridiculous, the being had just emphasized that he was a former deity of immense power and he was playing housekeeper and where was this coming from—

Wait a damn minute.

Link squinted, and horror chilled his blood. “Mask drank a stamina potion.”

“Yes, he does that far too often—”

“No. He drank one before he put on your mask.”

“I don’t see how that makes any difference.”

“Your hands are shaking.”

Fierce looked at Link, his blank eyes narrowing as one of his eyebrows rose. “Don’t be ridiculous, my hands never shake.”

Link crossed his arms and gave the most stubborn look he could possibly throw in an overpowered mystical being’s direction. The Fierce Deity looked back, unimpressed, and then looked down at his hands, which were, in fact, trembling.

Fierce blinked.

“Oh,” he said.

“Told you,” Link confirmed. “Now take the mask off and let Sprite come back.”

“Link is resting.” Fierce emphasized, returning his attention to folding the captain’s laundry. He curled his lip in annoyance. “What sort of military training breeds such slovenly accommodations?”

Link blushed. “I usually am better organized, but we’ve had four days of fighting on and off and I hardly have time to even see the tent let alone get in, strip, and pass out.”

Fierce shot him an analytical look. “You haven’t bathed in four days?”

Link immediately felt dread fill him. He didn’t know where this deity drew the line and he was not testing it. “No, no, don’t you dare. I’ll sleep, I promise, I promise!”

True to his word, Link scrambled under the thin blanket provided to him and watched the deity with a near panicked gaze. Fierce continued to look at him for an agonizing moment before continuing his ministrations.

Link didn’t honestly realize just how bone tired he was until he laid his head on his pillow. His brain went from this is insane to wow this bed is amazing, this is so comfortable, just wow to nothing at all as pure exhaustion overtook him. He felt another blanket get tucked around him, long, calloused fingers smooth hair out of his face, and then he felt nothing at all.

Honestly, he didn’t regret the sleep he got. He woke up mid-morning the next day, feeling far more refreshed than he had in a solid month. He didn’t regret the sleep at all.

Until he went out into camp and found half his healthy troops passed out from exhaustion after being drilled all night by “the Old Man with tattoos” and had to get an earful from Impa about letting Mask run the camp with his magical artifacts. Mask himself was wrapped in more blankets than Link thought were even in the camp, sound asleep and at peace.

Sighing heavily, Link carried the boy to his own cot, tucking him in. When he caught sight of the Fierce Deity mask hanging on his belt, he scrutinized it carefully, scrunching his nose. Picking up the object like it might burn him, he plopped it on a pillow beside the boy and sighed heavily.

What a bizarre encounter. But he’d be lying if he said it had been all bad.

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Hey!! I love your writing. Can you do a Yandere! Ranboo, Tommy , and tubbo. where they are all in love with the reader and they kidnapped her to ‘keep her safe’ and the reader doesn’t know at first, then she slow realized they are obsessed with her. she like them back but she also want to live her life, so she tries to make agreement? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.

The Ranboo gif is just beautiful and I love it. Lemme see what I can do for ya! I wrote a bullet point Platonic fic if that's fine? I'm still worried about writing the minors in romantic relationships, even if it's the characters.

Sorry, it took so long... My burnout got really bad and I refused to even write basic stuff. But I'm back now! Well. Mostly.

Safe Behind Glass (Yandere!Plat!C!Bench Trio x GN!Reader)

You were a little groggier than normal when you awoke, but it was nothing to alarm you immediately.

Just simply brushing it off as you weren't feeling the best that day, you rolled over to fall back to sleep, but quickly noticed something wrong.

It didn't feel... Right?

The blankets... The mattress... The pillow... They weren't yours...

You peeled your eyes open and your expression went blank with fear.

The room was beautiful mind you.

But it wasn't yours either.

You were laying on a fluffy (f/c) canopy bed, surrounded by quartz walls that were dimly lit soul lanterns that prevented you from being completely swallowed by darkness.

Slowly dragging yourself off the bed, you heard a metal 'clunk' that hit the cold quartz flooring below you.

Turning your head to face downwards, you saw that a decently thick metal chain was cuffed to your ankle.

Somehow, your panic became worse as you immediately grabbed onto it and started to yank on the solid metal, but it refused to budge.

You had no idea how many minutes or hours you spent in that room. Reaching at the iron door desperately, yanking at the chain around your ankle that kept you from reaching the exit, searching the blue lanterns for anything...

But then, the white metallic door slowly swung open, revealing Ranboo, Tubbo and Tommy.

You weren't that close to them, save for a couple interactions here and there, but hey, they came to save you! That didn't matter in the slightest!

You almost cried upon seeing them and moved to walk over, but the chain stopped you from reaching them, and you noticed that they weren't moving to help you.

"You're awake!" Tubbo chirped softly, his tan goat ears wiggling with joy, "I'm glad the potion didn't stick for too long... You could've wound up starving if you stayed asleep."

Horror slowly began to set into your heart as Ranboo nodded and walked over to the dark oak table in the corner of the room and set down a basket of food.

"Ran...Boo...?" You whispered, watching as the monochrome male turned and curiously tilted his head in your direction, "Why... Am I here?"

Instead, Tommy stepped in front of you with a bright cheesy smile, the same one that resembled when he would find a new disc or start a new adventure, "For your safety, (N/n)!"

"Safety?" You choked out softly, Ranboo quickly guiding you to sit in the oak chair, "But... I'm one of the richest people on the server... I have god armour... Nothing could kill m-"

"Techno and Dream can." Tubbo interrupted sharply, halting you mid-sentence.

Right... That masked man... Or whatever he was... He was extremely dangerous, as well as Techno. They could likely pierce your netherite chest plate without even flinching at the number of thorns you had enchanted.

"We don't want anyone to bring you any harm... There's no problem with that, right, (Y/n)?" Ranboo smiled, flashing his sharpened teeth unthreateningly.

No... You wanted to say, but you wanted freedom! You wanted to expand your house to the size of a mansion! You wanted to bicker with Quackity about the stupidest of things! You wanted to get building advice from Phil!

Not be locked away because your safety was a tiny bit compromised!

"Tommy... Tubbo... Ranboo... Please, I'm not going to just stay locked away because I-"

"You'll see things our way soon... Eat up, get your rest." Tubbo smiled and gave you a hug, ignoring how you froze suddenly, before turning and skipping out of the room with the taller two following behind him.

Despite... How screwed up the three were with their methods of making you be their friend, it was working...

They were actually incredibly friendly and funny. It made life in capture bearable! Even though you were incredibly snappy and cruel to them in the beginning, they never held it against you.

Although... Despite their kindness and your quickly blooming friendship, you still had a craving to go outside. Even if what the three told you about everyone forgetting you existed was true.

"You look sad, (N/n)..." Tubbo murmured softly, watching you stare off into the blank quartz wall, "Are you okay?"

Tommy straightened up from his handmade scribble of a map, turning his head towards you in confusion. Ranboo stopped writing mid-word likely and looked in your direction as well.

They never liked it when you were upset.

You pursed your lips silently for a moment, clearly unsettling the males around you, "I just... Haven't been feeling too great... Both mentally and physically I mean... I need sunlight..."

"Yeah... I was reading about that earlier..." Ranboo hummed softly, adjusting his crown as he looked up at the ceiling, "But the issue is..."

"My safety... Yes, I know. What if, I wear my full netherite armour and keep a totem AND a Rapple on me? And also not leave your sides?" You bargained nervously.

That hadn't worked before. But then again, You weren't as close to them before...

The silence that fell upon the room was unsettling and caused your heart to race quickly. If they didn't like what you said, you would be alone for a few straight days... You didn't like it...

"Okay."

What.

That worked?

You just had to ask?!

You watched as Tubbo stood up and pulled the small ender chest from his pocket and set it on the ground, causing it to grow to normal size.

Standing aside, he made a gesture for you to open it and get your stuff.

Hesitantly, You walked over and kneeled down in front of the ender chest. Looking to Tubbo and the others for confirmation, you slowly opened it once they nodded.

Carefully, you began pulling out your armour but paused seeing the lack of golden apples and totems.

Right... Before you had gotten kidnapped by the group, you had used a totem when you fell into the L'Manhole where L'Manberg once was.

That what caused them to kidnap you...

"I-I used... My totem... And Fundy stole my Rapple..." You murmured hesitantly, feeling ready to cry.

Your only chance to escape and you couldn't grab it...

"Hey! Hey! Don't cry! Here!" Ranboo eagerly held the two golden items out towards you at the first sight of tears gathering under your eyes.

"What...?"

"(Y/n)! We want you to be happy! If being outside, even with god armour, rapples and totems, makes you happy, then damn well we're bringing you outside!" Tommy grinned.

After a few tears and lots of hugs, Tubbo helped you hop into your armour while Ranboo unlocked the chain cuff from around your ankle. Tommy had left, leaving the door open for once, going to scout the area for any dangerous mobs.

"Ready?" Ranboo smiled, linking one of his arms with yours, the one that you held the totem in to be more specific. Tubbo happily linked his arm with the other one.

You could only nod, your voice caught in your throat as they began to walk you out the door, Ranboo had to duck down a lot, before leading you to the quartz stairway.

Once up the stairs, Tubbo pressed in a code to the iron door and it slid open quickly, causing you to flinch and pinch your eyes shut at the bright painful light of the sun.

It took about twenty minutes of trying to adjust to the sunlight with the two males encouraging you before you were able to look around.

It was everything you had missed...

The sunlight...

The trees...

God, it was perfect...

Tommy eventually came out of the tree line and sat down beside you as you took it all in...

Months, you were down there. And sure, they gave you plenty of decorations to prevent you from experiencing sensory deprivation, nothing could ever compare to the beauty of the outside world.

A voice cut through the air -calling for someone or something named Fran?- and you almost didn't recognize it. But then the owner came out of the trees, almost a similar direction that Tommy came from earlier.

Sam? He looked so... Different now...

The creeper hybrid slowly lowered his gas mask to show his mouth dropped in shock, "(Y/n)...? You're alive...?"

Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo were freaking out, trying to bring you back into the bunker, as they called it, but you weren't budging. You hadn't seen another being in ages... And while you did platonically love the three boys, you enjoyed hearing a new voice.

"You... Remember me? But... Tubbo you said-" You frowned at the goat hybrid as they stopped suddenly, realizing that you weren't moving.

"You three... Kept them locked away... For almost an entire year?" Sam's voice was getting a little bit scary now, but it wasn't directed at you, instead, at your best friends...

"Sam! It was to protect them! Please!" Ranboo tried, but he wasn't making it better.

"You made Quackity believe they ran away... Made Philza wake up every morning and walk through the SMP for any signs of them... Gave Puffy false information on where you have last seen them... lied to everyone... Only to be the reason that they were gone." Sam growled out, gripping his trident, "Then you proceeded to make them think we all forgot about them..."

"S-Sam... You've got this all wrong big man..." Tubbo tried next...

The warden wasn't listening as he pointed his trident at them, his communicator in his other hand next to his mouth, then he started speaking, causing his voice to come out of Ranboo's, Tubbo's and Tommy's pockets. He was speaking on the public channel.

"Tommy Innit, Tubbo Underscore, Ranboo Beloved... You are being placed in the prison, Pandora's Vault, for keeping (Y/n) (L/n) imprisoned in a bunker and lying about their whereabouts."

It felt like someone splashed you with cold water...

[maddiwrites]

Let Me Go

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: This was requested! Y/N still lives with the Cameron’s following the death of her brother, but she’s being held there against her will. After many failed escape attempts, Y/N finally gets out of Figure Eight, but she’s far from safe. (The request was long so I’m going to link it here so you can see the full summary of what anon wanted!)

Note: I’m sorry this took so long to get out!!! I literally had half of it written and then it all deleted and I’m so upset because my first attempt at writing it was better but oh well. I hope you like it. Again, sorry for the long wait!

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: MENTIONS OF DRUG ABUSE, CHILD NEGLECT, GUN VIOLENCE, ATTEMPTED SUICIDE. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THESE TOPICS TRIGGER YOU. PLEASE. SUICIDE HOTLINE: 800-273-8255

Masterlist

You weren’t always like this - sitting up in your unmade bed, staring at the blank wall in front of you like you could see through it, unshowered, trembling from your shoulders down to your toes, feeling empty from the inside out. 

You forget what it’s like to be free. Following the death of your brother, you’ve been trapped like a rat in a cage. Figure Eight is no longer the luxurious part of the island to you. It’s filled with lies, manipulation, secrets, murder. 

You’re still living at the Cameron’s. No, not living. Surviving. Ward refused to give his guardianship of you up. Some people wondered why - why would Ward want to live with the sister of a murderer? Yeah, that’s what they thought - that your brother killed Sheriff Peterkin and tried to kill Ward too. But you knew why.

Ward no longer treats you like a member of his family. He has you locked in your designated room on the third floor that’s basically only used as an attic and storage area. Your own personal prison. Because you know what he did - not only to your brother and his daughter but to your dad. 

You felt like you were losing grasps of reality. You only knew fall was approaching because you could hear Wheezy talking about it to Rose outside your door. You guess the time of day by the sunlight through your window and the meals brought to your room. 

Of course there have been times you tried to escape. You managed to run away a few times. The first time, you went straight to the police station and tried telling them that Ward was keeping you trapped in his home. Of course they didn’t believe you. Instead, they called Ward to come pick you up. He told the police that you’ve been experiencing delusions since the death of your brother. Without a second thought, they believed him and ignored your cries for help completely. The second time, you tried going to Kie’s, but the police found you first and brought you back to Ward’s now that they think you’re going through some kind of mental breakdown. 

By now, you’re exhausted. You’re tired of fighting and arguing and screaming. You feel empty inside, craving some sort of release or embrace of comfort. You haven’t seen your Pogues in weeks, maybe months. You wonder if they still think about you. Do they blame you for leaving John B to go off by himself with Sarah? Do they hate you?

Not only is living inside an enclosed box hard enough, but dealing with the loss of your brother, friend, and father, is killing you inside. You can’t help but feel guilty that you weren’t with them. You and your brother were supposed to be partners in crime and you totally let him go off on his own. You feel like you abandoned him and that keeps you up at night. 

Since your ways of coping are limited, you’re not proud to say you found an unhealthy way of relieving your pain. 

When you were first locked up, you would scream and kick the door that hid you from the rest of the world, begging for anyone in the house to let you go. Never did it work, but one time Rafe got extremely fed up and raced upstairs to make you shut up. You didn’t know it, but Rafe was on the verge of a breakdown himself. His dad complete shut him out as he tried to fix the damage he caused. He assumed Sarah was dead. And Barry basically owned him, making him do all his dirty work. Maybe he deserved it, but he didn’t live a luxurious life either despite living in Figure Eight.

You took a couple steps back when you heard heavy footsteps approaching your door. Rafe quickly undid the locks and barged in so fast that he almost knocked you down. 

“Oh my god. Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Rafe was breathing hard and quickly getting red in the face. You stumbled backwards, suddenly afraid of being alone with him. 

You sniffled. “I need to get out of here.”

“You’re not leaving.”

“Please, Rafe. You got to get me out of here. Please!” You never thought you’d be here, begging Rafe of all people for help. Yet here you were. With no other choices left.

Rafe paced the room and raked his fingers through his hair. “You do realize you're not the only one going through something, right?”

You swallowed back your tears and scoffed at the Kook in front of you. “Seriously? Your family is keeping me locked in here like some kind of zoo animal! My brother is dead -”

“Sarah is too!”

“But that’s not my fault!” You screamed. You pointed an accusatory finger in his direction. “That’s yours!” Rafe froze and turned to look at you. You didn’t know where you grew the balls to keep going but you did. “I know what you did. I know what your dad is trying to cover up. And he’s using my brother to do it.” You saw Rafe’s adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. “Why do you think your dad is keeping me locked in here?”

“Shit,” Rafe cursed. Now he knew why his dad gave him strict instructions to never come up to your room. He started shaking his his head and shaking in his skin. “I didn’t mean to - I - I - it happened so fast.”

You could go on and on about how Rafe would never be able to dig himself out of this hole. How he will never be able to convince you that he wasn’t guilty. But you didn’t. Because he’s the only one who could help you.

“Rafe, please,” You begged. “I won’t say anything. I just need to get out of here.”

Rafe sniffled back his own tears and fears and looked out the one window that looked out into the backyard of his home. He couldn’t let you go. He knew it was selfish, but he had to save himself. 

“I can’t,” Rafe said.

A new wave of tears hit you and you felt defeated. You fell back on your bed and cried into your hands, hunched over above your knees. 

“I’m sorry,” Rafe said, but his apology was as empty as you feel. 

“Just go,” You rubbed your eyes hard enough to see stars. 

You hear something light hit the bed next to you. “I know it’s not much. But this helps me get through all this messed up shit.”

When you didn’t look at him or whatever he gave you, he took that as a hint to leave and quietly left the room. You listened to each lock being fastened again, each one leaving a crack in your heart. 

Rafe offered you something you should have never taken. A small baggie filled with fine white powder. You should have never even considered it. Drugs were never your thing. You wouldn’t even smoke with JJ when he offered a hit of whatever he was smoking. But the idea of anything taking your pain away enticed you.

And that’s how you ended up here. Broken, alone, and craving something only Rafe could supply you with. Literally. He came around every so often, sliding a small baggie under the door for you. It was the closest thing you and Rafe had to a friendship. 

Today was particularly a bad day. It was dark and rainy outside and you remembered John B’s birthday should be quickly approaching. You missed him. God, did you miss him. You would do anything to hear his voice again or steal his clothes or go surfing in the ocean with him. 

You trudged out of bed towards your dresser that held a faint line of coke left over from yesterday. With a one dollar bill, you sniffed the rest of it up your nose and blinked back the sting of tears that pricked your eyes after you did it. A rush of energy sparked up your body, through your toes and up to your head. You immediately felt lighter and that the world was spinning a little faster. But with that rush came a surge of emotions. You went from being sad to being angry real fast. 

You hated Ward. You hated Shoupe. You hated this house.  You hated Kooks. You hated yourself. You hated everything about the Outer banks. You just wanted to leave. 

You find the closest thing to you, a small makeup mirror, and smash it against one of the locks on the door. You’ve done this hundreds of times and by now the door was scratched and bruised from your abuse, but you didn’t care. You didn’t feel the glass of the mirror slice into your skin as you continued to bang it on the metal lock. You didn’t care if Ward and the others heard you throwing another temper tantrum. You just wanted out.

When you felt the lock stumble to the side of the door, you froze in your place. You stared at the broken lock, wondering if this was all a dream or a hallucination from your high. “No fucking way,” You mumbled. You looked down at the door knob and repeated the same movements until the handle completely fell off and clattered to the floor. 

You dropped the mirror and stuck two fingers through the hole in the door where the door knob use to be. While holding your breath, you slowly pulled the door open and couldn’t believe when it moved without any hiccup. 

You never thought that you would get this far, and now that you were here, you didn’t know what to do. You felt scared. Cautiously, you stuck your head out to make sure no one was in the hallway. When the coast was clear, you tip toed throughout the house, listening to the eery silence that filled it. No one was home. 

When you passed Rafe’s room, you stopped. You were out of supply and you needed more. Rafe owed you anyway, you told yourself. So you ransacked his room. Found about four more small baggies and stuffed them in your pocket before leaving.

As you walk through the halls, you pass Ward’s office and paused. It was open and unlocked. Even before all this shit happened, you never remember it being this way. You didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was the adrenaline from another escape attempt or maybe it was the cocaine, but you walked yourself into that office and looked around. 

You cursed at all the accomplishments hanging on his wall, the trophies, and expensive relics of random shit. His desk was neat and orderly despite the major crime he was trying to cover up. You sat yourself in his chair, trying to imagine what it felt like to be him. Motherfucker probably felt like a king. 

You went through his drawers, thumbing through random files you had no business looking through - most of it work related stuff and banking information. You tucked that one in your pocket for later. 

Then you hear something thump against the drawer when you pull it out. A revolver. Small and silver. Cold against your fingertips. You breath hitched as you brought it up to your face. It felt like you were holding a bomb. An object that could change your life forever. Another fresh set of tears threatened to roll down your face but you shook them away. No. No more being sad. 

You shut the drawer hard and walked out with a couple new items in your possession.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The Pogues were spending another dreary day at The Wreck. The September sun might be out, but their spirits were down. Two of their best friends are dead and the other is trapped with two murderers. They were scared for you and have tried everything to get you back. They tried talking to the cops, they tried breaking her out. But each times the cops got in the way. They were running out of hope. At this point, they didn’t even know if they would ever see you again. They just hoped you were okay. They knew you tried escaping a few times and prayed that you would eventually get yourself out of there soon.

“JJ, you gotta eat,” Kie sighed as she watched JJ play with the fries in front of him. If anyone was handing it the worst, it was JJ. Both John B and Y/N were his best friends first. Hell, he was in love with Y/N. Had been since the sixth grade. One of his biggest regrets is that he never told you. Now he didn’t know if he ever would. 

“’M not hungry,” JJ mumbled. 

The door above the restaurant entrance rang as a couple of police officers walked in for their lunch break. The group of three glared at them as they walked in with their cocky stride and their hand resting on their tasers and guns as if everyone should be scared of them. 

“Fucking cops can’t do their goddamn job,” JJ sat back in his seat and flicked one of his fries down on the table. He hated them. More than he ever had. He couldn’t believe these people took an oath to protect this county. Fucking cowards, all of them. 

“Fucking assholes,” Kie said and watched her father approach them with a friendly smile. 

Pope snapped up when an idea popped into his head. “Sarah’s sister.”

“What?” Kie’s brows furrowed. 

“School starts next week,” Pope explained. “She’s starting high school, right? What if you tried talking to her? Maybe you can -”

Pope paused when he heard the sound of the police radios echoing off the walls from their belts. 

“Code10-92. Runaway teen last reported on Baker’s Street. Proceed with caution. Last seen wearing black sports shorts and a white tank. Suspect may be armed and dangerous.”

JJ’s head snapped back to his friends with his brows pinched together. Could this be you? Could you have made it out again? But what did armed and dangerous mean? That didn’t sound like you.

Shoupe radioed back to the station. “On our way.”

The officers dropped ten dollars in the tip jar before charging out the door to go to their vehicles. 

“We gotta go,” JJ stood up first and stuffed his phone and keys into his pocket. The other two nod and follow him out the door. If that call was about you, they wanted to find you before the cops did. “Okay. Kie, go home. She tried going to your house last time. Maybe she’ll try that again. Pope, go to Heyward’s. She trusts your dad. She might try to find him for help.”

“Where are you going to go?” Pope asked. 

“Everywhere else.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

You trudged through your old home with heavy feet. Nothing in there felt familiar to you - like it belonged to you in another life time. You first went to your room and stared at the girl in the mirror. You didn’t recognize her. Bones sticking out of your skin, dark bags under the eyes, and cracked lips and dry skin. 

Without thinking, you took the gun that’s still in your hand and smashed it against the glass, shattering it all around you. 

Ignoring the stinging in your hands from the shallow cuts on your skin, you moved on to the next room. Your brother’s room. It looked like a tornado made its way through here. Everything was tossed and turned from the police and FBI ransacking it during their search for John B. Nothing felt like it was John B’s anymore. Nothing felt private. And that pissed you off. 

Next you went to your dad’s office, somewhere you haven’t been since you found the compass. Even now, it felt like you weren’t supposed to be in here. If you believed in an afterlife, you would think your dad would be shaking his head at you. 

The office looked like John B’s room did. Whatever belonged to your dad now belonged to the state. The only things left were random files and belongings the police didn’t find of importance. But they were important to you. 

The first thing you found was a picture in a cracked frame of you, your dad, and your brother from when you were ten. Your dad was holding both of you as you blew out the candles on a birthday cake. Looking at the picture, you felt your heart being shredded apart. The picture only brought back pain and grief. You wanted that happiness back that ten year old you portrayed in that picture. But you can’t have it. Ever again.

A cry ripped through your throat as you chucked the picture across the room. From there, you went on a rampage, throwing and kicking anything that was in your way. You took one of the baggies out of your pocket and dumped it on the desk in front of you. Without any precision, you fixed the lines up with your finger and took a long whiff. You gripped the roots of your hair and tugged as you sobbed loudly and felt one of the biggest headaches explode in your brain. 

You paced back and forth in the office with the gun held in your shaky hands. You were mumbling to yourself about your options and how horrible of a sister and daughter you were for leaving your family behind. You wanted to see them. You wanted to be with them and prove to them you never meant to abandon them. 

You didn’t hear the door to the Chateau open or the sound of footsteps following your cries. It wasn’t until you heard his soft, delicate voice that you turned around and stared at your best friend with wide eyes and a startled expression. 

“Y/N...” JJ breathed out. He didn’t see the gun yet. He just saw you, crying and broken and not looking like the girl he knew only a few months ago. 

“What are you doing here?” He didn’t recognize your voice either. Hoarsed and scared. “You’re not supposed to be here!”

“The cops are looking for you! Okay? We need to get you out of here!”

“I’m not leaving!”

“What?” JJ looked at you like you grew two heads. “What are you talking about. We -”

“No! I said I’m not leaving! Agh!” Your hands flew up to your pulsating head and gripped at your hair again. The pounding in your head was excruciating and wouldn’t go away. Between the cocaine, your cries, and the exhaustion, you didn’t think it would ever go away. 

That’s when JJ saw the gun and took a shocking step back. His hands immediately flew up in surrender and he gulped down his nerves. Now he knew why the cops had called you armed and dangerous. Probably because Ward reported a stolen gun. JJ never knew you to be a violent person. It wasn’t in you. You couldn’t even hurt a fly. Which meant you didn’t steal this gun to hurt someone else. But probably...

Then his eyes flickered to the desk where he saw the reside of white powder next to an empty baggie. Now he was petrified because he didn’t know how to get through to you - if he even could get through to you.

“Y/N, baby. Put the gun down.”

“No,” You shook you head. “No, no, no. I need to see them. I need to see my dad and John B!”

“Y/n...”

“I should’ve gone with them. I should’ve - I - I didn’t mean to leave. I’m so-sorry, John B. I’m so sorry.” You were a mess. Tears and snot and running all over your red and puffy face. 

JJ kept looking between you and the gun. His only comfort was that he knew you didn’t know how to use it. You wouldn’t even touch the one he stole from Scooter Grubs. But that didn’t mean accidents couldn’t happen.

“I can’t do it anymore,” You continued. “I can’t go back there. I won’t. I won’t. I just want to see my dad.”

JJ took a hesitant step closer to you and nodded his head, keeping his hands up. “Okay. Okay. What if I helped you see your dad?”

“H-How?” You hiccuped. JJ didn’t know where he was going with this. He just knew he had to get that gun out of your hand. He took another step closer to you, but this one made you jump back. “No! No! Stay away!”

“Okay, okay!” JJ yelled back at you. “Hey. I’m here to help you, okay? Whatever you want to do.”

“I want to see them. I want to say sorry. I - I’m so sorry.”

“Y/N, they’re not mad at you-”

“I’m sorry, daddy, I -”

With you distracted, JJ took the opportunity to run at you and tackle you to the ground. He ignored the pang in his heart when he heard you cry harder, wondering if he hurt you, but he cared more about keeping you alive. He wrestled the gun out of your hands and quickly emptied the cartridge. He chucked the multiple pieces across the room and wrapped himself around your crumpled body.

“No! No!” You shrieked in JJ’s shoulder and gripped onto his shirt for dear life. “Please! Let me go!” 

JJ held on to your crumbling body as you wracked with sobs. Exhaustion quickly took over you as the adrenaline slowly vanished out of your system. Your throat was on fire from all the crying and the screaming. Your chest felt empty and your lungs heavy. All you wanted was to close your eyes and never open them again.

JJ couldn’t hold back his own silent tears as they ran down his cheeks. He hated seeing you like this. And he hated even more that he didn’t know how to help you.

“It’s going to be okay,” He said as he brushed the hair out of your face. He kissed the top of your head with his soft lips and kept mumbling into your head. “You’re going to be okay. I’m never leaving your side again. It’s going to be okay.”

He didn’t know if he was trying to convince you or himself. He jus knew he had to make you believe it.

About ten minutes later, he felt your body relax against his. When he found you fast asleep, he pulled out his phone and texted Kie to pick the two of you up. 

Until Kie got there, he stared at the delicate skin on your face with such admiration. Rage bubbled through this veins as the ideas of what you possibly went through in the that hell hole in Figure Eight. 

He knew it was going to be a long road to recovery. He knew there was a lot of fixing that needed to be done. But he made a promise that he will never let you out of his sights again. Because today was a close call. And he never wanted you to be that close to death ever again.

[localhornist]

Aaaaannnddd I got through my schoolwork! Somehow! Now, here’s the final day of @rosebird-week ‘s Rosebird week, AU Day! This one being part of an AU I’m working on fleshing out teh dream world of Ice Queendom. Enjoy!

Once more, the AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41962854

Snow crunched under hoof, dancing in the sky and shifting across the ground as the pair rode onwards, their horses plodding slowly through the deep white powder. Raven ran a hand through her bushy hair, shaking some of the flakes from its bushy form, though they were soon replaced by the slow, steady fall from the heavens. They’d been riding for ages, yet the blurry form of trees in the distance hadn’t gotten any closer. With this pace, there was no way they’d make it by sundown.

Summer seemed to have realised the same, looking around the blank expanse for options as she pulled her woollen cloak closer to her face. She seemed to come to the same conclusion, however, and turned to Raven. “We need to make camp. Soon.”

“Really,” Raven raised an eyebrow, regarding the sellsword with a mocking tone. “And how are we gonna do that, exactly? There’s quite literally nothing out here.”

Summer was quiet for a moment, as she continued to scan the landscape, leaving the bandit to stew and stare at the back of her head.

“We can build a Quinzhee,” she finally said, turning her horse toward a small patch of trees on the verge of collapsing from the bitter wind, leaving Raven to follow her in confusion. Once they arrived, she h0opped off her horse, stamping at the ground. “Yep. Here should be good.”

“Hey, the heck are we doing-” a finger to her face cut Raven off. “We are building a shelter. I need you to make up some guide sticks, about a foot long, the same length for all of them. Get as many as you can, okay?” Not waiting for an answer, Summer went to work, pulling a shovel from one of the two baggage horses. Raven just shrugged and obliged. Clearly, the woman had a plan. She fetched her knife from her own baggage horse and trudged over to the various saplings, trees and shrubbery. And she got to work.

When she returned, she was proven right. Summer has begun creating a mound of snow, and as soon as Raven arrived, she began directing her on digging up snow, as Summer mixed the top and bottom layers of snow together and packed them onto the pile, eventually creating a mound of about 7 feet high, and 13 feet wide, along with a small mound to the side of the structure. Satisfied, Summer then had Raven help her push the sticks into the mound.

“Okay,” Raven took a few steps back, cocking her head as she regarded the structure. “Now what?”

“Now, we let it sinter.”

“The huh?”

“Sinter. The snow needs time to bind and compact,m so its strong enough to sleep under.”

“Okay. How long.”

“Eh, 2 hours-ish.” Summer ignored Raven’s agape expression, making her way over the horses who were idling around. “Get us some firewood from those trees, I’ll deal with the horses.” Once again, there was no room for arguing. Raven just grumbled to herself, grabbed her Messer, and got to work. Soon, they had fed and clothed horses, a warm fire, and meat roasting on it. The two sat opposite one another, Raven turning the meat as Summer just stared into the fire, both wrapped up in woollen cloaks. All as the sun began to kiss the horizon, the sky growing dark in shades of orange, pink and purple.

“So,” Raven began, placing the stick of meat down. “Wha’s’ the plan for tomorrow?”

Summer tapped her chin for a moment. “Well, this shelter will only be for the night. Once dawn breaks, we’ll set off as before. Once we finally reach Katrivia, we can start looking for leads.”

“Right. So just as before.”

“Yeah.”

Silence fell again, and Raven began to sort out the food, handing Summer a skewer and eating her own, before setting up a set of new ones.

…

“So what’s your favourite colour?”

Summer raised an eyebrow at the question, making Raven blush. “What? I’m tryin’ to make conversation, I don’t like-”

“White.”

“Ok. Okay.”

…

“What’s your favourite food, Rae?”

Raven tapped her chin, pondering the question hard. “Hmm. I’d have to say… a nice slab of mutton. With some really nice potatoes, roasted. And gravy, loads of gravy.” Summer chuckled at her answer, making Raven scowl. “Hey, wha’s funny?”

“I just expected it to be insects, given your name.”

“Hey! I’m not a bloody bird.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I think your choice suits you more, anyway.” That seemed to satisfy Raven, as she slumped back with a “hmph”, resting on her large fur and feather cloak. This time, Summer passed the food round, and placed on the last of their skewers,

“I think it’s your turn to ask a question, isn’t it?”

Raven nodded, thinking. “How about… why’d you become a sellsword?”

“Ooo, that’s actually kinda simple. My parents both were, so it seemed the most obvious thing to go into, having lived around the job my whole life. Only thing that really would’ve stopped me was Ruby.”

“Your daughter?”

“Yeah. She means the world to me. I think if I hadn’t gotten a permanent job as a huntsman for Vale city, I might’ve put up my weapon for good. I, I didn’t really want her to grow up around that job. I managed to, sure, but… I didn’t want her limited by it. I wanted her to be more than that life, more than I could be.” She chuckled bitterly, spinning one of the skewers. “I guess I kinda failed, didn't I?”

“Hey, no, you didn’t!” Raven sat up again, leaning forward to look at Summer better. “The fact you’re in this bloody hellscape proves that. So many other parents wouldn’t go to anywhere near these lengths to find their kids.” Summer hummed, nodding her head.

“Well, what about you? Yang’s your daughter's name, right?” That made Raven grab her cloak hard, letting silence fall between them, like a sudden wall of ice. “I-I’m sorry, that's probably personal, isn’t it? I’ll ask something else-”

“No.” Raven put her hand up. “No, it’s fine. It’s only the same as what I asked, I owe you an answer.” Summer gulped, but didn’t object.

“I… didn't break any cycle, as you did. I raised her like a Branwen, as anyone else in the clan would. And well… I think she resents me for that. Cause in a tribe like mine, things like personal connection, hell jus’ caring… they’re seen as weak. And Yang, well… that firecracker didn't like that. She thought we shouldn’t just rule over the weak, but protect them too. Help them become strong too, not jus’ sit in our lil’ camp in the woods. And that meant we butted heads, hell she butted heads with everyone. And one day, well…

She left. So I’m out here, lookin’ for her. But it’s been a while, and… well, I doubt she actually thinks I’m lookin’ for her.”

…

“I disagree.”

“Hmm?”

“I think she knows you’re out here. Looking for her. Because if you were really like how you said, you wouldn’t be. You’d still be at that camp, looking after yourself. Deep down, you want to keep her safe. Protect her. And yes, that didn’t manifest in the greatest of ways, but that’s still why you did it. And seeing as Yang’s made it this far, presumably with just Ruby, who I know certainly isn’t some wonder woman with a weapon, she’s clearly attentive. So she will have noticed why you did it. And I bet she’ll be waiting. No, I know she will be.”

For another time, silence fell between them, only broken by the spitting of the fire and the whistling of the wind. The sun was dropping further, however, so they needed to use what little light they had left. Summer stood, offering a hand to Raven. 

“Come on then. We need this thing dug out before light. It should be all good now.” Raven took a moment, before she grabbed Summer’s hand, nodding.

They’d find their daughters. No matter what.

[agorejessstone]

Duskwood: Return to the Forest

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE BUT SOME SPOILERS EP 1 - 10

You stand near the entrance of the Aurora Bar, waiting for the arrival of your friends.  It’s been several months since the group managed to free Hannah and save Richy, from the man without a face. You shiver and run your hands over your arms to stay warm. Jake had been missing for the duration of the time between now, and then, so you were shocked when he asked you all to meet with him. You’d worn your best outfit, something you kept locked away for special trips out with friends, and rarely worn. An off-the-shoulder, bodycon dress, that gripped tightly to your every curve, in a dark midnight blue, with a flowing offset sleeve on one side. The hem of the skirt clung several inches above each knee, sliding around on your thighs. Your heels pushed your height to new levels, and your hair fell over your shoulders. You’d been preparing for this day for the past six months.

“Wow.” A voice startles you out of your thoughts as you use the darkened glass to rearrange your hair and check your makeup.

Wheeling around, you see Richy standing there, his mouth hanging open, arms linked with Jessy.

“Wow indeed.” Jessy agrees.

“Oh, stop it.” Your face goes hot as you roll your eyes, “Where is everyone?”

“They’ll be here,” Richy checks the time on his wristwatch, “Any second now…”

“Holy…” You hear another voice, but this time, it comes from within the bar.

You spin back to face it, and Phil stands with a bar towel in his idle hands, “You look absolutely…”

Your face is red, and you are so embarrassed you want to run away, but you know better than to give in to his advances. The slightest show of weakness, and he’ll pounce. You opt to thank him, brushing your hair behind your ears and avoiding his gaze.

“Should we go inside?” You avoid any more unnecessary compliments and push past Phil as he holds the door for you.

You find your way to a long table near the back of the bar, reserved for your group. You settle in, and order drinks for those who have joined you already. You wait patiently, staring towards the door at intervals, trying not to let your nerves get the best of you.

You think back to that day, by the river’s edge, when you last saw Jake. You were hopeful that he’d return to you but instead, he vanished into thin air. He wouldn’t return your calls and your inbox remained empty; despite the daily messages you sent. You swirled your drink with your straw as you sipped gingerly, your thoughts elsewhere.

The music was loud, drowning out the conversations of others. Jessy and Richy decided to play a round of pool, leaving you at the table alone. Slowly, but surely, they arrived, mostly in pairs. You found yourself laughing and drinking for a time before your thoughts returned to the reason you were here in the first place.

A panting, sweating Lilly sinks into the chair next to you, downing a beverage, “Where’s Jake?” She asks quietly.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing.” You try to remain calm, but you can’t help but wonder why he hasn’t arrived yet. Was he even coming?

“He’ll be here.” She pats your shoulder and returns to dancing the night away with the others.

You find yourself staring out of the tinted glass windows, into the darkness beyond. You long to see him. You want to face him, ask him where he went and how he’s been. For a time, you were angry, scared, and worried, but eventually that all gave way to something more. You loved him desperately, but you were concerned for his safety. Assuming he’d disappeared for good reason, you resorted to lying in wait, praying to whatever god might exist, that he was safe and happy, even if you were not.

You bring your glass to your lips and drain it, letting your eyes fall shut and your mind go blank. When you open your eyes, you nearly jump out of your skin. Just outside the window stands a tall, lanky man, in a black hoodie, ripped-up jeans, and high-top sneakers. Your mind races. Is that Jake?

You move to stand, nearly knocking over several chairs as you race towards the exit, ignoring the shouts from your friends. You vaguely hear Jessy murmur Jake’s name, and the calls stop. You push the door open and the cold night air whips past you, throwing your hair into your lips.

“Jake?” You call quietly, hoping not to startle him or worse, embarrass yourself if it’s not him at all.

He spins around at the sound of your voice, startled, “You…” He stands stock-still as his eyes run over your body, “You came.” A small smile graces his lips as he makes his way toward you, shaking himself from his thoughts, “And you look incredible.”

He reaches his hands out to you, but stops, letting them fall away just they reach your hips. He sighs taking a few steps back. You frown, wondering why he is hesitating.

“Is… Did I do something wrong?” You ask quietly.

“No! It’s just… we haven’t spoken in so long. I was afraid maybe,” He stops and chews his lip, “I thought you might have moved on.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you think about the implications of his words. Emotions flow through you, one at a time. Anger, fear, sadness, and regret. Had you not made it clear enough that you would wait for him? Why would he even suggest that you would be able to “move on”?

“Jake…” Your heels clack against the pavement as you approach him slowly, “You know I could never, would never, just forget about you. Move on? Is that supposed to be a joke? Did you not see the messages I sent?”

His eyes catch your heels as they enter his view, slowly lifting his head, admiring every inch of you, committing it to memory, “I just want you to be happy. If that means without me, I’m ready to….”

You place your finger over his lips, “Stop.”

His hand jolts up, snatching you by the wrist, “You mean…”

You nod, biting your lip. “I’m single and ready to… well not mingle.” You laugh at your joke.

He pulls you into his chest and wraps his long arms around you. You stumble on your heels, a little tipsy from nursing beverages. “I love you.” He whispers against the top of your head.

“Jake.” You want to respond, but he doesn’t give you time.

His lips crash into yours, his arms suffocate you. You don’t struggle; however, you feel warmth, comfort, and stability in his touch. After a few moments, you realize that someone within the bar might be watching and break away from his kiss.

“We should go inside. The others have been waiting for you.” You offer him your hand and he takes it, following you inside.

He helps you maneuver between the tight tables, steadying you. You sit down and he sits next to you. It doesn’t take long for the others to notice his arrival, including Phil, who brings him a drink. After the basic catching up and follow-up questions, Jake launches into the reason he’s asked you all there.

“Alan helped me clear my record, and he’s done a bit more than that.” He smiles warmly at you, his hand on your thigh beneath the table, “I have my private investigation certification!”

There’s a brief silence before Lilly pipes up, “Does that mean you’ll be opening your own agency then?”

Jake nods once, turning to face you, “I was hoping WE could open it together?” He waits nervously for your reply.

“Jake, I don’t know what to say.”

“Richy claps you on the shoulder, “You say yes of course!” He smiles brightly at you, reaching for his glass, “To Jake and new beginnings!”

“To Jake!” The table responds by draining their glasses.

“I guess now that’s out of the way, we can celebrate!” Hannah says as she waves Phil over to the table, “Next rounds on me!”

You smile warmly at your friends as they offer up their wallets round after round. At some point, you make your way to the dance floor, and the crowd begins to thin. It’s still early, but only the real warriors remain. Jake, cheeks flushed and more talkative than usual, makes his way towards you.

He moves between you and Jessy as the music slows, “Can I steal her for a moment?” He asks her gently.

“Sure, Jake and congrats again!” She brushes past you with a subtle wink.

Jake offers up his hand, “May I?” You take it, letting him pull you into a warm embrace.

You wrap your arms around his neck and sway easily to the music. His eyes bore holes as he presses himself against you. Your dress slides up as fabric connects, and you feel his arms drop past your hips. He tugs on the fabric slightly.

“Thanks.” Mumble as you lean your head against his chest.

“No need to thank me. I was being selfish, not wanting to share and all.”

You smile as you nuzzle into his neck. He kisses the top of your head softly, tightening his grip around your waist. The music seems to slow as the world around you melts away. As if it’s only the two of you, Jake pulls back ever so slightly, and you feel one of his hands leave your hip. It travels slowly up your side until it makes its way to your face, tilting your chin upward.

“Jake?” You say his name without thought.

“God, I love it when you call my name.” His eyes sparkle, but there is a hint of darkness in their depths, “I’ve been meaning to do this all night. Properly anyhow.”

He holds your face in place as he slowly brings his lips to yours. Methodically, he moves them against yours in a soft, yet strangely sensual manner. Your heart beats wildly, before settling in your chest. Your knees threaten to betray you, weakening with every brush of his lips. You part your mouth encouraging him to drink you in. He tastes of lime with a hint of salt, an indication that he’s been enjoying shots while you’ve been dancing the night away. His hands are soft, and he smells like heaven, something you’d never thought to associate with Jake. His status as a criminal and outlaw often meant he didn’t take care of himself. The signs were there. He’d been preparing for this moment for some time, bettering himself and his environment. Was it for all for you?

After what feels like an eternity, the song changes, and the beating of the bass resumes. Instead of leaving you to your devices, Jake playfully twirls you away from him, spinning you back into his arms. Jessy joins you, encouraging you to down drink after drink until you find yourself removing your heels, and tossing them into your bag. Your feet are dirty, you reek of booze, but you’ve never had more fun in Duskwood. A time later, Phil flips off the open sign and approaches your table.

“Don’t run off just yet!” He gives you a knowing look, “I had to work! I want to have a drink with you before we depart, and I have something for our little hacker friend here.”

“Me?” Jake points both thumbs at himself, “I mean, you left my girlfriend alone for six months. If you’ve got something else to add it’s just a bonus.” He winks at you and the table erupts in giggles.

“Feisty when he’s drunk isn’t he?” Dan claps him on the shoulder encouragingly, “I think I like this version of Hackerman.”

“Don’t encourage him, Dan.” Cleo rolls her eyes.

“I appreciate your thanks, but that’s not it.” He reaches inside his pocket and retrieves a pair of keys, “Let’s just say, thanks to you, the horror show ended, and the bar is doing better than ever. I was able to invest in a property, and it’s all yours.” He tosses the keys at Jake who deftly catches them.

“What?” He stares down at the keys in silence.

“I heard a rumor that you might be returning. I know you’ve been living out of hotels for eons so,” He pauses and looks around at the table, “We found the perfect spot. The ground floor is an office space, and the top is a flat!”

“Phil I couldn’t possibly afford…” Jake starts.

“That’s where we come in.” Richy takes over, “I managed to find a vehicle in the junkyard, well several really, and throw together something for you. Should it ever need repairs or maintenance, it’s on the house. You saved my life. It was the least I could do.” He smiles broadly, retrieving another set of keys.

“And as far as the rent goes,” Lilly pulls Hannah into a hug, “Your sisters got you covered.”

“We didn’t feel right about what happened, to your mom, and how our father treated you. We agreed to keep his secret, but only for a price.” She winks at Jake.

“Meaning?” Jake asks quietly.

“Meaning your rent for both buildings has been paid for the year.” Phil skips back to the bar and grabs something, bringing it back to the table. He slides a piece of paper toward Jake. “All you have to do is sign here.” He taps a line near the bottom.

“Oh, and don’t worry about food or furniture.” Cleo leans in, “Dan helped us move it all in since he’s feeling better now.” She punches his shoulder.

“Cleo and her mom’s church group funded the pantry and fridge, as well as the furniture.” Dan shoves her back playfully.

Jake’s face was forged between shock and awe. “I don’t know what to say.”

Thomas, who had been quiet until now, spoke up, “You tell me what equipment you need to open that agency. The last step is getting the office set up. Your wonderful girlfriend sold everything she owned, cashed out her savings and stocks, and moved here, to wait for your ass. I’ve been investing and adding what I could as well. Let’s just say, even without my contributions, she’s already done enough.”

“How did you know I’d be coming back?” Jake asks quietly.

“To be honest, most of us didn’t know anything. Phil must have had an inside lead he kept to himself.” You eye Phil suspiciously, “We just figured that if you came back, you’d need to start over, and we wanted to repay you by helping.”

“You just wagered I’d return and planned all this?” Jake arches an eyebrow at you.

“Something like that.” You wink as you link the keys together and hand them back to him. “Please, accept these.”

Jake takes the keys from you with his hands shaking slightly, “I just….” His eyes are misty, even in the darkness, you can see he is overwhelmed.

“You don’t have to say anything now.” You rub his back, “It’s something we wanted to do, and what better time to do it than now!  We’re just happy we thought this far ahead.”

“Sorry that this sort of killed the hype mood and everything, but I figured you’d want to check the place out.” Phil takes a pen from his breast pocket and clicks it, “Just sign this sucker, and she’ll take you there.” He leaves the pen on the table and turns to leave.

“Hey, Phil.” Jake calls after him, “Thanks, man.” He smiles warmly.

“No problem, brother!”

After a few more drinks with Phil, Jake leans over and whispers in your ear, “I think it’s time to head out.”

You say your goodbyes, leaving the Aroura. You take his hand and lead him through the streets barefoot. You hiccup slightly, tipsy.

“I hope there are snacks.” You think about the pantry and its contents. “I was not in charge of the food, but I trust Cleo on that.” You swing his arm as you walk.

“Please be careful. I wish you’d wear shoes. You could cut your feet.” Jake’s tone shifts to worried as he realizes you’re now six inches shorter.

“If you’re so worried; carry me!” You twirl behind him and jump on his back.

With little effort, he hoists you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He catches you as you wrap your arms around his neck and tap your hands against his chest.

He smiles over his shoulder at you, shaking his head, “Are you always like this when you drink?” He stumbles under your weight a little as he tried to reorient himself.

“Are YOU always like this when you’re drunk?” You mock him.

You both laugh loudly. As you round the corner and face the building just off the main street, Jake lowers you to the ground, his eyes wide.

“This is it?” He stands in awe.

An old, rustic brick building, with brass doors and a large bay window, stands before you. Fragrant flowers in large terra cotta pots sit on either side of the doors, and long beds of flowers beneath the windows. An antique bell rings as he puts the keys into the door and slides it open. He looks up, admiring the gold and black accent that it hangs from.

A large reception desk welcomes you inside. A gold nameplate states your name in bold, black letters. A door tucked away to the left of the desk leads to a narrow hallway. Inside, a small washroom, and near the back, another door leads to the alley. Just beyond, the van Richy spent months working on. On the right of the reception desk, another door leads into a conference room. Boxed off near the back corner, an office, Jake’s name stamped on the frosted glass.

“Have you thought of a name yet?” You ask Jake.

“I haven’t. I was hoping you’d think of something.”

You smirk up at him, grabbing his hand, “Follow me!”

You drag him along into the office, a large wooden desk in the middle, bookcases piled high with books line the walls. Large, comfortable-looking black and gold accented armchairs sit in the corners, waiting for your first customers. You push him down into one of the chairs and round the desk.

“What are you hiding?” Jake cocks a half-smile at you.

Covering the entirety of the desktop, a square item lay covered in black fabric. You hold your breath as you unveil it, waiting for Jake to respond. Beneath the cloth lay a large, black-backed sign, with golden trim, with the words “Nym-os P-EYE” Etched on its surface. O in Nym-os, a bright red eye, resembling the icon of the application Jake used to protect you. Beneath the large letters, in smaller cursive: “Solving problems, one secret at a time.”

Jake moves to stand next to you, running his hand over the plate. You hold your breath in anticipation.

He says nothing, so finally, you speak up. “Is it too much?”

His head jerks to the side, “It’s perfect. I’m just… Overwhelmed.”

“Good or bad overwhelmed.” You wait for his answer.

“Good.” He smiles over at you.

“We can make changes to its design. Whatever you want.”

“I think I’d like to go upstairs now.” You catch a glimpse of something in his eyes, but he looks away quickly. “How do we get there?”

You giggle, and lead him out of the office, shutting off the lights as you go. You round the reception desk and make your way to the narrow hall, locking the doors behind you. You find yourself in the alley, staring at the surveillance van.

“We can look at that when the sun comes up,” Jake says quietly.

“You’re tired. I’m sorry.” You apologize and lead him towards a set of stairs going up on the back of the building.

“It’s not that.” He bites his lip, avoiding your gaze.

You’re a bit confused, but whatever he needs, you’re prepared to provide. You make your way up the old, iron stairs, recently painted in black. They sway slightly as you grip the railing, suddenly very happy you aren’t still wearing your heels.

You hold your hand out, and Jake gingerly places the keys inside. You fumble in the darkness for a moment, before gaining entry to the second-floor flat. You swing the door open and click on the lights. The entryway greets you, with tall ceilings and an open floor plan. Blue-grey wood floors, heated and warm, welcome you inside. An industrialized modern kitchen is your first stop, beyond which is an open living space, with a large, blue-grey stone fireplace. A fluffy rug and white and grey loveseat fill the space, with an iron industrial coffee table and two end chairs at each side. Jake runs his hands over the grey marble countertops, and the backs of the breakfast bar chairs, as he makes his way to the living area.

You set your bag down on the coffee table and throw your hands up, spinning in a quick circle. “Isn’t it wonderful?” You smile at him.

“It’s…” He seems to be at a loss.

A faint sound comes from the back of the house, jolting you out of your thoughts. For a moment, your brain screams intruder, but then you remember the biggest surprise of all. You pretend to have heard nothing, showing him the guest bathroom before moving on to the bedroom. You hover your hand over the doorknob.

“Jake, uhm. Can I ask you something?”

Jake nods, “Anything.”

“Did you have to give Nymos up for adoption?”

Jakes’s face falls and he looks at his feet, “I didn’t have any business owning a cat, being virtually homeless and all.”

You smile as you turn the knob to the bedroom and something white and fluffy rushes past your feet, launching itself into Jakes’ arms. You lean into the frame of the door and watch as Jake bursts into tears, his resolve crumbling completely.

“Nymos! Is that… Is that you?!” His voice goes from deep, to shrill as he begins to cradle the kitten, “Awe, who’s my baby fluffy butt! Have you missed daddy? I’m sorry bud! I had to take care of some things.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Welcome home, Jake.” You gesture at the large, king-size bed, its antique wrought iron frame painted black and beautiful matching dresser. A large, cat tower stands next to a pair of black-framed glass doors. Off to the side, is a master bath with a large marble shower, antique clawfoot tub, and couples’ sinks. Jake takes in the sights, never letting Nymos out of his grasp, that is until he starts to get bored and nips his hands. He gently sets him down on the bed, in a spot that’s been marked by his fur.

“What’s out there?” He points to the double doors.

“Want to see?” You grab his hand and drag him to the doors, unlocking them.

Just beyond is a small porch, overlooking the fountain in the center of the city. Ivy hangs from the timber; painted black to match the esthetic. Black wicker furniture sits against the brick wall, a small fire pit in its center. Clinging to one side, a rickety, but stable fire escape leads upward.

He points to the fire escape, “That doesn’t look very safe.”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of heights.” You giggle as you make your way toward the stairs.

“Never.” He smirks as he follows you up the ladder.

When you reach the top, you’re on the roof, string lights hang from four posts, and in the center, a small garden full of fresh fruit and vegetables.

“Whoa.” Jake gasps in surprise.

“I had to have a space for myself.” You smile brightly, “It’s just a hobby.”

Jake wraps his arms around your waist, “It’s beautiful.” He kisses the top of your head.

“I know.” You say confidently.

He sighs “It’s perfect, but I have one question.” He turns you to face him.

“Where are you staying?” You say before he has a chance to ask. “Where do you think?”

“Oh, thank god.” Jake exhales loudly.

You giggle into the palm of your hand, “Yep. Do you think I was going to help with the renovations and put effort into these plants just for you to murder them within a week? I had to bribe the new owners to let me take Nymos back too. That cat tower alone cost me hundreds. Don’t think I won’t be reaping the benefits right alongside you.” You move closer to him, cupping his cheek. “Besides, I need to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. That includes not getting enough sleep, eating only junk food and takeout, and doing things you shouldn’t do with your talents. What better way to do that than to spend every moment with you?” You stand on your tiptoes and kiss him.

He sighs as he returns the kiss, lifting you off your feet. You enjoy each other for a few moments before realizing the sun has begun to rise, and you’d better get some sleep. You follow him inside and climb into bed. Nymos snuggles up between you, purring as Jake runs his hands over his fur. You’re a bit jealous, but more than anything, you are just happy to have him back.

 “Welcome home, Jake.” You whisper just before drifting to sleep.

[nothing-but-dreamy]

BLACK TIE

A/N: Thanks again for this idea @mindlessstories

I hope you have fun with it

Pairing: LEON KENNEDY x READER

Words: 1.736

Warnings: fluff, cursing, Leon in a suit

Synopsis: Yn and Leon are on a mission with fancy clothes. But somehow the mission is not the most interesting thing...

"W-What the bloody... What are you wearing?", Yn asked as she checked the appearance of the man in front of her. The guy was neatly dressed in a white suit shirt, black suit pants and a black jacket. Even a black tie was bound around the man’s neck. Quickly, Yn checked the number of the hotel room once again in fear she had mistaken it and might stand in front of some stranger. No, it was the right room and actually, it was also the right guy. It was just … even if it was part of the mission, Leon S. Kennedy had swapped his typical, casual leather jacket with a tuxedo. It was a sight for sore eyes. Unusually and at the same time, perfectly fitting as if Leon would be some kind of secret undercover supermodel instead of an agent.

Leon, amused about Yn’s big eyes and astonished expression, chuckled and stepped aside, letting his partner in who was still watching him as if he would be an alien. A handsome one but still. Leon closed the door, "It's a tuxedo. That's what you wear on a bow and tie event.", he explained and watched how Yn rolled with her eyes.

“I know what it is but to see you in it… and by the way! Black Tie, Kennedy! It’s called Black Tie! And not ‘bow and tie’.”, Yn explained for maybe the hundredth time since they both got assigned to this secret mission. In fact, the job was easy. A rich weapons dealer had started to ‘extend’ his sortiment with some BOWs. His business was flourishing. But instead of just catching him, Yn and Leon had decided it would be better to bug the dealer to get information about his clients as well. Therefore, they were able to dig out the whole nest.

“I don’t care what these events are called. They’re all the same. It’s just to show off how rich and important everyone is.”, Leon said and leant with crossed arms against the doorframe.

“I know how much you hate these things.”, Yn said, grabbed her bag and aimed for the bathroom to change her outfit as well, “But I have to admit, you look good in this tuxedo. It suits you.”, she said through the half closed door.

Leon smirked, “Oh, really? You know, maybe you could show me how much you like my outfit?”, he asked flirtatiously.

Yn opened the door again and stepped out, “Focus on the mission, Kennedy.”

Leon was hearing her words but his mind went kinda blank as he saw her robed in a floor-length, backless, black dress. The silky-soft fabric hugged all her curves perfectly and gave much input for many, many x-rated fantasies. Slowly, Leon’s eyes wandered upwards until he met her challenging glance. Slowly, he stepped forward with a smirk, “I might hate these events but I could get used to seeing you working in such a stunning outfit.”, Leon said low.

Yn saw dirty thoughts glittering behind his steel-blue eyes and smirked, “Take a picture, it might last longer. Come, we have to go.”, she said, passed Leon and knew that he was staring at her back all the way.

**

Thirty minutes later, Yn and Leon were entering a huge, pompous decorated ballroom. Chandeliers bathed the room in dim, atmospheric light. Soft jazz music played in the background. And obviously a whole diamond mine had exploded because it was sparkling and twinkling in each corner. The room was filled with high-society and in the middle of it two special agents who tried to fit into this kind of world.

“Shall we split up?”, Leon asked low.

Still with a wealthy smile on her lips, Yn shook her head, “Let us take a round together and then, if necessary, we split up.”, she said and linked her arm with Leon’s.

The idea had been good but quickly, they had to admit that the room was too stuffed with people. And because they searched for a guy, and everyone looked kinda the same in their black suits, they had difficulties finding their subject.

Evading into a quiet corner, Yn looked up at Leon, “That’s not working. There are too many people here. Alright, we split up. I walk around a bit. You could monitor the guys who are without women like the group over there at the bar.”, she said and nodded unobtrusively into the said direction while putting a small intercom into her ear to activate it and gave Leon the other earpiece who mirrored her move. With a serious expression, her eyes met Leon’s, “If one of us finds him, the other one comes to the position.”, she said and was about to leave.

Leon held her back, “Be careful, okay?”, he said and looked her caringly but serious in the eyes.

She smirked, “Of course. I’m not the one with the reckless moves like fighting against infected dogs on a motorbike.”, and with that, she stepped back to vanish in the crowd.

Leon chuckled about her boldness and shook his head before he followed her idea to aim for the bar. He ordered a drink and while waiting for it, Leon looked left and right to check out the people around him if their target would be with them. Leon was just about to check an older man with salt-and-pepper hair as fragments of a conversation waved over to him, catching his attention.

“These women are all the same. Rich, wealthy and absolutely boring.”, one tall man said before taking a sip of his Whiskey.

“Yeah, or ugly. I mean, how many surgeries are really necessary? I get the impression that all these women here are just made out of plastic and silicone.”, another man said. He was a bit smaller than the first one.

Leon was just about to leave as the third guy said something that caught his attention to the point that he fully turned over to them, “You might be right except with this pretty thing over there. What? None of you haven’t seen her yet? Okay, then, she’s mine.”, the guy said and let it sound as if the woman was just a piece of meat and he was the lion to hunt it down.

Leon knew he had to focus on the mission and he really was about to leave the group of idiots behind but then, he noticed the way how the guy looked at the unaware victim. It was a lust filled glance that even Leon felt disgusted by the sight. The guy was pretty sure about himself that he would be successful to win the woman over this evening. The guy, tall, dark haired and looking like a lot of money, licked over his lips while his eyes showed that he looked at a point that was lower than the woman’s waist. Now more interested in who the innocent lamb might be, Leon followed the guy’s glance and felt how his blood ran hot and cold at the same time.

Yn stood there, talking with an older lady and facing the group of guys with her back. The dress gave a beautiful sight of her flawless skin. While she talked, her body moved beautifully and she even swayed a bit to the soft tune of the music so that her hair fell over her bare back, dancing a little through the air.

“You can’t have her! I saw her first. I just couldn’t say anything because I became speechless by her eyes.”, the first, tall guy said.

“By her eyes? Forget them! Look at her god damn ass. So round and juicy.”, the guy said and his eyes became filled with raw, sexual hunger.

That was enough for Leon to forget the mission for a moment as he walked over to the group, “I couldn’t miss hearing how you were talking about this young lady.” Leon said low, getting the attention of all three men at the same time, “Stay away from her. All of you. Or otherwise, things will turn ugly.”, he said with a kind of threat lingering in his voice.

One of the men stepped closer to Leon, slightly towering over the agent and looking down, “Who do you think you are, huh? Nothing we do is your concern.”

Not impressed at all, Leon stepped forward, holding the man’s glance, “She’s mine, get it? Therefore, yes, it concerns me how you are talking about her. So, do yourself a favor and stay away from her or I will become your worst nightmare. And trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”, Leon said threateningly, leaving no room for any further arguments.

The guy stared at Leon for several more moments and considered his best next step but in the end, the guy saw something in Leon’s eyes that told him to better back off. And after another few seconds, the guy stepped back, nodded to his friends and disappeared somewhere else.

Leon went back to his drink and emptied it in one big sip. As he placed the glass back on the counter, Yn stood already next to him, leaning against the bar with a smirk on her lips, "So, I'm yours, huh?", she asked low.

With a shock filled glance, he stared at her and swallowed thickly, "Oh, uhm... Well... I- I didn't like the way he looked at you.", he stammered with an apologetic glance.

Yn nodded, "Yes, I heard that.”, she said, tapping at her ear with her index finger to remind him of the intercom. As Yn saw his awkward smile, she stepped forward, “You know, to see you jealous and protective was kinda cute. But it was unnecessary, don't you think? I'm not your girlfriend."

Leon also stepped forward, a smirk was playing on his lips while he snaked his arm around her waist to bring her even closer, "Actually, we're just one date away that I can call you mine."

"Oh, really? Then, I would say we count this evening as a date, what do you think?", Yn suggested whispering against his lips which were just inches away.

"Deal.", Leon breathed before he kissed her. It was a deep kiss. Filled with hunger to show off to whom Yn belonged to. Yn tugged on his suit jacket to bring him even closer, knowing exactly where these clothes would land later this evening…