#then over the wall of a creepy estate

[diver5ion]

[hiiikiko]

𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕖’𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕕𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕞

ellie w. x reader | tlou m.list

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[a/n: please take this for now bc im too lazy to write]

𖥸 ellie’s bedroom smells like pine, her cologne, cotton, and a little bit of weed

𖥸 her room is a little messy but not in a ‘clothes on the floor, open food, or trash all over the floor’ type of way but it’s just cluttered, there’s balled up notebook paper littered around her trashcan, a undumped ash tray by her window, clothes strewn all over her bed, and stacks of paper of various origins, her bed is rarely ever made (she only makes it when she knows you’re coming over)

𖥸 her walls are covered with posters of bands, astronauts, planets, and superheroes, next to the posters are pictures of you, jesse, dina, and joel

𖥸 ellie is a nerd, there’s no denying it, so she has multiple figurines of her favourite superheroes, anime characters, and video game characters

𖥸 she also has models of various spaceships, figurines that she and joel had spent hours on

𖥸 she gets a little embarrassed about her figurines when you come over, trying to divert your attention but once she realizes you don’t care if she’s a nerd, she’ll tell you the story of each character and tell you about how her and joel had stayed up one night to finish a model of a spaceship and when they were so close to finishing, they realized they had no glue and left to the nearest gas station at 3 in the morning to find a tube of krazy glue

𖥸 her guitar rests in a corner of her room next to her music collection, she has vinyl, cassette, and cds (she sometimes buy an album in all three because she likes to compare the listening experience)

𖥸 she is very proud of her collection, showing it off to you as much as possible and MAYBE even letting you borrow some (she thoroughly inspects them every time you bring them back)

𖥸 shes even made you cds but she’s too shy to give them to you so for now, they sit in a pile behind her display until she’ll eventually work up the nerve to give them to you

𖥸 her closet is completely packed with flannels, band tees, and her never ending collection of converse

𖥸 a lot of her clothes were actually hand me downs from when joel was a teenager

𖥸 her clothes smell like her, cologne, weed, ink, and smoke, it’s a soothing scent

𖥸 whenever she knows you’re coming over, she grabs all the clothes on her bed and shoves them into her closet, praying you won’t look in there

𖥸 her desk is littered with more crumpled up pieces of paper, little dinosaur figurines from the time she and joel went to a museum, doodles, and notebooks full of notes about space, science, and you

𖥸 her desk is almost like a visual representation of her mind, messy, cluttered, artistic, and nerdy

𖥸 she’s a collector! we all know this, under her bed she has countless boxes of ‘stuff’

𖥸 she has a box full of comic books and trading cards

𖥸 a box full of pins of space things, superhero’s, video games, etc etc (she changes the pins on her backpack every week, she is ESTATIC when you notice)

𖥸 she also has a box of stuff you gave her (notes, doodles, pics, bracelets, etc) she’d never admit this to anyone because she’s scared they’ll think of it as “creepy”

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Waiting for You

A Michael Gavey Drabble

Author’s Note: I guess I’m doing drabbles now? This came to me when I was in my third meeting in a row that covered the same information we got in meeting #1 lol

Summary: It’s the evening of your first date with Michael Gavey, but a phone call with your mum lasted way longer than it should have and now you’re running a little bit late. Unfortunately, you forgot your phone at your dorm, so you have no way of letting Michael know.

Waiting for You

7:15

That was the time you had agreed to meet Michael at the pub. He was completely certain about that - he’d written it in his planner, the calendar on the wall of his dorm, and his Yahoo calendar.

He looked at his watch again.

7:23

Being a few minutes late made sense, he thought. You didn’t have a car, and public transportation can be somewhat unreliable on weekends. But now, you were nearly ten minutes late. Even with imprecise bus timings, that seemed like a lot.

It certainly seemed long enough for Michael’s mind to start spiraling.

Maybe you had forgotten. Maybe you got on the wrong bus. Maybe the bus had a mechanical failure, or was stuck in unavoidable traffic.

The longer he stood there, hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers as he stared at the pavement outside the pub, the more far-fetched his thoughts became.

Maybe a faculty member had suddenly needed your help and you couldn’t say no. Maybe your bud had been in an accident. Maybe you’d been kidnapped somehow.

Maybe…

7:28

Maybe you’d realized you didn’t actually want to go out with him.

Why would you? After his outburst in the dining hall at the beginning of the year, he was infamous within your college. Everyone knew the creepy maths nerd who’d made a fool of himself on the first day.

It made perfect sense that you wouldn’t want to be seen with him. What if the essence of his social pariah-dom would rub off on you somehow, and people started treating you the way they treated him?

You wouldn’t want that. He wouldn’t want that for you.

Ditching him would be the smart move. After all, it had apparently worked well for Oliver Quick, the cunt. Maybe if you abandoned him as well, you’d also get an invite to Felix Carton’s estate for the summer. For all he knew, it was a requirement.

7:34

It had been stupid of him to even think you’d want to go out with him.

You were popular and well-liked. You were gorgeous. You were smart. All things that should have wiped Michael off your radar entirely.

But you were also kind. You were friendly to him. You talked to him.

When he asked if you wanted to study with him, you’d said yes. When he asked to exchange phone numbers, you’d said yes. And when he asked you out on a date - this date - you’d said yes.

The memory returned, even as he tried to shove it away. When he asked Oliver if he would get him another pint, he’d said yes, too.

Then, he’d abandoned him.

7:41

Apparently, this was just what happened to Michael. He found someone he liked, thought they liked him, too, then was left behind when something better turned up.

It had happened many times before, and would probably happen many times in the future.

Michael bit hard on the inside of his cheek, hoping the pain would chase away the monumental feeling of loneliness that threatened to overtake him. He should just go back to his dorm. It was pathetic to wait out here for this long. He should -

7:44

“Michael!”

He looked up and saw you running toward him, your cheeks flushed as you pushed through the crowd. When you finally stopped in front of him, panting from exertion, you grimaced slightly. He braved himself for what you would say.

“I am so, so sorry I’m late!” You said breathlessly. “My mum called, and she could talk for hours and hours if she wanted, and I tried to tell her I had to leave, but she wouldn’t…”

You half-sighed, half-groaned, rubbing your hands over your face. “And then I left my phone in my room and I couldn’t tell you I was on my way, so…”

Michael stared at you blankly as you continued to explain. He had almost completely resigned himself to the fact that you weren’t coming. But here you were.

Not only had you actually come, but you had ran to him. You were trying so hard to make him see that it wasn’t intentional. You… you were still talking.

“It’s fine,” he said, halting your babbling. “I understand.”

Your smile of relief was quite possibly the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

He laughed in awe, then tried to play it off. “My mum doesn’t know when to shut up, either.”

You laughed with him and grabbed his hand. “Still, I’m so sorry. You’ve been waiting here, probably bored out of your mind, and…”

“Nah,” he shrugged, “it’s all forgotten now.” Indeed, he could hardly remember the panicked train of thought he’d been on for the last half hour. “Thank you - for coming, I mean.”

You smiled again. “Of course! I’ve been looking forward to this.”

Without giving him time to respond, you pulled him into the pub, both of you now laughing. “Since I was late, I’m paying!”

[st-eve-barnes]

Pretty little liars (chapter 1)

(Felix Catton x fem Reader)

Summary: Felix Catton was the embodiment of everything you hated, yet you loved him like you never imagined one human being could love another. But as with all good things, you didn't know what you had until it was stolen from you.

This Chapter: Your first experiences with Saltburn and the infamous Felix Catton

Word count: +3500

Warning for the entire fic: 18+ for explicit content and language. Enemies to lovers vibes. Oral (fem & male receiving), p in v sex, fingering, ... Jealousy, voyeurism, secrets, toxic relationships, mentions of death. Oliver being his creepy little self.

ANGST/smut/fluff (do I ever write anything else? lol)

***

Saltburn has altered my brain chemistry and Felix won't leave my mind so I had to give him his own mini series. Tag list is open for those who want on it ;)

***

All these and older fics are also on AO3 If you want to support my writing you can Buy me a KoFi or feed me with a lovely comment ;)

***

You weren’t just in love with Felix Catton. It would be an insult to the depth of your feelings for him to call it that. You loved him like you never imagined one human being could love another.

Felix Catton was sunlight personified. He lit up a room like no one else could, drew people to his light without even trying.

You couldn’t see it at first, blinded by the riches and the money. But it wasn’t about that.

Felix was more. More than you bargained for, and far more than you deserved.

But as with all good things, you didn’t know what you had until it was taken from you.

He was staring at you but looking right through you, no life left in his teary eyes where he lay on the ground in the middle of the maze, golden wings spread out beneath him. He looked so pale, almost inhuman. Like an angel, fallen to the earth. 

It was dark and quiet in the maze, the statue looming over you like a bad omen.The music and happy chatter in the distance might as well have come from another planet. Behind these walls there was no music playing, no laughter, only grief.

Your hands were shaking, grabbing at his chest almost violently, your sadness turning into anger. Don’t you fucking leave me here alone in this place. You promised you wouldn’t leave me alone out here.

Elspeth’s desperate sobs kept filling your ears: “He’s not breathing, my baby’s not breathing, oh god he’s not breathing.”

You wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole, swallow every single person here and the whole of Saltburn with it. 

What good was it without him? What good was any of it?

What good were you?

***

1 year earlier

The first time you set foot in Saltburn you had no idea where to look first. Everything was so beautiful, shiny, luxurious, authentic. Excessive.

You had heard all the stories about the infamous Catton family and their household but to walk through it, observe it all with your own two eyes, was a much different experience.

It felt like a lucid dream and in the midst of it all stood him.

Felix Catton. 

Beloved son and brother, life of the party, everybody’s best friend, infamous fuck boy.

He had a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other, chatting away to whoever gave him attention, male or female, it didn’t matter, they all hung on his every word.

You couldn’t stand him. Not even specifically him but people like him. Pretty rich kids. Life was so easy for him it just wasn’t fucking fair to the rest of you.

“Here,” your friend shoved a drink into your hand and gave you an encouraging smile,”It’s a party, Y/N, can you at least try to look like I’m not holding you at gun point here?”

“Sorry,” you sighed, taking a sip from your drink as you followed your friend through the endless garden of the estate.

It was hot, it had been like this for a couple of weeks now even though officially the summer was yet to start. The only relief was a soft evening breeze and the ice cold drink numbing your throat. You weren’t even supposed to be here, your friend had snuck you in, encouraging you to experience a true Saltburn party for yourself. You’d been curious as hell, so of course you’d said yes.

A decision you were already regretting.

You hated these people, it was all so shallow, and meaningless, and a million miles away from your world. But you didn’t want to seem ungrateful for the -unofficial- invite so you danced with your friend and drank, smiled and pretended to fit in. At least the alcohol made it easy for you to fake your way through the night.

You were losing yourself in the music when your friend leaned closer to you on the dance floor with a grin and a whisper into your ear,“He’s been staring at you for the last 10 minutes.”

“Who?”

“Felix. He’s so fucking hot, girl, you should go to him and go for it.”

You laughed while you continued dancing,”I think not! I may be drunk but I’m not that drunk, Bella.”

“Come on,” she tried to encourage you.

“No thanks, why would I even be interested in him? He’s just a rich asshole,” you pointed out, taking another sip from your drink while your eyes drifted off to Felix. He was standing with a group of people by the side of the dance floor and the maze and his eyes were already on you. You looked away again quickly, shaking your head with another chuckle while you finished your drink.

“See?!” your friend poked into your side with a grin,”You sure you’re not interested?”

“I’m not interested in spoiled little rich kids.”

“Girl, there is nothing about that man that is little,” your friend joked and then almost choked on her own laughter. You couldn’t help but join in.

“Shut up,” you pushed her back playfully.

“No but for real, Felix is a good egg, the best out of all of them,” she pointed out and you rolled your eyes in judgment.

“That isn't saying much, is it? They're all rich assholes.”

“Felix is nice though,” she insisted,”He’s always kind, and so welcoming, and always in a good mood.”

You snorted,”Please, if my family was this rich I’d always be in a good mood as well, fuck. That guy hasn’t had to struggle a day in his life.”

“That’s pretty presumptuous of you,” she pointed out.

“It’s written all over him, come on, he’s a walking cliche, Bella.”

You friend shrugged her shoulders,”Alright, whatever. It’s your loss, I hear he really knows how to please a girl.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again,“That guy? I highly doubt it. Everyone wants to fuck him anyway, he doesn’t even have to try and be good at it. Girls will lay at his feet either way. And guys.”

“I’m just saying, you could take the test and find out for yourself, what have you got to lose?” she teased.

“I think I’ll manage fine without having Felix Catton in my life, thanks. I’m gonna go get another refill.”

You left your friend on the dance floor but you quickly came to regret that decision.

You’d been fine on your feet while dancing but now as you were trying to move through the crowd you suddenly felt dizzy, as if someone had put something in your drink, or you were just a whole lot more drunk than you had initially thought. The ground seemed to be moving under your feet as you fought to keep your balance. Something you were failing horribly at and just as you were about to lose the fight entirely and fall down onto the grass two strong hands came to rest on your shoulders, holding you up.

“Whoa, hey, you alright there, love?”

You looked up to meet his eyes. God, he really was freakishly tall, you had never felt smaller in your life.

“Felix,” you breathed.

“Hi, there,” he smiled at you and opened his mouth to say something else but it never reached your ears as you were too busy vomiting out your guts all over his shirt and shoes.

***

“Here,” Felix handed you a glass of water with two pills in it. 

You were sitting on the edge of the counter in one of the guest bathrooms downstairs. It was a blur how you got here, you vaguely remembered Felix carrying you into the house and holding your hair back while you threw up into the fancy toilet.

You looked up at him, your vision still blurry. You noticed he had changed shirts and was barefoot now.

You hesitantly took the glass from his hands but didn’t drink it yet.

“It’s for your stomach, I’m not trying to drug you, promise.”

His voice was kinder than you'd imagined and you carefully took a sip and then another one until you could feel the liquor settle in your stomach. It wasn’t making you feel worse so you drank some more. 

“Thanks,” you whispered.

“I haven’t seen you at one of these parties before,” Felix stated.

“No, I…I’m new.”

He smiled. Felix Catton smiled at you and it was like looking directly into the sun.

You took another sip from the drink he handed you, avoiding his gaze, giving yourself a moment of respite. He really was breathtaking up close, even you had to admit that.

”I’m really sorry about your shirt,” you then sighed.

“That’s quite alright. You’re not the first girl to throw up on me.”

You laughed.”Okay, good to know I’m not special.”

Your words made him chuckle.”So do you have a name, new girl?”

“It’s Y/N,” you answered hesitantly.

Felix repeated your name attentively. Why did it sound so much better coming from his lips than from your own?

“You can crash here tonight if you want,” he suggested,”Plenty of guest rooms to choose from. Or one of our drivers can take you home.”

“One of your drivers?” you shook your head with a smile, his words bringing you back down to reality really fast,”Jesus, fuck, you and I come from such different worlds, it would be funny if it wasn’t so tragic.”

“I can ditch you outside of the gates and make you walk home,” he teased,”But that would be cruel, wouldn’t it?”

You shook your head with a sneer and then sighed.

“Look, it’s whatever you prefer,” he added casually.

You finished the last of the drink and got up,”I think I’d just prefer to go home, by myself. Thanks for this, but I’m okay now.”

“Okay then,” Felix nodded, a small intrigued smile forming on his lips as he watched you leave the room.

“See you at the next one, new girl,” he yelled after you.

***

The second time you talked to Felix was two weeks later. You had been going with Bella to the Saltburn estate a couple more times since then. She had developed a little crush on Oliver, one of Felix’s new friends who seemed to hang around the house all the time. She had felt a little anxious going there on her own, so she begged you to accompany her and you did what any good friend would do.

It had nothing to do with Felix or Saltburn. Not back then anyway.

You had spent the entire afternoon lounging around the pool with a big group of people. Bella had taken the opportunity to get closer to Oliver who seemed charmed by her interest in him and happily engaged in conversation. You mostly stuck to yourself and soaked up the sun while you read your book. Felix hadn’t approached you once but that didn’t stop him from stealing glances at you every time he thought you weren’t looking.

When the sun was starting to go down you said your goodbye to Bella and Oliver and decided to head back home. You had called a cab to come pick you up by the gate, where Felix found you having a discussion with the taxi driver.

“I have the money I just don’t have it on me right now,” you pleaded but the asshole wasn’t budging.

“Money now or I’m not taking you anywhere, sweetheart,” he insisted.

“I can give you half now and the rest when I get home, come on, it’s not a problem. Do I look like I don’t have money?”

“You rich kids always think the rules don’t apply to you, don’t you? Pay up front, or you’re walking.”

You sighed annoyed, ready to plead your case some more when suddenly you heard someone calling out your name.

It was Felix.

You weren’t sure what surprised you the most, the big beaming smile with which he walked up to you as if you were close friends, or the fact that he remembered your name. You hadn’t spoken to him since your embarrassing display at that party weeks ago. He’d seemed happy to ignore you after that and you had done the same, feeling no interest in getting to know him further.

“You forgot this, love,” he smiled at you and wrapped a jacket over your shoulders, the sleeves were about four sizes too big for you and the whole thing almost came down to your knees. 

You were completely lost for words.

He leaned in a little closer to whisper in your ear,”I think you left your money in there as well.”

He tapped on the pocket with his finger and you could see a few 10 pound notes sticking out.

“Felix,” you sighed,”You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?” he feigned innocence,”This is yours, now pay the good man before he ditches you and makes you walk home.”

“I…okay, fine,” you sighed, giving in and taking out the money needed to pay for your ride home.

“Perfect,” the taxi driver grinned,”Pleasure doing business with you.”

Felix stood with his hands in his pockets and a satisfied grin on his face while the man opened the door and waited for you to get in.

You sighed again and looked back into his big brown eyes.

“I’ll pay you back,” you whispered before getting into the car.

“That’s not necessary, new girl,” he called after you and gave you a big wave as the car drove away with you in it.

You hated that it made you smile.

****

You hated to admit that you were starting to enjoy the weekly parties at Saltburn, it had become your guilty pleasure weekend activity.

Bella and Oliver had grown closer together and you couldn’t deny you enjoyed his company as well, he seemed different from all the other rich kids and you had a strong feeling that he was just pretending to fit in, much like yourself. Neither of you spoke of it but when you looked into his eyes you knew, and you knew he knew as well. Neither of you belonged here.

Felix was mixing drinks behind the bar when you put the money you owed him on the counter.”Here.”

He gave you a smile and shook his head,”I told you that wasn’t necessary.”

“Yes, it is,” you insisted.

“Really it was nothing, it was barely 4O pounds.”

“And I’m sure in your world that’s considered nothing but in mine it’s….,” you swallowed the rest of your angry words before you would say things you’d end up regretting later.”Just take the damn money.”

He lifted his hands up in defense and laughed,”Alright, fine, I’ll take the money, thank you for paying me back, what the fuck?”

You sighed annoyed and walked away from him, leaving him shaking his head in confusion.

You went back to ignoring him for the rest of the night, or at least trying to. You couldn’t help but find yourself looking at him from time to time. He was always chatting to someone, always laughing and drinking and looking like he was having the time of his life. You wondered if at least part of that was an act, if it ever exhausted him to play the ever friendly host and life of every party. Nobody was happy all the time, weren’t they? Not even Felix Catton.

You looked away when he stared back at you, ignoring the emotions that started bubbling up in the pit of your stomach. You felt strangely drawn to him, and you hated yourself for allowing that feeling.

Bella was the one to pull you out of your thoughts and onto the dance floor and you went willingly, losing yourself in the music and the rhythm. When a few guys came to join you both you didn’t think much of it and you happily let them dance close to you. It wasn’t after some time that you noticed Bella wasn’t there anymore and there was one guy in particular who seemed to have some issues with personal space. His hands were traveling further up your hips and under your shirt while he started grinding up against you.

Your hands on his chest tried to push him back a little bit as you tried to dance away from him but his hold on your hips was too strong.

“Hey, come on, stop that,” you politely tried to create some distance between you both but the guy ignored all your attempts. When his hand tried to slip under the hem of your skirt to feel up your ass you were ready to throw punches at this jerk. Just before you could make your move someone grabbed your hand and slowly but firmly pulled you away from the guy. 

Felix.

Before you realized what was happening your back was pressed up against his large chest, his hands on your waist as he danced behind you, his face buried into your hair while he made eye contact with the guy in front of you.

“Sorry, mate, she’s one of mine, off limits,” he stated, as if that explained everything.

And apparently it did because the guy just smiled apologetically at Felix and stepped back immediately.

“Hey,” Felix winked at the guy,”India over there is looking like she could use some company, shoot your shot, man.” 

The jerk gave him a big smile and two thumbs up.

You wanted to punch both of them. 

You were no longer in need of rescuing but Felix still kept dancing with you. His hands were gentle on your hips, keeping you close but not too close, giving you the freedom to step back should you choose to.

But you didn’t make that choice. 

Your body betrayed you by leaning into him, allowing him to nuzzle your hair and your neck, putting goosebumps all over your arms and Felix smiled when he noticed. When his lips brushed your ear your brain finally kicked back into gear and you broke out of his embrace, surprising him.

“Some nice mates you have there,” you pointed out as you turned to look at him,” And one of yours? Do you have like a spare set of everything? Even girls?”

Felix just shook his head with a bashful smile.

“Of course you do,” you then sighed,”Why am I even surprised? God, you are so…”

“What?” he asked, a playful grin on his face,”What am I?”

“Annoying,” you blurted out,”Privileged, full of yourself, ignorant.”

Beautiful, enchanting, mesmerizing.

“Alright, don’t hold back on me now,” he laughed, seemingly amused by your anger and that only angered you further.

You bit your tongue and then shook your head,”You know what, forget it, I don’t even know why I bother.”

You wanted to turn on your heel but Felix reached for your hand, lacing his long fingers with your much smaller ones and keeping you close to him.

“Why do you bother?” he then asked, intrigued, eyes locking with yours,”Why do you keep coming back here when you clearly hate everything about this place?”

“Because my friend…”

“No, no, no, your friend isn’t even here tonight, that’s an excuse. Why are you here?”

Your mouth opened but the words weren’t coming out. Because you would rather die than admit why you were really here.

“I like big parties where I don’t have to pay for anything,” you lied, avoiding his gaze. Felix just laughed and God, you wanted to wipe that beautiful smile off his gorgeous face so badly.

Then he leaned down to be able to stare deep down into your eyes, his voice nothing but a whisper,”You’re a pretty little liar, new girl.”

His deep voice and intense stare were enough to shut you up entirely and you had to look away from him to find your voice again.

“I had him, I didn’t need you,” you then blurted out.

“Didn’t look like it to me,” he shrugged.

“I would have handled it,” you insisted.

“The right thing to say is thank you, Felix, that was pretty nice of you,” he teased, making your blood boil.

“You…ugh…,” you angrily turned your back on him and stormed off the dance floor.

“You’re welcome,” he yelled after you with a big smile on his face,”See you at the next one, Y/N.”

“Asshole.”

You wanted to hate him, you really did, Felix Catton stood for everything you despised. But you could still feel the warmth of his hands on your hips, feel where his breath had grazed your neck until your skin erupted in goosebumps, feel how deeply his eyes bored a way straight into your soul.

You hated how you didn’t hate him at all and above all else you hated how he reduced you to just another Felix groupie. That wasn’t you.

He had no idea who you were. 

And he could never find out. 

[she-talks-to-angels-14]

The Bathtub

Felix Catton x Fem Reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, spying.

A/N: I had watched Saltburn the other night and the bathtub scene was a tad disturbing but then I had thought I’d put a spin on it with a female who let’s face it is less creepy than Oliver. This is my first attempt at writing an imagine with smut.

Felix and I had met this past semester at Oxford. We had been paired up on an assignment together and had hit it off. He was incredibly attractive and really down to earth once you got to know him. During our time working together on the assignment we had become really close.

During the time we had spent together on the assignment he had learned that my parents and I hadn’t spoken in over a year, and that I really didn’t have a place to go home to after the semester had ended, that’s when he invited me to spend the summer at Saltburn, his family’s estate.

The day the semester ended we had loaded up in Felix’s vehicle and drove to the large estate. Once we arrived he had taken the liberty of showing me around the vast estate, ending the tour with my bedroom for the summer. My bedroom was connected to his through a shared bathroom. The proximity of our rooms had trouble written all over it.

I had been at Saltburn for a little over a week when one night, I was heading to the bathroom to rest and wash away all the stress of the day in the large clawfoot tub. As I approached the bathroom I could hear low groans coming from the other side of the door. My curiosity had gotten the best of me and I chose to peek through the small crack in the door. There in the tub with his head thrown back in pleasure was Felix.

He was pleasuring himself, low guttural groans leaving his mouth. The sight of him, his head thrown back groaning in pure pleasure was absolutely breathtaking, I was undoubtedly turned on by the sight in front of me.

Instinctively my hand slipped beneath the waist band of my yoga pants, the dull ache between my legs begging to be satiated. My fingers graze the sensitive bud between my legs, sending a wave of pleasure rippling through my body. My fingers slip past my folds and two enter my core, instinctively I let a moan slip from my lips at the sensation. Felix’s head snaps up and in my direction, our eyes making contact through the crack of the door.“I’m sorry

Felix's eyebrows were raised and he stared at me, his lips were slightly curved in a small smile. “You know it’s rude to spy on people,” he smirks. “Especially when they’re in a vulnerable state.”

“I wasn’t trying to spy on you,” I say softly. “I was coming to take a bath myself, when I caught you jerking off.” I confess. “It was kind of hot and turned me on a bit.” I say blatantly.

Felix's eyebrows rose slightly and his tone of voice changed to a more sultry tone. "So you're saying you like what you saw?"

“I’m not saying I didn’t like it” I counter, biting my bottom lip. The ache between my legs suddenly coming back with a vengeance.

Felix's facial expression changed to a small grin, revealing his pearly white front teeth. “I’d say you really liked it, judging by the moan I heard come from you.”

“Would it be a problem if I did?” I retort raising an eyebrow waiting for his response.

His grin extended into a full smile and he looked directly into my eyes. "No, It wouldn't be a problem. It’d turn me on."

“Oh more turned than you already are?” I ask nodding my head in the direction of his erection hidden behind the wall of the bathtub.

Felix's breath became rapid and his eyes darkened. "Were you impressed with what you saw?"

“Unfortunately I couldn’t actually see just how big your cock is,” I sigh pouting a bit. “I’m kind of disappointed about that.”

He let out a small laugh and a cocky grin appeared on his face. “I’d let you see just how big I am but I don’t think you’d be able to handle it.”

“I’d be willing to bet,” I say my eyes trailing over his naked body until it disappears behind the tub wall. “I could handle it and blow your mind in the process.” I wink at him.

Felix raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?" He paused for a moment, a grin plastered on his face. "Show me what you can do then." His tone of voice was flirtatious and suggestive.

“Be careful what you wish for. I think you underestimate me and my abilities.” I smirk biting my lip and leaning against the door frame.

A tiny and teasing smirk crossed Felix's face. "I'm willing to find out."

“I’m willing to show you” I smirk leaning off the door frame and walking to the tub. Stripping out of my clothes as I do.

Felix's breath became rapid and he stared at me, his lips curved into a hungry grin, as he adjusted to make room for me. I slowly dipped one foot in the tub drawing out the anticipation of the moment. My other foot followed, and slowly I slid down in the water between his spread legs, “mmm you’re much bigger than I thought you were.” I moan as I eye his cock erect out of the water.

“Do you think you could take all of me?” He asks eyeing me from across the tub. “I’d love to bury every last inch inside that little pussy of yours.”

His words turn me on more than I already was. I lean up on my knees and slide over to him. My hands running up his legs slowly, teasing him. I grab his length in one of my hands and slowly start to pump up and down on his shaft in a rhythmic motion. He throws his head back a groan escaping his lips. The sight encouraging me to keep going. I bend down and lick my tongue around the head of his cock. The taste of his arousal hitting my tongue as I do.

I take the tip in my mouth sucking it softly and I feel his hands tangle in my hair and his hips are lifting off the bottom of the tub shoving his massive cock deeper down my throat. The tip hitting the back of my throat makes him moan and the sound of his moan drives me wild. I begin bobbing my head up and down his cock, taking him in until he hits the back of my throat and then sliding him out until the head is between my lips and sucking on it softly, making his grip tighten in my hair. He shoves my head back down holding it in place as the head of his cock tickles the back of my throat making me gag. Then roughly he jerks my head up causing his length to fall out of my mouth with a satisfying pop.

He pulls my hair back making my back arch with it, my large perky breasts on full display for him. He leans down and traces his tongue from my collar to my earlobe and whispers “That mouth of yours works wonders you know,” he nibbles on my lobe. “I nearly came from just having your mouth wrapped around me, but I’d much rather that sweet pussy of yours be what milks me dry tonight.” He kisses down my neck to my chest until he can take one of my nipples in his mouth and suck on the hardened bud. He swaps to the other nipple showing each equal attention when his free hand slips between us and finds my clit. The combination of him sucking on my nipples and rubbing the sensitive bud between my thighs elicits a loud moan from me. “Oh Felix,” I cry as his fingers find my entrance and he slips two fingers inside me easily. His fingers curl as he pumps them in and out of my pussy hitting my g spot each time pushing me closer and closer to my orgasm.

Too soon he slips his fingers from my core and brings them to his lips tasting my arousal. “Mmm” he moans “you taste so fucking sweet.” He says pulling his fingers from his mouth and pulling me up to face him our lips centimeters apart. “I think you should taste yourself too,” he says sliding the two fingers he had buried inside me in my mouth and instinctively I suck on them.

“You’re a dirty little slut aren’t you?” He says before he pulls me in and kisses me with a passion I’ve never felt before. Breaking the kiss he pulls away and with a wicked grin says “ride my cock like a good little girl.”

Without hesitation I do as I’m told. He pulls his legs together and slides down the back of the tub to make things easier on me. I straddle him hovering inches above his long hard cock. I take it in one of my hands lining it up with my center, the head slipping past my folds and sending a shiver down my spine. Slowly I slide down on his length letting him fill me up to the hilt. It takes a few moments for me to adjust to his size and how deep inside me he is before I start to bounce up and down on his length, circling my hips around as I do so.

“Your pussy is so tight baby,” he moans as I bounce on his cock, his hand comes around my neck choking me. “It makes me want you fill you with my cum.” He leans in and bites and sucks on my neck leaving a trail of hickeys as he goes. I can fill my orgasm building in the pit of my stomach as I grind on his cock.

“Felix,” I moan “I’m going to come.” My movements get sloppy and my walls clamp down around his cock as my orgasm rips through my body.

“That’s it baby cum for me,” he praises. “You feel so good wrapped around me as you cum.” My orgasm ends and I stay straddling him for a few moments before standing and climbing out of the tub. Felix following close behind me.

“I hope you don’t think this is over,” he says as he grabs me and pins me against the wall. “I haven’t finished yet” he leans down and kisses me hard, his fingers sliding down my body until he reaches my sopping cunt. He slides three fingers inside me this time pulling a moan from my lips as I wrap my right leg around his hip as he pumps his fingers in and out of my pussy.

“I’m going to come again,” I moan in his ear and suddenly he’s pulling his fingers out of me. Eliciting a whimper from the loss of contact.

“Wrap your arms around my neck.” He commands. Without hesitation I do as I’m told. He then lifts me up off the ground and I wrap my legs around his waist as his cock slips easily into my pussy, pulling another moan from my lips.

With his hands grasping my thighs he bounces me on his cock, going deeper than he was earlier, hitting my g-spot with every thrust pushing me closer and closer to my climax. His movements become rigid and I can tell he is close, by the grunts he makes as he drives deep into me.

“I’m coming Felix,” I cry as he pushes me into the wall thrusting his hips up into my core. My walls clamp around him and my second orgasm rips through my body.

“Fuck!” He groans with one last thrust. Before his orgasm rips through him, his cock spasming inside me as his seed fills my cunt. “That was fucking amazing.” He whispers kissing me sweetly, his cock still buried inside my pussy. He pulls out of me and places me down.

“That was the best sex I’ve ever had” I say still holding onto his neck for balance because my legs are weak and trembling.

“Agreed,” he smiles “we should definitely do it more often, but right now I think you need to clean up a bit.” He says as he looks down, his cum leaking from my body.

[godihatethiswebsite]

Desert Oasis

✽ Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x f!reader (The Mummy AU)

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

✽ Part 9 - A meeting with ghosts

This is my longest one yet folks (don't ask, I have a problem). Was going to chop it up and make it into two, but then reasons...

Also it always bothered me that the only bits of Hamunaptra we ever got to see were the couple pillars up top and a handful of creepy caverns below. It's the fucking City of the Dead - resting place for royalty. Forgive me if I fix that oversight.

Some of this I had to look up. Some of this I'm just a nerd ^^;

The first four years of your life were spent in the fields of Buckinghamshire. 

It was an easy existence given your age, only knowing the worries of a toddler, ignorant to anything outside the little sphere your parents raised you in - until your father’s business partners convinced him to take up stakes in northern Africa. With the big archaeological boom in the early 1900’s, it made sense to cash in on the amount of trade flowing in and out of the country. 

If you thought back about it hard enough you could faintly recall the frayed edges of a memory where your father argued with your mother behind closed doors about the change, her not wanting to leave society behind and especially not wanting you to grow up away from all that in the ‘wild, bandit-infested gutters’ of lower Egypt (an awful sentiment she eventually got over after experiencing the bountiful culture firsthand).

You know from the following years that some sort of arrangement had been made that the family would travel back and forth to England often enough that would allow you a ‘proper education’ and keep your name in good standing for your eventual launch into the matching market as a teenager.

You’d been a bit too young at the time to truly understand the move, only knowing that one day everything went from mild and rainy to suddenly everything was far too sweltering and uncomfortable. Your mother plied you with all sorts of cold sweet treats at first until you inevitably adjusted to the foreign climate. But besides leaving your newly beloved cousin behind, it hadn’t really affected you in any sort of considerably extensive way. 

You longed for the meadows of your cousin’s backyard, but found beauty in the tropical fauna that now grew in your estate. There were new rules to abide by - different boundaries and regulations your parents put in place for your safety in unfamiliar territory - but once you’d learned that goats replaced pigs and that you began conversations with 'As-salaam ‘alykum' instead of 'Hello' it had been a smooth transition.

The biggest change came in the form of the towering architecture that was visible in the distance even in the middle of the city. Once you’d taken an interest as a youngling, your father allowed you to venture with him outside the walls of Cairo to see the massive monuments in person.

It was a normal occurrence to glance outside and gaze upon the remnants of Ancient Egypt. Locals hardly batted an eye at the things that dazzled the imaginations of foreign tourists - not unfeeling towards their history, merely conditioned to register it as background noise. All you had to do was travel minutes outside of Cairo proper to come face to face with the marvels that were the colossal pyramids of old. In some areas of the country you couldn’t even walk five feet without stumbling over some ancient piece of civilization or another. Sometimes they were integrated into the newly built infrastructure, others torn down and cataloged to make way for industrial progress.

This was different. These weren’t just any old dusty ruins. 

This was Hamunaptra.

Riding into the courtyard of the long forgotten city, you felt the air get pulled from your lungs as if some higher force desired this to be your final resting place.

Patting the camel’s neck in appreciation of its well fought efforts, your eyes bursting with wonderment couldn’t take the sights in fast enough to really process them. For as ancient and run down as it was, the majority of structures still standing were in impressive condition - the result of millennia hidden from the prying eyes of thieves and foreign kingdoms. The secrets of the New Kingdom were here - preserved intact - and ripe for exploration.

Replacing the pyramids of old, Hamunaptra was a sacred place where only the dead and those who kept them may enter. By all rights and customs, your head would be promptly removed from your shoulders for even daring to set foot on holy ground.

How many figures of vast importance were lying in rest less than ten meters under the topsoil? 

Ahmose I? Amenhotep I, Tuthmose II, Ramesses VII? Nefertiti?

Long have they remained hidden. Countless expeditions with thousands of pounds invested and archaeologists were still no closer to unlocking the secrets of their whereabouts than they were since we’d first learned their names.

You were yanked out of your inner musings by the clopping feet of a large animal that heralded another's arrival, adjusting in your saddle to peer over your shoulder towards the entrance and the figure that crossed over the threshold.

Johnny hadn’t even brought his mount to a full halt before he was suddenly vaulting off his camel, hardly wincing at what must’ve been a jarring impact for his knees as he quickly crossed the distance between and came up next to yours. 

Windswept hair and wardrobe; tanned skin flushed and glistening even under the newly born sun. Ocean blue orbs dazzling with mirth as he reached up with outstretched arms, fingers wiggling seductively beckoning you into his hold.

What was it that was stealing your breath again…?

Swinging a leg over the saddle, you allowed yourself to start sliding far enough down for him to securely grasp onto your waist with meaty well-worked hands, your own landing on his shoulders for a bit of balance. You wrongly assumed he’d place you back on your feet - a blind mistake, caught up in the logistics of getting down and missing the obvious moment his wide grin turned puckish. 

The two of you twirled as he kept you lifted high above his head, squealing in surprise before your own sounds of crowing delight mirrored Johnnys in both volume and excitement.

“Brilliant, lass! Pure brilliant! Left ‘em all in the dust, ye did! Thatta girl!” 

It was hard to tell if the ensuing lightheadedness was the outcome of all the spinning he had you locked into or if it was the result of something else entirely, lowering you down with powerful biceps as he planted an obnoxious kisser right on the side of your face. He was over the top with his fawning, playful in his affection in a way that felt oddly comfortable and left you in girlish giggles. “Gonna be hackin’ that outta their lungs fer weeks and spend even longer nursin’ their bruised egos. Christ, hen, ye should’ve seen yerself go.”

You pulled back from him just enough to give yourself some more breathing room, head tilted up as you responded to his praise with an insinuating remark. “Might’ve had something to do with the sudden bout of speed my camel caught on the back half. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you Johnny?”

“Eh, poor thing was jus’ as excited tae reach the city as ye were is all.” The way he shrugged his shoulders and cocked his head with a devil may care grin couldn’t disguise the way he spoke with all the innocence of a sweet toothed toddler in a cookie jar.

“Causin’ trouble over there, MacTavish?!” Came the teasing call of your cousin as Kyle rounded the corner of the ruins and brought his camel up to graze alongside where the others stood in the shadow of a crumbled wall, getting down with far less hurry than the two of you had. “Gonna give poor dolly there a conniption if you keep that up.”

“Och! Haud yer wheesht, Garrick! Or ah’ll gie ye a skelpit lug fer yer troubles!” 

That may not have been the King’s English, but you’re fairly confident you understood the sentiment just the same. 

It also hadn’t passed your notice that Johnny’s arm was still firmly snaked around your waist, holding you to him with an iron grip you had no care in the world to escape.

Part of you was almost disappointed when your cousin tugged you away from him, afraid for a moment that Johnny wouldn't relinquish his claim and feeling the possessive strength in his arm up until the last possible second when he finally turned you over to Kyle. 

Swept into your cousin’s arms this time and far more delicately than his predecessor, Kyle raised an eyebrow at his friend, head perched on top of yours. “Laying it on a bit thick there, dontcha think?”

Johnny shrugged, making eye contact at where you were glancing over your shoulder at him and offering you a little wink in return. “Jus’ givin’ our girl here some well earned praise s’all.”

That shouldn’t have pleased you as much as it did. His words sent a shiver of something sinful down your spine, distracting you from the hug your cousin had you currently encased in and forcing the blood in your face to travel southward.

You missed the look Kyle gave him in response, gone and replaced with one of concern as he held you at arm’s length and gave you a thorough once over in order to better ascertain your condition. “And you, dolly? Came out unharmed?”

They had witnessed Graves lashing out at you a few minutes ago, your outcry shocking them into action that toppled him off his horse and sent him rolling hard along the packed earth. Thankfully you hadn’t been the intended target. 

You weren’t sure they’d have let him walk away without a red stain in his gut if that had been the case.

“No, he didn’t get me. The only thing he wounded was his pride.”

As if summoned by your thoughts, the man in question slunk his way along the perimeter of the city, giving your posse a wide berth as the three of you simply watched Graves meander along past with a wobble to his gait. 

Still… he kept his head held high with all the arrogance of a man too stubborn to know when he had been humbled. Grasping the reins of his horse and leaning against the animal in a weak attempt to mask his minor limp, he avoided eye contact with your group except to briefly cast you all a scathing glower tinted with defiance. There was a bite to it aimed especially at your Scottish companion, something that held the promise of things to come that Johnny gladly returned until Graves finally averted his gaze and kept on trudging.

You kept tabs on him until he wandered too far out of view, a gentle hand on your back prompting you to start walking as the rest of the rival entourage slowly trailed into the courtyard.

As the sun climbed ever higher in the early morning sky, the atmosphere amongst the gathered crowd steadied. Now that coin was no longer on the table and the winnings had been begrudgingly handed out (though not without a few snarky comments that simmered under a powder keg of explosive personalities) it was all back to business and barking out orders. 

It was clear the Americans had well funded their endeavors. The amount of workers they’d secured to excavate the site was a bit much in your opinion, but considering the mostly empty saddlebags left hanging from their mounts you imagined they hadn’t felt like dallying around longer than necessary. No, these were the types to come in and seize as much as they could with as much haste as possible in a shoddy get rich quick scheme before telling their associates back home how to make out like bandits with their own weight in gold.

The only one who seemed to actually give a damn about where they were was the older gentleman in a well tailored suit whose image didn't quite seem to gel with the scraggly unkempt mess of salt n pepper hair - their scholar, Klaus Fisker. Danish by the accent; voice as gruff as gravel. You weren’t surprised to see the chain of cigarettes attached to his lips, dropping butts on the ground and lighting another as if he hadn’t had the last one in ages. 

He felt out of place even in his own skin, but you could at least appreciate his attention to detail as he spit out commands in abrasive Arabic from behind an impressive beard, unwilling to let the hired hands do things that could jeopardize the items they were tasked with handling. 

They might be trying to rob this place blind, but at least you were assured their plunder would all make it to the auction blocks in one piece.

They’d set to sprawling out on the north side of the courtyard whilst your group took up camp in the south - enough distance between you lot that the thirty or so of you could play nice for the duration of your visit.

Johnny had moseyed off a few minutes back after assisting your cousin with the task of setting up camp - a luxury you hadn’t previously been afforded in an effort to arrive at your destination before the others. You saw to the camels' needs during that time, making sure they were well fed for their labors and removing their saddles to give them a chance to more comfortably lounge in the shade. 

Once that was done, you took to unpacking the scant items the two of them had previously procured for you, your cousin perched nearby after you’d smacked his hands away from your things to do it yourself.

“Soooo… this is the fabled city, huh?” Kyle leaned against one of the tent posts with his arms crossed, taking stock of all the hired hands clattering about doing this and that. It was obvious the Americans were wasting no time roaming around the site in search of shiny things to pawn back home.

You paid them no mind as you tended to your belongings, already mentally cataloging major structures of importance to explore and document later.

“Well, it’s called a city when in fact it’s actually a large necropolis - a burial site for the pharaohs of the New Kingdom as well as all their worldly treasures. The only living people who were allowed entry were the high priests, their acolytes, and the soldiers tasked with guarding them. Even the slaves they brought in to dig grave sites and haul antiquities were promptly beheaded upon completion so as to be sure the exact location of Hamunaptra was kept an absolute secret. Walk about two hundred paces westward outside the city walls and I’m sure you’ll find an unmarked mass grave where all their remains were dumped.”

“Sounds charming,” came the dry response as he uncorked his waterskin and took a few needed gulps, splashing some on his face for a quick reprieve from the heat, the droplets rolling down his neck to disappear under his linen shirt.

“Well, be glad you’re coming here three thousand years in the future then instead of me digging up your own grave from the past.”

“You’d miss me being your cousin too much, dolly.”

“Perhaps then the Lord could’ve instead seen fit to bless me with one a bit less reprehensible.”

“Oi!”

You couldn’t help your little grin at your own quick wit and his indignation. Unfortunately for him he didn’t get a chance to fire one back, the small banter interrupted by the return of your other companion as he sauntered his way over to stand next to Kyle.

“‘Right.” Johnny clapped his hands together, motioning over his shoulder towards a group of six workers who were starting to haul some equipment further north. “Looks like they’ve started in on clearin’ out the rubble blockin’ that great pylon o’er there. Any idea where ye’ll be wantin’ tae start, lass?”

It caught you off guard to hear yourself being the one addressed, turning your head to find the both of them staring at you expectantly as the voice of leadership. At this point you were so accustomed to them being the ones taking control and calling all the shots that you completely forgot it was you and not them who was the technical expert in this part of the operation. 

They were the ones out of their depths.

It was a realization that was equal parts terrifying and incredibly satisfying after so many days feeling like a chicken strutting around without its head.

You put yourself back in the familiar headspace needed for something like this, standing up and brushing the dirt off your palms as you briefly cased the surrounding points of interest. “I wanna take a look around on the surface first before venturing into the catacombs below. Let’s focus on getting a brief overview of the layout that we can then narrow down for later. Most of these temples and buildings should be untouched and I want to get a glimpse of them first before our ‘friends’ start ransacking everything.”

“Yer the boss, hen.” 

It was said so matter of factly and without any sort of veiled ribbing in his words. This time you were the one in control. And damn if that didn’t make you feel ten feet tall.

It felt good to finally be back in your element after days spent floundering for something sturdy to grasp onto. While you’d been growing ever more comfortable in the situations foisted upon your trio simply through trial by fire, you were finally in a happy medium between the covers of your books and the world beyond. 

It was nice not having to share the space as you made your way deeper into the city with your two self proclaimed bodyguards, unencumbered by gleaning eyes only interested in how much profit they could obtain from pocketable treasures rather than the breadth of history ripe to be storied. You could walk the worn limestone at your leisure, piecing together clues from the golden age of architecture and art. 

The perceived idiocy of it wasn’t entirely lost on you. Here you were in the grandest monument to the wealthiest peoples of both upper and lower Egypt - a discovery that could grant you as much worldly renown and untold riches as was possessed by the very kings concealed below your feet… and all you wanted to do was step through time into a piece of ancient history for the chance to waltz with the ghosts who haunt these hallowed halls.

It wasn’t some giant leap to surmise whose temple stood tall next to the towering height of the statue of Horus, not much alike in its design to the one located miles away in Edfu. Of course that one was built in the Ptolemaic Empire between ten to twelve hundred years beyond this one. Nevertheless, the structure of buildings hadn’t changed much in the ensuing millennia and you’d done enough research on both periods to be able to navigate a temple without much fuss.

You’d needed the boys' assistance to scale up the side of a toppled pillar blocking the entrance, getting a much needed boost from Kyle at the bottom as Johnny hauled you up over the top with a firm grip and steadying hand on your waist. The buildup of drifted sands on the opposite side kept you from needing any further help from them, sliding down the small slope and hesitating at the bottom in front of the main entrance. 

Gods, this was a moment to take in. 

You were almost afraid to look inward; to take that next step into untouched territory that felt more sacred than the importance you had allotted it. The first to do so since it was lost to the shifting desert hidden within a mirage. Everything was so real now there was no mistaking the gravity drawing you in - the weight of all your decisions until now leading you to the steps you weren't sure you were brave enough to take.

But remembering the tales recently come to light of a secret courage you’d discovered you’d always possessed, you allowed curiosity to lead you forward through the doorway of the temple.

…or was that the steadfast hand ghosting over the small of your back? The heat of a corporeal body stood close behind, the soft whisper of ‘go on, m'eudail…’ breathed so delicately against your ear you’d barely heard it murmured?

Who was the last man to walk through this same threshold you found yourself now stepping over? Be he priest or slave? Medjai or king? Perhaps a close relative come to pay homage to Horus before they bid a final farewell before the forever stilled body of their dearest loved one glimpsed its last at the shimmering veil of starlight above.

Your hand was shaking as you brought it to your gaping mouth, enraptured eyes pulled in every direction as you gluttoned yourself on the near perfectly preserved views. The amazed utterances of ‘steamin’ jesus’ and ‘bloody hell’ of the men were mere wisps on the wind compared to the pounding of your heart in your ears.

In your opinion one of the worst misconceptions about the Romans and the Egyptians was that they avoided the usage of color like the plague. Just because time had eroded the polished white marble and beige sandstone did not mean they hadn’t once been just as full of life as the vibrant cultures who created them. It was unfortunate that the elements washed away their former grandeur and such an important part of society's understanding of their craftsmanship.

There was no mistaking as you entered through the courtyard and into the hypostyle hall, surrounded by rows and rows of wide stone columns of staggered heights that supported the sloped roof and allowed the hall to be lit by clerestory windows. Every inch is elaborately decorated with colorful displays of pharaohs and gods and ceremonies for worship and life and funeral arrangements. They were reminiscent of the ones famously carved at the Temple of Karnak, but upon seeing how detailed and dynamic these were up close you realized just how lacking you thought the former truly was.

You weaved between pillars raking your gaze up and down, some motifs familiar while others spoke of things you hadn’t learned in your books. Perhaps they were rituals held only within this necropolis, or maybe the other outside temples had them at one point, but were lost to erosion and vandalism…

All paths lead further into the inner sanctuary - the heart of the temple and what had at the time been considered the home of the gods.

The room was deep and narrow, a beautifully preserved statue of Horus with his sacred boat placed at the end of the hall. The walls were decorated with mythology, weaving the tales of his birth from Isis and Osiris. The murder of his father by his uncle Seth and the ensuing battle between the two gods. His triumph and aftermath of their bloody escapades. The healing of his left eye by Thoth. 

If you closed your eyes you could almost smell the incense left burning at the altar, threadbare tapestry fluttering with the draft held in place by instruments of worship. There would have been chanting as high priests read from sacred texts, prayers for the dead and celebrations for their deity. 

“You wanna tell us what the hell we’re lookin’ at here, dolly?” There wasn’t any mocking in Kyle’s tone, just pure inquisitiveness at the unique carvings on all sides of the chamber.

“I could spend a very long time educating you on the importance of where we are, but I don’t think you’d appreciate it enough to spare the proper breath.” Your eyes hadn’t strayed from the intricate bas reliefs on the wall for a moment as you addressed his remark, the awe of the sight prominent in the breathiness of your vibrato. “What I will tell you is that we are in a place of great importance and that you will never find a more perfect specimen of what life looked like three thousand years ago than you are right now.”

Johnny was oddly quiet as he observed your surroundings, scrutinizing them with an eye that suggested he was giving them far more attention than someone like your cousin afforded them. Curious for a soldier and treasure hunter to take such an interest in the ancient world considering it wasn’t anything of monetary value. 

Kyle was the one who eventually spoke up about moving onto the next site, lingering back in the doorway to the chambers as you stopped in front of the falcon at the end of the sanctuary. Clasping your hands in front of your chest, you bowed your head in reverent respect for the god of the sun and prayed to him for safe passage and good fortune, thanking him for letting you all enter into his domain and promising to do no damage or harm.

Once you’d finished with your silent parting, you were surprised to lift your head and see Johnny doing the same to the right of you, eyes still closed for a few moments longer than yours until he straightened up and glanced your way, a gentle hand on your shoulder turning you towards the exit where your cousin patiently awaited.

You could’ve sworn you felt someone’s eyes on your back, watching as you made your way from the chambers and back out into the heat of the city.

Horus was not the only one you visited. There were temples of worship to most of the major gods; Anubis, Osiris and his wife Isis, Amun-Ra, Hathor, Thoth. You’d even located Ptah amongst the structures despite him having no relation to anything regarding the Egyptian life cycle as the others did. As the god of construction and craftsmanship, perhaps he had been placed there to honor the vast array of noble architecture. Or maybe the occupants of whatever nearby temporary housing complex was erected somewhere outside the city walls created it first to honor their patron deity and bring them good fortune in their hard labors. 

Whatever the reason, you’d stopped inside and paid your respects just the same.

Empty boat pits lined up alongside the major temples. Whether for the gods themselves or the ones buried beneath you couldn't say. You hadn’t expected to find one still intact unless they were buried somewhere. There were surprisingly still traces of their remains at least, Johnny lowering you down gently into the depths as you gathered small fragmented pieces of wood so brittle most of them fell apart as soon as they met the warmth of your hands.

With each new place visited the more overtaken you were with each new find. There were long stretches where you were stuck silent in reverence and others you couldn’t stop going on and on with enthusiastic exuberance, pointing out important symbols and phrasing on the walls, the significance of an animal statue or the items left discarded by the last priests to visit centuries ago.

Truthfully you were glad to have been so lost in the moment that you were incapable of giving even half a care to the well meaning snickering of your cousin as he watched you halt every few paces to gawk at the glory of a bygone civilization laid out in front of you like an open banquet. But really who was he to judge when you’d seen him turn stupid at the sight of a tall glass of expensive amber brandy?

Your infatuation was far more dignified than his liquor cabinet full of rare imported inebriation juice.

But it was all in good fun, carrying on for the majority of the morning bleeding into mid afternoon until your tired legs humbly requested a small reprieve. The boys continued to entertain your chirpings long after returning to camp, smiling at you over their cooked portions of lunch, completely enamored by the way your eyes lit up to match your grin now that you were free to be unabashedly passionate to your heart's content.

The city itself was comparable to an iceberg; for how much there was on top to explore, the real meat of Hamunaptra was underground in the vast unexplored catacombs winding miles long and spanning the full breadth of the walled area above. 

It was by mere happenstance that you stumbled upon a way down into the area beneath - quite literally. You’d felt your foot slip with a rather ungraceful startled squawk of surprise, your stomach dropping as a piece of the stone path crumbled out from under you and tried to drag you down along with it. It was only due to the quick reaction of Kyle’s hand latching onto your bicep and dragging you backwards to hold securely against his chest that you hadn’t had an untimely discovery of just how far down that rabbit hole goes.

Once you’d calmed your racing heart from the unexpected fright, you’d been ushered back away from the opening as the two of them prodded the entrance for any more structural weaknesses that might cause it to further collapse. Besides a small chunk that had already looked iffy, they deemed it safe enough to stand near as Johnny got on his hands and knees to peer into the blackness.

“Jus’ a blank void. Cannae see shite down there.” He rolled back onto the balls of his feet, resting his forearms on his knees as he turned his gaze upwards again to where you and your cousin stood. “Dunnae think this is the place tae go down, Garrick. Might have tae try somewhere further south.”

The problem was that the actual entrance to the catacombs was currently occupied by the Americans. They’d hadn’t been unwelcoming so far, but none of you necessarily wanted to test that considering the real prizes were waiting down there. And even though you were fairly confident your boys could take on more than you thought they could, you didn’t want to press your luck or ruffle any feathers - especially when said birds were equipped with firearms.

But for all you knew, there was only one way in.

The two of them debated in the background as you took a gander around the area, trying to put together why that hole was even there in the first place. The structural integrity up until now had been solid, having walked a decent chunk of the grounds in the past few hours since you’d arrived. For there to be a sinkhole when it was so impor–

Something catching at the corner of your eye had you swiveling your head, a sparkle in the sands pulling your feet in its direction while your companions remained oblivious. Tucking your skirts under your legs as you kneeled, you wiped away the sand to reveal what looked like polished hammered metal, silver glinting in the sunlight as you brushed away more and more from its surface. 

You started to gather you had a pretty good idea what this thing was doing over here.

A large round disk - heavy too as you tugged at the newly revealed edge in an attempt to tip it upright with little success. Too stubborn to ask for help, it was only once you got back onto your feet that you were able to haul it up into a position it could be balanced on its own. 

You chortled quietly to yourself as you figured out exactly how it was you were going to accomplish your task, feeling good in your cleverness and turning to see your companions still at odds with each other on the direction you all should take next. The discussion appeared to be getting rather heated from what you could tell, the two of them standing toe to toe as arms gradually became more and more animated.

It entertained you just how unaware they were of anything outside their own minor argument, watching in growing amusement as they failed to notice you and your find that would ultimately put an end to their incessant babble if they only stopped to pay attention. 

But you were burning the daylight required for this and frankly you didn't have the patience to wait for them to finish.

“Oh booooys…” You called over with a sing songy lilt, watching as they came to the sudden realization you were no longer next to them and mildly panicking before their eyes fell upon you a few meters away, leaning the large mirrored object against your legs and knocking your foot against the winged falcon at the bottom. “Would you be ever so kind enough to cease your incessant yapping and come give me a hand with this?”

While Kyle got to work securing a hefty length of rope to a nearby obelisk, you’d located another one of those mirrors a few feet away, dragging it over to position it opposite the first and tilting it in a way that the sunlight would catch on the other as well. Thankfully you had made this discovery with a few hours of daylight left to spare. Otherwise your ancient party trick would’ve had to wait until tomorrow to be shown.

Once again Johnny had wandered off unannounced, leaving you and your cousin standing around waiting for minutes longer than you would've liked only to reappear holding a pack of smokes in one hand and a bundle of cloth in the other.

Hands perched on your hips, you found yourself mildly annoyed at his little disappearing act when he was supposed to be helping out here. These mirrors hadn’t exactly been light. “That’s the second time today you’ve trotted off to nowhere without prior warning.”

Tossing the cigarettes to your cousin who gave a grateful nod, Johnny stopped a few feet away to watch you clean the dirt off the reflective surface. “Apologies, lass. Had tae take a leak.”

Ugh. Men.

You scrunched your nose up at the vulgar thought. “I did not need to know that, thank you very much.” 

Johnny shrugged, unbothered. “Ye asked.” 

The slight offense was forgotten as he held the bundle out to you, your ruffled expression dropping to one of doe eyed curiosity. 

“What’s this?” You asked even as you took it from his hands and started unravelling the cloth.

“Didnae jus’ empty mah bladder while ah was away. Took a stroll o’er tae see our American friends fer a wee chat. Bartered fer Garrick’s cigs and ah…” Johnny rubbed at the back of his neck, gesturing with his free hand at the parcel. “Ah dinnae ken how helpful it’ll be, but ah thought it couldnae hurt tae ‘ave ye be well prepped jus’ in case.”

By the time he finished speaking, you’d been staring at the items in your hands for a few seconds, dumbstruck at the professional quality of the archaeological tools you’d unwrapped. You’d had a set with you in your original belongings, but it had been old, worn down, and incomplete. Now they were mere toys for the fishies at the bottom of the Nile.

Blinking up at him, your tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of your mouth, keeping you from speaking until you forced yourself to swallow. “Thank you… truly.”

He didn’t say anything in response, just a subtle nod and a quirk of his lips before he turned and strode over to Kyle to finish helping sort things out. You watched his back and shoulder muscles untense, a swagger in his step that gave you the impression of a man content with his own workings. You couldn’t help but bite your lip with a small smile, a giggle under your breath as you examined the gift again before rolling it back up and securing it with the provided buckle.

Kyle went ahead underground, rappelling down the rope and leaving you and Johnny on the surface to eventually follow behind once it was deemed safe enough. The shadows swallowed your cousin like a hungry maw, quickly out of sight from your spot peering down despite the light being bounced into the chasmic pit. It was a few moments before he reached the bottom, the sudden jostled thudding of his boots the only indication he’d landed roughly on the ground.

“It’s bloody dark down here!” You snorted at Kyle’s muffled proclamation, Johnny joining in with his own chuckle a heartbeat later.

“Ye’ll be alright, lad! We’ll come rescue ya from the boogeyman in a jiff!”

Your cousin muttered something too faint for you to hear from above, but you had a pretty good idea as to the contents of it.

Once he got the green light from Kyle, Johnny gave the rope a quick tug to confirm it was no longer attached and began reeling the length back up so that you could go next, Johnny following up at the rear.

“Ye certainly seem tae ‘ave found yer footin’.” Having recovered from the earlier lapse in his usual personality, he was back to sounding his normal self.

You felt good about the compliment, far more at ease than you had been given the past few days. It was nice to have your countenance acknowledged as something positive for a change. 

“That’s what happens when you take a fish out of a river and toss it up a tree. It starts gasping for air and questioning its worth until it returns to its home in the water.” Stepping away from the pillar you were leaning against, you met him halfway as he approached you with the length of rope. “Survivability and exploration are part of your repertoire. This is mine.”

Johnny stepped in front of you, taking up far more of your space than was proper or necessary for him to secure the slip knot around your hips. Fronts barely brushing up against each other, round buds hardening at the teased contact. Eyes kept locked in place by the enchantment only he seemed to wield over you. Deft hands worked to tie the rope, taking special care for your safety as he gave them a harsh tug to ensure they stayed put while the two of you shared the same breath. The unexpected movement sent you stumbling into his chest, face warming at the contact mirroring the spike of heat in his eyes.

“Good tae finally see ya, m'eudail...” Fervid pools of oceanic blue scorched your insides raw until you were sure white hot flames were licking up your throat and parching your mouth dry. The twinkle in his eyes telling you he knew exactly the effect he held over you.

You’d barely managed to eke out, “...thank you for seeing me.”

There was a sort of pleased rumble in his chest before he took a step back, smothering the pyre he’d lit in your bones and tilting you off access to the point of almost stumbling forward without his presence to keep you standing. He laughed at your reaction, motioning with his hand towards the gaping pit at your feet.

“Go on then, lass. Let’s see wha’ the desert’s been hidin’.”

It wasn’t the most graceful entrance you’d ever made in your life, but eventually once you’d lessened the death grip you held on the rope and allowed gravity to assist in your descent it hadn’t taken much to get you at the bottom. Kyle had been there to keep you from landing in a haphazard heap, unlatching you from the knots so that Johnny could have a turn. 

You’d halted him from moving as you peered into the shadows, hardly able to make out anything beyond vague shapes and blindly reaching out in the very dim light. Damn thing had to be nearb–

Hands met polished metal just as expected, brushing away the cobwebs and tilting the mirrored surface to catch on the beam filtered down from up top. You smiled over at your cousin, positioning it just - “And then there was…”

Suddenly the entire chamber was awash in stolen sunlight, illuminating the room without the need for candle or torch and leaving you with a smug satisfaction at the impressed look on his face. “...light.”

“Well I’ll be… MacTavish! Get your ass down here and have a look!”

Johnny wasted no time in jumping off the edge at the urging. It had startled you to see him drop so quickly, his prior experience in the act evident with the casual confidence he rappelled down the line. Practically puffed up like a peacock once he’d straightened and saw you gawking at him, tossing you a wink that had Kyle rolling his eyes and giving you a small shove onward as the three of you began to explore your new surroundings.

“Well this is certainly what we signed up for, wasn't it?”

“A whole surface full of colorful architecture and you’re most thrilled by an embalming room?” You shot over your shoulder at him from where you examined the small animal heads on a few nearby jars.

“Embalming?” Came the quizzical response from your cousin, retracting his hand from whatever container he’d been poking at on one of the nearby shelves.

It hadn’t taken much sleuthing on your part to deduct that conclusion. The tables arranged in rows throughout the chamber, large earthen pots along the walls smelling of faint rot, rolls of fragile linen stacked on shelves. The scent of palm wine and salt masked under all the muskiness.

“For the afterlife, dearest cousin.” There was a small smile on your face as you spoke to him with mild patronization. “This was the preparation room.” 

Pointing over at one of the stone tables closest towards him, you could almost make out the dark splotches of bloodstain hidden under the thick layer of dust.

“If you’d have died three thousand years ago and were wealthy enough to afford it, a chief embalmer wearing a mask of Anubis would have laid your corpse atop that table, gutted you like a pig, scooped out your insides, scrambled your brain with a hot poker, and then placed your internal organs inside one of these,” you held up an empty canopic jar you’d been inspecting that would’ve held a liver, “before smothering you in natron for forty days until you were a dried out husk of a man ready to be wrapped up in linen and packed away in a pretty colored box.”

“Mummies, Garrick.” Johnny gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder, softening the sting with a gentler one as he brushed past. “Good ol’ mummies.”

“It’s a wonder your mum ever let you study this shit in the first place...” Kyle remarked as he glanced down at the same spot you’d been looking, sidestepping the table as if there was fresh viscera still dampening the stone.

“I won’t tell her what was in those books if you don’t,” you added with a little dark humor before placing the container back where you’d found it, gaze raking over the rest of it as you moved through the room and out into the hallways beyond. 

Away from the clever structure of the mirrors there was at last a need for torchfire, your two companions holding one alight each as they took up the front and rear of your little group, sandwiching you between with Kyle taking up the lead. The air was stale down here, a constant itch at the back of your throat that travelled into your lungs with every breath. The corridors were sloped at the sides, thick cobwebs dangling like vines covering almost every inch of their surface. You made sure to keep your footsteps in the middle of the path, not wanting to accidentally back up into one and getting them all over your skin.

It impressed you how the pair of them communicated, speaking reminiscent how they might’ve clearing a battlefield rather than exploring ancient caverns. They parroted directions back and forth to each other, somehow keeping track of where you were long after you’d been able to keep up with the twisting path ahead. You passed by small antechambers filled with various supplies, assuming wherever you’d popped in was less a part of the tombs themselves and more the storage areas for the priests.

Eventually the walls started looking a little less run down and a little more smooth, empty metal brackets for holding wooden torches poking out of the stone. Whoever put this place together seemed to have taken a little more care in this section.

You found yourself pausing in front of another entryway, staring down a dark corridor with sconces lining either side. For all intents and purposes it wasn't anything remarkable; it didn’t stand out really from any of the others you’d passed by this point. It was just the first to look like someone had taken more care with the cut of the stone.

“Spy somethin’, lass?” 

You were vaguely aware of Kyle halting up ahead, backtracking as you reached out for Johnny’s torch that he willingly passed over.

“I just want to take a quick look down this one…” Your feet were already moving even as you spoke, lighting the sconces you passed with the weight of something in your chest tugging you forward. The walls were bare save for the oil lamps, but there was a subtle slope to the floor that led you downward and piqued something in the back of your mind.

About fifteen or so meters later, you found yourself standing inside an antechamber that was sparsely lined around the perimeter with only a few tables full of valuable artifacts. 

“More storage?” asked Johnny, skimming over the objects laid out on a table shaped like a…

…wait.

That wasn’t a table. It was a curved bed frame made up of the elongated bodies of two lionesses. 

Suddenly, everything clicked. 

You scrutinized the objects more closely, the cogs turning rapidly in your head as your eyes widened further with every new find. A painted wooden chest. A stool overflowing with sandals. Shabti dolls tossed haphazardly onto a thin lumpy mattress.

You bolted through the open doorway to your right, the other two shouting after you as you came to a halt inside the next room, torch clattering to the floor at the sight you took in. 

It wasn’t as grand as the pictures you’d seen of others like it elsewhere - certainly not possessing the same majesty or opulence as that of King Tut or Ramses IV. The room itself was small by comparison, not surprising considering the size of the annex you just exited and its meager furnishings. There hadn't been as much thought or care in the scenery depicted on the walls. But there was still a subtle elegance to its design that hinted at someone more important and incorporated all the way down to the large stone sarcophagus in the middle of the room.

“Fuckin’ hell!” Johnny might as well have not said anything for all the good it did reaching your ears, drowned out as white noise as all your attention was pinpoint fixated on the large box in the center.

You couldn't believe it. You could not believe it. Forget every moment that ever came before this because there was no way in hell it could ever live up to the overwhelming well of emotions bubbling up to the surface threatening to overflow from your tear ducts.

Was this how Howard Carter felt the first time he laid eyes on the burial chamber of Tutankhamun? Did he have to remind himself to manually breathe so as not to pass out? Did he yell and rejoice or just stand there in abject shock the way you did now? Was this figure nobility or just of high station? 

Whose golden death mask laid in wait inside the coffin housing it?

On newborn foal limbs you slowly approached the stone sarcophagus, ignoring the babble going on between the others and the questions being lobbed your way. Your vision was blurry enough from unshed tears that you were having a hard time making heads or tails of the hieroglyphics adorning the box, eyes frantic for the cartouche that would reveal everything.

You at last found the oval, tracing over every symbol until your brain supplied you with the accurate translation.

“Hatshepsut.”

This was Hatshepsut.

Wife of Thutmose II. Fifth Pharaoh of the Eighteenth Dynasty. Egypt's second queen regent.

Six inches in front of you.

Johnny stepped up beside you, making his own assessments from the various artwork sprawled across every corner of the room. “Gonna take a gander that’s someone important?”

That was a massive understatement. “Ruler of Egypt for twenty two years, one of the most prolific builders in all of history, responsible for the Temples at Karnak, Pakhet, and the masterpiece that is the Djeser-Djeseru. Peace and prosperity flourished under her rule and she was lauded for re-establishing vital trade routes previously lost to war and conflict.”

It was the first time since entering the chamber that you looked somewhere other than the coffin, meeting his gaze with the still wide eyed one of your own. “Yes, Johnny. She’s important.”

“But we already found her husband, yeah? So why wasn’t she buried with him in the Valley of the Kings?” Honestly you were going to have to give your cousin more credit for all the things he picked up on through the sheer osmosis of growing up in your vicinity.

“There were rumors that her stepson Thutmose III held resentment for her after the two of them became co-regent towards the end of his father’s reign. Politically he would have been afraid of being seen as the lesser candidate to succeed his father’s throne considering his young age. There’s documentation of how he tried to belittle Hatshepsut’s accomplishments throughout his life and many believe he was the one to deface and try to destroy most records of her from the history books.” 

The destruction of her statues, the erasure of her name from chiseled walls; there was a great deal of work that went into trying to keep her from being remembered. “He must've honored her enough as a ruler to bury her with dignity, but not enough to place her somewhere she would be found.”

Here amongst the other hidden kings of old.

“Makes you wonder who else is buried down here…” Kyle motioned over to another doorway on the eastern wall of the chamber, already inching towards it in curiosity. “Think we’ll find another one through here?”

“Unless there was a sudden fashion for corpses getting dipped in pure gold a few millennia back I doubt you’ll come upon one in the treasury room.” 

“No.” The way his eyes lit up was positively cartoonish, shaking his head with a cautious hurry to his steps almost as if he suspected you were pulling his leg, only to pause in the doorway not unlike you had when you’d first entered the burial chamber. The moan that left his lips was practically lewd as he supported his weight against the frame, taking in whatever he’d discovered out of view that had him practically buckling at the knees. “Christ, I'm about to be rich…”

Johnny rolled his eyes in exaggerated exasperation, the jovial smirk on his face betraying his fake ire at your cousin's inflated antics.

“Pump yer cock tae the trove some other time. Best be crackin’ on if we wanna keep makin’ progress before sundown.” Softer to you he added, “We’ll come back again, lass. There’s still plenty more explorin’ tae be had down ‘ere, aye?”

You knew you couldn’t linger here forever. And whether you’d return to this place or not she would have plenty of visitors soon enough. Now that you’d proven Hamunaptra’s existence there'd be historians and archaeologists flooding to the site in droves to get a glimpse of this lost piece of history and those inside it.

She wouldn't have to be alone anymore.

Resting your forehead against the cold stone lid of the sarcophagus, you imagined the person lying reposed within; the life she would have lived and the people who’d come to care for her even long past expiration. Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to connect with the spirit on the other side, whispering words of gratitude and comfort to the soul at rest. “We didn’t forget. The world still knows your name, and we are all the more better for you having existed. May you forever find peace in the Field of Reeds, Pharaoh.”

It was only then that you allowed yourself to be led out of the room, casting one last glance over your shoulder to the figure sleeping peacefully in a tomb fit for a queen.

It was hard to shake off the emotions of witnessing the final resting place of such a great and powerful woman, constantly straying back to it as the three of you continued forward with your current venture. At this point you weren’t sure what discovery could possibly be better than rediscovering the body of a three thousand year old pharaoh, but far be it for you to call it a day when the other pair seemed so eager to continue.

Heads whipped upwards and the three of you froze, the sudden sound of dozens of chittering things scurrying overhead, torches raised to illuminate the ceiling in search of the source only to come up empty. You couldn't tell if that was a relief or if that only added to your paranoia.

“Must be movin’ inside the walls...” Johnny’s murmurings didn't do much to ease your nerves, not exactly a fan of creepy things with multiple tiny legs crawling around where you couldn't see. Hair stood on end and goosebumps ran the length of your spine, scooting just a tad bit closer to the Scotsman as you carried on with your journey.

The tunnels narrowed to an almost claustrophobic size, the lot of you having to duck your heads to avoid hitting them on the carved rock. Cobwebs dangled in front of your face, having to constantly bat them away to keep from accidentally inhaling them into your mouths. The passage went on and on without any sign of any other rooms, apparently having taken a wrong turn somewhere further back that led away from the royal wing and onto wherever the hell you’d ended up now.

“Maybe we should turn back?” You suggested at one point, only to be shot down by the others.

“Don’t worry, dolly.” Kyle placed a placating hand on your arm, a warm smile helping to ease the worries of your mind. “We’re not gonna get lost. Got the way out right up here.” He tapped on the side of his head for emphasis, apparently confident in his abilities to get you back to the embalming room safely.

“And when he inevitably screws it all up then ye have me who actually remembers.” The cough you spluttered wasn’t enough to hide the chuckle from Johnny’s words, laughing in earnest as your cousin walked up to him and tried to wrestle him into an easy headlock. It warmed your heart to see them so spirited and boyish with one another, a gentle reminder that there were still kind souls within that hadn’t been completely hardened by a life of brutality.

It took a few more turns until you finally arrived at an area big enough for you all to stand in at your full height. It was a bit surprising when you realized the carved bottom half of a human was completely obstructing the way forward, a thick stone platform embedded in the floor from where the statue must’ve fallen through from the world above.

Kyle recognized it the same time you did, bringing his torch up to inspect the dark coloration of the stone that matched the upper portion in the courtyard. “Huh. The legs of Anubis. Well it looks like we’ve found where the rest of the statue went.”

“Was wondering why the Bembridge scholars said it was a full body sculpture...” You were fully aware of the contents supposedly held inside the base, recalling the conversation you’d had with Johnny on the boat a few days back when he’d wrongfully accused you of only being out here for the money. 

“Well, here you go, mister treasure hunter.” The hem of your skirt flared out as you turned on your heels to face Johnny, one hand on your hip with the other pointing behind and a grin on your tilted head. “You wanted something for your troubles? Here’s your chance - the Book of Amun-Ra. Should be a secret compartment somewhere in there if you want to take a whack at it.”

He flashed his canines at you, a sweaty arm brushing up against yours as he walked up to the base and started reaching for the bag slung over his shoulder. “Dunnae mind if ah do.”

The droning of garbled voices from somewhere nearby gave you all pause, already on edge from the mysterious bug encounter earlier and the overall eerie quality of the catacombs. The atmosphere in the group shifted as Kyle motioned for you to press up against the statue. Handing over his torch the same time Johnny set his on the ground, both reached into their respective holsters and withdrew their firearms, hammers pulled back and pistols at the ready.

The droning grew louder and louder, breaths steadying in anticipation of whatevers approach. Johnny giving Kyle a quick nod of unspoken agreement as the two darted out from behind the statue–

Ten loaded pistols aimed right at each other's faces from both sides as the two groups found themselves engaged in a standoff. The hired workers squirmed antsily behind the American’s, you holding out your own torch as if it would do anything against a loaded gun.

Roze was the first to cut the tension, a wobbly frustration to her voice. “Sweet Jesus, you tryin’ to turn us into mummies too, gents?”

Guns lowered slowly to their owner's sides as everyone breathed a sigh of relief, all of you apparently on the same wavelength that this place was starting to mess with your heads.

“Maybe don’t make a habit of sneakin’ up on people and you won't get shot,” Kyle snarked back with a quiet huff.

A greasy pit dropped in the middle of your stomach upon noticing Graves amongst their team, mood turning sour as he opened his mouth with that stupid patronizing tone of his. “Well maybe if you boys learned to keep your noses out of where they don't belong you too might find yourselves living a little longer.”

“Hey,” came the confused voice of Hutch from the back, stepping forward from the group as he gestured towards the bundle of tools wrapped in your arms, “hey, that’s my toolkit!”

Johnny didn’t let him any closer than that, raising his pistols again which immediately prompted the other trigger happy morons to do the same. “Think yer mistaken there, lad. That there’s hers.”

Hutch was smart enough to retreat back to his spot, taking one look at your Scottish friend and rethinking his life choices. “Must be... my mistake...”

“Enough of this!” shouted one of the others, Oz motioning with his head to move out of their way. “This here’s our territory. Go run along and look somewhere else.”

“Claimed it first, mate.” The toothy smile on your cousin’s face was a mask for the slithering creature under his skin preparing to strike, given away only by the deadness in his eyes. “Might want to reconsider your next move if you don’t want to join these poor sods here in the afterlife.”

Graves was more than happy to take the bait, a mocking sneer hidden behind an amused chuckle. “Would ya look at that. Pretty boy Garrick here thinks he still has the guts to go toe to toe even after high tailing it away from that fight in Turkey.”

“Ye shut yer mouth, Graves!” Johnny barked straight venom, raising his voice as the muscle in Kyle’s jaw jumped, grip only tightening on his loaded firearm. 

“Woah there!” Graves continued to antagonize from behind spiked teeth. “Down, boy! Someone outta put a leash around your neck and remind you of your place.”

The tension in the room was growing exponentially at a rate you weren’t sure could be interrupted anymore, mind scrambling for anything to diffuse the situation before someone pulled a trigger that couldn’t be undone. Twenty five of them against three– two of you. Those weren’t odds you were willing to chance.

It was by sheer luck you heard the shifting of sand under your feet, daring a glance down at the floor to watch a pebble disappear through a crack and revealing a chamber below. If the statue of Anubis was wedged deep into the floor… then maybe…

The next thing you did was possibly the stupidest move of your entire life.

You walked out in front of ten loaded guns.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen. Please.” One by one you began lowering the barrels, the shaking in your hand the only thing giving away the nerves underneath so eloquently masked by the English charm of your disarming smile, the perfect picture of ladylike decency in a room full of missing manners.

Ignoring the heated looks your companions sent your way in favor of focusing on the unruly Americans, even Roze seemed to fluster from such a rapid change in atmosphere. “There’s no need for such excitement. You’re all men of intellect here. Surely you wouldn’t let yourselves be overcome by a bit of schoolyard slander.” 

They all glanced between each other in conflicted confusion, not sure what was happening but unable to summon the emotional intelligence to deal with the situation. The secret to breaking a man - fluffing their egos while simultaneously giving them a dressing down. 

“Now,” you continued, satisfied when their postures relaxed and their weapons were no longer facing each other, “since we all learned how to share when we were younger, I don’t see anything wrong with letting you fine folk get to work on this statue here.” You finally met the stern gazes of your companions, secretly pleading with your eyes for them to go along with what it was you were saying. “There are other places to dig…”

A few tense moments passed before Johnny lowered his pistols and offered you his hand, sending one more scathing look at the others before leading you from the room with Kyle at the rear.

“Happy digging! And best of luck!” You shouted with a good natured wave to the other group, flashing them one more smile before being tugged out of view around the next corner. It wasn't until you were far enough out of earshot that he relented his tight grip.

Your back met the wall behind you, startling a gasp from your lips as Johnny suddenly crowded you against it with a simmering expression and a finger in your face. “Donnae ever do that again, lass! Do ye have any idea what would’ve happened if one of those triggers slipped?!”

His anger had never been directed your way before, just as intense as every other emotion he’d always expressed. Johnny didn’t know how to do things by halves and that was evident in the way he processed feelings as well. It tore at your chest, the rage in his eyes burning holes in your heart that left you aching and blind to see it for what it really was. 

The cool confidence you’d pretended to exude earlier fell away under his harsh judgment, the girl underneath who’d been terrified for her friend's safety and only wanted to help revealed underneath. You tried to shrink back from his gaze as far as the space would allow - which in reality was practically nothing. The stinging behind your eyes, the flood of emotions rising to the surface from the earlier threat of confrontation combined with this unanticipated lambasting left you shaking.

You tried to explain. “T-There’s a chamber underneath that room. If we can find a way down then we can try to bust our way up from the bottom. W-We can steal the treasure right out from under their noses.”

“I dunnae care what yer reasonin’! That was naive and foolhardy and ye know damn well better than tae put yerself in harm’s way like that! Ye could’ve been shot! You could’ve–!” He cut himself off with an infuriated growl, hands slamming into the wall beside your head as his own bowed forward. For a moment you thought Johnny would continue with his admonishing tirade, huffing out a breath like an enraged bull as fingers dug into the stone.

You held as still as you could, unable to turn away from the penetrative orbs searching through your soul. Something must’ve shone in your watery eyes that brought him out of the ‘what ifs’ and back into the here and now, stare softening into weariness as he leaned the last bit forward to rest his head on top of yours with lidded eyes.

You didn’t know what to make of it as you stood trapped between him and the wall, listening to his soothing baritone as he began murmuring something soft in his native tongue. You weren’t sure if he was speaking to himself or to you, but it had the effect either way of settling most of your nerves like you would a frightened animal. Gentle lips pressed a kiss to the top of your head, pulling back to look you in the eyes with a grounding weight before quietly uttering, “C'mon, lass. Let’s go find ye that room.”

Where Johnny was a flintlock, Kyle was a smoldering ember.

He said nothing as Johnny led you all through twisting catacombs, following some unknown path he’d mapped out in his head that he assured should lead you all to the level below. The silence from your cousin was deafening, hurting just as much as Johnny’s earlier explosion but cutting far deeper. The fact that he hadn’t spoken up when you were being manhandled only confirmed to you how pissed he must be.

Keeping your voice low despite the close quarters ensuring the conversation wouldn't be private anyways, you finally summoned enough courage to address the man following behind you.

“Are you just going to keep being mad at me?”

“I’m not mad.”

The breath you exhaled was loud as you halted your movement, forcing Kyle to come to a quick stop so as not to run into your back. “You could at least have the decency not to lie to me.”

“Not lying. We need to keep moving…” It wasn’t ‘dolly’ he said at the end there. It was your real name.

That’s how you knew you fucked up.

Turning on your heel, you instantly hated the unphased expression he wore, wishing he would just snap at you the way Johnny did so that you could get it over with already. But no. That wasn’t Kyle’s style. He let his anger fester under his skin and rot away at his internal organs until you could see the decay in his eyes.

You were gonna have to push him. 

Thankfully your other companion had sensed the impending conflict and kept moving farther down the hall to grant the two of you a bit of space. “Over two decades of hanging around each other and you think I don’t know just how much you want to throttle me for what I did back there?”

“You’re a grown woman who can make her own decisions.”

“And as we’ve already established it was a stupid one and I deserve to get a scolding.”

“Johnny did just fine with his version.”

“You’re not Johnny.”

“The accent give that away?” 

Damn it, this was getting you nowhere.  “What gave it away was that he has enough emotional intelligence to get his rage out instead of letting it systematically destroy him.”

A vein twitched in Kyle's forehead, the only tell you’d hit a nerve. Perfect.

“If I had a problem I’d say something about it.”

“If that was the case then you wouldn’t have spent all these years burying your problems at the bottom of a bottle!”

That hadn’t at all been the sentence you'd meant to say, immediately regretting the spewed out words as soon as they left your lips. Kyle's eyes narrowed down to slits, his jaw clenching and muscles bulging in his arms where hands formed into tight fists. God, this was not the time nor place for this conversation.

“How I choose to spend my time is none of your business!”

Hurt mixed with outrage as you took a step toward him and shouted right back in his face, rare tempers flying on both sides. “It is when I have to sit and watch my cousin waste away every night in a bar because he refuses to open up to the only family he has left!”

His scoff was mean, but the red bleeding into his dark brown eyes wasn't from anger. “You think I'm gonna subject the person I love most to every terrible thing I've ever done? The horrors I've had to witness? You think I'm gonna willingly tell you just how much of a fucking monster your cousin has become?!”

“Yes, you asshole! Because I fucking forgive you!”

There was stillness in the corridor. Chests heaved with shallow breaths; words hung suspended between you. Droplets fell to the parched earth beneath your feet as you shed tears enough for the both of you.

Too long had you watched your cousin suffer under the weight of his own choices. 

No more…

“Just because I didn't have to fight in it doesn’t mean I went untouched by the war! None of us did!” Arms spread wide as you bore your own grieving soul in hopes he’d finally let you see his. 

“We were the ones keeping things afloat while the men in our lives left to serve king and country. We were the ones bent over the toilet violently shaking and throwing up every time the postman came, never knowing if the next letter we received was going to begin with the words ‘we deeply regret to inform you’. We were the ones who had to deal with the aftermath of our soldiers returning home from distant fields - changed, violent, distant men. I saw the boys I danced with take their own lives because they couldn’t stand the nightmares that plagued them even years later and hundreds of miles away from the trenches!” 

You would never know what it looked like to see a man with his intestines pouring out of his gut or a decapitated body from where a canon blew it clean off. You would never have to look a man in his eyes as you became responsible for the way the light slowly left them. But that did not mean you didn't know suffering in your own valid way.

“So I don’t care what you had to do over there to come back home to me. I don’t care that there’s blood on your hands that will never wash away. Tell me you strangled a man with those bare hands. Tell me you relished in committing heinous acts of torture. Tell me you stayed in the military far past your original enlistment date just because you realized you found something you were both good at and fucking enjoyed. I don’t fucking care! It was war, Kyle! And whatever it was you had to do was done in order to stop the other monsters - the real ones who didn’t feel remorse for the countless lives they've destroyed - from reaching our shores and doing far worse to people like me than you did to them. You think you don’t deserve to be here for what you’ve done? You think you’re beyond forgiveness? Well guess what? I forgive you! Be a monster for all I care! Just fucking let me in!”

It was the first time your cousin cried since the death of your parents, standing there like a marble statue as it poured over his face like rivers. You could tell he grappled with the vulnerability of your words - the permission being granted to share his pain and trauma with an understanding soul.

You reached out for Kyle the same time he did, crashing together in an embrace that left you even more raw and torn open than before. His iron grip on the back of your head and banded around your waist kept you locked against him, hair dampening with tears matching the ones you were leaving on his shirt, face buried in his chest with your arms clamped around his broad torso.

You’d tried to have this talk with him in the years prior, but each attempt ended in failure either with him shutting you out from the start or you were just too scared to dredge up feelings in the first place. You promised yourself never again would you stand by while the people most important to you suffered - whether by their own actions or any outside force, including you.

“Supposed to be brave for you, dolly…” The strained voice came muffled against your scalp.

“And I was a stupid little girl who didn’t want to see her two favorite people in the whole world end up with bullet holes in their heads. We’ve both made mistakes. No more pushing me away because of them, got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He squeezed you extra tight, pressing a firm kiss to the side of your head before finally relinquishing his grip to smooth away the tear tracks from your cheeks. You returned the favor in kind, your fingers lacing with his as the two of you turned to glimpse the last of your trio waiting patiently at the opposite end of the hallway.

Johnny hadn’t said anything the entire time the two of you were duking it out. He merely stood watch as a silent sentinel, his added presence a not uncomfortable witness to the long overdue confession. His gaze lifted from the floor at your approach, heavy with understanding and weighted with something glistening of his own. It wasn’t until you got close enough that it was replaced by a familiar sparkle that spoke well before his mouth did, pushing off from the wall he’d been leaning against and coming to stand directly in your way.

“So… ah’m one of yer favorites now, eh?”

The loud groan of annoyance from Kyle was echoed by the exasperated sigh from you. The playful shove you gave him had you grateful for his constant ability to so easily lighten a heavy mood, feeling like everything would eventually - in time - be alright again.

“Shut up, Johnny.”

Something you hadn’t anticipated in your ‘brilliant plan’ was the fact that the ceiling above would be so damn high, the tools the boys brought with just barely out of reach even for their six foot something statures. The idea was briefly put on hold as they went off to search any nearby rooms for something that could support their weight, returning a short while later dragging a couple decorative jackal statues on small platforms. 

You didn’t want to know whose tomb they’d raided for those, hoping you weren’t offending the dead too terribly badly.

“The statue of Anubis should only be a few feet above us now. So long as we’ve landed in the right area we should come up right between his legs.”

Dirt rained down on the group, the loud clunk of mining tools a steady beat chipping away at the sand and stone above. It was a real effort to keep your eyes on the ceiling so as not to be constantly admiring the flexing of a certain Scotsman’s beefy biceps and corded hairy forearms every time he swung his heavy hammer.

Johnny paused in his endeavors for a quick breather, glancing in your direction and accidentally catching you in one of your rare moments of weakness. Tossing you a quick wink with a knowing smirk, he rolled out the stiffness in his joints from craning his neck before resuming the task at hand. 

Meanwhile you had to act like you weren’t ready to spontaneously combust from the mortification of having been found practically drooling.

“Ye sure we’re gonna find this secret compartment this way?” Johnny coughed as a dusting of sand accidentally fell into his mouth.

To be honest: you weren’t. But at the very least it gave you a chance rather than letting the others be the only ones having a go at snatching it.

“Don’t worry, MacTavish,” chimed in your cousin, grunting with the exertion of swinging his pickaxe. “We’ll get to it before those beastly Americans do and then we’ll have even more riches to rub in Grave’s ugly mug.”

The pair took out their aggressions for the next few minutes, pausing only briefly here and there, driven by the need to reach the golden book before the team up top. The item in question hadn’t been the reason you’d started this expedition - that honor still belonged to the discoveries you’d made thus far - but you couldn’t deny there was a certain allure to it now, whether because of the knowledge it might contain or some sense of competition evoked in you by the two men banging away at the ceiling. 

A loud rumbling drew your eyes upward, the boys halting their movements with quizzical brows as they glanced between each other and the spot they’d been carving away at, hesitant to take another swing. The noise went on for a few moments longer, sounding far bigger than it had any reason to before disappearing a few seconds later.

Even still, everyone remained on edge. “The whole thing isn’t gonna collapse down on top of us… right?”

“Nah. Ah’m sure it’s jus’–”

Johnny didn’t get to finish that sentence before the sound came back with a thundering vengeance, clamorous enough to make you flinch back and reverse your steps in the opposite direction of the now growing crack opening up in the ceiling.

Kyle’s eyes were the size of dinner plates, violently smacking his friend’s arm as dirt rained down on top of them and something started to violently burst through. “Back up, back up!”

They dove off their platforms just in the nick of time, barely avoiding a deadly catastrophe while you stood stunned pressed against the far wall of the chamber as an enormous stone box broke through with a resounding CRACK and crashed to the floor in a heap, taking up almost the full width of the room.

“Steamin’ Jesus…” Johnny groaned out from the dirt, bringing himself to his feet and assisting Kyle in doing the same from where the two of them had rolled out of the way to keep from being pancaked.

Once the dust kicked up had settled, you slowly approached the box, recognizing it for what it was and glancing up at the sizeable hole from where it’d fallen through. “A sarcophagus… buried at the feet of Anubis…”

“The hell they do something like that for?” Kyle was still gawking at the exposed stone on the ceiling, partially to check if anything else was about to topple down with it.

You could only imagine the reasoning behind doing something like this. After all, the ancient Egyptians weren’t exactly known for this kind of unorthodox burial. 

“I honestly don’t know. I can only assume that this person was either someone of great importance, or alternatively…” and you were really banking on it being the former, “they did something entirely unforgivable.”

The whole thing was covered in a thick layer of dust and sand, settled after millennia of being buried and obscuring any and all writings. Using your hands only seemed to smear it, forcing you to pull out your new archaeological equipment as you began brushing away the film coating every inch of its surface, searching for any kind of markings that could be used as an identifier for the figure inside. 

But there was nothing written along the sides as one might see on the tombs of pharaohs and high priests. Why give a man the honor of resting at the feet of a god for all eternity only to tell us nothing about him?

Whistling for your attention, Johnny pointed to a small section he cleared away at the top of the box with his hands, visible indents still obscured by tiny grains of sand. You moved your brush over the area, sweeping away the dirt gathered in the cracks keeping you from reading any of the rather roughly carved hieroglyphics. You’d expected to find a cartouche at the very least, but this… this was not that.

“He… that shall not be named.”

But… but that didn’t make any sense. If they weren’t going to tell us who he was then why even bother giving him a title in the first place? Who was this man to be hated so much that the high priests reduced his very existence down to unspeakability?

Something wasn’t right here.

Your arm bumped against a raised texture just below the symbols, glinting metal embedded in the sarcophagus that once cleaned out revealed an eight pointed star with a scarab at the center.

Kyle ran his fingers over the serrated edges, glancing over at Johnny as the two of them tried to work the problem. “Feels sturdy; built into the container, not just slapped on top. Some sort of locking mechanism?”

“Could be. The hell kinda key looks like that, though?”

An enraged voice shouts from the recesses of your mind, flashes of glinting metal threatening your neck and impatient eyes belonging to a man you encountered not three days past: "THE KEY!"

That's when it hit you. The robed men, the attack on the boat, the key, the eight sided container burning a hole in your mind.

The box.

You scrambled for the bag you carried with you, digging around in one of the exterior pouches before emerging with the little metal box that started this whole adventure in the first place.

“Thought that’s empty.” Kyle looked at it with a tilted head and a raised brow, wondering if you’ve by chance gone off your rocker in your current frenzied state.

“It is,” you confirmed, flipping the item around in search of that tiny pressure plate, “but that’s not the point, dear cousin. The point is… Aha!”

The box sprung open with a click, the top unfurling into a recognizable shape as your two companions eyes flashed in understanding.

“...that I have a better memory than you.” You gave him a cheeky grin overflowing with smugness as you tipped the box upside down, placing it against the symbol where it slotted in perfectly into the eight pointed star. 

Johnny squeezed you against his side in a one armed hug, an enthusiastic kiss to your temple that had you giggling. “Lookit our clever lass, aye Garrick.”

Kyle didn’t get a chance to respond. 

Agonized screaming filled the air, blood curdling and twisted and gripping into your very core. It was a primal sound of torture, cutting into your soul and filling you with abyssal dread that left you feeling white as a ghost. 

The boys made haste in rushing out the open doorway, you trailing along behind them as Kyle held an arm out to block you from potential danger. You weren’t prepared for the sight of a man you didn’t recognize flailing about and crashing down the corridor, nails clawing into his bald scalp leaving rivulets of blood soaking his skin. 

His brutal screams of everlasting torture rang out like a cathedral bell as he ran headlong past you, unseeing or uncaring as he flailed violently, repeatedly bashing his head against the wall and leaving a red gory mess in his wake. 

Johnny almost moved to stop him until the stranger suddenly collapsed in a heap on the floor, back cracking and arching off the ground in an almost inhuman way as his fingernails dug deep scratches into the earth. Eyes bugging out of his head, mouth open in a garbled choked off scream, limbs twitching and spasming until - eventually - they moved no more.

You were getting far too used to seeing corpses…

No one fought Johnny when he made the executive decision of being done for the day, the sweet taste of discovery turned to rot in your mouth at the unexpected turn the evening had taken. 

You'd seen men struck down right in front of you that night on the ferry, blood staining the carpet of your stay rooms and the polished wood of the upper deck. But they had been bad men doing horrible things and deserved not one ounce of pity for their fates. This however had been on the other end of the spectrum. That man hadn’t suffered for any crimes he’d committed - he'd merely suffered. And that to you was more disturbing than watching the man who tried to cause you harm take a bullet between the eyes.

Your trio emerged from the darkness of the catacombs up into star speckled nightfall. Kyle stayed behind to fill the other team in on the details of what just transpired with one of their workers while Johnny escorted you back to the opposite side of the courtyard. 

He sat you down on the laid out rugs in front of the blackened firewood, striking the kindling with a match as the dry pieces of timber quickly set ablaze. Digging into one of the nearby bags, Johnny carefully draped a blanket over your shoulders before quietly taking a spot at your side.

“Thank you...” The voice that came out from your lips was smaller than you might’ve liked, very telling of your current delicate psychological condition. Even with the added heat it wasn’t enough to take the chill off your bones.

It took you a few breaths to bring up the question you didn’t really want to know the answer to. “What do you suppose killed him?”

The arm that had been around you earlier for your cleverness returned now for your comfort. “Dunnae ken, lass. Must’ve been somethin’ with his head the way he was holdin’ it screamin’ like that. Seizure maybe?”

It was at that point that Kyle rounded the other side of the tents, an unlit cigarette already wedged between his teeth as he struck a match and raised it to the tip, tossing it somewhere in the sand before joining the two of you on the rugs.

“Got confirmation that the man was indeed one of theirs. Going back to retrieve the body now. Poor buggers just can’t seem to catch a break.” Kyle muttered with a tired groan as he sunk into the blankets next to you, leaning back on his elbow and exhaling a billow of smoke skyward.

Seemed like there was an awful lot of that going around since this whole trip started. “More bad news?”

“Only if you were one of the blokes that went and got himself melted today.”

Johnny scoffed, tossing another piece of kindling on the flames. “Yer bum’s oot the windae.”

“Swear to god, mate. It’s true. You can go ask them yourself.” He motioned over to the north where the other party had taken up camp. “Lost three of their workers opening up that compartment we almost had our own hands in. Soon as the lid was popped, poof!”

You flinched away from his animated arm gestures miming an explosion, the mental image that brought to mind combined with the screams of the deceased man from earlier making you shrink inward on yourself and pull the woven blanket tighter around you as if the thin barrier would protect you from the outside world.

“Hydrochloride then,” your Scottish companion muttered, a soothing hand beginning to rub large circles on your back at your obviously perturbed expression. It helped even if only a little bit.

Your cousin made a small hum in agreement at Johnny's conclusion before taking another drag. It was painfully obvious you were out of the loop concerning that information, wondering what it was they apparently knew regarding the matter that you didn’t.

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that term…” You trailed off, looking between the two of them for some sort of explanation.

Kyle piped up with the answer. “Salt acid, dolly. Pressurized salt acid. Would’ve dissolved the flesh right off their bones. Bit old fashioned, but we’ve seen it used before.”

Part of you wasn’t surprised - either at their familiarity with the substance or the fact that the statue of Anubis had apparently been booby trapped. It made sense that the guardians of the city would’ve had a host of implemented deterrents they used to ward off plunderers. The fact that you hadn’t considered that as a possibility earlier weighed heavy on your heart with guilt.

Christ, if either of them had been the ones to pry open the compartment instead…

Your depressing ruminations were interrupted by the horses whinnying in the background, the boys turning their heads towards the sound with focused eyes as if sensing something that you weren’t. 

You almost made fun of them for being so antsy. After all, it was only a bunch of animals talking amongst themselves. Just as you were about to open your mouth with a quick remark, you heard the disturbance again - only to realize the shuffling of hooves was coming from the opposite direction of where the other team's horses were currently grazing along the hillside. 

So then who…?

Movement pulled your gaze back to your companions, furrowing your own brows as the boys began grabbing for their nearby rifles in a hurry. “Wha–?”

“Stay here, lass.” Came the harshly barked order, wasting no more breath on you as they turned in tandem and sprinted off in the direction of the commotion, expecting you to remain obedient.

You weren’t an idiot. You knew if they were headed into something guns blazing then you stood no chance against whatever it was they might face. You trusted your boys enough to stay right where you were, scooting backwards on your butt to further conceal yourself in the shadows of one of the tents. Curling your legs up to your chest, you could only sit and wait for whatever outcome might befall.

The first echoing gunshots rang out in the courtyard, multiplying quickly as gunsmoke drifted upwards into view from your position. Distant screams and grunts and foreign battle cries told you everything you needed to know about the situation your friends now found themselves in; flashbacks to the only other fight you’d ever witnessed as your imagination supplied you with pictures of damp crimson earth and bullet ridden corpses. You’d have covered your ears to muffle the cacophonous sounds if you weren’t trying to remain on alert in case the fighting veered any closer.

The camels grew restless and frightened by the loud echoing bangs, yanking on their ropes in blind panic as their distressed bleats joined the horses whinnying. You tried in vain to calm the spooked animals without moving towards them, but they were all but deaf to the gentle hushes and calming words sent their way. It wasn’t until the one tugged hard enough with a reverberating snap to free itself from its confines that you bolted upright from your hiding spot with a sharp curse, following along after the panicked beast as it started to run in the wrong direction of safety.

It was easily outrunning you, charging away at speeds your tiny human legs could not compete with until you were forced to abandon your mission of bringing it back. Its path led you right towards the fighting, something you realized far too late until you had to dodge out of the way of a horse galloping past, nearly tripping over yourself to turn back in the direction you just came from. It was your turn to panic as you were finally met with the sight of your aggressors - men in familiar black robes directly blocked your intended path back to the far end of the courtyard, frantically searching for another way through when a gunshot rang out in your vicinity, startling a high pitched shout from your lips as you cowered away in terror.

It gripped you with the force of a thick iron chain, wrapping around your torso and snaking its way up around your delicate neck. Your airflow was constricted, the metal slipping inside between shocked parted lips to paralyze your windpipe and slither down to form a dense weight deep in your gut. 

It was pure pandemonium as lit torches were tossed onto thin linen canopies, men who’d been hiding within running out shrieking in pain as fire licked across their blistering skin. Those closest to the exit tried to flee in alarm only to be halted by reinforcements trampling through the gates and turning them away. Those who could defend themselves were doing so, casualties on both sides as the Americans fought back against the foreign adversaries, cheering as each shot knocked an enemy clean off its saddle. But there were too few of you in comparison to the number of intruders spilling down into the city.

All around you, faces of the men you’d encountered throughout the day contorted in agony as they were cut down like rotted trees, blood coating the blades of their enemies and bubbling up from the gruesome gaping wounds in their chests. You heard their cries to mothers and wives they would never see again; their prayers to gods that would not arrive to save them. It broke your heart to turn away from outstretched hands, looking to you as if you were their savior when in reality you’d never felt more useless in your entire life.

It took someone nearly bowling you over for your brain to finally drag itself out of freeze mode, the deep rooted need for survival powering your legs to seek cover elsewhere. 

In all the chaos you could not find either of your boys, hoping they were not amongst the bodies you rushed past as you swerved between tents towards a crumbled obelisk, hefting yourself over the side to crouch down hopefully out of view. Your hands trembled and your head felt dizzy, breaths shallow and ragged as you fought back nausea from the taste of copper soaking the air. 

Clenching your eyes shut, you begged whatever higher power might be listening to please… please not let this be the end for you. Please let Kyle and Johnny make it out of this alive and unscathed. Please don’t take away your chance at living now that you just discovered what it felt like to live.

A deep gravelly call to halt came from somewhere to your left, first in Arabic and then again in English as the clattering of swords stilled and the shouting quieted. Risking a glance, you raised up onto your knees to peek over the stone structure for whatever seemed to bring the fighting to a temporary pause.

It wasn’t hard to pinpoint what had captured everyone’s attention.

Dark clothing intermixed with light, everyone turning to face the same area awash with burning firelight highlighting two figures amongst the chaos.

And there in the middle of it all stood a man in black faced in a tense standoff opposite the familiar form of Johnny, a lit stick of dynamite the only thing keeping him and his forces at bay.

The stranger didn’t cower from the sight in front of him, keen eyes taking in the situation with careful calculations that told you he was weighing all outcomes - well aware of the destruction in Johnny’s hands and the promise in his gaze that dared them to call his bluff.

The man in black straightened to an imposing height, a deceptively bored stance with a calm aggression sparking in his gaze. He didn’t flinch away from the harsh glare of your friend, meeting it head on with one of confident arrogance. It was hard to tell his full expression, a black cloth covering the bottom half of his face that he had yet to lower. His sword swung limply at his side - dripping dark blood onto the sand below - but the muscles in his arms tensed as if they were prepared to strike at any moment.

You weren’t sure you’d ever met a more dangerous man.

“We’ve spilt enough blood tonight.” The rough bass in his voice rumbled through your bones even at a distance, the surprisingly silky timbre cutting through the undertone of lethality. “This is the only warnin’ I’ll give you so best listen carefully.”

He took a step forward as if unbothered by the sparkling wick counting down in front of him, eyes narrowing down to slits above the black fabric of his mask. 

“Leave.” The singular word sent an ominous chill down your spine. “Leave this place, or else we'll be sendin’ you to meet your heathen god.”

You didn’t doubt it, not for one minute. It briefly flashed across your mind that this might just be some elaborate trick to lower your guards, but you somehow trusted the man to keep his word. You were only grateful the killing had ended for the time being, glad to be given the opportunity to leave with your heads still intact. 

One of his men came up beside him, holding out the reins of his horse for him to take, head dipped in a reverent bow.

“Shabah.” Ghost.

The stranger's gaze swept over his surroundings as he made to turn away, halting his movement as he picked you out amongst the sea of faces. Dark brown eyes pierced yours as he came to a sudden stop, something brewing within that once again pulled at the back of your mind the same as it did that night on the ferry. There was something staring you right in the face and you were too blind or traumatized to see it.

He held you captive a moment longer, a hidden message within those orbs that he granted you no time to decipher. Breaking eye contact to mount his steed, he turned his harsh glare back to the others present, yelling out again in English for everyone to hear. “You have one day!”

Calling out to his men, they all took to their steeds and scattered with the wind back the way they came, funneling out through the city gates to disappear out into the darkness of the night. They may have gone, but their chilling warning remained.

You hoped that would be the last you ever saw of him.

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[turtlecleric]

Trapper!Raph >:)

CWs: violence, blood, bear trap injury, talk of death, including a known cycle of repeated deaths over time, gruesome, gory, and creepy things, feelings/thoughts of hopelessness and being resigned to death/pain, uhhhhhhhh horror vibes?? Based on the Trapper character and entire premise of Dead by Daylight

-

The mists are thick tonight. Thicker than usual. You can barely see fifteen feet ahead of you, and the darkness beyond seems almost tangible. Like some great cage in all directions. Even if you were to scale the impossibly high walls surrounding the estate, you feel like you would still slam into solid black if you ran far enough. Sometimes it feels as if the darkness itself is what's keeping you here, in this insane loop of death and suffering and fear. Maybe the darkness is just as alive as you are. A sentient, ancient being that feeds off of your anguish and terror.

A silly thought, maybe. But part of you believes it's the truth. 

It's so quiet here. Unnaturally so. Your shallow breaths and light footfalls feel like blaring alarms in the eerie silence. You know you need to watch where you step - always, always watch where you step - but you can't help glancing around every few seconds at the trees surrounding you. You can't shake the feeling that he's nearby, watching. Like he can see through this oppressive fog somehow and he's just waiting for you to lower your guard before he makes his move. 

Focus. Listen. 

You hear a generator. Somewhere to your right, you think, and it sounds like it's well on its way to being finished. So close to being done, actually, that you hesitate. You can't hear anyone working on it right now. Surely there's a reason that whoever started it didn't finish if it's that close. Maybe he found them and he's chasing them away. 

Or maybe it's a trap. That's his whole thing, after all. Traps. 

…But the generator sounds so close to being done. And you only need two more to escape this wretched place - at least until the darkness drags you back in.

Breathe. Focus. Keep going. 

You didn't think you could get more tense than you already are, but apparently you can. The fear is a constant, choking thing, but it's especially strong now that the trees are starting to thin. So strong that you're sick from it, that you can barely breathe through it, but you keep walking. Carefully stepping among the gnarled tree roots, one eye on the ground and the other on your surroundings. It's just trees and mist and darkness in every direction. Everything looks the same, like you're walking in circles, but the sound of the generator is getting louder, so you know you're going in the right direction. 

A shout in the distance has you gasping and stumbling over your own feet. It's not close, but it's not far enough away for you to feel safe, either. You push away the tightness in your lungs and keep walking, even as a longer scream tears through the air. 

He's caught the last of the others, then.

You consider going to save the person. No doubt they're being carried to a hook. You're not sure why, but usually that's what happens when you're caught. You've been thrown onto one plenty of times before. The pain is indescribable - having a rusted, metal hook shoved through your shoulder, your own weight dragging you down as you hang there and pray to a god you no longer believe in that one of the others will be brave enough to pull you off before you're consumed by those terrifying tendrils that come from the sky. 

Your chest aches just thinking about it. 

A third scream sounds, and you get that distinct feeling you always get when someone is hooked that confirms your theory. Maybe… maybe you should-

There. The generator. You were right; it's almost finished. The pistons are moving quickly, the rickety thing so loud that it sounds cacophonous in your ears. Shouldn't take more than a minute to get it done, and then you only need one more to power the exit doors before you're free.

You'll finish the generator. Then you'll go save that person. Yes, that's what you'll do. 

You glance behind you, looking for a hint of that terrifying mask he wears somewhere among the trees. You're being paranoid - that scream was too far away for him to suddenly be close enough that you could see him - but you keep scanning the treeline anyway. You notice a hook nearby and feel a phantom pain in your shoulder. 

Come on, focus. Keep walking. You're almost to the gen-

Something snaps. Sharp, intense pain flares in your lower calf, and you try not to make a sound, you try, but a jagged shriek rips out of your throat anyway. You fall to your hands and knees, your heart in your throat. Thoughts splintering, your fingers reach toward the source of the pain and find metal. 

You've stepped in a bear trap.

Stupid. Stupid. Always watch where you're stepping when it's him, you know that, that's the number one rule and you've broken it. Stupid from fear, getting ahead of yourself, you've stepped right into one of his traps - and he definitely heard you. He always does.

You try to shift your weight so that you can get a good grip on the top of the trap, but even moving an inch has you crying out and freezing in place. For a long moment you can only shake and whimper and try to breathe. Every twitch sends shooting pains through your leg, waves of nausea and dizziness making it hard to focus on anything aside from the pain. 

Still, you've got to at least try to get free. He's almost certainly on his way. You need to get free and run - but fuck, fuck, you can't even see straight. You don't think you'll ever get used to how much it fucking hurts. The surreal, lightheaded feeling. The way your very bones seem to tremble. It hurts. It hurts. 

It'll hurt no matter what, you tell yourself. And it'll hurt more if he gets his hands on you. So you shift, inch by inch, and you grip the top of the trap, and you try to focus past the sparks dancing in your vision. 

The teeth of the trap have embedded themselves deep into the flesh on each side of your lower calf. Blood gushes between the teeth, soaking the fabric of your torn pants and making both the metal and your fingers slippery. 

Fuck.

You take a shuddering breath and try to adjust your grip. You just have to pry the trap open. You've done it before, and you can do it again. It's simple. Simple, but not easy. 

You can do this. Focus. Deep breath. Pull.

The teeth start to pull away, and more blood gushes out. Your ears ring, an intense dizziness making your vision blur even more, your arms shaking from the effort, and - you lose your grip. The teeth hadn't even fully retracted from your skin, but you can't help letting out a choking sob as the trap snaps back into place. Fuck, it hurts. Your chest heaves, your whole body trembling as you moan pitifully through the pain. 

You can't do it. You can't get out. Too weak, too tired, too stupid. You're trapped, you're trapped, you're trapped-

And then. You feel it. That unnatural, inexplicable something that tells you he's close. A sound, a feeling, like your own thundering heartbeat, but so much more. You look around, frantically searching for that telltale red light that accompanies him everywhere, wiping desperately at the tears blurring your vision, probably smearing blood across your face in the process. It doesn't help you see any better - only makes the smell of copper that much stronger in your nose. Movement from the corner of your eye catches your attention, and helpless dread settles in your stomach like a stone. 

It's him. The Trapper.

You take in the hulking figure. The slow, lumbering gait. Just his silhouette is enough to make you freeze like- well. Like prey, caught in a trap. Normally you'd be scrambling to pry the trap off, desperately trying to get away, but… not this time. Maybe it's the blood loss. Or maybe you're just tired of fighting a pointless battle in an endless war that's impossible to win. Either way, instead of trying to free yourself, you watch him stalk closer in a daze.

The monsters in this place are all unique. Some look just like humans, while others are so horrific it makes you nauseous just thinking about them. The Trapper, though… he's something in between. An enormous humanoid… turtle? You think so, yeah. With spikes jutting out along his arms, his shell, his long, thick tail. He wears a filthy pair of overalls, frayed at the edges and covered in dirt and viscera. His spikes have poked through them in several places, as well. His mask, a horrific, grimy thing that was once white, covers all of his face except for the eye holes and the opening over his mouth that's twisted into the shape of a grotesque smile. The cleaver he carries is almost the size of your entire torso, and you can see blood still dripping sluggishly from the blade. 

He's getting closer. Slow and steady, as always. You've never seen him run - and isn't that strange? That you can sprint for half an hour without stopping, and somehow he manages to keep up with you the entire time? That's odd. Then again, everything about this hell is odd. You can't remember the last time you ate or drank anything, yet you feel no hunger or thirst. You've died countless times, yet here you are. 

You're not sure why these are the thoughts fumbling around in your head. You're not sure why you're still just watching him advance. Is this what it feels like? To finally give up? 

The Trapper is almost upon you. Your heart throws itself wildly against your ribcage, begging you to run. Silly thing. Doesn't it know that there's no point? You'll die, and then you'll be back, and you'll die again. What's the point in even trying? This is what your life, if you can even call it that, is going to be like for eternity. Pain and fear and death. Over and over and over. 

Still, it screams. Run. Run away.

You keep watching him. The way the mist swirls around him is almost pretty, especially with the red glow that emanates from him, staining the ground in front of him a deep crimson. When he gets close enough for that red light to wash over you, you wonder if your heart might actually leap from your chest and run away without you since you refuse to listen. 

He's so close you can feel the heat radiating off of his body. So close that you have to angle your head back to keep your eyes on his mask. His arm raises, and this is the part where you should look away. Or shield yourself, or beg for mercy, or- something. But nothing has ever made a difference in the past. Why bother? He'll strike you down and toss you over his shoulder and carry you to that hook you saw nearby. That's just the way it is, now that you're caught, and anything you do now will just be delaying the inevitable. 

So you watch. And you wait for the strike. 

…The strike doesn't come. 

He's just… standing there. Looming over you. His hand still holding that great cleaver in the air. Now that you're paying attention, you can hear his heavy breaths - unsteady, with the hint of a growl in each one - starting to come a little faster. 

That's… new.

You stare up at him. He stares down at you. After what feels like an eternity, the cleaver lowers, and he- he drops it.

What?

Never. Never. Not once in the entire time you've been trapped in this hell has a monster dropped their weapon. Even when stunned, or blinded, or while watching the last survivor sprint through the exit doors - they've always kept a firm grip on their weapon. You wouldn't have been surprised if the weapons were somehow bound to their hands, in fact. 

And yet. 

He moves, slow and steady, to settle on one knee. Even kneeling, he towers over you, the red light that seemingly comes from nowhere making you squint until your eyes adjust. You're still panting, little whimpers slipping out against your will. And he's just staring. 

What is he doing?

You glance from his mask to his hands. He's released his cleaver, sure, but those hands could easily crush your skull like a ripe melon. Maybe that's what he wants. Maybe he's tired of striking people down in the same way every time, maybe he wants some variety. 

No. You focus on his eyes. You've never been this close for this long, never been able to see what they actually look like beneath that mask. They're fully white - no pupils or anything - but you see… confusion there. Something tentative and unsure. Something you've never seen in a monster before. 

His hand reaches toward you, and a spike of panic has your next breath stuttering in your lungs. You wait for a blow, a bruising grip around your throat - but it doesn't come. His hand has three fingers, you realize. Not as though two are missing, no, but more like that's just how he was born. 

You're not sure why that's what you're focused on at a time like this. 

Two of his fingers brush over your cheek. His skin - scales? - are rough, but it doesn't hurt. He's… gentle. It's almost a caress, the way his fingers trail along your jaw. 

What is happening?

You focus on his eyes once more. The confusion you see in them is more intense now, and you can see the hints of his brow furrowing beneath the mask. 

Earlier you'd been stupid from fear. Now you must be stupid from blood loss, or just plain stupid, because in the next second you open your mouth to whisper. 

“Trapper?”

He inhales sharply. Blinks. And suddenly the red light is gone. Suddenly you see his pupils, suddenly that overwhelming something you always feel when a monster is near dissipates. His breaths come even faster, a hysterical undertone making you worry for him. 

This creature has killed you before. Why are you worried about him?

He shakes his head, a jerky, panicked motion, and pulls his hand away from your cheek. You could swear his eyes look almost - afraid. Darting between your bloodied face and your leg in the trap and the foggy woods that surround you both. His eyes settle on yours again, and you swear - you swear - that you start to see his eyes shine with tears. 

You don't have time to think too much about that before his hands shift to grip the bear trap around your leg and snap it open like it's nothing. Once again, you can't help but let out a pained shout between clenched teeth, the dizziness and ringing in your ears coming back in full force as more blood flows sluggishly from the puncture wounds. He doesn't even need to throw you on a hook, you think deliriously. He could just leave you here and wait for the darkness to take you, as long as no other survivors come along and help. But that's not an option, since the last survivor is on a hook right now. Even if they were free, there's not much time left, anyway, since you can already feel yourself starting to-

-

Motion. Dull, rhythmic thuds. Harsh panting, tinged with something like panic. Someone is carrying you, each step jostling your leg and turning your thoughts to static. It takes a few minutes before you remember. Before you realize. 

You passed out. That's what happened. Opening your eyes presents you with the blurry sight of the Trapper's mask above you and a starless sky beyond. 

Oh. He's carrying you. To a hook? But there was one right by where you were, why would he have to run to- 

He's running. He's running. 

You try to say something, but it just comes out a garbled mess. Even you aren't sure what you were trying to say. He doesn't respond, but he does glance down at you. His eyes are wild, but not in a way you'd ever expect. There isn't fury or bloodlust there. Instead, you see fear. Desperation. Guilt. Things you hadn't thought the monsters in here were even capable of feeling. You also realize that he's carrying you bridal style, cradling you close to his chest. Usually he just tosses people over his shoulder when he carries them to a hook. 

So many things that don't add up here, so many things out of the ordinary. What happened? What changed?

Where is he taking you?

You turn your head, looking in the direction that he's running. Your vision is still blurry, and you can't make out anything but vague shapes through the mist and darkness. Your head rolls back, and you catch the unmistakable sight of those inky black tendrils reaching down from the sky in the distance, twisting and curling until they breach the top of the treeline.

The last survivor. You'd wanted to save them, but if those things are descending for them it's too late. Not that you're in any state to lift someone off a hook anyway.

You're sorry. Fuck, you're so sorry.

You blink and suddenly the Trapper isn't running anymore. Instead he's shifting you in his arms. That was odd. Did you pass out again for a few seconds? You can't really tell, but you're distracted by the flare of pain in your leg that the movement causes. 

Focus on something else. 

Again you twist to look forward. You're shocked to see that he's brought you to the exit doors, and he's pressing a hand to the switch. You're not sure what he's doing, exactly - it won't activate unless all the generators are up and running. 

Wait. Why did he bring you to the exit doors?

You can't focus. Can't organize your thoughts. Can't even lift your head for more than a few seconds at a time. Surely you're close to bleeding out at this point. Maybe all of this has been some strange hallucination that your brain cooked up while you lie dying on the ground, still stuck in that bear trap. Sometimes the monsters do that - leave you there to bleed out. Sometimes they just stand there and watch you as the light leaves your eyes, guarding the area so that no others can help you. 

A faint red glow distracts you from your thoughts. Your eyes focus back on the Trapper's hand against the switch, and you're shocked to see his hand glow red. It's not the same red that usually accompanies him, though. This feels… different. Just as strong, but more… pure. 

A blaring horn cuts through the air as the exit doors grind open. He shifts you in his arms once again and starts to carry you through the doors. You can see the dark, empty field beyond. Your path to freedom and safety, temporary as it is, sends a rush of excitement through you. Incredulous, you stare up at the Trapper as he kneels and carefully lowers you to the ground inches away from the edge of the little area that separates the walled estate in one direction and the open field in the other. Behind him, you can see the grounds of the estate starting to shake. Angry red lines crack the earth, and little tendrils of darkness start to curl up from the shadows. 

The Trapper is watching you. Holding you upright with a hand supporting your back. You try to blink away the blurriness, but you can't. Can't focus. Can't think. But you know freedom is within reach. You only need to crawl across the threshold and you'll be fine. It doesn't make sense, but as long as you cross the threshold you always make it back to the campfire. Even if you're on the verge of death, you make it back. 

And he's brought you right to the edge. As far as he can go. No monster has ever been able to cross the threshold. 

You must have finally lost your mind. He isn't holding you here, isn't trying to stop you from leaving, and yet you haven't moved. Not only is he still very capable of killing you, even without the cleaver he seems to have left behind, but you're also on a timer. Once the exit doors are open, there's only so much time before the darkness swallows anyone who hasn't escaped. It's a quick death, sure, but incredibly unpleasant. Just the memory of what it sounds like for your bones to crack and crunch inside of you sends a shiver up your spine.

But… this is all so strange. You're half convinced that you're dreaming. A monster showing any sort of mercy is unheard of, much less a monster helping you escape. Could this be another trap, somehow?

It's at that moment that you hear him speak for the very first time. His voice is a rumbling, scratchy thing that sounds like it hasn't been used in ages. Cracking at the edges and colored with something timid and pleading.

“Please,” he whispers. “Go.”

There are things you want to ask. Things you want to say. You didn't even know he was capable of speech until now. But you're running out of time. Every second that you delay is another second closer to death. Dying is never easy, never pleasant, but you seriously consider waiting it out just to get more time to experience whatever the fuck is happening right now. You have no clue how long you've been stuck in this hell, but it's been long enough that you've started to forget things. Like your mother's maiden name. Your address. What color your best friend's eyes were. And in all the time you've spent here, nothing like this has ever happened. You don't know if it ever will again. 

He nudges your thigh with his free hand. Gentle but insistent. You have to blink a few times to focus on his face - mask. Mask, it's a mask. You wonder what he looks like underneath it. 

It isn't until his hand closes around your wrist that you realize you had started reaching toward him. “Mask,” you mumble, hearing the slurring in your own voice. You think you might be dangerously close to passing out again. Somehow that fact doesn't bother you as much as it should. 

“It doesn't come off.” He clears his throat, releasing your wrist. “I've tried.”

That must be uncomfortable. Stifling, even. Does that mean he doesn't want to wear it? Who put it on him, then? And why?

His voice interrupts your thoughts again, but you don't quite catch what he says. Something about sorrow and meaning… or, no, that's not exactly what it was. You're drifting a bit, you realize. Having trouble keeping your eyes open. You feel him nudge you again, a little harder this time, and manage to pry your eyes open long enough to catch his gaze. You see tears there. 

Crying. He's still crying. 

Why do you care? 

You glance behind him. The grounds of the estate are almost unrecognizable from how warped they've become. You need to go. But for the first time, you're wondering what it's like for him. Does he wake up at a campfire once the trial is over, too? Is he stuck on the estate until the darkness whisks him off to another location with new victims? Does he even want to kill people? And how did he even end up here in the first place? You'd always thought the monsters were sort of - part of it all. Just like the dilapidated buildings and the black sky, something that was created just for the purpose of torturing you and the others you've seen between the short reprieves offered by the campfire. 

Was he stolen away from his life just like you were? Is he just as trapped as you?

Time is almost up. If you delay any longer it'll be over, and you can't stomach dying when escape is right here at your fingertips. So you lean, falling onto your forearms, and start to drag yourself over the threshold. 

Just before you're clear, you glance back. He's still there. Watching. Kneeling. You can't be sure, but you think he's… trembling. 

What must it be like? Watching you crawl away while he's stuck behind?

You swallow thickly, hesitating. You can't stay, and you can't take him with you, but you also can't leave without saying something. “Thank you, Trapper.”

The mask obscures his expression, but you see his hands tighten into fists. “Raphael,” he says weakly. Something in his inflection makes you want to turn back and sit with him until the darkness takes you. But you don't. “My name is Raphael.”

“...Thank you, Raphael.”

And you crawl away.

-

tag list: @yorshie @luckycharms1701 @thejudiciousneurotic @khayalli @thelaundrybitch @mxalmighty @justalotoffanfiction @shakeyourtrees

[cutiemochiii]

“I’m Looking…”

ANOTHER READER X ZENITSU

(I’m in love with my little clementine if you didn’t realize.)

IN WHICH YOU TAKE A TRIP BACK TO THE ENTERTAINMENT DISTRICT

ENJOY!

————————————————————————

Zenitsu was going to die. He was sure of it. He couldn’t get himself to breathe normally, even sprawled out on the ground like a star. He suddenly missed Rengoku, who had to leave him and his friends at the hands of Tengen, as he was busy with a mission. At least Rengoku took pity on them and bought them food after their training. It all made sense now, why you had passed out the one time they had come to visit Tengen’s estate.

While the rest of his friends talked as they caught their breaths, Zenitsu busied his mind with cursing Tengen and all of his ancestors.

Screw you, and your pretty wives, and your father, and your grandfather, and your grandfather’s grandfather-

Tanjiro had asked the group which mission location they would like to return to if they could.

None of them, Zenitsu thought to himself. If he ever saw any of those places again, it would be too soon.

“I want to ride the train again. I’ve never moved so fast without MOVING! We were like, zoom!” Inosuke stood up, sprinting in circles around them to demonstrate. Zenitsu heard your giggle and Tanjiro’s soft chuckle.

“What about you?” Tanjiro asked. Zenitsu glanced at you as you leaned back on your arms and quirked your head in thought.

“Hmm, if I could go back…” you smiled wishfully. “The Entertainment District.”

All of their eyes widened. Even Zenitsu shot up into a sitting position. “THE ENTERTAINMENT DISTRICT? WHERE WE FOUGHT THE CREEPY DOUBLE-DEMON DEMON?” He cried out.

You nodded. “Well, yeah. Uzui-san had said a lot about how beautiful it was when it wasn’t under attack. I just, wish we could’ve seen that side of it.” You sighed. Zenitsu had gone quiet. You, wanted to see the Entertainment District? He hadn’t thought you’d be someone who enjoyed places like that. He smiled mischeviously.

“I have an idea.”

~~~~

“No.” Tengen turned away. Zenitsu’s face fell. “What?” He followed after the giant man like a puppy.

Tengen stopped, Zenitsu smacking into his back.

Why did that feel like hitting a wall? Zenitsu rubbed his nose.

You looked at him sympathetically; he was trying very hard. You, Inosuke, and Tanjiro were hiding by the entrance to the training yard while Zenitsu attempted to convince the hashira. Tengen turned around. “It’s too dangerous now. Besides, you begged me to never send you back there again after we got back from the last mission.”

Tanjiro made a choked sound as he kept himself from laughing, Inosuke also clapping a hand over his own mouth as he let out a muffled chortle. You grinned. Zenitsu let out an exasperated groan. “Yeah- but, now I want to see it, since we defeated that demon. Besides,” Zenitsu retorted.

“Didn’t you say you were the God of Festivities? I really haven’t seen you live up to your title yet. That’s rather, unflashy, don’t you think?” He placed a finger to his chin, eyes gauging Tengen’s reaction.

~~~~

They all sat around Tengen in a half circle, his wives sitting by his side.

For some reason (Uzui-san wouldn’t tell them why), they were back in the Entertainment District. This time, his wives were safe and at his side. “I want to show you all my domain when it isn’t infested with demons. I want to give you a festivity for working so hard.” He had told them when they asked what the purpose of the trip was.

Zenitsu had given his friends a knowing wink.

Now they were listening to Tengen’s ground rules, Tanjiro and his wives nodding along enthusiastically. Zenitsu let out a fake yawn.

“I’m bored~” he whined. “If the demons won’t kill me, then your spiel will.” Tengen glared at him.

“What? I’m just saying. We’re not kids, we understand simple rules. Don’t follow strangers, don’t get in fights, be back at this building for the fire works, blah blah blah.” Zenitsu waved his hand around lazily. You stared at him. Did he have a death wish? “You should just let me leave to explore.” He shrugged.

Tengen merely narrowed his eyes. Clearly the kid was underestimating his sharp intuition. Zenitsu had been acting odd, ever since he asked to come to the Entertainment District. What was the reason? Besides the impending threat of demons, what was different now compared to last time? Tengen was quiet as he thought.

What was--?

It hit him. Zenitsu would’ve never come here of his own volition, and he doubted Tanjiro or Inosuke had been itching to come back either. So it must be, you. He was here for you.

Things began falling in place. Tengen’s eyes slid from you to Zenitsu. “Right.” He drawled. Tengen leaned back, crossing his arms. “Very well.” He looked at you. “You’re going with him. Make sure he doesn’t get himself into anything stupid while I finish talking to them.” He pointed at Tanjiro, Inosuke and his wives.

You nodded as Zenitsu stood up excitedly. “Great! See you guys in a bit.” He waved as he began to exit, you following not far behind him. Inosuke began to stand too.

“Not you.” Tengen warned. Inosuke turned slowly towards him.

“WHAT?!”

~~~~

Overwhelming. It was the only thing you could think as you took in all the sights and sounds on the street. Overwhelming in the way an ocean washed a person with an overwhelming sense of peace. Or in the way your family overwhelms you with happiness. Or a field of flowers overwhelms you with it’s lovely sweetness.

There were dancers swaying to music that followed behind them as the marching musiciens seemed to hypnotize them. There were artists, displaying the gorgeous whorls and streaks of color on their canvases. There were magicians, performing tricks for anyone who walked past.

And there were booths upon booths of mouth watering food. You may not have had any money, but your giddy appearance and glowing eyes were enough to convince the vendors to give you small plates of whatever you wanted. Zenitsu however, was not having the same luck. So he stuck to you, picking off your plate like a little orange scavenger. It made you laugh.

You did not let a single event slip past you, prancing with the dancers for a bit, complimenting artists for their talent, in awe of the small tricks the magicians displayed. It was quite refreshing for Zenitsu to see you so carefree, since it seemed you rarely let yourself feel that way.

~~~~

The both of you arrived at a booth by a wide river. Displayed at the booth was jewelry; beautiful necklaces of jade, rubies, and pearls. Bracelets of neatly carved stones of all kinds. You tugged Zenitsu closer to the booth, looking at the jewelry in fascination. You didn’t have much jewelry, it wasn’t smart to wear any when fighting. Zenitsu watched you carefully. Your eyes didn’t budge from one of them. A bracelet of twine with different shades of orange stones woven into a tight pattern. It was very beautiful, and would be easy to wear even when fighting, as you could tell it would wrap securely around your wrist.

The vendor caught you staring at the bracelet. “Do you like it?” He asked curiously. You flinched, nodding shyly.

“It’s a very beautiful piece.” You admitted. He grinned at you.

“In a few minutes, everyone gathered around the booth will participate in stone skipping.” He pointed at the people by the river. “Whoever can skip their stone the farthest, gets to pick a jewelry of their choice to take with them.” You nodded with a small smile, the excitement in your eyes from earlier flickering.

I don’t know how to skip rocks.

As you were lost in thought, Zenitsu scouted for a smooth pebble around the booth. He found one, tossing it and snatching it out of the air with an easy smile. “Thank you sir.” Zenitsu bowed. The man nodded at him in acknowledgement.

You caught up to Zenitsu who strode away confidently. “What are you doing?” You whispered softly. He looked at you with a grin.

“What do you mean? I’m going to skip this stone.” Your eyebrows rose.

“You can do that?” Zenitsu chuckled. “I lived by a river when I was younger. Skipping rocks was basically the only thing I’d do all day.” You nodded slowly.

You and Zenitsu stood beside the line of people by the river. It was wider than it had looked from by the booth, and it made you wonder if Zenitsu could really get it farther than anyone else.

People beside you started tossing the rocks at the water, some of them making it a decent distance, while some just plopped and faded away into the abyss. But the energy of the crowd didn’t fade, everyone seemed to be having fun. Finally, it was Zenitsu’s turn.

You gave his arm a gentle squeeze, and he looked at you with a confident gaze. “Watch.” He muttered.

Zenitsu took a deep breath.

Thunder Breathing.

You didn’t even notice the stone as it flew out of his hand, fast enough that you were certain a spark came off of his fingertips. He was crouched, watching the stone zip quickly over the water. His smile began to grow as it passed where other stones had sunk.

It had passed them, and was almost at the other side.

The crowd’s cheering began to get louder as the rock got closer to the other end of the river. It finally landed in the grass, and the crowd broke out into whoops and shouts, some people clapping Zenitsu on the shoulder. “Great throw son!” You heard people yell at him.

You squealed with giddiness, skipping in circles around Zenitsu. “You did it, you did it, you DID it!” You gave him a quick hug, body buzzing with excitement. Zenitsu beamed, matching your energy. The both of you walked back to the booth, the man watching Zenitsu in surprise.

“Well kid, you definitely earned this one.” He said with a grin as Zenitsu pointed at the bracelet you were looking at earlier. “I would like that one.”

How had he known…?

The man handed it to him. Zenitsu bowed gratefully, turning to you. “Here.” He grabbed your hand, lifting your arm. He gently wrapped the bracelet around your wrist. “So you don’t forget how far I skipped that rock.” You giggled at his teasing.

The bracelet glowed as you tilted your arm back and forth. The orange rocks would serve as a constant reminder of Zenitsu. You smiled at the thought.

~~~~

Finally, it was time for the fireworks. Zenitsu grabbed the sleeve of your kimono as he ran, pulling you with him. You two made it to the building just in time, Tengen and the rest of your friends waiting for you by the door.

Tengen led you up to the roof of the building. You showed off your bracelet to your friends as Inosuke showed off his string necklace (it was a necklace strung with dumplings, but Inosuke had already devoured them), and Tanjiro pulled out a soft green scarf that he bought Nezuko for the winter. Everyone had enjoyed their time in their own way, even Tengen and his wives, their faces colored with beautiful matching designs.

The first sparks in the sky silenced their conversations, and you gasped as you watched the fireworks fall to the earth like a colorful rain. It fascinated you, you had never seen them so close.

“It’s so beautiful, isn’t it?” You tugged on Zenitsu’s sleeve to get his attention. But you didn’t notice that his attention was already on you. He watched the glitter in your eyes as you stared in wonder at the light show before you.

“Yeah, it is.” He agreed softly. You hadn’t looked at him yet. “Zenitsu! Look there, look there!” You pointed at each firework that went off.

“I’m looking…” Zenitsu was looking, just not at what you were pointing to. Tengen saw him watching you out of the corner of his eye.

The fireworks lit up the dark sky, each one a color that you didn’t realize existed. Some even two different colors at once.

They sparkled beautifully, practically like stars.

Your eyes, that is. The fireworks were okay too, Zenitsu thought with a soft smile. He didn’t realize Tengen had gotten closer to him, putting a hand on his jaw and making him face the fireworks. It made Zenitsu’s face burn with embarrassment, having been caught staring like that. But Tengen only dawned a knowing smile. “Don’t miss the moment.” He whispered to the kid.

Zenitsu nodded absentmindedly, allowing himself to move just a bit closer to you. No, he wouldn’t miss the moment. In fact, he’d probably never forget it.

————————————————————————

Author’s Note: Listen, if Akaza can have a romantic moment watching fireworks, you and Zenitsu can too 😤 anyways, UGH IM SO IN LOVE W HIM I SWEAR. I hope I continue to make you fall farther in love with the soft squish that is Zenitsu. Also, we love a supportive Tengen ;-; Till next time lovelies!!

[umbralsong]

Lady Incognita

Cazador Szarr's "niece" is named Amanita Szarr. You can find her story scattered throughout the palace's attic, dungeon, and the House of Hope. She was a girl who grew up near Anga Vled raised by old servants. At 13, she was brought to visit her uncle in Baldur's Gate...

The day her entire family exposed themselves as vampires.

Alternate Text: An east Asian girl with medium-brown skin and dark brown then red eyes looks away from the viewer. One with brown, facing away. Twice with red and shoddily cut away dark hair, looking away in despair and notably darkened, red, downcast eyes and short hair. Once more with darkened eyes and a cloak and red eyes to match, long dark hair flowing from her hood.

Unfinished, but hey. I want to show fellow artists that things just don't come to you. Sometimes, you have to work the lines and paint until they do. Use Glaze to protect your art from AI scrapers.

The notes you can find in order:

Alturiak 1477 Tarsakh 1477 Mirtul 1477 Kythorn 1477 Flamerule 1477

Please read about issues with Cazador's depiction [here]. Thank them for their kind contribution and show support.

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The city palace, straddling the wall between the Upper and Lower City, was more than creepy, it was somehow chilling.

Cazador Szarr the Avid rose to power in 1296. She stayed at the estate for at least four months before she was killed. She was turned in Kythorn 1477, 15 years before the start of the story.

'Uncle' Cazador made me a vampire, but I refused to participate in the family rites. He gave me the Hunger but he could not break my will. He had Blovart imprison me in the attic. I weakened. They sent up human blood, and eventually I drank it. For a year, they stopped sending anything. I tore at the walls in frustration. Then they sent up a bound captive.

Cazador's favorite punishments are cruelty, hunger, and isolation.

His staff, "Woe:" The gentle tap-tap-tap of a staff on stone sparked terror for all in Cazador's palace. It signalled an approaching storm, and all they could do was shrink into the background and pray its wrath would not fall on them. His dagger, "Rhapsody:" Cazador's love of poetry arose after he read on the naked stomach of a dead child in his homeland. The child was hung from the lowest branch of a tree. Cazador read the poem, and looked at the child, and he knew that here was the artform for him.

Her coffin is on a wooden table overlooking a window. There are chains by her bed, a candle, and a skull. There are three skeletons in the attic, one headless with a crossbow and garlic cloves in their cage.

I succumbed. I am a vampire, and damned. I curse the name of Szarr and reject it. Now I stay in the attic by choice and write my little histories. I am Lady Incognita. Amanita is no more.

I think the snippets of her story were so impactful because of the complete betrayal. The fact her family were never around. The fact they lied for her entire life. The fact they forced her to transform, which we know from Astarion's partial ceremorphosis dialogue is incredibly painful:

Player: Unlike you to be so unwilling to receive a new power... Astarion: That was before I knew the cost. Before I knew it meant transforming into some grotesque beast. I remember how it hurt when I turned to a vampire. My body writhed and warped while I was utterly helpless, the grip of death owned my heart as it beat its last. I - I don't want to turn into anything else. I can't do that again. I can't watch my body be taken over. Player: You're afraid? Astarion: I'll happily murder my way to whatever powerful artefacts we can make use of. Point at the back and I'll stab. Just don't ask me to sacrifice my body. It hasn't been mine for so long.

We know thematically there is a parallel between vampirism, abuse, and sexuality. Cazador appeared to lose interest in his 'niece' altogether. Nonetheless, he locked her into an eternal childhood under "true vampirism," never to grow to adulthood, and denied her a "typical" life forevermore. There is something particularly grotesque about that.

Astarion: Nearly two hundred years and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there. I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt. Then when I finally broke the surface, retching up dirt and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting. From that day on I was his. Until today. Player: You were never his. Whatever he had, he took by force. Astarion: Maybe, but he did take it. There's almost nothing left of the person I was. Just a name on a rock. For nearly two centuries, I stalked the streets like a ghost while the person I was lay here, dead and buried. Now I need to figure out who I am. What I want.

We find The Tourmaline Depths in the room beneath Cazador's room. She wrote Diseases of the Blood to tackle vampiric illness. She wrote the names of ruling vampires, their titles, and their successors. She is, what, 28?

I like to think she knew all of Cazador's secrets, from the corpses in the suspended cages to his dungeon. I'm impressed by her mental fortitude in the face of such odds as a child and young woman. I'm impressed she chose to do what she loved, escaped, and became such a relevant figure in the study of vampiric physiology. I wish we knew her better. I wish we had the opportunity to meet her.

She is the historian who sullies his name and documents his endless crimes. She escaped. Cazador underestimated her.

[grimogretricks]

The Magnus Protocol 15- Aristocracy, violence and The Hunt

Spoilers for episode 15 of The Magnus Protocol 'Well Run'

The theme of this episode was a familiar one, very familiar. Yet hearing it done, Magnus style, with that level of precision, with that language, with that local knowledge, with that .. horrible simplicity.. It absolutely brought home that this theme of the rich at hunt- turning the common people into their prey-  is nowhere more at home than with the British aristocracy.

The world of our aristocracy is at once both distant and familiar, and such a mix of the violent and the genteel. That veneer of venerable elegance, civility and nobility over some memory that the nobility achieved their place in the world with blood and violence. Nobles shed blood and wasted the lives of ordinary people for their power, they fought each other, and beseiged others in the castles they now hold weddings in.  They were terrorisers, of the populous if they wanted to be, their rule could be absolute when they wanted unless another noble stopped them. Their protection, their civility, hoped for - sometimes granted- but not guaranteed.

And they have always been willing to see the common people as expendable, and to turn those who could be united against them against each other instead. As the main character in this could have been united, if he'd chosen to protect his colleagues. Yet instead this military man, turns on his own, he does as he is bid, he inflicts upon them all the horrific violence he's inured to doing at the biddings of others. And it does not spare him. He is not one of them. There's no hard feelings, about that. You simply cannot be, if you were not born one.  

This episode reminds me, of all that violence under their surface. That people used to be shot, for walking onto local property, that 'poaching' was a crime the gamekeepers -fellow non aristocrats, like the main man in this story- could kill ordinary people for. That the Queen loved her blood sports. That in every venerable old mansion, there's tokens of war, and of the hunt lining the walls. That there's dead tigers, bears, leopards, every exotic animal across the globe they made it their business to hunt and kill.

I go for walks on the local estates owned by aristocrats (one of them was once even owned by someone with) and I am glad to get to admire the beauty of the place. They are spectacular, idyllic, wonderful. They have their marquee tents, out, for weddings and events. And shoots. And occasionally, the gunshots ring out.

In conclusion- stellar class symbolism in this. Including that recognition of potentially one of her own from Lady Mowbray 'You wouldn't happen to be one of the Cheshire Bouchards, would you'?.

Meanwhile, that ending, the lyrical, creepy, hopeless poetry of the victim, struggling, drowning on land. Opening her eyes, white, to look at Alice.

Genuinely a gut punch of an episode.

[fairy-writes]

Vampire!Viktor x Female!Reader 01

i’ve been having brain rot about vampire!viktor and a female!reader, and just—

this is now a series i’ve dubbed cryptid!viktor! here’s a little blurb about merman!viktor :) linked HERE

you first meet him when you go to explore a decrepit old mansion on the hill of your little village in the middle of the night. the year is 18th century something, and you hike your skirts up as you scale the tall wrought iron fence surrounding the estate. except as you climb the wall, you realize it’s basically rusted steel.

why was that? wasn’t steel more expensive than iron?

this was a bad idea, but you were always curious and liked old things. they made you sad. but in a good way.

the estate is just as drab and creepy up close as it was far away. but you are astounded by the detail. gargoyles and griffons positioned at the tops of the corners keep watch over the massive house, and their stone eyes seem to follow you as you approach the large front door. 

the door is made of wood, and there is a large cast iron (again, you realize it’s steel) knocker in the shape of what looks like a demon with horns. is it a bad omen? you clutch your necklace tight in your fist as you reach for the door knocker and knock twice. 

nothing. 

the door is unlocked, and you have to put your entire body weight against it in order to open the beast of a door. inside is almost pitch black, and you hoist your bag that’s been strapped against your torso until now, and pull out a packet of matches. then feeling along the wall, you find a candelabra and use the match to light the dusty candles. 

the room is illuminated by the warm glow, and you swear you see glowing golden eyes in the corner. but as you look closer, they simply disappear. 

talk about spooky.

cobwebs hang from the chandelier, and the air is thick with dust, making you sneeze and almost blow your candles out. a breeze comes through the open door, and the flames flicker and go out. 

suddenly you get a very, very bad feeling. 

“who are you?” comes an accented voice, and you jump, whirling and feeling your skirts swish against your heeled boots as you look up to the top of the massive staircase. 

the man is dressed immaculately in a cravat, a pristine white long-sleeved shirt with puffy sleeves, a wine-red vest, and slim trousers that hug his legs all the way down to his shined shoes. his hair is a dark chocolate brown, and his eyes are that glowing golden color. 

the eyes from before. 

“i did knock,” you say hastily, and he scoffs,

“i heard you. now who are you?” is all he says in return, and you spin on a heel, dropping the candelabra and sprinting for the door. 

only for it to slam shut, leaving you beating against the wood. 

“let me out!” you shriek and turn back to face the man. he’s descended the stairs now and is but a few paces away. somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize he’s beautiful. with porcelain skin and two beauty marks dotting his cheeks. his eyes aren’t exactly gold, but a pretty amber that seemingly glows gold with unnatural power. 

“no, i don’t think i will. what is your name?” he says, and you swallow as he gets closer, stuttering out your name. 

but there’s something on his face that you can’t quite define.

“what are you going to do to me?” you whisper, and he tilts his head,

“that i am not sure of yet. but seeing as you trespassed on my property, i think i’ll figure out something,” he says and reaches for your throat. 

only to recoil with a cry of pain and clutching his steaming hand. 

you look down to see your silver necklace in the shape of a cross steaming as well. you weren’t particularly religious, but it was given to you by your father on his deathbed, and you had promised never to take it off. 

it looks like even now; he’s watching over you.

but then the dots connect, and everything makes sense.

“are you a vampire?” you ask, and he glares with bared teeth. the sharpened incisors are proof of your claim. 

but instead of fear, you feel curious. 

but you don’t get the chance to ask any more questions as he turns and disappears without another word. literally, one second, he’s there, and the next, he’s simply gone in a wisp of the wind. mysteriously, the door opens, and you are let out without any more trouble. you all but run to the steel gates but turn back at the last second. 

and see the man in the window, watching you as you scurry away like a mouse running from a cat. 

as soon as you get home, the sun begins to rise, and your mother descends on you like the worried parent she is. 

“where were you?! i was worried sick!” she all but shouts, and you flinch at the noise. you had scarcely opened the door when she had been up from her chair and across the dirt floor to grasp your elbows, scanning you up and down for any injuries. 

which save for a minor burn mark against your skin from the necklace; you are just covered in dirt and minor scratches from running through the brush surrounding the mansion.

“i’m fine mother, i just went on a walk to the mansion up on the hill,” you say and realize quickly it was a mistake. 

her face morphs into one of terror and anger. her grip on your arms loosens, and she frantically holds your face in her calloused hands. they’re worn with years of washing laundry in lye. she was a servant in baron silco’s estate as a laundry maid. you were a seamstress and tailoress who made clothing for noblemen and women who traveled through baron silco’s land. 

but your job was beside the point. your mother looked like she was about to pass out from fear. 

“you know that a monster haunts the mansion! you mustn't go up there ever again! promise me!” she chastises, and you nod in a daze. 

for some reason, you can’t get that man out of your head. 

and realize why as you sew the clothing of a noblewoman named caitlyn kiramman.

he looked old and lonely and oh so sad. 

you resolve to yourself that you are going to visit again and try not to get killed. 

you manage to sneak out a week later when your mother is fast asleep. it’s always been just the two of you ever since your father died, so at least you don’t have to worry about siblings or grandparents like many of the other peasants in your village. the trek up to the mansion is shorter than you remember, the worn dirt leading the way as your eyes adjust in the bright moonlight. 

again, the door is unlocked, and the windows are empty. you ease it open, wincing at the squealing hinges echoing into the night. if he didn’t know you were coming, he certainly did now.

he’s waiting for you at the top of the stairs. his eyes widen almost imperceptibly when he recognizes it’s you.

“what are you doing here? here to kill me?” he asks, and you stop in your tracks.

“what? no! i’m here… well… i’m here because you looked sad.” you say, trailing off at the end, realizing how ridiculous you sounded. your skirts are clenched in your fists, and your apron is rough against your fingertips.

“you’re here… because i looked… sad?” his tone is colored with shades of confusion and curiosity. but he didn’t seem angry, and that was good. so you nod, 

“it sounds stupid i know—”

“it is stupid. leave now,” the man commands, and you freeze at the commanding tone in his voice. it booms through the large room, making you feel as small as a dust mite in his presence. he turns to ascend the rest of the stairs toward one of the mansion’s many corridors, and you panic. you didn’t want to come all this way for nothing. 

“wait!” you cry and hurry up the steps after him, hiking your skirts up and scurrying up the stairs after the retreating man. he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, if anything, he speeds up slightly. the halls are dark and filled with more cobwebs, but you find as you get closer to the heart of the mansion, they grow less prominent, and the torches are actually lit. the man shuts a door behind him, and you open it before he can lock it.

“i just want to talk!” you say, and he turns to look at you. before he can say anything, you get a good look around the room. 

it’s lit by oil lamps and candelabras. papers are strewn about between two desks, and they’re also covered in various gears and gadgets. you spy a few handkerchiefs covered in grease in under a few papers. a bed is in the corner and neatly made blood-red bedsheets are spread over the mattress. it looks comfier than anything you have ever seen. 

abruptly, you realize he’s started talking.

“—want you to leave,” he says curtly, and you bite your cheek.

“aren’t you lonely?” you ask quietly, and he freezes, his back to you. 

you seize your chance and ask another question,

“what’s your name?” you ask, and he turns his head slightly, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“it’s viktor.”

[gingerlurk]

Lovers' Crest | Chapter 5: The Family

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You make some hard choices. Din makes a relatively easy one.

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), canon-typical violence, eventual smut/filth, post season 3, canon-typical violence. Creepy cousin. Reader gets a backstory and childhood nicknames. Smut: Masturbation (m). Uhhhh please advise if there's more to add here thank you

A/N: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, A03. Thank you for reading!

--

You’re being escorted down an ornate hall, in a daze, drowning in emotion. You’d been near catatonic since the moment your Uncle had declared you a bride-to-be, to be sent to a neighbouring system to enshrine an alliance and propel his domain to new heights. To be sent into the belly of a beast.

No one cheered or made herald at the announcement, but they did clap politely and recite the Family maxim: Accipe quod debes.

Take what they owe.

They’d all known. Every one of them knew this was going to happen and they’d let you walk into it without warning. Even Avon. 

You haven’t felt this lost since you were newly orphaned, walking these halls for the first time without your mother beside you. When the air splits apart with warning bells, you barely react. But your retinue freaks out. Despite being apparently skilled household personnel, they turn into a squabbling mess of panicked shouts and confused orders.

Through their frantic cries while pushing you down the hall, you ascertain that it’s raiders. Organised criminal units from the quarries, with highly trained assassins known as reapers. Murmurings of their plot to attack the Estate have been reported for some time but ignored by your hubristic Uncle. No way would they attack here, they wouldn’t dare.

You round a final bend and your group meets a furious assault.

Your senses sing to life, and you start to move.

--

The Mandalorian thunders up a flight of stairs three at a time. He shoulders an elaborate garden gate out of the way so hard it careens off its hinges. Hallways flick by as he searches for you, thinking on a loop, never should have left her, never should have left her, never should ha--

He rounds a corner and it’s like being thunderstruck.

The glittering golden fabric of your evening gown spins up a storm in the hall. In the frenzy of at least three reapers being tossed left and right by the gold whiplash, he makes out your figure. He sees you take one of them in hand and use the leverage to leap into an almost tender embrace in the attacker’s arms before hurling your weight down and converting it into a savage throw.

The sprawled figure doesn’t gain any purpose before glimmering wisps of expensive fabric are secured around his neck as you heave upwards. You don’t let go until the body is too heavy to carry.

A second reaper charges at you but you stay hunched until he’s about to barrel into you, then you straighten suddenly and he careens high. As he sails over you, the last of your luxurious skirt goes across his airway and you jerk it across your shoulder with a snap. The body thuds to the floor, neck lolling. 

Din watches you drop the dead weight to the ground and sag against the wall, heaving. Without hesitating he makes his way toward you, so frantic as to miss your shoulders tense and your sigh of resolve as you ready for more fight. When you whirl with an almost staggering rage, he stutters, but your eyes clear in recognition instantly.

‘Thank fuck it’s you.’ You throw yourself into his hard, unyielding façade with a puzzling lack of care. Strong arms circle and squeeze his waist and he sucks in a breath. Din doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so after a moment he pats your upper arms a few times. His heart is battering itself against his beskar armour and he prays you cannot hear it.

You look around him. ‘Where’s Grogu?’ 

As if on cue, the kid bobs around the corner, making a beeline for you. He babbles a noisy string of sounds as you crouch to tug at his ears. You look up.

‘Follow me?’ It’s a question. Din smoulders, picking up the child.

‘Lead the way.’

You run.

--

‘Wait!’ You skid to a halt in front of a door. Mando stops, looking back. ‘Can you open this?’

‘Do we really have t—’ He cuts himself off and moves to the door, scrutinising the keypad. He holds the edge of his gauntlet against it. A loud bang with a puff of smoke obliterates the instrument. He locks his stance and reefs the door sideways one handed.

‘Subtle,’ you say, stepping inside your Aunt’s antechamber.

Your Aunt is a cold and distant shut-in who relates more to chemical suspension processes and program matrices than people. Among many predilections of hers is a fascination with formulating alchemical and nano compounds of varying purposes and effects.

It remained a mystery just how they were used, but few rivals and detractors stayed in the political landscape for long around here. 

She also took great delight in displaying her creations.

You take down a dainty, glittering bandolier. Once slipped over your head, the thing is double lined with tiny capsules from collarbone to navel. You turn to a nearby drawer, tugging it open to withdraw a tiny sidearm, an obvious custom job. You feel about yourself and find a spot of fabric such in which to tuck it.

Somewhat armed, you feel a little better. You duck passed Mando leaning against the doorframe and sense him straighten up to follow.

You’d grown up on these grounds, so you knew the ways to take to avoid the worst of the bedlam erupting across the Estate. A few scuffles and several minutes pass before you slow; the three of you edge to the hangar opening and peer in. 

From the shadows, your heart sinks. By the Crest stand a couple of household guards, some hangar grunts and, pacing furiously between them, your cousin, Avon. Cracking knuckles with a face of fury.

You study the scene and have a tiny battle with yourself, reaching a conclusion that elicits a pained tug in your chest. You turn to Mando.

‘I have an idea.’

--

Avon waits by the ship with his cobbled together retinue. If that creepy bounty hunter tries to take his cousin back off this rock, as is his suspicion, by damn is he going to make sure she stays put.

Plus, the chaos wreaking havoc would be a great cover to dispose of that weirdo.

As if summoning said chaos, he whirls at the sound of a deafening explosion to see the aft hanger start pouring smoke. From the haze he sees her sprinting towards him, barefoot, gown in shreds and face alight with terror. 

She barrels into him and starts shrieking. ‘He’s here. He’s here! He’s right behind me!’

Perfect, Avon thinks. He wraps a protective arm across her shoulders. ‘Don’t worry,’ he tells her. ‘You’ll never have to see him again.’ He juts his chin to the party. ‘Head him off, do not let him into this hangar!’

The men turn on a deferential dime and scurry toward the obscured opening. 

His cousin spins in his grip and grasps at his shoulders. ‘He’s dangerous,’ she stammers. ‘Are you sure those men can handle it?’

He hates seeing her upset. After all these years. Even though he knows he can’t protect her from his Father’s plots, he’ll still try. He pulls her into a hug and she burrows into his chest, hands clasped between them in a frightened little prayer. ‘Oh please, oh please…’

‘Relax,’ he puts a hand in her hair, head resting on top of hers. ‘You’re safe, Sunbeam. You’re not going anywhere tonight, hear me? They’ll take out that sicko and we’ll turn his hunk of junk into scr— urk!’ A painful spike radiates from the side of his neck and begins to burn a path across his whole body. 

What? Confusion and vertigo assault his senses. He feels himself falling, the fire being followed by numbness, by nothing. Puhh… He strains to look up through vision being splotched with black and red and sees the face of his cousin, his little Sunbeam, a look of grief painting her features. Then he sees nothing at all.

--

You keep a tight hold on his shirt front with one hand and the little vial with the other. When you know the toxin is doing its work, you let the glass cylinder fall and grab at a shoulder, crouching slowly to the ground with his folding body.

Laying him down as gently as possible, you kneel next to him to whisper a pathetic little ‘sorry’. 

You don’t get to keep vigil very long. The Mandalorian strolls from the dissipating smoke, your loop of toxic weaponry draped over a shoulder, to make his way to you. After a moment’s observation, he leans down. You feel his cloak drape across your shoulders. Oh, you’re shivering. Grogu appears beside you to put a gentle little claw on your hand where it’s dropped by your side.

Mando pulls Avon’s unconscious body across a hefty shoulder. Moving to the bench seating running along a wall, he lowers the body there, orienting him so his airway is unobstructed.

It’s so simple. And you’re so grateful you could cry. He turns back to you.

‘How long will he be out?’

‘A couple hours, I think.’

‘Ready to go?’

It’s not even a question between you.

‘Lead the way,’ you say.

--

Hours later, Din fidgets with an aggressive restless want, but tries to still himself enough to sleep. Shifting in the pilot seat, propping a knee on the console, he tries to clear his mind, let his thoughts wash over and away down the current. 

Yet he can’t stop thinking back to earlier. 

That particular section of hyperspace had been almost devoid of starlight, so the dim glow of the cockpit’s instruments mostly reflected its interior back at the three of them, huddled in separate trains of thought. Din couldn’t resist taking the chance to look back via the reflection, telling himself he’d just be checking on her.

She still had his cloak wrapped across her shoulders – the bandolier by then hanging in Din’s weapons locker. She had her knees drawn up and curled into herself, knuckles tensed against dark fabric. She seemed to be gazing into the black. It was hard to tell just going on the warped glass of the windows, but he’d been sure she was crying.

‘Hey, you okay?’ Kicked himself the instant it passed his mouth.

Kicked himself again as he saw her rub hard at her eyes and cheeks, pushing away as much emotion as humanly possible.

‘Oh, yeah,’ she sniffed. ‘Yeah, yep. Okay.’

A few blistered exhales out.

‘Just trying to figure how he could have simply sold me off like that. Down the river of greed and power and wealth. My own uncle, guardian for nearly all of my life.’ She’d scoffed, run a hand along the bank of inputs beside her and stood.

‘Guess family isn’t really worth much these days,’ she said, so sadly. ‘Accipe quod debes.’ 

She’d twirled the cloak off of her shoulders and draped it carefully over her vacated chair.

‘I’m gonna-- Is it okay if I go get some sleep?’

‘Cabin is all yours,’ he’d said. Then after a beat, added, ‘As long as you need.’

Now, he’s fighting a tight, hot compulsion to storm into that cabin and drop to his knees beside you. Offer himself to you; let you take anything you want.

He recalls the sight of you slipping that ribbon of multicoloured vials across yourself, adjusting it against the golden fabric hugging your torso and hips. 

You’d looked powerful. And so damn beautiful. 

Fussing and fidgeting for another few minutes, Din finally tells himself that he’ll never settle unless he releases the pressure. It’s just biological functioning, he lies to himself.

Huffing with embarrassed surrender, he nudges at his belt and pants until his cock is free. Rock hard and leaking already, he closes his eyes and lifts his chin while rubbing two fingers over the slick head. Maybe holding his gaze away from it won’t make what he’s doing feel quite so damn wrong.

He fists himself in his gloved hand and makes long aggro stokes – half pleasuring, half punishing. The snick, snick, snick of skin under friction fills the cockpit. He works at himself and barely manages to keep the vision of you at bay, a luscious glowing vision of breasts and ass and hair and lips. 

And clever eyes, and quick hands, and laughter like music.

Din switches his hold to use two fingers and thumb, focused in on the frenulum. Efficiency now. Just finish it.

The feeling of your arms wrapped around him fills his mind’s eye without invitation and he grunts, cupping his free hand to take in his spent load. Panting for a moment, he tucks himself away and grabs an engine rag to wipe his glove off. He stuffs it into the top of a boot, to discard later.

Leaning back, he doesn’t feel that much better, but his eyes do feel heavier and he is able to slip into a restless slumber.

Waking with a start sometime later, Din automatically moves to check on the kid – his higher functioning taking time to engage. He’s halfway to Grogu’s little space before it all floods back.

He lets his shoulders slump in shame. Then they rise in concern.

Grogu’s space is open and empty.

‘Kid?’ Din calls. Nothing. ‘Grogu?’ 

A soft little ‘ehhh,’ comes from your cabin. What the--?

Din moves to the door that’s half open and glances in. You’re on your side facing away from him, blankets pooled at your waist and your sorry excuse for a dress barely covering your back and shoulders. But Din scarcely notices that, because Grogu’s big ears tweak and his shy face peers over you at him. 

He’s been curled into your side.

‘Grogu,’ Din whispers. ‘Come here, leave her be.’

The child frowns but edges up into a crouch, grunting a little with effort. As he moves, your arm falls softly away to rest at your side. You’d been holding him in your sleep. The shame in Din’s chest turns to a sharp ache.

‘S’okay,’ you mumble, voice thick and weary. ‘He can stay if he wants to.’ You don’t turn from the wall and Din only just catches your next words. ‘S’nicer than being alone.’

This is all too much. Move into action, that’s what he knows how to do.

‘We are going to make a landing soon. Nowhere special but thought getting you some- some actual clothing was in order.’ You start to roll toward him, but he doesn’t think he can bear the sight. So he barrels on, ‘Just head up when you are ready. We will make it quick.’

He spins and stalks away.

--

Mando had left you wrapped in a blanket seated in the cockpit to head into the tiny settlement he’d found. You’ve no idea of the customs of this place or what their fashion is like, but Mando had also said he’d take you to Navarro where you could get a more substantial and useful wardrobe.

The choice of planet confused the hell out of you, and you’d said as much. But he’d haltingly explained that he had some land there. A modest home. An in with the local law. 

You were fucking floored. Just when you thought you had some small measure of the man. 

You stare out across the alien landscape and think.

‘Alright, here’s how this’ll work,’ you shift your crossed arms and instead plant them on your hips. The surprisingly well-fitted tunic and pants combo Mando had picked up for you casts you with an imposing silhouette and you’re thankful for it. 

You’re proposing something crazy and you desperately want him to say yes.

Mando hadn’t offered to take you onto his ship again, but he also hadn’t made any indication he was planning to leave you somewhere either. You’d tuned up his diagnostics panel without asking and he’d simply nodded in thanks.

Was this just a thing now? Did he think you were onboard as a matter of course? Or was he afraid? Afraid that you’d reject him again?

Reject his offer, you correct yourself.

So you’d decided to be the one to make the arrangement formal, and then some.

You approach him while he’s doing maintenance on his Amban sniper, the Crest’s hold open to cool evening air and a bright twilight. He’s giving you his ‘passively listening’ posture, so you just steel yourself and get on with it.

‘There’s only so much I need to be doing on the upkeep of this old girl,’ you put a hand to the side of the Crest. Mando’s head snaps up. ‘And Grogu will usually either be with you, someone you trust, or just fine here. I don’t need to be like his babysitter or anything.’ 

The baby totters on a nearby rock, waving his short arms at a group of fireflies hovering overhead. ‘Ah!’ he squeaks in wonder, and sits hard on his butt.

You smile. ‘Not that I wouldn’t mind spending all day with that for entertainment. But you already have your ways of looking after him. And I also get the sense he can look after himself…’

You sweep your hand across the ship’s hold and turn to him. ‘So where does that leave me? Lounging around while you’re on jobs? No thank you.’

The man in front of you is as still as stone. You take a breath and lunge into your proposition.

‘So I’ll partner with you, on jobs.’

Mando gives an incredulous huff. But he tilts his helmet in what you believe is an ‘intrigued’ kind of gesture, so you push on.

‘You know I can handle myself. I can be useful to you. I’ll learn, maybe increase the work…’ you trail off, your words sounding painfully silly all of a sudden.

A pause so long the twilight has turned to dusk. Grogu trudges in and settles into his pod with little huffs and grunts. Din watches him with what you see is a deep softness.

‘Okay,’ he finally says. Wow, that took a lot less persuading than you were prepared for. ‘On a condition.’

Oh.

He slides the rifle from his lap and stands to clip it back into its holdings. Then he steps toward you.

A chill hits you and you shiver in your two-piece ensemble.

‘I have seen that you can handle yourself. There is no question there,’ he rasps. You shiver again, less from the cold this time. ‘What I would like you to tell me is… How?’

‘Huh?’

‘Those cards, the ones you say you hold to your chest.’ You swear his head dips slightly, like he’s looking down to where he just mentioned. ‘If you tell me about some of them and your answers satisfy me... We may have an agreement.’  

‘May?’

‘That is the current offer.’

You sigh. You want this. Just do it.

‘Which ones would you like to know about?’

‘Where did you learn to fight the way you do?’

Oh good, an easy one.

‘Well for all my Uncle’s many, many shortcomings as a guardian and father-figure,’ you look down for a moment, feeling sad. ‘He did have a strangely strong desire to ensure I could defend myself. Sort of disconnected from how he really saw me in the end, and I doubt he ever paid any attention to the instructors I requested and the lessons I took. But he let me seek out and train with any master I could find.’

You smile. ‘I loved it. It was one of the few nice parts of my upbringing.’ You look up, shrug. ‘And in subsequent years, I’ve travelled a lot, not always in peaceful parts.’

You wait, Mando gives you a small nod.

‘Okay.’

‘Any other cards to flip for your pleasure?’ You’re pushing it. But you’re baring yourself so you’re feeling pushy.

‘Languages. I have seen you fluent in several.’

‘Oh, that’s just rich schooling.’

‘Right.’ Mando seems to gather himself. ‘That makes sense. One more card then.’ You try not to let your shoulders tense. You know what he’s going to ask. ‘The one thing that your… wealthy upbringing does not explain… is how you know your way around ships so well. Especially old class models, like the Crest.’

There it is. The hard one.

You contemplate lying. But you figure he’ll see right through you. So you straighten up, turn to look out into the darkness, away from his stare, and tell him what happened to you.

‘My Uncle may have conveyed a… jovial and floral air in his dealings. But politically, strategically, he was a fucking animal. Everything about his outward appearance was a calculated contrivance. Anything was fair game.’

You catch his nod from your periphery, as if he’d figured this out already. Fine, keep going.

‘One of his most secret and vicious weapons was my Aunt,’ you murmur, going back into that place and time you’d spent so long trying to push away.

‘You saw what she liked to do with compound alchemicals. It was a hobby of hers that she took into her “work” of contributing to the prosperity of the Estate and Uncle’s power lust. In the case of that particular undertaking, bumping off threats.

‘Another project she had dedicated years to was ways to make the workers of the Estate… well, not the best they could be really… But the most skilled, the most efficient, the most knowledgeable in their field. Elite and untouchable, to give her and Uncle’s empire its edge.’

You decide you may as well sit down, and lower yourself to the floor, knees pulled to chin. You sense Mando shift and retake his seat.

‘In one of her many… experiments, she worked with a mind flayer.’

‘How would—’ Mando cuts himself off. You don’t turn, just continue.

‘A modified one. Augmented to… I couldn’t begin to understand the fuckin’ tech but basically, to implant stuff. Programs she’d design to dump all the necessary know-how, skills, background, or whatever, whatever was needed for whatever job needed doing.

‘It was known to be painful, and dangerous. It rearranged neural pathways, forced the brain to change to accommodate the new stuff. Sometimes people went mad. Others died.

‘I was a kid, fascinated by the workers who would go into that room and come out dull and glazed. It was also highly secret so of course I wanted to see.

‘One afternoon, when I thought my Uncle and Aunt were off at some function, I snuck in. Didn’t touch anything at first, just, just poked around some. I um, I tripped and like, activated it. It freaked me out and I screamed. Turns out my Aunt wasn’t out and she burst into the room, furious. 

‘In this- this fit of fury she grabbed me, shoved me into- into the beam of the thing. Held me there. I was probably screaming, trying to fight, but to tell you the truth I don’t really remember it all that well.’

You stop to swallow a few times, willing the tears to leave you alone. The stoic presence beside you is a strange comfort.

‘I was in a coma for weeks. They thought I might not wake up at all. But I did, and I had uh-’ swallow, breathe. ‘I had lost a lot of my memory, of my early life… My uh- my mother… and her voice.’

But there it is, burning tears make you stop and you cup your face in your hands, still trying to breathe deep so you don’t go do something stupid like sob. You rub at your face and look back out into the night.

‘Anyway, what was up in the lil’ ticker was a hypercharged datadump of the last program that had been loaded – ultraclass gunship mechanic with pre-empire specialisation. The poor sap who’d been awaiting that particular implantation was intended as a gift to my Uncle, a surprise from my Aunt for his vain little vintage ship hobby. I think they both always resented me for ruining it.’

You huff an exhale and feel oddly buoyant.

After a while, ‘I am sorry,’ Mando whispers. ‘For making you share that.’

You decide to tell him the truth. ‘S’okay,’ you say. ‘Kind of feel a little lighter from the telling of it.’

You feel compelled to tell him something else, something you’ve never told anyone: ‘The strangest part though, even though I know I have this skill with ships because of the program dumped into my under-formed brain… It’s almost like there’s more going on. Sort of, like… preternatural. Like ships speak to me or something. It’s weird.’

Okay, that was probably an overshare.

‘Uh, never mind…’

But he speaks. ‘Your skills with tech go beyond ships – programming, electrical…’

You shrug, ‘One takes a kind of logical path into another, I guess...’

He nods.

You sense the approaching rush of a decision from Mando. He’d leaned way forward as you were talking, but now he straightens. 

‘We have an agreement.’

Your head snaps up to him.

‘We have an agreement?’

‘Yes.’

You smile. The growing darkness of the outside encloses your little patch of light as you and your companion look to each other.

--

Prev | Next

[sheepwithspecs]

The Price of Fame

Sean has one chance to make a name for himself in the true crime community, and he's willing to do whatever it takes. But is success truly worth the price? This is my entry for @dotzines "Red Zone- Vol. 3" horror zine! The zine is free and you can find it here!

The email simply said, "go back". No signature, no explanation; the sender's address was an incomprehensible jumble of letters and numbers.

Probably some fan trying to be creepy for clout. Rolling his eyes, Sean tossed his phone onto the passenger seat. It was bound to happen eventually; he was finally starting to make a name for himself, and personal experience had taught him that nothing on the internet was truly private. If parasocial freaks were the price of stardom, well… so be it.

He practically flung the rental car onto the neglected county road, spitting gravel onto the dusty highway. He took one deep breath after another, fingers drumming an unsteady tempo against the steering wheel as he fought to settle his nerves. Everything would be fine. It had to be. After today, Sean Masters would be a household name in the true crime community. This was the story that would push him out of obscurity and into the spotlight, his viral Hail Mary: the Stovald House.

He'd been scoping the property for days now, his frustration mounting at the never-ending parade of construction workers and white collar middlemen. Even at night, the humid air stirred not with crickets, but the ceaseless whir of power drills. Tomorrow the property would officially go on the market, ready for a perfect, smiling family to move in and call it their own. Today was his last chance to do what no one had ever done before: a podcast from inside the infamous Stovald House. He’d even splurged on a new camera in the hopes of shooting a vlog or two while inside. Surely his loyal fans would be willing to pay for behind-the-scenes footage?

The peaks of the house appeared on the horizon, its new metal roof gleaming in the sunshine. There were craftsman-style renovations along the wraparound porch, an accent wall of false stone, even a fresh coat of paint on the white picket fence. Hardly anything remained of the old antebellum home, save the large windows in their dark shutters.  

As he rounded the final curve, Sean caught sight of a figure standing by the mailbox. Tires squealing, he slid to a stop in front of the large FOR SALE sign tacked neatly beside the front gate. The woman turned curiously to look at him; her face was a mirrored reflection of the beaming image on the sign itself.

Son of a—! Sean bit down on his tongue, cutting off the curse before it made its way past his lips. He’d planned for cops, construction workers, even potential buyers. How could he have forgotten the real estate agent? Thinking quickly, he unbuckled his seatbelt and forced his expression into a polite smile.

“Mornin’!” He opened the car door but did not get out, trying to sound like a pleasant, ignorant stranger. “This property’s open to view, right?”

The agent walked over, heels crunching on the uneven gravel driveway. She was middle aged, her curls pulled back in a fancy twist and half-moon spectacles hanging low on her nose.

“I’m afraid you’re a day early, sir.” She rested one hand on the door, effectively boxing him in. “I do apologize. You’d best turn back, and try again tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s a darn shame!” he sighed, slumping back in the seat. “We—my wife and I—were told the house would be open for viewing today. She really has her heart set on this place, you know, and I thought maybe if I drove up early enough….” The agent stared at him for a long moment, pale eyes burning into his.

“Well….” She glanced at the empty house. “I suppose a quick peek wouldn’t hurt. I can’t take any offers, though.”

“Of course! Thank you, ma’am.” Sean reached for the camera, pausing only when he saw the agent’s expression tighten. “Erm… you don’t mind if I take some pictures? For my wife?”

“Wouldn’t you rather call her?”

“I would, but she works long hours. Can’t get away from her desk.” Could she hear the tremble in his voice? Was she second-guessing him? No! No, she was backing away from the car, allowing him to get out! Hook, line, and sinker. 

He paused at the front of the manicured lawn, taking a few peremptory shots of the house. Even if a podcast was out of the question, he could still use the thumbnails for a YouTube recap.

“The house has been fully renovated from the ground up,” the agent explained, waving him through the front door. “The kitchen, I believe, is the standout success. French style, double ovens… does your wife cook?”

“Huh?” Sean peered curiously up the winding staircase. That’s where they found the first body… or body parts, at least. “O-Oh! No, we, uh… we eat a lot of takeout.” He snapped a quick picture of the shadowy landing before following the agent into the belly of the house. “Do you expect to see a lot of locals? I’ve heard stories about this place, and the family that lived here. The Stovalds?” The agent paused, turning on one heel to face him.

“We are only accepting serious buyers at this time.” Was it a trick of the light, or did her eyes flash to the camera in his hands? “Now, the kitchen.”

“Right, right.” He snapped a few obligatory shots of the kitchen, nodding with feigned enthusiasm at her descriptions of the new appliances. She had just finished modeling the walk-in pantry when his patience finally reached the breaking point.

“But you do know about what happened here, don’t you? The Stovald Murders. It was the talk of the papers for weeks… or so my wife says.” Thoroughly irritated, the agent pressed her mouth into a thin line as she studied him over her spectacles.   

“I’m sure your wife would much rather hear about the house she’d like to purchase, Mr. Masters.”

“If you only knew! She’s a real true crime nut, my wife—” Sean paused in the corridor as her words sank in. “How did—? I haven’t told you my name.” The agent let out a low chuckle.

“You really ought to have turned back.” The hair on his neck lifted, heart hammering against his sternum. Sean dropped the camera, bolting for the front door. He was barely three steps from freedom when it seemed that his shoes glued themselves to the floor. With a violent wrench he stopped, crumpling in a heap. The agent passed him calmly, closing the door and locking the deadbolt. She regarded him thoughtfully, her expression caught between amused and annoyed.

“Don’t bother,” she sighed, watching his fingers fumble with his shoelaces. “Even if you manage to free yourself, there’s nowhere to run.”

“Who are you?!” he spat, trying to sound braver than he felt. “Is this some kind of sick prank? What the hell have you done to me?”

“You should be asking what you’ve done to yourself, Mr. Masters.” A wry smile lifted the corner of her painted lips. “At the moment, I’m a real estate agent… but you might say I’m an adjudicator of sorts. My colleagues and I deal mainly in sin, and you have committed several in your short time on this earth. Now, I’m here to collect.”

"What’re you talking about!?" he howled, scanning for something, anything that might be a decent weapon; he lunged as hard as he could for the camera, but it was just beyond reach. "What sins? I haven't killed anyone, or—"

“Let’s see.” The woman squatted next to him; adjusting her glasses, she began to count off on her fingers. “An inflated sense of arrogance, craving what others have, profiting off the misery of victims? Pride, envy, greed… need I go on?”  

“But—But what about others? Why are you doing this to me?!” His gasp ended on a choked sob.  

“Why not you? No sin is greater than another, after all.” She looked him in the eye. “If you must know, a long time ago I took a calculated risk on a fallen angel. You can guess how that ended. But there is something of a loophole… are you familiar with the Christian Bible, by any chance?”

Sean shrank into himself, eyes darting feverishly between her calm smile and the door. Something twisted in his leg as he struggled to free himself: muscle, or tendon? This can’t be happening!

“Yet if thou warn the wicked, and he turn not from his wickedness, nor from his wicked way, he shall die in iniquity,” the agent quoted. “But thou hast delivered thy soul. See? The more unrepentant sinners I claim, the sooner I’ll find myself back in good graces.”

“But you never warned me!” he sobbed, yanking fruitlessly at his leg. “I didn’t know!”

“I told you twice to turn back. It’s not my fault you didn’t listen.” The agent wiped at his tearstained cheeks with a gentle hand. “But don’t worry.”

“You’ll be a household name one day… just like the Stovalds."

[st-eve-barnes]

Pretty little liars (chapter 2)

(Felix Catton x fem Reader)

Summary: Felix Catton was the embodiment of everything you hated, yet you loved him like you never imagined one human being could love another. But as with all good things, you didn't know what you had until it was stolen from you.

This Chapter: You give into your feelings for Felix and Saltburn takes over your life.

Word count: +2400

Warning for the entire fic: 18+ for explicit content and language. Enemies to lovers vibes. Oral (fem & male receiving), p in v sex, fingering, ... Jealousy, voyeurism, secrets, toxic relationships, mentions of death. Oliver being his creepy little self.

ANGST/smut/fluff (do I ever write anything else? lol)

Masterlist for this fic

***

All these and older fics are also on AO3 If you want to support my writing you can Buy me a KoFi or feed me with a lovely comment ;)

***

Just a few weeks ago you had zero interest in Felix Catton.

Right now you wished you had a time machine so you could travel back to that last moment where he meant absolutely nothing to you.

How quickly your irritation had evolved into infatuation, to the point where he now walked around in your head as if he owned the place.

And it wasn’t just Felix who had taken over. Saltburn was in your head now too.

There was no turning back.

You walked through the grass of the estate barefoot that afternoon. You had skipped a few parties, forcing yourself to put some distance between yourself and this place, but it kept calling you back. 

There was a quietness behind these walls you couldn’t find anywhere else. When you were here it was almost as if the rest of the world seized to exist and in this new world everything was perfect and shiny and beautiful all the time. 

Saltburn offered you an escape, it allowed you to disappear and be someone else. Someone better than who you actually were.

And it allowed you to be where Felix was.

You found him by the water, sitting by himself, playing with the grass and smoking his cigarette.

It was useless to keep lying to yourself, there was not a single soul in here you wanted to be near. Except for him. You were under his spell, blinded by his light and drawn to it at the same time. Like a moth to a flame. You made your way over and without saying a single word sat down next to him on the grass.

He was barefoot, like you, only wearing shorts and a colorful shirt, one that matched your orange summer dress. He didn’t say anything but the corners of his mouth curled up into a barely noticeable smirk at seeing you here.

He took one long drag from his cigarette and then handed it to you.

Without even thinking you put your lips to it and breathed, ignoring the fact that you were a non smoker. You burst out in a coughing fit as soon as the smoke hit your lungs.

Felix laughed and gently slapped you on the back.“Don’t choke on it, new girl,” he teased.

You gave him back the cigarette. You weren’t even sure why you accepted it in the first place.

That was a lie. You knew exactly why. Because it was his, because it was a way to feel closer to him, because you would take whatever scraps he was willing to give you.

It was pathetic and you would never admit it to anyone, least of all to yourself.

“Stop calling me new girl,” you then teased him,”I’ve been coming here for over a month now, find something more original.”

“Okay, don’t choke on it, annoying girl,” he rolled his eyes at you.

You hadn’t meant to laugh but you couldn’t help yourself and when Felix joined you the tension broke almost instantly. You dared to turn your head to look at him. As soon as your eyes met the tension was back, but it was a different kind now.

“You came back,” Felix stated softly and you nodded.

“Felt like I didn’t have a choice.”

“Why is that?”

“This place seems to have some magnetic pull on me, I can’t seem to shake it no matter how hard I try.”

Felix stared into your eyes, lips curling up into a small grin again,”Just this place?”

You stared right back at him, allowing yourself to drown into those deep brown eyes while you shook your head.”No, not just the place,” you confessed,”You.”

Felix’s hand moved to the small of your back, eyes never leaving yours as he guided you forward and into his lap. It was so easy to just follow his lead, let his big hands mold you and place you exactly where he wanted you. Legs straddled on either side of him, his forehead resting gently against yours, a gesture too delicate for two people who didn’t like each other all that much.

Or was that just another lie you told yourself?

“Come here,” he whispered, cupping your cheek to pull you in and kiss you. Soft, slow, greedy. His thumb tracing your jaw and your neck in the process until you finally melted into him and kissed him back.

“Who are you, annoying girl?” he breathed into the kiss.

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” you teased him.

Felix shut you up with another kiss.

***

It would be a lie to say you didn’t want to fuck him after that. Of course you did. You were no longer immune to his charm or his affections towards you. But more than anything you just wanted to be his friend, be around him, share in his light and his warmth.

And Felix was generous with both, especially towards you. 

You didn’t sleep with him at first, not even after he’d started taking you up to his room to escape the others and spend more time alone with you.

You’d watch movies, read books and laugh. And kiss. You could kiss him for hours and not do anything else, or need anything else.

The end credits of The talented Mr Ripley were playing on the tv screen in front of you. You and Felix were both leaning against the headboard of his king sized bed, the windows open to let in the soft summer breeze. Felix’s hand was resting casually on your knee while he was chatting about the movie.

“All I’m saying is sometimes people don’t have layers, sometimes…we are exactly what everyone thinks we are,” Felix stated.

“Do you really believe that? I think everyone has layers, even the people you wouldn’t expect it from. Especially the people you wouldn’t expect it from.”

He smiled down at you but shook his head.”People are simple.”

“People are complicated,” you disagreed,”You can’t just take one look at someone and read their entire personality.”

“But sometimes you can though.”

“But that’s just prejudice based on cliches.”

“And cliches exist because they are based on truth.”

You gave him a look but he didn’t budge.

“Alright, take me for example," he continued,"It didn’t take you that long to figure me out, did it?”

You shook your head with a smile,”Felix Catton, I still haven’t figured you out.”

He laughed,”But you have. You pegged me as a spoilt, ignorant, rich kid who gets everything handed to him on a silver platter, who goes through life like it’s a fucking breeze. And…I can’t even argue with it because I am exactly that.”

“But you are more than that, Felix.”

“Just because you want me to be doesn’t make it so. What if this is it? What if there are no layers?”

You covered his large hand with your small one and squeezed softly while shaking your head.

“So you’re a walking cliche, got it,” you teased and much to your relief it made him smile.

“What about me?” you then asked,”What cliche am I?”

He immediately shook his head,“Oh no, I'm not getting in trouble by answering that question."

“Come on, I won’t be offended,” you looked into his eyes,”Tell me who I am.”

“Okay,” he nodded and took a moment before he answered,”You’re the girl who tries very hard to be different from other girls while deep down you’re dying to be just like them.”

Your smile faded at his words and Felix shook his head,”See? I’m in trouble.”

“No, you're not,” you reassured him,”Tell me more.”

“You’re constantly torn between wanting to stand out or wanting to fit in, wanting to be seen and noticed or wanting to be invisible and not be perceived by anyone. Sometimes…it’s like you’re performing, because you think it’s what people want from you.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, taking his time to take you all in.”It's not what I want from you."

You stared at him.

"What do you want from me?" you asked, carefully.

"For you to not be afraid to show me...what's underneath."

"What if you don't like what's underneath?"

Felix gave you a soft smile,"I can’t see anything I won’t like about you, Y/N.”

You returned his smile but shook your head.

Oh, but you will.

You didn’t speak those words out loud but your heart was pounding so heavily you were sure he had to hear it as well.

But he just continued,“The truth is I can’t figure you out for the life of me. And it drives me fucking insane because I really, really want to.”

He moved over you on the bed, placing himself in between your legs, his face level with yours as he looked deep into your eyes. The mood in the entire room changed.

“There’s a darkness in you,” he spoke softly,”You hide it well but it’s there…I can feel it. And I...I can’t look away from it."

His thumb brushed your bottom lip, opening you up to him."I want to drown in it," he whispered,"And in you.”

His mouth devoured yours in a deep, hungry kiss.

This one was different from all the kisses you’d shared with him before, there was a possessiveness to it that shook you to the core.

You’d kissed him back with that same fire, pushing at his shirt to take it off, your hands caressing his back, his shoulders, his ass, any piece of him you could grab hold of.

Felix moaned into your mouth when you wrapped your legs around him, dragging him closer. His large hands moved over your stomach to push up your summer dress and help you lift it up over your head, leaving you almost completely bare for him.

Then he was kissing your neck, your nipples, your stomach and your thighs. Your underwear was pulled from you, replaced by his mouth and his tongue circling your clit and invading your walls until you soaked his bed, his name a desperate plea on your lips, begging for more.

And once again he was generous, giving you what you’d been craving for a while now, both of you desperately pulling at his shorts to free his cock.

And then he was fucking you, slowly and thoroughly, soothing away your last doubts and fears one thrust at a time.

Your life without Felix Catton was a thing of the past now.

***

You’d started spending the night more often after that. You didn’t always fuck, sometimes you still just watched movies together or read, you at one side of the bed and Felix on the other.

You had barely seen Bella lately, she was always occupied with Oliver. It seemed unhealthy but then weren’t you doing the exact same thing with Felix? You realized you were in no position to judge her so you didn’t and the contact between you two faded.

The summer seemed to drag on forever, so did the heat. Your life outside of Saltburn became smaller and smaller, sometimes you weren’t even sure if you still existed outside of these walls.

You were there almost every day now. There was an extra plate at the breakfast table for you, even though you had never asked for it.

Life was good. Surreal. You couldn’t see the cracks yet, even though they were right there in front of you, if only you had paid attention.

You sank down deeper into the bathtub, Felix’s bathtub, closing your eyes and letting the water overtake you for just a moment. It was past midnight, the only lights in the room the candles Felix had lit for you a little earlier.

He would be passed out on the bed by now. He had insisted you take all the alone time you needed to relax and then join him for the night.

It was quiet in Saltburn, and even though the bath was cooling you down sweat was already forming on your forehead again. You were starting to feel a little claustrophobic so you carefully stepped out of the bath to open a window.

It was only then that you noticed the door was ajar. Not the door to Felix’s room but the door that lead to one of the connecting guest rooms. It was probably just the wind you had created yourself by opening the window but it made you feel unnerved anyway. You grabbed a towel to cover yourself up and slowly stepped closer to the door. You could have sworn you’d seen something move and while you couldn’t be sure the cold chill running down your spine was telling you someone had been watching you this entire time.

“You done here?”

You jumped and let out a scream when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Whoa, hey, it’s just me,” Felix reassured you, lifting up both hands in defense,”Don’t scream like that, love, you’ll wake everyone up.”

“God, fuck, sorry, you startled me.”

”That’s some guilty conscience to make you jump like that,” he teased but you ignored his comment.

You reached out to grab his shirt and Felix didn’t hesitate to pull you into a warm, solid hug.”Hey, you’re okay, babe, everything’s alright,” he soothed you in a sweet voice, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“What’s back there?” you asked softly,”Behind that door.”

“That door?” Felix asked surprised,”That’s just Ollie’s room.”

“Oliver? He shares a bathroom with you?”

“Yeah, he probably just forgot to lock it before he went to sleep,” Felix let go of you to close the door.”See, no harm done, it happens,” he shrugged.

You couldn’t shake the bad feeling in the pit of your stomach but you didn’t feel it was your place to comment on it beyond that. After all you hadn’t actually seen anything and it was probably just your imagination or the wind. 

Oliver was a good guy, he wouldn't do something like that, you still believed that at the time. There was nothing to worry about.

“Hey,�� Felix cupped your cheek and locked eyes with you,”You’re too tense, babe. Come on, I can take care of that.”

He leaned in to place a few playful kisses in your neck while his hands moved down your sides, pulling your towel with him until it ended up on the floor and you were naked in his arms.

"Oops," he smirked.

“Felix,” you giggled.

“Get on my bed, princess, now,” he teased and then slapped your ass before following you back to his bedroom.

Felix made sure you didn't think about Oliver again that night, or the days after that and you happily let yourself forget all about the wandering eyes behind that bathroom door.

[robynlilyblack]

Something sweet

Part 1

bodyguard! James x fem! maid! reader

Summary: James lands a new long term position for a rich family in the countryside, however he gets lost on his way there and has to ask directions from a mystery girl and her dog, little does he know he'll be working closely with her in the near future

Warnings: swearing, strangers to coworkers to eventual lovers, mentions of past relationships, cheating (neither james or reader), dangerous work environment, eating, food, and sex, first meetings, mutual pining, Alex being his iconic self, Bruce being the best boy

A/n: 4.2k words, day three of my advent calendar is part one of my bodyguard james fic! part 2 may or not be a later day ;) this is all set in a muggle au, James is in his mid 20s and reader her early 20s

Navigation | James Potter Masterlist

James was stopped at the side of the road, engine turned off to save fuel, eyebrows pinched as he checked the directions he was given against the map. He was certain he had gone the right way; he’d never gotten lost for a job…although this job was a little different than the others. 

Usually he was only hired for a few months, a year or two tops, but this one would likely be indefinitely. He wasn’t complaining, though he was never without work he was without a permanent address. You would think seeing the world would be magical, that thrill of seeing something new every day would be exciting, but living in hotels and never settling had slowly taken its toll.

That thrill he once found in it had an expiration date, life became boring as he was never in one place long enough to form any real connections. He still wrote to friends, attended a few of their weddings a year prior, and always made sure to see them every couple of months. Yet it wasn’t enough, hearing them talk about having children and starting families had him earning for it too. He’d tried it twice before but they ended the same, the distance pulling them apart and, on top of that, back then he didn’t exactly take the safest jobs, leading both of his former partners to be in constant worry

They were both married now, he still phoned Lily from time to time and of course he saw Regulus being Sirius’ brother and all. There was no bad blood, the feelings had dissipated yet he envied them just a little for finding their someone, something he’d give anything to have now

“I went down here…and then I remember seeing that school because it was creepy as all feck…so if I go down here…” he extends the syllables as his finger traces the road “...wait” his eyebrows furrow deeper, looking out of his window to see any kind of landmark that can help 

Looking around there was deep forestry on his left, some branches at the bottom still coated in snow as the sun hadn’t melted it just yet, lining the road for as far as he could see and ahead there was a bend that seemed to lead him off towards another deep treeline that looked a lot older, which was promising considering he was told the estate was established in the 15th century. He then turned to his right, seeing a small wall running down the opposite side of the road, it was crumpled in places, the gaps revealing more of the lush frost dew field behind it, shining 

He reaches down the side of the door, rolling the window down gently, it was a crisp morning, but exaggerated by the cars heater making soft wisps appear as its heat hits the outside air. He pokes his head out a little further, trying to spot anyone he could ask for help in order to save himself returning to the farmer from earlier, who despite being a lovely gent was completely incomprehensible with how thick his accent was

Just as he was about to give up, he hears a giggle, hears perking up at the sweet sound, so much, he jolts his head up to see whoever it was over the wall, only to whack it on the doors roof

“Fuck” he groans, rubbing the top of his head, blinking quickly to ensure he didn’t knock out one of his contacts before he quickly scrambles out of the car and across the tarmac, stopping half way to curse again as he runs back over, dipping in the window to grab the map

“Hey!” he waves at the figure as he turns back towards them, jogging across the road and onto the grass verge, gently leaning over the wall

That catches the figure's attention and they turn around to look at him, that's when he sees you. You looked a little shocked to see him, which he’s not surprised at; he hadn't seen any other cars pass by in the time he’d spent stewing away with his map nor the drive up the road. 

The next thing he notices is the dog that companies you eyeing him then looking to you for what he assumes is a command. James figures some farmers daughter, or maybe the daughter of whose estate he was headed too. He hopes for the former as you draw closer, the dogs tail beginning to wag as it follows on behind, gaining a treat on the way for good behaviour

“Can you help me?” he asks, holding up the map “I appear to be a tad lost” he chuckles trying to lighten the mood and let you know he isn’t some weirdo

You still seem nervous yet your shoulders have relaxed, the dog looking more excited now he’s no longer a potential threat. He drinks in your figure as you approach the wall, you look sweet, perfect even in your little bobble hat and scarf, sturdy looking boots at least a size too big adored with thick brown socks poking out at the top, battered jeans littered with old and new paw prints, and finally a woolly jumper under a chunky green parka

“I’m looking for the Roseberry Estate?” he asks when you don’t say anything, trying his best not to smile too much when he looks over the wall and sees your companion staring up at him fondly with big grey eyes that reminded him of an old friend

“Umm” you whisper and he barely hears it, watching as you awkwardly take the map from his hands and shift to the side so he can see it “You’re here” you point to the road and James smiles a little funny, thankful he’s on the right road yet confused as to how he overshot it “You started from the city?” you wonder and he nods, catching your eye for a brief moment before you shy away again towards the map “You’ve accidently taken the long way around, but it’s no harm done, just keep going you’ll find water on your left and look out for the sign, it’ll be on your right. Oh, and if you can’t see the water anymore you’ve gone too far” you tell him quietly with the most charming giggle escaping your lips at the end

He smiles gently re-taking the map, but not folding it up just yet as he traces over the intersection, he made a wrong turn at “So what you’re saying is I managed to get so lost I still ended up where I needed to be” he barks a laugh, thinking of how Remus would dub this with the famous Potter luck as he folds up the map and shoves the map into his back pocket. 

As the paper slips in he feels his suspenders shift, laying uncomfortably on his shoulder, however as he fixes it, he misses the way your eyes fixate on his movements, on his hands, but particularly on the slight reveal of his holster under his fleece lined jacket

“I…umm” his eyes drift back to you, noticing you seem a little flustered and wonders if its for the reasons he’s finding himself hoping for “I need to get going” you slowly step backwards, trying to retreat in such a way he wouldn’t notice and it’s kind of adorable

“Of course, thank you for the help” he smiles and you give him a little nod back “Have a lovely day sweetheart” he adds, earning the smallest of smiles back and an even smaller ‘you too’ before you turn away and walk through the field and up the makeshift path, your dog following along behind, tail wagging happily

James smirks, turning around and checking the road before jogging back to the car quickly. He was freezing, only masking the shivers so he would look tough in front of you that seemed used to this kind of weather. He himself should have been, hell he went to a private school little ways south of here in his youth but years of jet setting from hot country to hotter country had left him shuddering now

After rolling up the window and getting warm again he presses his foot to the clutch and begins to the turn the ignition but stops and curses “Shit, her name” he scolds himself for forgetting “Always ask the pretty girl their name…fuck and the dog…dammit why didn’t we pet the dog” he scolds further, knowing his next letter to Sirius was going to earn a chide reply for the latter

You took your time walking back to the estate, breathing in the mid-morning air and enjoying your down time as you would be working again this afternoon. The ground crunched beneath you, the morning sun hadn’t quite hit the trail just yet and thawed the mud, making it easier to traverse. Not that you nor Bruce would ever complain, he was living his best life, so much that you honestly feared his tail would break with how hard it was wagging

He stops about 40 yards ahead at the corner of the path, turning back to wait on you catching up before going again. You smile at that, giving him a signal as you draw closer, causing him to patter up to your right side, around behind you to slow and walk at your pace on your left side

“Good boy”

Dipping into your pocket you grab a treat, gifting it to him and he takes it sweetly, tongue lapping it up before he picks up his pace and wanders out in front of you again. You adored mornings like this, just you and him, but as you reached the home stretch nerves filled you as you thought of the man you met earlier

He was beyond handsome, too handsome to live around here, a pretty face like his should be seen by the world and not the 50 or so people that lived near or in the estate grounds. He dressed like a tourist too, his shoes too nice for the mud, jacket that was quite clearly bought at the store everyone went to when they first got off the plane, and of course, the car that had no place on roads like this during winter

You weren’t surprised when he asked you where the house was, but the thing that did surprise you was the holster. You assumed he must have been one of the family's friends, as there was a dinner later this evening you would be waiting at. So, it was a shock to realise he must be the new bodyguard, the one other staff were raving about. He just looked too sweet. Sure, he was built like a rugby player with broad shoulders and clear muscles, tall too, but his face, hair, eyes, they were all too kind and soft to be in such a profession

“Happy to be home, boy?” You ask Bruce, scratching his ear as he circles you gleefully and of course he is, as the moment he’s in he gets breakfast

You were happy too, over your time working and living on the estate it had become your home, the fellow staff, your family, however as of this afternoon you would no longer be the new girl, despite holding it for the last 3 years, that would go to that handsome stranger

“Y/n!” Your head shoots up to see your best friend, Alex, waving at you before being greeted by Bruce “Sorry boy, hello to you too” chuckling he crouch’s down to give Bruce a proper hello

“Hey” you say softly as you approach, taking off your scarf and hat as you feel yourself heating up again as you approach the side door “He’s just sucking up so he can get extra you know that right?” you remind your friend and he gives you a pointed look before chuckling

“Let me live in my fantasy sunshine, where I pretend, he loves me and not yesterday's leftover beef, okay?” he pleads and you put your hands up, giggling yourself as you head in, but still making sure to kick the frost and mud from your boots off on the last step before entering

“Was it today the new bodyguard is coming?” you check as you take a seat on one of the small chairs just inside, looking up through the double doors of the smaller east wing kitchen as Bruce comes to sit on the floor in front of you, waiting patiently for Alex to return with food as he wasn’t allowed in there

“Yeah” he confirms, coming back out with two dog bowls, one with food, the other water “You think he’ll last longer than the previous one?” He chuckles, placing the bowls down “Good boy” he grants Bruce permission to feast, which he does so promptly

“Hopefully” you giggle

The position for a new bodyguard has been a cursed one, not for any dangerous reason but for the fact one of the family’s children had a rather scandalous habit of cheating on her husband with every bodyguard they had ever hired. Funnily enough your job had the same curse with one of the families’ sons, however you never let anything happen, simply refusing his advances and he never again passed normal flirting which gained him your respect, and yourself that of the families. 

“I think I met him” you say removing your shoes and fluffy socks, revealing your tight clad feet underneath

“Seriously?” Alex’s eyes light up, smirking as you stand and slip off your coat, humming in confirmation “What’s he like?”

“Handsome” you feel your cheeks heat bending down to pick up the empty food bowl and half drank water bowl before carrying them through into the servants break room “Too handsome” you giggle, placing the water bowl back down with the food one underneath for now

“For real? You sure it wasn’t one of the investors they invited for dinner?” Alex asks, taking a seat on the bench facing away from your locker

“No, I thought that too until I saw his holster” you say, opening your locker and softly taking your freshly pressed uniform out

“Is he prettier than the last ones?” Alex inquires as he begins petting Bruce “Hey bud”

You feel yourself flush “By a mile, younger too, probably mid to late twenties?” you reply smiling as you see Bruce's leg kicks at Alex’s scratches before slipping off your jeans and jumper

“Yeah?” you hum in agreement “You know I can feel the heat from your cheeks…hey!” he chuckles as you shove him gently “You fancy him” he states

“I barely know him; we spoke for all of one minute” you needless defend as you shimmy into your skirt

“That wasn’t a no…oi…she’s such a meany isn’t she Brucey” he earns another playful hit but his attempts to sway Bruce only earn in a funny look “Wow you’ve got him wrapped around your finger” he notes

“I do” you slid your hands into the sleeves of your blouse “Don’t I boy” you lean over Alex’ shoulder to pat Bruce's head, causing him to yip and shuffle foot to foot, arse wiggling excitedly “He…” you climb over the bench and join your friend, beginning to button your shirt as you do “...he called me sweetheart”

“Sweetheart, eh?” he nudges his nose with Bruce’s “You hear that boy? Your gal might have found a new favourite” he says, making the dogs head tilt 

“No” you leave the last few buttons and cup Bruce's face, steering him towards you instead “No one can replace my favourite boy, not even the handsome stranger”

“You replacing me darlin?” 

Yours, Alex and Bruce's heads shoot up to see Patrick Roseberry, the family’s youngest son, ages with you, and your main boss, along with…the handsome stranger from earlier

“Sir” you stand bowing your head a little, cheeks feeling hot as the stranger tilts his head, clearly connecting the dots “No sir I mean…sorry sir” you cringe, cheeks on fire now while Patrick just waves it off with a small chuckle

“Mornin’” Alex nods his head with a small finger salute, standing up casually and earring an amused eyebrow raise from Mr Handsome

“Oh hey there Brucey” Patrick kneels down, petting the dog as he approaches “Y/n and Alex taking good care of you boy?” he wonders

You smile at that; Bruce was originally raised to be a gun dog but never quite had the same drive for the hunt as his brothers and sisters. You still remember the day they realised it wasn’t meant to be; you were helping move new produce into the kitchen while they were out training when a small group of hares ran by. Every dog started to chase them while Bruce sat just watched them, not caring in the slightest, Patrick didn’t want to give him up so he gifted him to yours and Alex’s care 

“Is that his name?” the stranger finally speaks, drawing your eyes and earning a small smirk from him before he kneels down to pet Bruce, who seems very happy to see him again and gain some ear scratches this time now there was no wall in the way

“Oh” Patrick chuckles, standing back up and looking towards you and Alex “This is James Potter, the new bodyguard, I’m giving him the grand tour” 

James? It suits him, you think with a small smile, rocking on your feet as your hands clasp behind your back

“Hi” James looks up, catching your eye once more as he greets you but those fine eyes soon travel down like they did earlier, his smirk widening as he stands up and you suddenly remember the last few buttons

“Sorry” you quickly do them up, turning away slightly as you do

Patrick lets out a small laugh “Sorry darlin, should have knocked first” he cringes, rubbing the back of his neck while his cheeks tint a little while you whisper a small ‘it’s okay’ “We should keep the tour going though, the dinner is in a few hours and I’m sure you wish to get settled and unpack” he tells James as he walks further into the room 

“Sounds good…see ya boy” James whispers the last part to Bruce, giving him one last clap before he watches the dog return to your side 

“This is the staff break room, you’ll spend most of your down time here. Y/n, Alex or one of our older maids will prepare your clothes in the morning so you never need to worry about what to wear, except for our balls, we outsource labour for those so the staff can join in, my grandmother set it up you see…” 

Patrick goes on for a while, explaining some house rules, etiquette, locker assignment and meal times. Alex takes this time to sit back down and pet Bruce before yours and his shift starts and Bruce has to be left on his own. You do the same, your movement catching James’ attention briefly, before he returns to listening and you pull your formal black pumps out from under the bench, slipping them on your feet as you try not to stare too long at James’ arse, those trousers are…snug

“Pervert” Alex whispers and you gasp quietly, gladly not attracting much attention

“Shut up” you hiss back “You’re looking too” you mumble

“Course I am, if he wasn’t already making eyes at you, you don’t think I wouldn’t” he wiggles his eyebrows

“We aren’t making eyes…like I said we literally just met” you defend yourself whilst still stealing glances, eyes a little higher this time, melting at the way the shirt is just that little bit too tight around his biceps and shoulders, the man was perfection

“Exactly, just met and the chemistry is flying…” he whispers back, earning another nudge but that doesn’t stop him or you from continuing to chatter about it whilst you get your little cleaning cart ready 

James notices the bickering, eyes flicking quickly over to you, smiling at the interaction. If he hadn’t heard your statement coming into the room, he might have read yours and Alex’s relationship differently. His pride was a bit higher now than you thought him handsome, more so that you felt the need to tell your friend about it to such a degree you had to assure Bruce he was still your favourite boy

“If you follow me, I’ll show you the security room” his attention is pulled back to Patrick, who’s moving towards the single exit door on the other side 

“Course” James starts to follow but turns back to say goodbye “See you three around” he gives you, Bruce and Alex a wave, but his eyes linger on you a little longer and flashes you a smirk 

As he follows Patrick out, he replays the little smile and nose scrunch that took over your features before you shied away, it was same one from earlier

“I’m glad we ran into Alex and Y/n, you’ll be working with them quite often” Patrick smiles, and James finds himself doing the same “They are based in the east wing, as will you be” 

James hums, eyes tracing over all the portraits and random pieces of decor that were most likely worth more than he’d make in a lifetime, he does avert his eyes at the mounted antlers though, for some reason those always gave him the creeps

“Have they been with you long?” he makes light chit chat, returning his eyes to the man before him

“Alex has been here for about 5 years, he’s ages with you…oh sorry Linsey…on you go” Patrick starts, pushing open one of the large double doors and accidentally startling an older woman, adorned in similar clothing to yourself

James gives the women a small smile, which she returns before giving a small ‘thank you’ to Patrick for holding the door as she passes by before they do the same

“Sorry, what was I saying?” Patrick asks himself, turning back to James before his eyes light up “Oh yeah…Alex is great, you need anything go to him”

“Noted” James nods “What about the girl? Y/n” he prompts casually, trying not to seem too eager

Patrick’s smile widens “Y/n was the last person we hired for a permanent position before you, about…hell, three years ago now” he chuckles “Just down these stairs” he directs and James hums “She’s wonderful, treats everyone, especially Bruce well, beautiful too” he rambles a little and James feels just a twinge of jealousy

“Yeah?” he gives him a look, smirk playing on his lips as Patricks turns back to look at him, palm on the door

His cheeks tint, delaying walking through “I may have fancied her a fair bit in my youth” he confesses taking his hand off of the door, stepping to the side to glance back up the stairwell to check no one was there before continuing “When I was 18, we had a flurry of new maids because I well…” he scratches the back of his neck with an awkward chuckle “...you can imagine, young rich bachelor and all that”

“Course” James nods, remembering a certain friend being the same once upon a time “So why did y/n stick?” he wonders, hoping he wasn’t about to be told you and Patrick were secretly an item back in the day

“She got the job despite having no experience since they assumed she wouldn’t last. I, of course, flirted and she’d get all shy but after I tried to kiss her she…recoiled, then she gave me the sweetest and cutest rejection you’d ever seen” he chuckles, his face clear of any malice as he recalls the memory, in fact James could say the man spoke of it like it was a fond one

James joins him “Speaking of openings, I was surprised there was one going” he gently changes the subject as he had wondered why such a position would be available and on such short notice “What happened to the last one?”

Patrick cringes “As I used to have a thing for the maids, my sister has a thing for the bodyguards” he admits and James’ eyes widen

“Oh” he lets out a nervous laugh “Should I be worried?” he asks warily

“Are you going to sleep with my older sister?” Patrick crosses his arms, an amused smirk on his face

James barks a laugh “Nah, not my type” he winks causing Patrick to laugh as well

“You’ll be fine then” he presses hand to the door again “Any other sensitive questions? Ask now or…wait till we’re in another stairwell” 

James laughs, thinking for a second “How does the family feel about staff dating…fellow staff members?” he asks a little untoward, hands finding his back pockets

Patricks head tilts “My sister and brother don’t approve, but my parents and myself don’t mind as long as it doesn’t create any security risks or effect the quality of your work, and you disclose it of course” he explains before smirking “The handsome stranger she mentioned when we walked in…he was you, right?” 

James chuckles “Hope so, either that or there was another one gallivanting about this morning” he jests but his face soon softens “There just something…”

“...sweet about her” Patrick answers for him with a slight smile and James nods

“Yeah, something sweet”

Thank you for reading ♡

[loopyhoopywrites]

hey loop, happy WBW! i wanna know the funnest of facts about the Darkunder, just as many as you have and can share (--@space-writes)

Hi!!!

Okay so disclaimer, worldbuilding is not one of my strong points, but let's try and explain the Darkunder!

The Darkunder is a bonus! dimension that's basically a bunch of tiny dimensions all occupying the same physical space

(It's the governments way of saving money on real estate)

If you get elected to government you get a fancy title, role-specific magic powers, and a plot of land/big mansion-office-thingy

All of these plots of land/big mansion-office thingies exist in the same physical space, but which one you end up in depends on which entrance you take

(e.g. the Minister for Bloodlust and Violence's entrance is in a football stadium, the Minister for Mischief and Hijinks is gotten to by way of a convincing enough tunnel painted on a cliff wall)

The Dizaster Trio are visiting the Minister for Minor Inconveniences and Papercuts, so they enter through a post office

The different Darkunder dimensions are a) super magical and b) tailor themselves to the Minister who resides there

So everything in the Darkunder the trio visit is either minorly inconvenient, or gives you papercuts

Fun fact! The Darkunder was initially going to be completely different (more of a creepy/spoopy vibez) but I thought this would be funnier so changed it (:

(Yes, Darkunder is a not at all subtle play on Underdark. Does it fit the new vibez? No. Am I keeping it? Yes.)

Bonus! A lil excerpt of the trio encountering the Darkunder :)

"Well this is annoying," Trickster said, once again reaching down to tie his shoelace. This was the third time his shoelace has come undone in the past five minutes. The strange part was that six minutes ago, his shoes hadn't had laces. "I'd take annoying over dangerous," said Llanedd, pulling off their glasses to wipe the rather large smudge off one of the lenses. Again. "I don't know what the two of you are complaining about," said Mar'Gret, just as one of her backpack straps snapped, nearly taking her down with it. She stopped for a moment to lengthen the remaining strap and sling it over her chest. When she continued walking, a corner of her bag dragged along the floor. "I think this place is perfectly lovely." Lovely was one word for it. Unexpected might have been another.

Tysm for asking!! <3