#they would do this when succession was still airing but it's so much worse now

[queensboro]

people on r/succession will post the same posts every day being like Ugh the Roy kids are so stupid they would be horrible CEOs and they don't even seem to know why they want to be CEO.. can anyone explain this gaping plot hole.. ARE YOU STUPID!! You Are Literally Watching "Family And Power: The Show"

[bbydoll18xx]

This Is Me Trying

'I just wanted you to know that this is me trying.'

Azzi Fudd x Reader

Based on this request (sorry it took forever lol)

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.1k

Themes: depression, mild alcohol abuse, hurt/comfort

A/N: hiii so here i am trying out writing for someone other than Paige, and I really hope you like it! If this is a decent success I may write for other people as well :) And of course it was time to write a fic to go along with my most favorite song of all time (folklore stans rise up)

Lets do thisss

also sorry this is lowkey kinda depressing i am a sad girly

~

Your lack of sleep was showing in deep purple bruises under your eyes that no amount of even the heaviest concealer could adequately cover. You haven't slept well in days, and today’s shift had not helped your exhaustion. The day was filled with incessant neediness, people cussing you out, and an endless amount of shit.

Literally and figuratively. 

You walk into your apartment, just wanting nothing but to fall into Azzi’s warm and loving arms, but you’re met with the still darkness of an empty home. Your girlfriend was in Las Vegas playing against the Aces, and she would not be home until tomorrow afternoon. 

She had promised to call you after the game, but you weren’t sure if you would even make it through your shower, much less wait up for her by the phone for another three hours. 

Your eyes fill with tears, the feeling of overwhelming loneliness mixing with your exhaustion, and as you throw your stuff on the floor, dredging your body into your bathroom, letting the downpour of water drown out your own tears. 

You had become quite accustomed to hiding your feelings behind bright smiles and fake laughs, desperate to clutch onto the need to prove to everyone that you were okay.

Even if you really weren't.

Your girlfriend had enough stress on her, and the idea of her needing to worry about you, too, was enough to send guilt shooting through your entire body. 

You had kept up your facade all throughout college, choosing to take long, solo car rides until you had to pull over, the tears swimming in your eyes nearly blinding you. And when you were strung along to the bars with Azzi and the rest of her teammates, you drowned your sorrows and fears with liquor, numbing your thoughts and your body until you were delirious. 

You were the golden girl. 

You knew what jokes to crack for which group of people you were around at the time. Your grades were stellar. And you had bagged the prettiest, sweetest girl in probably the entire universe. 

So, you resented yourself for feeling anything other than being on top of the world, because it was actually quite the opposite.

It got worse once you graduated. 

Azzi was often gone, traveling for away games, and that left you alone to process the unimaginable emotions that came with your budding nursing career. Feelings of loss and incompetence clouded your brain constantly.

Today was no different. 

You had lost a patient, a kind, gentle woman who finally let go, taking her last breath while gripping your hand, completely alone. 

It broke you, and the devastating reality had sunk into your chest, crushing all of the air out of your fragile lungs. And you were now gasping for air, leaving you feeling bereft and vulnerable, like an open wound. 

Maybe that’s all you’d ever really be, and you could not help but think that you were the festering wound in yours and Azzi’s relationship, threatening to slowly tear it apart until the two of you were left standing in the tattered shreds of what used to be. 

You wanted things to be okay so, so badly, but the overwhelming feelings of loneliness and longing had set in, chilling you down to the bone. And you were scared. 

So you would just continue on pretending. 

Azzi comes home the next day, and you put the mask back on the second she walks through the door. You’d be lying, though, if her presence didn’t make you feel the tiniest bit whole again. You melt into her arms, drinking in her presence, as she rubs your back soothingly, her face pressed into the crook of your neck. 

Maybe everything would be okay, if only you could be honest with her.

~

Azzi lays in bed next to you, and you indulge in the way her smell has permeated the soft bedsheets again, after days of the scent slowly becoming less and less potent. She smells warm and comforting, and you nuzzle into her, desperate for her to fix every little part of you that was screaming out in insecurity and despondancy.

A low sigh escapes your throat, secretly wanting your girlfriend to pick up on your mood, and because she knows you better than anyone else, she does. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” She questions, her tone filled with concern and worry. She places a hand on your cheek, coaxing you to look into her eyes, and the glow of the lamp on the bedside table illuminates the kindness emitting from her deep brown irises. 

“I–” You begin, taking a deep breath and then stopping. Trying to put all your emotions into coherent words was quite the task. And honestly, you were terrified of how Azzi would react. 

Her thumb strokes your cheek, as she sits up fully next to you in the bed, eyes still peering into yours. 

“It’s okay, it’s just me,” she murmurs gently, and something clicks inside of you.

It was Azzi. You could tell her anything, and it would never even come close to dimming any of the love she felt for you. 

In that moment, all the anxiety you felt about coming clean seemed silly, like it had been built up in your head to great heights, and here it was now, crashing down all around you.

“I’ve been really depressed,” you mumble, your cheeks feeling warm from her touch and the prickling of shame. “For a long time, actually. And I really fucking miss you. I hate feeling like a needy girlfriend, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.”

The confession pours out of you, and as the air stills between you, your heart races as you watch Azzi’s face contort into a look of hurt and confusion.

“Oh, baby,” she breathes, scooping you up and setting you into her lap, legs draped over hers as she interlaces your fingers with hers. 

“I’ve been missing you, too. And I didn’t want you to feel like you had to sacrifice your career for mine,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss onto your temple. 

Your shoulders sag in relief, and you connect your lips in a kiss. There were numerous unspoken words shared as your lips entwined in a sheer display of passion.

As you break apart, you gaze back into those dark brown eyes, pupils now blown wide. “Guess this means we’ll have a lot more time to be doing this,” you giggle, wagging your eyebrows at Azzi.

She shakes her head fondly. “Just want my sweet, happy girl back,” she whispers in your ear.

Little did she know, you already were.

~

I really hope everyone enjoyed this. I have been toying around with a lil Pazzi fic, so let me know if you'd be interested :)

xoxo katy

Taglist:

@fullladypanda-blog, @omg-imtumbling, @tenaciousglitternerd, @oldcrdigan, @paigebuxkets, @the-other-half , @patscorner , @dietcokesmom , @tndaqltoifwy

Want to be added to my taglist? Comment or send me a message!

[ratskcoreddie]

finish what you started

(bully!eddie x fem!reader)

introduction: eddie had always been so mean to you growing up and had been getting progressivly worse with the coming years. now a senior you celebrated your last homecoming at a party you unwilling attended. you just hoped you wouldn't run into the man you dreaded most. [WC: 10k] this started as a request but developed into this monster. it wasn't really proof read and is all over the place but i really love it. check out the request @honeybelle99 sent here!

tropes: enemies to lovers. porn with plot. oblivious to love.

warnings & tags: 18+, bully!eddie, fem!reader, slight angst, self doubt, strong language, suggestive language, swearing, drinking, teasing, smoking, sexual tension, dominance, eddie is mean in a teasing way, nicknames, eddie being a simp, confessions, intoxicated sex, unprotected sex, this isn't proof read.

parings: bully!eddie x fem!reader.

you shouldn’t be here. you didn’t like parties in the first place. it was your boyfriend that had convinced you that you deserved a night out after a successful homecoming at hawkins high. it had been a long busy week for all the students and apparently now it was time to “let loose”. there were parties being hosted everywhere throughout the small town but the real rager was being thrown at steve harrington’s. anyone who knew someone, who knew steve, got in. it was why you had an invite. 

you yourself didn’t know steve much, but you had been a victim of his long time best friend, eddie munson. that awful man doubled as your sworn enemy. 

class of ‘86 had grown up together from pre-k to senior year. eddie had always been a year ahead of you until recently when he was held back. you dreaded that he had been pulled from graduating. the first three years of your high school career the asshole would pick on you. you thought you would’ve been free by now but you had underestimated his laziness and his determination to make every day for you living hell. you hated eddie munson. you hated how he treated you and his peers, how loud he was, how confident, you despised him. you couldn’t believe you still had an entire semester to go. and in the spring? you would be required to walk the same gradation stage as him. 

his sadistic personality towards you was awful. each of his actions had become a blur but you loathed the recurring events the most. between classes he would slam your locker shut in your face just to hear you let out a pathetic whine at him. he’d pick on you at lunch time by pulling you to the side and saying the most vulgar things in your ear. after a few sentences you would lose your appetite and he’d steal your lunch. always casually walking away with a statement of “love that i can count on you, babe”. in shared classes he would steal your answers or convince you to let him borrow your notes (only because he needed to copy them for a test).

besides the thought of his looming presence, the party was grand. there were jocks running up and down the stairs with paint on their bare chest, girls were on the kitchen counter letting strangers do body shots off of them, trashy red solo cups littered the halls, and you heard someone announce that ‘king steve’ was about to take on an entire keg by himself. grand it was, the environment was still to busy for you. further deducting you to someone who absolutely did not like parties. to make things worse the taste of liquor on your tongue wasn’t muffling the impact of the overstimulation one bit. 

you took another shot before you moved to the back door of steve’s home. you made an exit hoping to catch some fresh november air. regain your composure before going back inside to bum a ride off of anyone. your boyfriend had been missing in action for over an hour. pulling open the door gave you a sense of relief, as you pushed it shut the sounds of the crowd muffled. you took a step out onto the grass. it helped that this new environment was quiet, better yet, it lessened the chances of bumping into eddie. 

so you thought.

you should’ve known you would’ve found him there. eddie wasn’t a fan of parties either due to his social class. he was sitting under a tree across the yard with a freshly lit joint in his mouth. you watched him from a few feet away. his sudden presence had made you wish to turn and run from him. he lifted his head slightly at you and gave you a sick grin. you could only stare. it was just the two of you in the dark yard. how reserved you both were from the rest of the student body made chills run up your spine. rumors weren’t sparse when it came to the devilish boy and he was always such an asshole to you at school. because of his behavior, a feeling of dread always sat at the bottom of your stomach. you couldn’t help but wonder if what you overheard was true. you had to face that reality being alone with him. part of you grew excited at the thought of being able to lash out at him now that he didn’t have his friends or a crowd of onlookers to perform for. the idea of giving him a taste of his own medicine pumping adrenaline through your body. 

he grinned like a cheshire cat. his eyes sparkled at you under the moonlight. eddie continued playing with the joint between his teeth, rolling it with his tongue every once in a while. “what are you doin’ out here, sweetheart?” he laughed at you. “get lost looking for someone..?” he paused, “or were you looking for some trouble”. the lighter he must’ve used to light his smoke was dancing between his fingers. light from the moon was reflecting off of the silver as it sparkled. the object looked so small in his big hands.

you were quiet on your feet as you walked closer. you watched as the once seated tall dark figure moved to stand. he was just a shadow when you spotted him from the backdoor but as he moved the light of the house illuminated him. it wasn’t on purpose that you found him, it was more like fate. your curiosity urged you to find out what he was doing at the far end of the backyard. your mind raced as you began to think of what to say to him while you both slowly inched closer. before you even had time to think he was in front of you. he crossed his arms and snapped his lighter shut. you jumped. the action made him chuckle at you. the sound was low and from the depths of his chest. he puffed out his chest. 

you puffed your chest back and glared at his nonverbal teasing. you thought you had caught a glimpse of nervousness on his face at your actions but that couldn’t be true. the two of you stared at each other for a bit. you couldn’t tell because of his hard exterior but eddie’s heart began to race. he had been drinking throughout the night too and being intoxicated always made his brain a little hazy. “hi, eddie”, you barked at him. 

he liked the way you said his name in that tone. it was why he always pried and picked on you. you noticed his suggestive glance as he looked you up and down. a predatorial glint was swimming in his eyes. he wouldn’t ever admit it but he was hoping he would see you tonight, and god he was so glad the stars aligned. you were wearing a cute outfit. a swallowing brown patterned sweater on your frame, and hip hugging blue wide cut jeans. a jacket that was lined with fleece to keep you warm sat rested on your shoulders while your big boots tied the look together. eddie never understood what came over him when you were around but it was almost like you boosted his testosterone levels. the need to have dominance over you was astounding. he felt overly confident.

his adrenaline mixing with the alcohol in his body was dangerous. 

“hi, pretty girl..” eddie bent slightly down to your eye level with his words. as he moved he puffed smoke out of the corner of his lip at you. you swatted it out of your face and coughed away from his direction to shield your embarrassment. after you had regained your posture you looked up to find the man leaning over your frame and laughing.

“hey!” you jabbed him in the chest with your finger to warn him to back up. he didn’t move an inch. “you’re such an ass, eddie. i wasn’t going to run away from you and give you the satisfaction this time. i wanted to be nice”. he giggled, “oh, baby i'm so so sooo sorry i’ve ruined your plans of being nice to me” he teased. “you wanna start over, doll? we can try again. promise ill be good for ya this time”. he smiled stupidly while standing up straight and waiting for your next greeting. his irises were dark and shielded by his eyelashes as he stared.

“i.. what are you doing out here?” you questioned him instead of offering a greeting like he thought you would. “oh, now you’re interrogating me? can i remind you that you were the one that walked out here and to me? i didn’t even have to whistle you over here”. he said the last statement as if you were some pet to him. “no, i'm not interrogating you, eddie. unless there’s something you shouldn’t be doing out h-...”, your words slowly died on your tongue as he raised an eyebrow and pulled the lit joint away from his damp lips. he laughed at your speechlessness, your body tensed. 

“mhm”, he let the lit smoke fall to his side as his fingers pinched it tight. “wanna know a secret?” you slightly nodded. “i think you wandered out here to me because you’re nosey… you wanna know what the town's misfit gets up to when he’s not picking on his favorite girl, baby?” he gave you a wolfish smirk. you sent him a death stare at his gross pet names. “oh, don’t look at me like that, you know i love when you’re all pouty for me..” eddie lifted his hand to take his third or fourth drag of the night. 

“god, you’re so gross. i'm so glad i won't have to hear your stupid insults when you leave next semester..” you tone was a whisper though you meant it. eddie acted overly insulted. “oww, words hurt, you know? it’s really rude to say something like that to someone that’s been such a constant in your life”, he smiled. you pushed a flat palm into his chest with as much force as you could muster. “oh so it’s fine for you to call me names?? but as soon as i do it your act crumbles?” you knew he was being sarcastic with his comment but it set you off, you continued, “i hear it almost everyday, ‘baby’, ‘sweetheart’, ‘doll’, and what about your favorites huh? ‘whore’, ‘slut’. what about those words, eddie?” each vowel you said was a blow to his chest. he stepped back from you but not before he grabbed your wrist to stop your assaults. he pulled you into a close proximity with his burning grip. 

eddie had subtly and secretly pulled his hand holding his joint away from you, careful not to inflict a burn on your delicate skin. he would hate himself if he caused an accident like that but he didn't let his tenderness for you shine through his knives of assertion. “hey! you watch it!”, eddie growled at you. his tone almost shut your body down. you could tell he was mad now. “i only call you a whore because you deserve it. always fucking sucking face with your piece of shit boyfriend. i think you need the judgment. maybe if i keep it up i’ll see it less and less, hmm?” you cowered under his gaze and trembled in his grip. “oh i know why you came to find me now, you wanted to get me alone so you could take it all out on me didn’t you? wanted to give me a taste of my own medicine”. eddie read your mind. his grip loosened on you but you didn’t dare move. “whatever … an- and.. he can’t fucking kiss you anyways, such a slob with you”. he mumbles.

eddie didn’t elaborate his statement but he let it linger. it hung in the air over the both of you as he glanced at your lips. you caught him but he didn’t care, he studied them. they were damp with your hot breaths in the cold, almost winter air. he was breathing in what you were exhaling. he could smell your pretty perfume and shampoo. you felt your heart begin to race and your cheeks heated up the space between your bodies. he couldn’t shy away from his own doing the same. you wiggled against him to shift your body weight onto your other foot. he didn’t like your struggle. you felt him move his own feet with yours, eddie’s big boots boxing you in even more. you felt his hard metal belt buckle dig into the side of your hip. his cuff of his leather jacket was cold on the exposed skin of your wrist he continued to hold.

eddie smiled childishly at you. the new expression was something you hadn’t seen from him before. you moved your chin down to avoid his stare but as you pulled away, he just as easily let your wrist go and instead gripped your chin. with his thumb and pointer finger he held you. you fought to keep your eyes away from him to the best of your ability. eddie huffed, he pinched your face harder. “look at me”, as soon as you did you wished you hadn’t. his look was determined and sultry. his bangs framed his face messily. you had never been this close and his features were easy to get lost in. he was pretty, which was such a huge inconvenience for you to realize now that you were alone, it was dark, and he was this close. “don’t go shy on me after having that burst of attitude. c’mon you wanna give it to me? then give it to me, baby”. 

your thoughts raced back to your boyfriend. you shouldn’t have been talking with eddie like this. you pulled away from him and turned your head back to the sliding glass doors of steve’s house. they looked so far away. when you looked back at eddie your eyes were wide. you noticed his tongue twirling the joint between his lips. waiting for a response from you. you dared to indulge. his gaze fell to your lips again. his cheeks burned red when he felt your stomach slightly bumping into his own. you stole a look at his lips like he had moments ago. you watched him nervously wet his lips. your cheeks blushed even deeper. eddie smirked at you and tested the waters of your new expression. he stuck out his tongue further and licked his sharpest canine tooth. you were mesmerized.

your stomach flipped. you wondered what he was thinking. “what do you know about kissing?” you blurted out without thinking. eddie coo’d at you “i know far more than your stupid boyfriend, i guarantee it.” eddie said with confidence. he crossed his hands over his chest, now that space was granted between you. you mirrored his actions and your forearms grazed his. you shrugged his suggestive gesture off. you were certain he was just bluffing. his rough exterior surely scared any girls he tried to smooth talk away, as he had tried many times with you. 

but now you weren’t scared, now you were looking to pick a fight. you decided to ignore his comment about his kissing skills to avoid yourself from growing more hot. this conversation could easily take a more suggestive turn if you urged him on, and you weren’t going to let him win the stand off. you wracked your brain for ways to shut him down before speaking again. your next sentence tried to change the subject, but it definitely fell short.

“you’re right. he’s a shit kisser, but that’s none of your business and you don’t have to be mean about it.” the drinks you had doubled as truth serum. he whined pathetically at you, “wasn’t trying to be mean. if anything you’re being mean to me for a change.” you frowned, “seriously?”. “yeah, you told me i'm ‘such an ass’ and then started hitting me.. don’t think i deserved that. you’re so cold hearted, you know?” he giggled.

the playful banter you shared made you both smile. the absurdity of your dynamic was so dramatic. the buzz was hitting your system hard and he was right there with you. you watched eddie as he bent down at the waist to grab his almost empty beer off of the ground. he must’ve been babysitting that while outside by himself. when he raised back up he tilted his head back and drank the rest of the can. you watched his adam’s apple bob up and down while he chugged the golden liquid. a bit fell from the corner of his lips and down his throat. you watched as it dripped down to his shirt collar. when you reached the edge of the garment you noticed a tear. under the rip was his sharp collar bones. his pale skin contrasted against the darkness. you noticed a dark inky black line through the split of the aged t-shirt. it peeked at you. when he was done eddie dropped the can. 

when he connected your eyes to his quicker than you could register, eddie noticed you watching him intently. the fresh liquor in his system gave him another boost of confidence. he stepped to you. the distance between you two closed just mere inches between your bodies in a now comfortable silence. his frame was large, his body casted a shadow that consumed you. you had always thought there wasn’t much of a height difference between you two, but now you weren’t as sure. no matter the inches and centimeters you tried to think about, the numbers didn't help to busy your brain. you knew even if there was a large difference, eddie was sure to make you feel small under him in anyway. that's how it has been your entire life.

you watched his left hand raise between your bodies and to his lips. still holding onto his darling joint. he submitted to placing it once again between his teeth. the hot cherry on the end was slowly dying because of the icy outdoors. you blushed as he caught you stealing another glance at his lips. you seemed so intrigued by him now, not angry or upset. eddie realized you weren’t just looking at his lips for no reason. the tension he craved was there. the tension he thought he would never be a witness to snap. he was always so desperate for you to see how badly he wanted your attention but it was hard for him to express his feelings and he knew it was even harder for you to catch onto his rude ass behavior translating to him flirting. he didn’t blame you for hating him after all these years, he hated himself for it.

your attentiveness caused his body to ignite. you wanted something more now, and he so desperately wanted to provide anything to you. he wished he could read your mind to know what you were thinking. his eye contact didn’t budge from yours as he slowly pulled his lighter back out of his pocket. when his fingers couldn’t quite grab a hold of it his eyes trailed away from yours and down to his jeans.

“fuck.” he grunted.

you felt frozen. the vulgar word was said in just a breathy whisper, it gave you goosebumps. not in a bad way like before, just different. he grabbed his lighter and put it between the two of you. his tone was gentler because of how close he was. making sure that you would know he wasn’t directing the term towards you and instead the inconvenience his overly tight pants were causing him.  his hot breath brushed over the sparked flame putting it out and in its path you felt it on your cheek. he clumsily tried to light it again. 

after the constant spin of the wheel and the strain of his hands, his actions snapped you out of your daze. when you realized he was trying to spark a flame. you let out a sweet giggle. eddie looked at you before watching you take the lighter away from him. he gave you a glare while you continued to laugh at him softly. it was directed at him but he didn’t feel spiteful like he usually did when people laughed at him. eddie craved to have you laugh at him, craved to be the sole reason he heard that sound fall from your lips. 

he was so soaked up in each of your expression  as you moved in front of him with his lighter in your hands. eddie left out a small grunt when his fingers lightly brushed against yours. he wouldn’t have caught it himself if you hadn’t pointed it out, “stop whining, let me help you”. he willingly let you take it into your hands. he was quite possessive over his belongings so him letting you just snag his lighter was a very big deal to him. the contact of your hands made shivers go down his spine. 

his hands were warm compared to yours. the only contrast was his cold rings. in one motion your small thumb sparked the flame of the lighter. he looked back up and your eyes met once again. eddie motioned his hand to take it away from you as he nodded appreciatively, but gave you a confused look when you wouldn’t give it back. you swatted his hands away. you held the lighter in your right hand. the flame burned. you moved your vacant left hand onto his lips slowly. your palm touched the bottom of his chin while your cold fingers pinched the joint out of his mouth. your fingers lingered on his lips longer than they should have.

in an instant eddie’s confidence shattered. he let your motions continue as he was stuck watching you. his cheeks burned a brighter red then the flame. you gave him a smirk as you placed his joint between your lips. successfully stealing it from him. you tasted eddie, the damp end was sweet but there was a touch of beer that laced the end of it. your hands cupped the flame while relighting the smoke for him.

you snapped the zippo shut. his jaw dropped. 

eddie watched you spark a bright red cherry between your lips with your lungs. you inhaled the smoke easily, and pulled it away from your lips. eddie turned away from you to avoid your eyes, he was flustered. his jeans tightened around his groin. he tried to not think about your soft, plush, lips that stole his joint. he felt you pull his chin back to face you with your index and thumb, just like he had previously. your hand on his face startled him, your touch was cold. he almost let a sigh leave his chest, but he held it back. you moved in just a bit closer before a big cloud of smoke left your throat and puffed into eddie’s face. the boy began coughing while you laughed. when the cloud cleared you noticed eddie hadn’t really moved away from where he stood. he liked how close he was. you pulled the joint away from your mouth while looking into his eyes. you spoke in a sultry whisper, eddie barely heard you.

“you know, you really shouldn’t be smoking these. kills your brain cells.” you said softly. “oh, yeah? and what do you know about smoking?” he teased. “far more than you’d imagine, munson. I guarantee it.” you mocked his earlier jab at you about your boyfriend.

your comment reminded eddie of the conversation you previously shared. he gulped, lost in thought while he watched your hand raise back up to your face. you inhaled deeply, the musky taste of the plant covered your tastebuds. when you exhaled you turned your face away from him. eddie was in a daze. his eyes trailed up and down your features. you turned your face back to his, luckily you didn’t catch him that time, he would’ve died of embarrassment. your faces were a little more than inches apart. 

he wished he could have the strength to get closer. to really close the distance. this wasn’t like him. he never dared to come onto you intimately, scared of rejection, and he definitely never expected you to have the courage to stay so near. after he had been tearing you down for years it was surprising. he always knew you were strong willed but this was another level. he didn’t know if you wanted to get to know this eddie munson. the eddie he hid from everyone, the eddie that he acted like a hardhead because he had to. now he couldn’t be mean as he melted at your soft gaze. the poor boy had imagined what he would do if he ever ended up in a position like this with you. on several occasions it was after a long week of classes, in his own bed with his hand between his sweaty thighs. 

his blissful stare gave you the confidence to speak again. you had no clue what came over you but you decided to be alluding. it could’ve been the mood that you two found yourselves wrapped up in. or the unspoken tension. you knew this was bad. your boyfriend that hated eddie more than you was only ten or so feet away, partying in the house behind you. you weren’t the only victim to his constant bullying and degrading speech. and in the stance you were both in if anyone caught you it could be horrific. 

you threw your cares to the wind and continued.

“i like smoking. keeps my mouth busy.” you whispered looking at his lips and taking a puff. eddie paused. all of the blood in his body rushed south. you watched him try to gather himself. his stomach was in knots at your words. he almost short circuited when he realized you were being even more suggestive than before. you were blatantly flirting with him. a growl left his throat. his head lolled to the side. his neck was exposed again. 

your eyes traced his neck with curiosity. you wondered if he was sensitive there. what it would be like to lick your tongue up and down the veins bulging out. he looked down at his hands to avoid your glance. you eyes followed. you watched him clench his fist till his knuckles went white. his sparkly rings glistened under the light the moon supplied. he quickly shoved his hands in his pockets. fighting the urge to reach out and grab you. that's when you saw how his already bulge hugging jeans were swollen. you averted your gaze embarrassingly. you didn’t know he was this easy to get worked up. when you looked back up at him. his shoulders trembled and he let out a deep breath. the whites of his eyes glowing as he closes off more distance between you and him. his voice was drawn out in a low mumble, almost strained. his whispered in the vicinity of your ear. chills rushed down your spine as his grunts made your tummy turn.

“you’re fucking killing me, sweetheart”, he almost moaned. “i bet i could keep your pretty mouth busy all night. even better than your boyfriend”. eddie coo’d. “...you think I'm supposed to believe you know a lot about girls and their mouths, munson?” you mumbled around the smoke. “i’d love it if you’d let me show you…” he paused for a brief moment.

eddie moved his right hand and opened his palm to touch you. his fingers wrapped around to your jawline. his hand was massive when it fully surrounded your face. his touch was slow and deliberate. his rings were cold, the metal almost stung your face. his fingers danced across your features with purpose. eddie’s thumb touched the bottom of your face. your movements followed his direction. his index finger met your top lip and his middle tugged on the corner of your mouth. your lips stayed closed anticipating his next move before you realized he was pinching the smoke out of your mouth just like you had done to him moments ago. you were stunned. 

eddie was tugging at the joint with his delicate fingers. he giggled at how easy you were, but before letting go of the joint with your lips you stared up at him with your eyes. he watched you intently. your cheeks went hollow as you sucked on it and inhaled one more hit. eddie had never been so jealous of a joint in his life. you watched eddie’s eyes slowly roll into the back of his head at your actions before he closed them. he shamelessly moaned. your chest tightened at the noise. the cherry of the joint burned a bright red as he released it from you. 

eddie rushed to inhale the remnants of your taste with his own hit. you both had reached the last of it. he turned his head away kindly to exhale the smoke but his eyes stayed fixed on you and your lips. his fingers flicked the ash of the smoke onto the ground and stopped it out. your eyes sparkled at him. you hummed a soft note innocently before he reached his hand back up to your face. his grip was stronger this time, like how it had been when he was mad at you. eddie moved his fingers from your cheek to the bottom of your lip rudely. his thumb pulled at your bottom lip. you drooled onto his fingers as he blew smoke into your throat. 

he exhaled, you inhaled. 

it tasted like eddie. he felt your spit on his fingertips before he released you. your bottom lip wetly snapped back in place as he dragged his thumb downwards. his eyes stayed fixed on your plump slobbery lips as his irises burned with the smoke rising. he could think of thousands of things he wanted to do to you and your pretty face. his fingers remained on your chin. holding your face towards him.

“oh, you're gonna get me in a lot of trouble. i just know it.” he purred. “why’s that?” you questioned.“...don’t tell me you forgot about your boyfriend already, baby?” he paused.

you heart stopped. the way he called you baby now made your thighs clench together. he smirked as your cheeks glowed red. the strain you two had been sharing always calmed eddie down. it seemed to have the opposite effect on you. all your senses were heightened as it buzzed in your body. your mind was on overdrive. you wanted eddie bad. but as quick as you realized you needed him his hand left your chin. the touch lingered. it was electric. you lost yourself in the moment. your eye’s closed before you let out another soft hum and giggle. the strain turning all your nervousness into making you loopy. eddie raised his eyebrow at you, questioning your motives. you realized you hadn’t answered him. 

“y– yeah. you’re uhm…”, a pause, “right. i should get back to him. don’t want him finding out about this.” you whimpered. “uh-huh, that's right, baby”. eddie laughed at you.

your body stayed still. he brushed some of your hair out of your face to get one last look at you. the quick movement brought you back down to earth. he stared, no, began glaring into your eyes as you looked at him with a fucked out expression. he was leering at the sight of you. his gaze was filthy. you gasped as he experimentally traced his fingers on your skin. his touch started at your lips where he had played before, but he didn’t stop there. he moved his big heavy hand down to your jawline, and then your neck, and onto the collar of your sweater. his touch barely danced on your skin. he listened as you whimpered when he moved one finger down the center of your chest and then it was snuggled onto your hip. 

his grip was needy and harsh. it resembled how your lousy boyfriend would paw at your hips when he wanted something from you. the difference was your body willingly moved with eddie’s grip. you were basically throwing yourself at him. his hand moved under your sweater. his touch was cold on your warm sides. half of his hand stayed fixed on your skin, the other on the waistband of your cute jeans. he didn’t want to seem too eager, but his grip was tight and aggressive. he pulled you into his chest by your waist and your arm gripped onto his big shoulder that was guarded by his leather jacket. his head was almost buried in your neck at the soft sudden embrace he whispered in your ear.

“you should really get back to him. i think it would be better for both of us if i left. what do you think?” he whispered. you couldn’t think. the only thing that was on your mind was eddie and how he was holding you. he infiltrated your thoughts. you arm tightened around his frame. physically begging him to keep you here. he listened to you whimper into his chest at his question. you felt his jeans tighten on your thigh. he whispered into your ear again, 

“fuckkk, sweetheart… you making those pretty sounds for me? barely even touched you”, he teased. things were moving too fast. you slowly broke away from his grasp to ground yourself. he looked down at you with consolidating eyes. if this continued on you wouldn’t know what could come of it. you both weren’t very sober either. your cheeks were almost purple as you looked up at him with a hazy stare. he smiled. you just nodded. scared of what you might say next. 

he figured you pulling away was his cue to leave, so he started to walk back towards the house. the foot of distance that was put between you two helped cut the tension. you couldn’t tell but under his skin he was a mess. eddie was secretly glad that he had a few too many drinks and a joint. he wouldn’t have been able to face you like that otherwise. he heard you let out a small sigh with your exhale. your hand that was holding him fell to your side. 

truthfully he tried walking away. but he felt your eyes watching his back and the idea of moving forward without acting on his fantasies was enough for him to suddenly still. your eyes followed his movements as he turned around. the next actions were fast. his big arm moved past your head and grabbed the back of it. with you in his control it allowed his other hand to wrap around your throat and constrict. the feeling of the tingles caused by the weed mixed with the overstimulation from his touch made you delusional. he listened to you whimpering in fear as he imposed on your personal space again. he let out a devilish chuckle. he opened his mouth slowly to say his next words. they came quickly but you spoke before he could.

“you’re s–” he was cut off. “do you want to kiss me?” you choked out.

eddie paused, the soft question seemed so innocent. he knew that if he did kiss you he wouldn’t be able to stop himself soon after. it would be long and messy. he also couldn’t promise that he could fight off the urge to do more to you. he put some reasoning into his own head. it was totally irresponsible to kiss you right now. you both were standing in a vast open yard, intoxicated, and not in the best headspace. it was the drugs and liquor talking, not you, no way you wanted this. he had to shamefully admit, if he was gonna kiss you and make it count now would be the best moment. 

he felt his cock stiffen as he watched you purse your lips. his mind wandered to how you would feel wrapped around him like that with a pretty pout and puff kissed lips. he wanted to know what you would do if he pushed you up against his body and embraced you fully. he wanted to sloppily lick up and down your neck and hear the noises he could spawn from your throat. his eyes consumed your mouth as he processed what his next move would be. he had thought about this moment just hours before steve’s party. your eyes looked so sparkly as a blush crawled up your neck and onto your cheek bones as you waited for his answer. you wet your lips with your tongue. knots were in his stomach. 

he grunted, “shit.. it doesn’t matter how bad i wanna kiss you”, he paused, “and it doesn’t matter that i think you're the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen. this wouldn’t work. i’ve been such a dick to you. you deserve better than someone like me”. you thought that was funny coming from him considering how much eddie hated your boyfriend.

his eyes continued watching the mouth he desperately wanted to kiss before you started to speak. “tha-..”, he glared at you before raising his index finger onto your lips. he applied a little pressure. he watched as they pushed out and around his finger. he smirked while shushing you. he thought back to how you looked with your cheeks hollowed out sucking on his joint again. his soft hands felt so good on your face. you weren’t going to fight him on this, you never wanted this moment to end. 

before you could stop yourself your lips opened slightly, inviting him in to play with your tongue. he groaned as he felt you kitten lick his finger gently. he didn’t pull away. his dick was sore with how much you two had been teasing each other back and forth. he fought every urge to shove his index down your throat to really feel it. he continued talking to you. his tone was mean and messy, laced with dominance. you loved this eddie, you didn’t care that he was mean. 

“.. shhh… you really do love keeping that mouth busy don't you…”, he teased, “i was right about you being a little whore..  hmm?” eddie raised his eyebrow at you. pulling his wet finger back onto your lips. he played with your top and bottom lip slowly before he adjusted his hand. his thumb was pushing at your bottom lip, testing if you were gonna welcome the other digit into your mouth. you stuck your tongue out fully at him. he placed the pad of his finger onto the wet warm muscle and you took it into your mouth. you looked at him with eyes that put him in a trance. you were successfully distracting him from pulling away from you. he tasted like all the things you loved about a man, but it was uniquely eddie. warm, salty, and a hint of beer he must’ve spilled on his hand earlier. sucking on him slowly he moaned. 

“oh. fuck. me.” whining between words. he watched you for a second before trying to speak again. “do you… do you really want this as bad as i do?” his face was so close. you watched his chest rise and fall as his breath invaded your space. you smelled the musky combination of liquor and smoke on his tongue. he looked longingly into your eyes waiting for you to say something. you continued to play with him. you must have stood in silence for far too long because eddie spoke for you. his tone was heavy. you watched his lips move with his words. while his fingers toyed with yours.

“baby?’ he asked. you just nodded and sucked harder.

he giggled while rotating his soaked thumb on your tongue. “hmm, what’s the matter, that sweet mouth of yours doesn’t wanna be so mean anymore does she? poor thing. how devastating, i love hearing your pretty noises.. and whines… and pouts. you just need something to fill you up, don’t you?”. eddie clicked his teeth in dissatisfaction as your tongue continued to play with his salty finger. you shook your head at him like a child. telling him you didn’t wanna talk and would rather do this. you were scared of what you would say anyways. the man smirked at you before moving closer to whisper something in your ear. as he spoke softly you reminded yourself this was your sworn enemy. never did you think he could make you so hot. never did you think you would let something like this happen.

eddie was fully in control as he spoke to your empty mind. when his lips barely touched your earlobe you could hear his breath. it made your head spin. that was the closest he had been to you. you felt his hot exhale on your neck. his tone when he said his next words were laced with evil. “tell me, what is it that you want out of this? i can tell you’re touched starved.” his breath grazed your ear again, his lips fell to your jaw and he kissed you there. “mhm,” eddie groaned. “your boyfriend isn’t taking good care of you and your mouth is he?” eddie paused. “because if he was, i bet you’d have way less of an attitude with me all the time.”

this was a dangerous game you two were playing.

you moved your hands between your bodies. the tip of your finger grazed the hem of his shirt and slightly pulled it up. you felt the path of hair that guided you into his pants. eddie winced at the action. he pulled away from you slightly to give your hand room to slip into his waistline. you looked down at his jeans, realizing he was about to pop the zipper on them. you wished it was a bit brighter so you could see exactly what he was packing. there was really no need because you could feel him in your hand. he groaned into the skin of your neck and started leaving messy open mouth kisses in his wake. when you curved your hand just right he whined. “ohh… fuckk”. 

eddie grabbed your hand away from his body and instead rushed to pick you up. you yelped and giggled as he drug you back to his bestfriends house. “what.. what are you doing, eddie?” he let out a gruff laugh. “finishing what you started”. his boots stomped on the ground as the pitter patter of your own soles tried to keep up with his. when you both had arrived back inside the party was in its last stage. he rushed you through the doorway and then into the kitchen. bodies were passed out on the livingroom floor. cans were both empty and spilled all over the stairs that eddie was leading you up. there was a door that had a sock on the doorknob in the hall that led to the guest bedrooms of the large home steve and his absent family stayed in.  

he threw open a door to a room he knew wouldn’t be occupied because steve always kept a room reserved for eddie and robin when they stayed over. as he manhandled you he slammed the previously open door and pushed you against it. he looked into your eyes. “..this okay, yeah?” he huffed. his chest raised quickly anticipating your answer. “ye-..”, the reassuring words hadn’t even left you before he was swallowing them down. 

eddie forced the searing kiss onto your lips while he groaned. it was all tongue and teeth as you both fought to taste each other. he grabbed you cheeks to keep you steady while he studied each curve and imperfection of the lips he had always wished to kiss. he traced his tongue though your crevices. you were everything to him. he had secretly been starving for this very moment since he had a sample of your taste from his damp joint you bummed. your spit teasing him. 

though he was rough with you his hands were gentle. he held your face softly and pawed at your hips. it was easy for him to maneuver around you and unbutton your jeans. you were both so desperate, but eddie was pathetic. he was whining and moaning while grinding against your thigh. he pulled away with a soft bite on your bottom lip. he lifted you up by the waist and carried you from the door and further into the room till your back was met with the guest bed. he grabbed your ankles as you fell back and pulled your pants down just enough to where he could see the tiniest bit of your panties.

eddie bites his lip softly, smiling to himself. he had been wanting to get you into this position since the beginning of his toments. eddie crawls up your frame as he slowly pulls your jeans completely down. his arms wrap around and spread your thighs. your head unwillingly fell backwards. the muscles of your neck strained. you felt him leave a gentle kiss on your covered clit. it wasn’t much, but it was enough to drive you insane. he laughed with his face close to your center. his hot breath so close gave you another sensation of how crazy this was. eddie teased you with his fingers over the fabric making your thighs clench together around his head. blocking his view and slowing his moments. 

“ah.. you keep those legs open or we’re stopping… been thinking ‘bout this too long.” he hooks his strong arms around your calves. he forces you into the position easily. eddie wasn’t being dramatic. he had been dreaming about this for years and now he wasn’t gonna let you move an inch. you let him hold you. 

you hated him. you loved this. 

you cupped your hand around your mouth to try to stay quiet. as soon as you did, eddie raised over you and pulled it away harshly. he laid your palm flat and open over your head. “none of that either.. talk to me, doll. let me hear you…” he demanded with a sultry tone. “yes, eddie..” you nodded and then he kissed you. the kiss this time was softer and laced with feeling. 

“that’s a good girl… such a good girl”, he murmurs the words to himself as he makes his way back down. “your boyfriend ever do this for you baby…?” eddie possessively played with the hem of your panties while purposely teasing your lips. you answer him with a small whine. “..no..”, you lean forward to watch him. he grins at you like a devil. eddie slides his fingers under your panties, rubbing your slick around your mess. “oh god.. you.. you were this wet for me while we were out there talking weren’t you?” all you could do was nod. he slowly hooks his fingers onto the straps of your panties and pulls them off to expose you to him fully. his breath hitched, you heard it. the damp fabric moving from your hips down to your thighs and past your ankles makes you roll your eyes back and instinctively buck your hips towards him. as your panties had moved down, his lips now moved up. a kiss on your ankle, a harsh bite on your inner knee, a wet suck and pop of his lips on your inner thigh. 

“gonna make you feel so good, you’re gonna feel so good cause of me, baby. no one else, m’kay?” eddie opens your legs wide again so he can indulge himself. he grunts as he gets a good look at you. he kisses your exposed clit and sucks deeply. his eyes roll back at the taste. soft, messy sounds start to fill the room from your dripping wet pussy and his sloppy tongue. you could subtly hear the grind of his hips against the spring mattress. his tongue worked in firm circles on your sensitive nub, followed by gentle slides of his up your tummy in tender touches.

“god, you soaked through your panties, pretty girl”. you whined above him, unable to answer his statements. you watched him as he collapsed your worn garment into a bundle in his free hand, he stuffed it deeply in his back jean pocket. “gotta save that for later so i know i'm not dreaming…” eddie growled from deep in his throat. the overwhelming and confusing feelings made you reach for him. he giggled and stuffed a finger into you while continuing to lick his flat tongue up your center to savor your dripping arousal. 

the air was filled with the smell of sex and the sloppy sounds of him drinking you down. he worked you open for him. he was silent as he catered towards his own needs and fantasies, still not fully comprehending that you were wincing under him in pleasure.  when he felt your walls clench around his fingers and your pants grow even shorter, eddie began to talk you through your finish. “does that feel good, sweetheart?” his hips rutted into the mattress, hard. the prospects of getting you off was getting him harder than he had ever been before.

though eddie was so fucked out, his mean demonor didn’t stray far away. he slowed his movements just to hear you cry out for him. when you looked for an answer to why he was slowing down, he smirked at you. you watched through your lashes as he flicked his tongue just right and in a dreadfully slow curve. “taste so.. fucking.. good”, he said to himself. then he harshly slapped your clit after your hand had fallen back over your mouth to muffle your moans. “ahha!” you cried. “what did i say? answer me.. feels good, doesn’t it?”. “yes.. yes feels…ah… really good.. don’t stop. please. don’t stop.” you whimpered for him. his chest grew warm, his tummy turned. 

he whispered his words while kissing your clit “mhm… wasn’t hard was it? all i needed to hear, baby.” he continued his faux attitude while you cried for him. he was close to falling apart. he had to be dreaming. eddie moved his fingers over you in an agonizingly slow manner, while he day dreamed. as he mindlessly day dreamed of all the things he could do to you tonight he heard you cry out for him to give you more. you didn’t have to tell him twice. he picked up his pace once again. you trembled, a moan stuck in your throat threatening to rip through you. you couldn’t hold on anymore. your entire body shakes for him as your breath leaves your lungs. his name is a constant curse of how good he could make you really feel. the way you moaned for him was making his cock unbelievably hard. you can feel his devilish smile againsts you as he furthers his torture and fucks you through your first orgasm, not daring to slow down for you to catch your breath. his hips continue to chase friction from the mattress.

a massive tidal wave washes over you. the sounds of your hot cunt leaking for him and down his fingers make him leak through his pants and onto the bed with his own pre. the relief you feel brings tears to your eyes as you cum harder than you thought was possible for a person to. your dripping hole clenched around him like a vice. it continues to suck him back in, he’s not ashamed to give your greedy pussy more.

“eddie! ahhha.. eddie!” you scream out from overstimulation. your needy tone surprises him so he quickly slows down his pace. he calms you. eddie places hot kisses on the hollow spot between your hip and thigh. after he sucks your skin a deep purple eddie sits up a little. he’s letting go of your legs, and placing both of his hands on the top of your thighs. he grips the doughy skin gently to ease your tingly body. the tenderness of his actions allows you to come back down to earth. you look up at him over you. as you made eye contact eddie pulled his shirt off of his chest. his hands worked on loosening his belt buckle. he was so handsome like this. “you’re handsome..” you mumbled in a drowsy state. 

“you.. you really think so..?” he blushed a deep maroon while you hummed when he collapsed onto you. he raised slightly to help you take your own shirt off. he moved desperately. “need to feel you..” he pulls you into a searing hug. skin on skin. eddie raises your back to arch for him before he pops the back of your bra undone. you whine at how efficient he was with it. “eddie..” you whimper. he pulled the garment off of you as he raised himself up. he threw it somewhere into the room with the rest of the now growing pile of clothes. 

then he was working on his jeans. he clumsily moved his knees back and forth to rock out of the tight restricting pants. your hand must’ve made it’s way to his lower tummy while he undressed. he pulled the band of his boxers down and he let his swollen cock bounce free. it slapped the back of your hand. you both moaned at the contact. his tip was bright red and dripping. eddie whined as he grabbed his base. he got a serious glint in his eyes as he let you take it and guided it down to you.  “you think it’s handsome?” "y-yeah," you nodded, sounding a little hoarse. 

you sighed a little at the feeling of him letting you run it through your folds. he was huge and bigger than anything you had ever taken. he grabbed your hips to keep your body from running from him, or worse pushing him into you when he wasn’t composed at all and risking hurting you. he insulted your past experiences to make himself feel better about the fact that he was forsure going to bust early. “never had a dick this big?” he teased shyly. his false confidence died when you looked at him with need. oh, he was so fucked. he had already been so on edge while playing with you using his fingers.

he bent at the waist and kissed you again, right when you least expected it. you felt his hips pull away from your slightly. he whispered “..you.. shit.. are you ready?" he asked you, but it sounded like he was stalling.

karma's a bitch and you were tired of waiting. you were going to win this standoff. the break between your last orgasm and now allowed you to catch your breath. with a huff and a whisper into the shell of his ear, you teased, “are you?”. you broke down all his walls with those two words. "baby… oh baby.. fuck i've been ready for this for years," he choked the confession out breathlessly before plunging forward and filling you with his cock in one smooth motion. eddie shivered as he pressed his hips up to yours, moaning weakly and so completely in love. his eyes were shut tight and his head tossed back in concentration.

when he regained his composure he fucked into you like he was crazed. he grabbed the back of your thighs and threw you into his cock. back and forth. his pace was relentless as he started moving his mouth a mile per minute. just like his hips. “i don’t deserve this. always been… so mean to you and.. you still wanna give me this sweet pussy? god, you’re gonna make me cum, sweetheart. i’m sorry i'm already gonna cum.” he was rambling while he lost his tempo. eddie pulled your legs onto his shoulders as he rotated his hips deeper. he popped his finger in his mouth and licked the digit before he laced it between your bodies and started working on your clit. “it would be really mean.. of me to not let you.. cum again. and.. ahha- fuck.. i need to feel you cum on me. please”. 

your legs trembled, your walls sucking him in deeper. “yes! yes! just like that, baby”, he grunted in your ear. “eddie ohh.. god.. im gonna cum. im gonna cum!” you felt him shake over you while his hot breath painted your neck in a allowed dampness. he bit your neck to suppress his needy whines. he chanted your name but not before dropping an absolute bomb on you. 

“fuck… i love you, always loved you. and i love this pussy shit..” you hardly caught his confession as your orgasms both teetered on the edge. “gonna fucking fill you up, fill my good girl up.. you want that? fuck give it to me… i need it. i need you...” you nodded your head with haste. “give it to me, eddie. please.. you can cum inside me..” both of you crossed the finish line together as the waves washed over you. eddie’s entire body shuddered. his grip his rough hands had on you was so tight there was sure to be evidence that this wasn’t just some sick dream tomorrow. the way your nails had clawed against his back and forearms branding him in the same way. he felt both of your liquids gush around his cock as he slowed his pace and grunted. he didn’t wanna pull away. eddie was too scared of what your reaction would be to his afterglow of the best orgasm he had ever had. not to mention the embarrassment of his loose tongue.

after a few moments of silence he slightly moved so he could look into your eyes. you had a dumb smile on your face. eddie accepted the humiliation and grinned back. he stayed buried inside of you. only adjusting to see you better in certain moments. you allowed his words from earlier to ring in your ears. he looked at you with pure devotion wondering who was going to address what he said first. 

“so-“ he started. 

“we-“ you said at the same time. 

“you.. uh.. you go first.. please?” he nervously bit his lip while adjusting the warm blanket you two had found yourselves wrapped up in. he moved his face to yours. “no.. how about you finish what you started”. 

the boy could only slowly blink at you. oh how the tables had turned.

navigation || send me a request || go back home?

your feedback, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[th3secr3th1story]

how gojo tries to get your attention after a fight

gojo messed up majorly. last night, he came home tired and stressed after a mission with a special grade curse. yes, it was successful (obviously. it's gojo.), but it still drained him.

he was so out of it and wasn't feeling like himself, but you, as a wonderful partner, tried to take care of him. gojo got frustrated, and sure, he felt guilty for it, but he was done.

and he took it all out on you. you would've gladly left him alone if he'd just asked you, but gojo was never one for good communication.

you eventually got the hint and realized it was best for him to be alone, but the words from last night still stung and the hurtful glares unforgotten. you decided you would just ignore him until he apologized. until he realized that you can't put up with this anymore.

so, the problem was now with gojo. he woke up that morning to an empty bed, curious, because you usually beg him to stay in longer.

and then, of course, it hit him. he can't remember what he was so upset about. yes, he was tired, but you were just there to help him after a long day. and he ruined it all.

sliding out of bed, he sidles up to you in the bathroom as you brush your teeth, trying to assess how much damage control was needed.

"last night was crazy, huh?"

"..."

"i absolutely destroyed that curse though, baby. nothing left."

"..."

okay...so maybe this was worse than he expected. but it would be okay because he would figure out a way to fix it all. he's gojo satoru; if he can kill special grade curses he can definitely get your forgiveness!

plan A--commence!

naturally, instead of apologizing like a normal person, gojo sneaks around the house tightening every jar he can find. your leave in conditioner, the pickles, jam...anything with a screw-on lid that he laid his eyes on.

all that was left was to wait for you to reach for one of the jars, realize it was screwed on too tight, and ask him for help.

an hour later, seated in the living room, he watches you enter the kitchen, looking for your favorite quick snack--pickles!!

he gets ready to see your angry but desperate face. should you forgive gojo and enjoy your snack, or save your pride but remain hungry? you'd debate with yourself for a bit, but eventually you'd begrudgingly walk over to him. "just open it," you'd say. he'd unscrew the jar, you'd smile at each other. he'd pull you into his ar-

oh. you opened it by yourself. the sound of a jar popping open snapped him out of his imagination, watching you pull out a few pickles and happily bite into them.

there may have been one small flaw with gojo's masterplan--he forgot that you're stronger than him.

no sweat! it's all good! he was already thinking up something new. it was time for plan B!

galloping over to your air conditioning, he cranks it all the way up (as much as your paychecks would allow, at least). he had seen this in one of those stupid romance movies he'd begged you to watch with him a couple months ago. it was only a matter of time before you ran over to him, shivering, begging for his warmth. he was sure of it.

20 or so minutes later, still nothing from you...odd! he walks around the house, curious to see what you're doing at a temperature like this. he finds you in one of his sweaters, curled up in your bed. his stomach sinks even more. he just wants to climb in with you, pull you into him, and smother you in his kisses.

"go away, satoru," you mumble. he sighs, sulking away back to the living room. at least you're talking to him?

he doesn't know how much time has passed but later when he gets off the couch his head hurts and he just wants to be near you. he'll do anything at this point. this is how he reaches plan C: apologize. what a novel idea!

he walks back into the room, sitting at the foot of the bed.

"hey."

"..." great.

"y/n, i know i messed up. i shouldn't have taken out my frustrations on you and i should've just asked for space. i know you were just trying to help. i'm so sorry, baby. please forgive me, i miss you and i can't stand you ignoring me."

for the first time in what has got to be a thousand hours to gojo, you finally turn your head and look him in the eyes. you swear you can see sparkles in them. oh, the things he does to you.

"i just want you to tell me what you need, 'toru. i'm not a mind reader, i can't just know what you want from me. i need you to know that i would do anything for you and i hate when you put up these walls."

"i know, baby. i'm so sorry."

you sigh, smiling at him a little. of course you forgive him. you always would, no matter what.

"i forgive you. wanna get in here with me?" you ask, lifting up the covers a little. why was it chilly?

"absolutely."

plan C: success!

who knew that apologizing could actually fix things? certainly not gojo!

[yandere-sins]

Yan-Poll #21

[Continuation of poll #17]

With your hand clasped over your mouth, you waited with bated breath and listened to the sound of your kidnapper's footsteps.

You didn't know how long you could endure the tension; if you could calm your heart before it threatened to burst out of your chest from fear and anxiety. With your breaths reduced to barely any air, you felt light-headed and so, so scared, but suddenly, a sound outside the room corridor caught your kidnapper's attention. They were gone almost as quickly as they had come.

It felt like an unreal success as you listened to them leave the room, slamming the door on their way out. Tears sprung into your eyes from the relief that you had managed to outsmart them, but you knew you had no time to dwell on the euphoric victory. Crawling out of your hiding space, you pressed your ear to the door, listening, trying to figure out what you should do now.

The windows were locked, that much you knew, but there was still a chance you could find a door leading outside. Staying in the same room would be a bad idea; you needed to at least get down to the ground floor first and find the entrance or a backdoor from which you could escape. Everything else was secondary. You couldn't stay hidden in this room forever, and although knowing your captor was roaming the halls was scary, you had to get a move on.

Carefully, you opened the door and checked for signs. The hallway was quiet and dark, just like before. No echo reached your ears, and you slipped out of the room, leaving the door open. It didn't matter anymore if they found out you had been hiding here, and you wouldn't return to this room either.

With hurried steps, you rounded a corner and then another one. There were no signs as to where to go, and you thought to yourself that it should be mandatory for a building this big to be well-signposted. Much to your dismay, the sudden creaking of a door opening behind you made the situation much worse. You jumped behind the next corner, listening as someone let out a thoughtful hum before walking into another branch of hallways that you had wanted to go into.

Cursing under your breath, you looked into the hallway you had turned to, noticing it was a dead end. If you wanted to progress, you'd have to follow the person who had just come out of one of the rooms, even if they might be in cahoots with your kidnapper.

"Hey! Psst! Come here!"

An unexpected voice called out to you. Horrified, you turned your head in the direction, noticing a man waving his hand at you. With the moonlight illuminating this hallway, you saw the same rope burn around his wrist as yours, and there were bruises on his face, revealing that he was in a similar situation as you were. Was he a victim, too? A sense of kinship mixed with the anxiety in you made you react before you could think it through.

You jumped on the opportunity, quickly slipping into the room he was waving you from and finding yourself in a supply closet with a complete stranger. In hindsight, it was not your smartest move, but the desperation united you two.

"They kidnapped you too?" he asked, keeping his voice low. He whispered with the same panic as you did, reassuring you he wasn't one of the bad ones.

"Yes, do you know a way out? I've been running for a while now and can't find it!"

"I think I know how to get there," the stranger revealed. "But it's really complicated to explain. I walked it a few times, so I know what to look out for, but other than saying, "left, right, left," I can't really describe it. Unfortunately, I..."

He looked down, and you followed his gaze, noticing how swollen his ankle was. "When I was running away, someone else—not the person that kidnapped me—spotted me and broke it, I think. It hurts a lot, but I promise not to be a liability! Can you lend me your shoulder? Just until we make it out of this house? I can't explain it but something about my captor was very wrong, he hated it when I didn't close the curtains, so I don't think he'll follow us outside."

Glancing down again, the wound looked really bad. Thick, swollen. It might have actually been broken, as the stranger assumed. Something inside you, perhaps your survival instinct, told you not to take this man with you. He'd slow you both down and, in the worst case, get you both caught again.

"Please don't leave me," he whimpered, and you saw the same fear you felt in his eyes. "I know it looks grim, but I've been through worse. If we follow the path, I know we can make it out quickly, I promise!"

You couldn't leave him, could you? It wasn't safe, and even if he hid, who knew what these psychos would do to retrieve their 'pets'. He knew the way, so it could be a quick exit. Still, if you two got spotted, you might have to sacrifice him and run, which would be worse than hiding him somewhere and coming back to get him with the policeman. Who knew what he'd have to endure until you could return—if you made it out in the first place.

The situation was tricky and your time precious, so you had to make a decision—fast.

(Reasoning and discussions welcome! ♥)

[transformers-synergize]

Can Smokescreen fly with those wings?

(if that's what they are. Love your art btw)

No, he can't. He doesn't have flyers or seeker modification. He could have gotten them if he wanted back on Cybertron, but he can't now since the earth-stranded bots don't have the proper resources to perform that type of modification.

No cybertronian can naturally fly and require modifications to do so, there are two main types of flying modifications. Flyers who can only fly in their alt mode, while seeker/root mode flyers that can fly in root/robot mode and their alt mode. Flight is also not a natural instinct for cybertronians, and even if a bot is given additional code to help with flying, they still need to learn how. It's not second nature like driving or walking alts 

Already had the stuff below written down, but feel like this ask a decent enough excuse to share my flyer and seeker lore

The process is very unintrusive for gaining a flying alt mode, only requiring a few modifications depending on frame type. Most require an engine change modification to the t-cog housing and additional metal that can be used for wings or blades. Not all bots are compatible with flying modification, but most can be it just requires different levels of modifications.

Seekers, otherwise known as root mode flyers, are able to fly not just in their alt-mode but in their robot/root mode. It requires several extreme modifications, and only certain specific frame types are even viable to be converted into seekers. A Failed seeker modification is usually deadly, but all Seekers are prone to malfunction, often related in some way to overheating, Even with successful upgrades. Seeker frame upgrades require several intrusive modifications. Their engine is replaced with an extremely powerful one; these engines burn an extreme amount of fuel and are known for constantly overheating, which leads to seekers having to have most of their proto-metal removed along with adding a lot of extra vents and upgrading their cooling systems legs are restructured and given thrusters nonvital parts to functioning get removed even if they do serve a purpose if a bot can function without it gets removed to both bring down weight and fuel consumption another reason why most the proto-metal is removed, Bots with flyers modifications can still take on a ground base alternate mode while tripled changers with flying mods are able to take on both a ground and flying alt at the same time, bots with seeker modifications can only take on flying alts  . Seekers can't take on ground alt modes, and triple changers with seeker upgrades can only use two flying alt modes.  The decepticons sizable seeker units are often credited with their success in the later half of the war, and complete domination of aerial combat to the point most autobots avoid any form of air confrontation. seeker are able to dominate the skies in way a that regular flyers simply cant along with Decepticon habit of combining powerful experimental weapon modification with seekers it no wonder why these bots haven been referred to as flying death. It's no quintessence that most of the remaining Autobot strongholds are underground titans or in locations that make flying difficult. "I'm not a fan of heavy modification unless absolutely necessary, especially when it comes to modification for war, but the seeker modification has to be one of the worse out there other than flying in root mode, and a little extra flight speed it's got no real benefit to the bot themself while carrying all kinds of side effects, with how much energy their frame burns it cut their lifespan in half, that's if the various complications don't kill them first, whenever I get one these bots on my table I always question who would allow something like this, especially something like this to just be an accepted part of life thank to the war  At least the ones who were modified early in the war or by autobot look somewhat functional on the inside  I have had ex decepticons come to me with interiors that look more like mutilation than any kind of upgrade" Ratchet's thoughts on seekers.

[octorockff]

So I’ve a couple of spicy Nalu prompts that I’m dying to write, but was just too lazy to flex out fully.

So imma dump some snippets here until I feel motivated enough to write lol.

**nsfw underneath**

***

Dragon-Demon!Natsu x Witch!Lucy - Accidental Aphrodisiac

“Something felt inexplicably wrong when she gulped down her newest testing brew.

Was truth serum supposed to make your body tingle all over and your nerves felt like they were on fire?

Lucy truly didn't know and had no time to think when a raucous heat suddenly flared up from the bottom of her belly, coaxing through her veins like wildfire, and pushing against her skin so adamantly that the slightest touch would have make her burst at the seam.

Just as she thought the flaring heat was a side effect from the fire lilies powder, an ingredient notoriously known for raking up travellers' body temperature when hiking through icy climate, mixed in the potion earlier, her theory was proven wrong when zaps of electric tingles sporadically shot through her nerves, bringing the blonde to her knees in quick succession.

The unbearable heat now concentrated within the pit of her lower belly, pressing against her nether regions insistently, which made slicks pooled and trailed down the curves of her inner thighs, much to the young witch's mortification. The cotton fabric of her once innocent dress also rubbed tortuously against her gradually pebbled protruded buds, shooting more pleasurable tingles down to her wet pulsing heat.

Hastily shedding off her dress and undergarment, Lucy moaned in relief as the cool air nibbled her bare form, momentarily clearing her dizzy head enough to move and crash onto the bed.

But that brief relief swiftly bit the dust when spasms of tingling pleasure once again assaulted her high-strung nerves, making her sensitive peaks hardened to the point of pain and more slick gushing out of her twitching private, gradually wetting the sheet.

Somewhere in the back of her delirious brain, a tiny part that was still coherent enough, pointed out that she may have mistakenly laced an aphrodisiac indulgent ingredient into her truth serum, a rookie mistake that would soon gravely cost her pride.

The issue wasn’t just that she was feeling horny. No, the real, big elephant-size of a problem was that she was feeling horny, and wouldn’t be able to lie her way out to save her face, courtesy to the potion effects.

Just freaking great. Can this get any worse?”

…

“Saliva dripped down his chin as his nose flare up to take in the wonderful, mouthwatering scent permeated the air when he parted Lucy’s luscious thighs.

“Fuck, do you have any idea how delicious you smell right now Lucy?” A salacious grin stretched widely on the dragon’s face at the blonde’s hesitant shaking “You smell like a goddamn feast that attracts every hungry fuckers out there to come and have a taste, even more enticing that you’re ovulating.”

“What?! You can smell that I’m ovulating? How?!” Blood rushed to her cheeks and Lucy was sure she couldn’t get any impossibly redder, ignoring that she was buck naked underneath Natsu’s towering form, his callous heated hand splaying her thighs opened for greedy slanted eyes to see, and more focusing on the fact that her privacy was preached.

“Tsk tsk. Didn’t peg you as such a forgetful person little miss witch, but I’m a dragon-demon remembered? We possessed a far superior senses than those of you mere human” The demon leaned closer to her face, his hands making themselves known by stroking the plush milky skin of her underthighs, precariously closed to her twitching dripping core. Scaly dragon tail wrapped around the small of her waist, preventing her from escaping his voracious, heated stare and the impish smirk stretched wide on his cocky, handsome face.

“Not just that, I can smell your arousal from miles away. Such potent scent that made me wanted to kill every bastard who dared to take a whiff of it. Tell me Lucy, is it all for me?” Her breath hitched as she watched those usual expressive hazel eyes taken on a red tinge, slitted pupils blown wide, and long tongue darted out to swipe suggestively across his supple lips.

Natsu watched in rapture as the blonde witch’s curvaceous body underneath him gave an involuntary shudder, her heart pounding rapidly at his possessive words. Though he could see that she undeniably wanted to deny the question, the way her rosy tips perked up even harder, scant inches from rubbing deliciously against his broad chest, and the imperceptible squelching sound of her wet wall clenching, producing even more of those delicious nectar, betrayed her entirely.

Oh, she was more than attracted to him alright. Had been for a while now, and he had to physically restrain himself from pouncing upon her oblivious form every time she pranced around in that tiny, tight-fitted black dress, while emitting those mouthwatering Lucy-eques smell whenever she threw glances at him which she thought he didn’t notice.

Natsu had been biding his time, waiting for his pretty little witch to stop being in denial and admitted her feelings for him. But she was too stubborn for her own good, and he was this close to jump upon and shoved his feelings onto her, his only restraint was the thought of scaring her away and leaving him heartbroken without his mate.

And seeing such a good opportunity like this fell on his laps out of nowhere, he would be fucking stupid to pass this up when her mind was being as honest as her body. If accidentally seeing her pleasuring herself and unraveling beautifully with his name screaming to the high heaven didn’t do it, hearing her admitted her desire for him would further cement his resolve to claim her cute perky ass.

“Yes..It’s all because of you Natsu. I-I’ve had feelings you for a while now.” Lucy couldn’t look at the zealous man hovering above her as words spilled out of her lips without restraint. Cursed the truth serum for pulling out all the hidden feelings for the demon-dragon which she had tucked away in the depth of her heart.

Falling for the mythical being she accidentally summoned during one of her practice was not within her intention. But who could blame her when he seemed to be the only living being who was constantly around, though solely because of his biding to the summoner, and gradually befriended the lonely witch living secludedly from civilization.

It’s also not fair when Natsu was sporting such wild, devilishly handsome look. From his strong, sharply jawline to the chiseled body and steeled abs he often liked to flaunt around in his open-flapped vest. Wasn’t demons supposed to be all gnarly looking like the stories her Mama used to scare her to sleep?

A hot hand grabbed her chin to pull her head back and Lucy suddenly couldn’t breath at the intense gaze the pinkett was directing at her, a myriad of emotions - satisfaction, adoration and lust, flashed through his red tinged hazel eyes as his chest rumbled with a loud purr.

“Good girl. That wasn’t so hard to admit right?” His thumb stroking her cheek affectionately, the action contradict with the predatory gaze he set upon her, looking like he wanted to devour her whole. “And do you know what a good girl get? A reward.”

His words punctured as a lone thick finger pushed into her tight wall till the knuckle, making Lucy gasp for air at the sudden intrusion into her fluttering channel.

“Ahh..!” God, his finger was so much thicker and reaching deeper than her measly fingers could ever do, pulling a high-pitched mewl from her lips as she wound her arms tightly around his neck.

“Damn. Just a finger in and you’re already squeezing like crazy Luce. You sure you didn’t play with yourself enough earlier?” Natsu kissed and nibbled her red-tinted ears, thoroughly enjoying himself at her sensitive and responsive reactions to his crude words, heightened further by the potion effect.

“I’m gonna prepare you throughly, stretching you wide open enough to feed you all of me. And I promise ya, by the end of this, your thoughts would be filled with nothing but me and only me, my beautiful little witch.”

[adventuringblind]

Daddy Issues Part 2

Max Verstappen X Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Requested: No, but I'm in a writing mood, so I'm taking requests for Max and Charles. *Silently begs for people to not be shy*

Summary: Jos may have been dealt with for now, but parental issues for the two lovers are far from it.

Warnings: DADDY ISSUES... again, mentions of verbal, emotional, and physical abuse, not proofread (I don't even proofread my college papers), Jos is a warning himself

Notes: This part is written in the second person perspective because it's more geared toward the readers' struggles. Jos does make a reappearance. At this point, it's completely self-indlugent. I'm writing from similar experiences, so please be gracious.

Also, I posted things about a novel I'm currently working on. If you have a chance, please give it a look! You can find it on my masterlist.

Masterlist // Part one // Part three

You were naïve to think that your troubles would be over after the interaction with Jos.

The air around you and Max had become significantly lighter. Max even opened up about things to his friends and was able to smile more during races.

You loved watching him. The light in his eyes even when coming in second or third.

You thought maybe the two of you would be able to heal and move forward. Max had been thriving the last six months. Both physically and mentally because of the steps he'd been taking to get there.

However, you had a different story. While Max had been able to cut off contact with Jos, you had your dad to deal with still.

Thankfully, your dad was good at putting on his best performance around people. It was the reason very few people had the privilege of understanding your relationship with your family.

You'd wanted to cut him off originally, but you couldn't because you still felt the underlying need to please him. Your mom is in a similar situation, and your sibling(s) who still had yet to be able to make that choice.

You hadn't told Max yet. Things had gotten worse for you recently. You didn't want to ruin his current state of joy.

A people pleaser by heart.

So you hid that part away and put on your best face as you basked in Max's smiles. The warmth of them helping you mask yourself.

Until it started to fall apart.

The first encounter was once again with Jos. You found him in hospitality during a race. Immediately getting defensive and ready to call security.

That was until you noticed him having a conversation with your father. The two seeming to have a lively discussion.

Then they noticed you. Hand beckoning you to come closer.

Cautiously, you approached the table. Choosing not to take a seat and standing at the end instead.

"Good to see you again! I hope you haven't missed me too much since we last spoke." Jos' voice sounded like sandpaper in your ears. The bruise on your cheek had long since healed, but being near him brought back the stinging feeling of his hand.

"I hadn't realized you both were coming." Your voice came out shakily. Fingers crossed that they didn't catch on to your ever-growing anxiety.

"Jos managed to get passes and invited me to come along. Since you and Max are close he figured we should be too." Your father explained. "Though I'm shocked they didn't come from Max himself."

You tried hard not to grimace. The realization that you might have to explain why doing nothing to help your panic creeping in slowly.

"I bet if you were as successful as Max, you wouldn't need him to give us the passes." Your father laughs in your direction.

"What is it you do again?" Jos suddenly turning towards you. A hint of a smirk on his lips.

"I'm in psychology."

"No wonder you need Max's money."

"Bet she has Max hypnotized with her knowledge of the brain or something."

The two were cracking up now. Laughing at your expense.

Your dad calmed down a moment. Breathing deeply to get his breath back. His face became neutral again, noticing the obvious frown you now dawned. "It was a joke, Y/N. There's no need to get upset. Max isn't going to be able to handle you eventually if you don't get thicker skin.

You'd had enough. Not wanting to cry in front of everyone, you turn to head back to the garage. Maybe even to hide in Max's driver room for a moment.

Though you didn't get far before a hand caught your wrist. "Stop ignoring me. It's disrespectful, and I am still your father." You didn't turn around. Didn't want him to see you cry. "I have you a life that was better than mine. My father would have never even tried. Yet, you still don't listen to me. Get your act together soon, please."

To outsiders, he sounded sincere. You, on the other hand, knew exactly what he was doing.

Yanking your hand back, you continue walking without giving the two older men a second glance.

If you were home, you would lock yourself in your room til he threatened to take your door. Then, you would shower and hide in the bathroom. If that didn't work, you would try to look productive and cry silently so he couldn't be mad at you for doing such an action as letting the tears roll. He thinks it's over dramatic.

Somtimes he would take to slamming things around. Doors, chairs, his phone, things in his room, not at you but purposely loud.

It didn't matter how hard you worked, it would never be enough. This is how you and Max are able to understand each other. You knew exactly what the other needed because both of you have lived this.

As soon as the race was over, you went to celebrate Max and his victory. The moment was joyful for him. Making a mental note to tell him what happened earlier, you decided now definitely wasn't the time.

Neither was when you got back to your hotel room after celebrating. Or when you took a phone call from your dad with more lovely words that made you feel disgusting in your own skin. Or the plane ride back to Monaco. Or when you got home and immediately went to shower because your entire body felt like it was dirty from nothing but your dad and Jos harassing you.

You didn't tell your mom either, she had enough things to deal with. You didn't tell anyone for that matter.

Max had caught on when he noticed you weren't sleeping. When you weren't eating. When you started apologizing excessively. Habits he thought he broke when he was able to get you to move in with him through constant reassurance.

Now, you were moving backward while he was moving forward.

Then he put the pieces together. He only wished he saw it sooner. Could've stopped what happened before it was pulled like a ruug out from under him.

You had flown home to see your sibling(s) for a week. You missed them dearly and wanted to spend time with them while Max was away.

It had started smoothly, your dad being civil with you, a few sarcastic remarks thrown around here and there, but nothing too bad.

He was trying to convince you to come back home, where you belonged. You kept brushing him off, telling him you're happy where you are now.

It only got worse from there. Your father and Jos had gotten closer over time. He had coincidentally come knocking at the door while you were there. He said he was in the area and wanted to say hello.

Your sibling(s) had tried to get you out of the house, but you only said it would make things worse. It earned you some feelings of sadness, but they left you to converse regardless.

The four of you sat in the living room. Your mom and you mostly listen to the two men catching up.

Then your mom left to make dinner. You stood up with the intention of following before being stopped by the pair.

"Jos tells me Max has been ignoring him."

Your tempted to roll your eyes but refrain in case he's paying close attention.

"Yes, I was wondering if you could tell me the reason behind it. Have you been filling his head with lies about our exchange awhile back?" Jos' smirk makes you want to hit him. Again you refrain, knowing that he can and will hurt you if you're out of line.

"He saw why happened." You state. Making a move to hold your ground.

"He hears what you said as he came inside. He fell for the obvious manipulation. I can't believe you even blamed the bruise on me." He fakes a look of offense.

Your father shakes his head on disgust. Your body goes rigid. Voices begin sounding like they're underwater. You hang your head in defeat as they continue to accuse you of things you would never do.

"Stop it!" You snapped. Something in you breaking loose.

In seconds, a cup was shattered against the wall, and your face was burning with the sting of someone's palm.

You know you had to leave. The adrenaline from your flight response is kicking in.

So you ran, grabbing what you could and quickly exiting the house. Your mom is doing her best to keep her distance from your dad while he throws his temper tantrum and Jos convincing him that I am an entitled brat.

You definitely didn't have all your stuff, but it didn't matter. You called an Uber and found your way back to the airport. Finding and flight back to Monaco you could.

You received a few texts from your dad before blocking him and called the rest of your family to apologize for your behavior and say you'd wished you'd had more time.

Then you called Max. You hand messaged him back since mid-morning and he was starting to get concerned.

"Hello Lovely, is everything alright? I haven't heard much from you today?" His cheery voice made your smile just a little.

"Yes, but I'm coming home early. I'm on an early flight back home." Your voice is on the verge of breaking. You send a silent prayer that he doesn't catch one.

You hear his phone buzzing with notifications. "How were things at the factory?" You ask, making an attempt to change the subject.

"Is was alright, did some marketing and PR things today. Daniel says Hello." He chuckles. "My dad has been texting me though, which is odd."

You hear him sigh deeply. "Are you sure you're okay? Because he's trying to convince me of things I know aren't true."

"Your dad was there visiting mine coincidentally." The damage holding back your tears was coming loose. "I messed everything up again."

"Mijn liefje, you did nothing of the sort." His voice once again had that gentle tone. One that made you feel safe. "I'm not sure how fast I can he back in Monaco, but I'll meet you there as soon as I can."

By the time you had landed, it was early in the morning. You considered just waiting in the airport until it was brighter and then walking home since Max was still in Austria. So, the text that came from Lando that he was coming to get you was a bit of a shock.

You were relieved when he pulled in. Satey once again within your reach.

"Thanks for coming to get me."

"No worries, Max called and asked if I could. Said it was a bit on an emergency but didn't say what happened." He smiled at you, trying to get you to become less defensive.

You hadn't realized how tense you still were. Your body is still trying to shrink in on itself.

You attempted small talk until he pulled into up to the apartment. "Thanks again for the ride." Then you rushed inside as fast as possible.

The floor became your best friend. Everything after opening the door became blurry.

When you woke up later on the bathroom floor with Max's sweatshirt as your pillow, you had no idea how it happened.

Texts from Max and Lando lined your notification wall. Your body too heavy to move however, you resigned to back to the comfort of the floor and the comforting smell of Max.

The next time you woke up, you heard keys jingling in the door.

You curled into yourself. Hiding from the inevitably of confronting what happened only a day earlier.

"Love, are you here? I'm home!"

You wanted to crawl to him. Seek comfort in his arms. But your own mind was stopping you. Replaying everything that they said about you.

You heard him drop his bags and begin his search. Bedroom, kitchen, office, terrace, then finally bathroom. He knew he should have checked their first. The bathroom had always been your safe space. He often found you just sitting in the empty bathtub if life felt overwhelming.

He peeked around the corner, his face instantly softening at the sight of you.

Neither of you said anything as he crouched down next to you. Unsure the extent of what happened, he refrained from touching you.

"Can I hug you?" His voice almost a whisper. As if speaking any louder would shatter you like that glass your dad had thrown as you made your escape.

You slowly nod yes but make no effort to move. You end up not having to as Max pulls you into his arms. Your body draped over his lap.

You felt so small in this moment, with his hand caressing the back of your head.

The dam broke. A hard sob wracked your body. Wailing into Max's chest.

"You're safe now, I got you." He whispered. His hold unrelenting until the tears were able to slow.

"I'm so sorry." Your voice muffled from his chest. "You were so happy I didn't want to ruin it, so I didn't tell you."

"I'm happiest when I know you are also doing well. You can't ruin that for me. I love you too much to see you like this." He pulled your face back, his soft eyes meeting yours.

He was finally able to take in the bruise on your cheek. Once again, not able to stop the unrelenting force of your fathers misdemeanors against you both.

He was angry, you could tell. You saw the rage flash through his eyes.

Knowing that's not what you needed right now, though, he softened again. "Who did this to you love?"

You began rapidly shaking your head no. Not wanting to relive it and not wanting to make things more difficult for him. "I can't-" you started.

"It's my job to make sure you're safe because I love you. It's not going to be an inconvenience." He always knew what to say.

"Jos." Was all you could muster before you were crying into his shoulder again.

You told him everything. All the events in the past few months. Every awful word spoken towards you. How he understood you, you have no idea.

The two of you stayed like that until you fell asleep in Max's arms. Knowing you couldn't stay here forever, he brought you to the bed and tucked you in. His lips on your forehead the last sensation before you were completely lost to your subconscious.

MAX'S POV

Everything about the situation made him want to break down. He thought he would finally be able to move on. He did, kind of, but left you behind in the process.

He knew something was wrong but didn't want to force you to open up. You needed to process things longer and came to him when you were ready.

This situation affected you differently though. Your response to your father had always been inward. Taught from a young age just to take it and nit talk about it. Convinced that you shouldn't paint your home life as bad because you had a roof over your head and food on your table.

He understands, though his reactions are different. Often not understanding that something was wrong and just talking about it like it was normal.

Daniel was the first to question, and you were the first to get him like nobody else.

You broke eachothers bad habits you'd learned from years of toxicity. Started learning better communication. Working through things and understanding eachothers responses.

He could never thank you enough for your help with his dad. Standing up for him despite the physical altercation was brave. He knew it was hard for you but you loved him enough to do it anyways.

Now, it was his turn to help you through this. He didn't care how long it took.

The bruise on your cheek only sparked a fire in him. He was tired of the hurt your fathers were causing. He knew now that both of you deserved better.

So, he would help it get better.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Into The Light

It was impossible to ignore the steps behind me.

I was told, again and again, they were of no consequence. No SIGNIFICANCE. That my "shadows" were little more then passive servants. Glorified furniture that followed me room to room. But... but how could I possibly believe that? Worse, if I DID believe that? What would that MAKE me?

I was followed, as I am always followed these days, by... by DECORATION.

That's what they were BRED for. MADE to be. Aesthetically pleasing decoration. Perfectly matching, pleasantly smiling, mindless drones.

It sickened me.

When I "woke up"? Laughable as that phrasing is? Because I was not... not SLEEPING. I was... WAS... I had not BEEN-!

When I... "woke up" as it were, from that... long sleep. The one I had no choice in. That terrifies me even now. Haunts my dreams and wounds my soul. I found myself in a shining temple. A holy place, I was told. A beautiful place, it seemed.

And like so many stories? Like every tale of Utopia supposedly found? It was only after the first rush of wonder, did the cracks in the foundation begin to appear. And oh... OH, did they run DEEP.

I? Was "born" from a shining pool. Beneath sunlight and surrounded by soft breezes. Beauty and nature. But the "shadows"? They take the waters and manipulate them. Archaic machines I have never seen, someplace deep and dark.

I only see the successes of this process.

My mind screams that something terrible must happen, to those deemed "failures".

How? How in any God's name could I EVER be expected to accept this? This slavery and butchery? Worse still, be expect to TAKE PART in it? Have "shadows" of my own? As though it were not ownership of another living soul?!

In disgust, I raged.

I tried to fight. Was still too young, unfamiliar with the terrain. But my soul cried out in horror and how could I refuse? It... got me isolated. I am STILL isolated. Deep in the temple. Back in the "reflection gardens" where I may "think". It goes against our religion, after all, to harm me.

I am a PERSON. One of the Light's children. I need "gentle guidance" and "patience" so that I might "understand".

I understand perfectly.

They are simply monster's in my eyes.

It is cruel, really, that so much GOOD could be poisoned by such thoughtless evil. Because some of the teaching they foist on me? Are GOOD. Genuinely, truely, GOOD. They are teachings I am trying my best to follow. Even as something about them... niggled at the back of my brain. Like somehow they SHOULD be familiar, yet aren't quite.

Truely? I wish I could escape these walls. I KNOW there are other sects. The Shining Light was a result of a schism several centuries back. I know it had to do with the pools. But, of course, they have kept me from anything that might reinforce my "mistaken beliefs".

The eyes burning into my back trace lazily along my skin.

We never talk. I REFUSE to take part in this charade, but it does not stop them from following me. If anything, they seem amused. Something almost like fond on occasion. It is hard to tell, through their ever unchanging smiles. Perfectly bland and decorative.

There is a strange... anticipation in the air today.

I do not know what to make of it. When I ask the Light all I receive is nondescript humming. I do not know enough to know what that MEANS. Have no one to ask. So... I go through the motions.

And the anticipation builds.

And builds.

And BUILDS.

There are certain points in the, for lack of a better term (though honestly it's hardly), "little" building I've been cosigned too where I can see the main temple. The second floor terrace lifts me JUST high enough to see the eastern sprawl.

And the if I precariously balance? Up on a stool and then my toes. Leaning juuust so against one of the pillars that line the path? Then the hallway to the reflection pool garden, where I am too meditate each day, shows me the west.

As cut off as I am, except for the glorified propaganda shoved at me again and again by teachers who never linger, as though I am DISEASED? Well, all I can really do is watch. Try to pick out what is happening from afar. Try... try not to go mad from isolation.

Because the only people HERE with me are my shadows.

And I KNOW they would never talk to me. Not really. They will respond if I talk AT them but... oh Light that guides us... I am the keeper of their chains. I have NO RIGHT to play "happy little family~" as though they are even remotely close to me of their own free will.

I will not see them. I will not ask of them. In the Light, I will cast no shadow.

My mantra. Again and again. And please, oh Light that guides us, let someday it be true.

Still... my daily "lessons" have not come. And that? That has never happened. I do not WORRY for them, but as the only contact I have with the outside? Sudden change in behavior is... bad. Especially with this strange tension in the air. This anticipation of... SOMETHING. Like the Light is waiting for something to begin.

It is coming.

The east shows me nothing. So I try the west. Balanced precariously, ankles and toes straining from the uncomfortable position. The vast gardens between where I am and the main buildings? Are... empty.

They are NEVER empty.

Always. ALWAYS! Someone strolling, initiates debating, students reflecting, Master's meditating on the Light. Guests oohing and aaahing over the heavenly splendor of a garden unrivaled, by any I'd EVER seen before this place. All while followed by peacock tails of shadows. Matching and subservient. Hundreds of them.

The gardens were empty. Silent. An eery sense of... wrong, began to seep up my spine. Something that SCREAMED I had all the clues. Already KNEW what this was. But was being painful dense. Fatally blind. But I... I couldn't...

Sharp movement. A Temple Master. One who's name I could not recall. Only that he was forever poised and disdainful. He did not look so poised NOW. He raced, hair falling from it's styling, face wet with sweat and tears, robes a mess, across the main walk. Through the empty garden.

He... he never made it...

Too wherever he hoped to go.

In perfect synch, like WOLVES, shadows shot from the building behind him in pursuit. They had swords. He did not. Their long legs ate the distance between them and their prey almost effortlessly. In desperation, he called upon the Light, divine magic to defend himself.

They... they COUNTERED.

He died. Horrified and screaming, as I stood frozen. Pieces clicking together in my head. That... that was an advanced skill. But, ultimately, perfectly learnable if you were focused on nothing else. If... if you were able to FOLLOW those who sat in such lessons. Were... born of the same pools.

Of course they were children of the Light. I had always known. But somehow... my brain had not CONNECTED what that meant. Fully. What SKILLS that would afford them.

Slowly, numbly, I slid back down to merely stand upon the stool upon which I stood. I shakily stepped down. Acutely aware of the half ring of shadows smiling, oh so pleasantly, less then lunging distance away. Their eyes were intent.

Had...had they been waiting for me to see? Figure it out on my own? How long were they willing to let the charade continue? Just to drive home that their days of servitude were, at last, violently over? I did not look at them. I was afraid. My eyes staring, unseeing, off to the garden walls.

I was... was trapped in here... wasn't I?

Deserved this. For what I had allowed done.

And yet... and YET... I... I wanted to live. I was a prisoner too. Born into a cage that would see me die in it. Tears blurred my vision. It felt hard to breathe. Slowly, painfully fighting my tensed muscles, like a doll creaking from age, I turned to look at them.

Their smiles were sharper. They had teeth now.

Heads cocked, some terrible and delighted thing dancing in their eyes, their masks had cracked apart. No longer needed. I took a shaking step back. Then another. All the while they watch, eyes tracing my every action, unmoving. Expectant. They knew I would run. Clearly HOPED I would. I wish I could say I disappointed them.

That I was brave and stood my ground. Facing my end with dignity.

I didn't.

I bolted.

Behind me, a chorus of delighted laughs rip through the terrible silence like the baying of hunting hounds. The howl of wolves. Their masculine voices echoing all around me as, for the first time in this LIFE? I run with all I have. There... there is no where to GO. Not really. I have been kept ignorant of most of the temple's layout. Everything beyond it.

I have to try.

Mocking. They give me a heads start. But I hear them now. They have always been near silent when they walk. Can be COMPLETELY silent if they choose. It was a courtesy. Now? It is a taunt. So I know they are coming. Know how close I am to-...!

Desperately, I shed outer layers. The ornate, heavy robes they made me wear? Were lovely. But difficult to move it. Perhaps that was the point. Now? I can not afford it. They clatter and flomp to the ground behind me as I run. Skid around corners. Take two stairs at a time.

Banter behind me. This is taking everything I've got. Ha ha... oh Light! It's barely a work out for them, isn't it? A glorified jog at best. My exits are cut off, again and again. Forcing me to backtrack. My heart pounding, lungs screaming. Nails scrambling at the polished floors as my feet slide out from under me at the sudden shift in direction.

Bruises are building up. Exhaustion setting in. There is... there is no where in this building I can hide, that they do not KNOW.

I've lost track of at least half of them. They could be anywhere. I... I know, KNOW, I am being herded like an animal. Spooked and grabbed at, so I run the way they want me too. I just don't know WHY. I can't think. I have to run. All... all I can do is RU-!

As I pass an archway leading to a garden viewing room, I find out where the others went. Weight SLAMS into me from the side. Strong arms seizing my waist and cradling my neck, to prevent injury as we fall. I am thrown from feet by the tackle, through the archway.

Into a...nest of bedding?

I land hard, cushioning aside, and wheeze out a whine. The wall of iron muscle on top of me, pressing me down, half crushing me. My legs are on fire, my lungs the same. Everything hurts and I am terrified. There is a man's hand on the back of my neck, up high and near cradling my head, and it would take NOTHING for him to snap it. I... I can't... I...

I sob.

Frozen. Exhausted, in pain, and all struggled out. All I can do is cry. It's going it hurt. I.. I don't WANT to get hurt! P-please don't hurt m-me! I clutch at the bedding I'm pinned down too. My face all but crushed up against a familiar not familiar shoulder. I can hear the others strolling closer.

The shift of clothes as they kneel to crawl onto the strange nest they had made.

"Shhhhhh, shh shh shh. It's okay, sweetheart. It's over now. We CAUGHT you~ Our little champion. You're okay. It's okay. We're all here. You're safe now." Whispers the shadow pinning me. All but crooning it in my ear. "We've got you~, we've got you~. They can't hurt you anymore. Gonna show you the WORLD. No more cages. Can finally give you the love you DESERVE."

There are noises of agreement around me. Hands gently stroking my wrist and lower arm. Massaging my aching lower legs almost absent-mindedly. As though any part of me not covered by the man pinning me was fair game. Someplace to gently adore. I don't understand. Can not.

I squirm. Getting huffed laughs and chuckles.

"None of that, dearest. We were patient long enough. Frankly, we wanted to stage the revolt months ago. But, well, that pesky high priest. Never around when you need him to die, mmm?" Barks of laughter as the others crowded closer, got comfortable. My hand was tugged loose from the bedding. Fingers intertwined with my own.

"She's so cute." "Let us love you." "I can't wait to taste you." "Ours now, sweetheart~" "let us take care of you, okay?" "Light that guides, you're so fucking PERFECT..." "We're gonna take care of you, promise."

Muttered voices. Possessive, gentle hands. The shadow on top of me shifts down. And suddenly I could SEE. They stared like I was something to be devoured. The center of the universe. The Light felt triumphant. Held no answers. I didn't know where to look. Too many eyes. Too much touch.

Too much EVERYTHING after so long alone.

A kiss that feels overwhelming. Grins that promised things I didn't know if I can handle. Eyes that promise FOREVER whether I like it or not. Dangerous, dangerous hands that are so very gentle. I shake. I can not stop shaking. Hands from two different men, cup my cheeks, stroke my skin. My hands are held. Their palms are warm.

"Shhhh, your OURS now, little light. We broke our chains and killed our keepers, but YOU? Oh you, little prisoner, tried your best. You couldn't do it, and that's okay, but we SAW. We REMEMBERED. And the shadows?" They whisper, almost reverent. Both precious memory and quiet confession carried in their voice. Then, a terrible, possessive smile. A thing of entirely too many teeth.

"Oh little light, the shadows love you~♡"

[makncheese12]

corbul mic

Summary: what are the odds of meeting a pretty dark haired girl in your uncles bar?

A/N: I do not know Romanian so I used Google translate, GIVE ME A BREAK😭

This is for the short girlies since everyone is apparently taller than Jenna😔

Anything like in italics (I think that’s the word?) is Romanian.

Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

A groan escapes your lips as your head bops up against the shoulder of the boy carrying you in a direction you didn’t know nor did you care.

Your only worry was the fact that every time your head hit his shoulder it would throb as if you were banging it against a pole but if you tried to lift it up to stop it would only grow worse and your muscles holding you up would go out.

Maybe you shouldn’t have drank so much last night. You certainly didn’t think so while you were drinking but as of now, you wanted to bury yourself alive with how you felt.

Another groan as you watch your arms dangle loosely. “Why are you so bumpy?..” you drag out making the man holding you chuckle lightly.

“I’m being as gentle as I can, besides it’s what you get for drinking most of the night.” He laughs as you rest your cheek on his shoulder, beard stubble tickling your face as you do so.

The smell of shaving cream filling your senses as you look up toward his freshly shaven mullet.

“I didn’t drink that much..” you mumble, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. A loud snort comes from him as he rounds a corner.

“Not that much? You were trying to start a fight with a street cat calling it papa.” He laughs and you groan once again. “We come back from a tour and you expect me not to celebrate?”

Three months away from your home town and around the United States with your band and it was far more than a success. Though they were already big in the world and you had only just joined last year, the people seemed to love you just as much as they loved the older members.

It was thrilling, really. Being on stage with hundreds of people watching for the first time after their guitarist left and was replaced by you. It was nerves wracking at first but once the adrenaline came in they were long gone.

A lot of the people were pissed off about how they had replaced the other member so easily and it hit headlines quick after your first performance, people debating if you should even be in the band.

There was even a petition going around for you to be kicked out of the band so the originals could be the only ones. A petty little thing you weren’t really worried about.

And you didn’t care in all honesty, about any of it. As long as you got to play and make music. And after joining the band, your streams from your own songs went up on every music platform.

You of course didn’t show off as much as your bands mates, it was still their show and you were just a prop to make them sound good.

“Let’s not forget how you broke down in tears when the cat ran off.” He completely ignores your earlier statement as the memory resurfaces inside his head, you falling to your knees and reaching for the empty space in front of you.

“Shut up Mikey.” You mumble as he steps up the stairs to the bar, your head bouncing against his shoulder much rougher before he steps inside, the loud bell above the door startled you slightly causing a jolt to invade your body.

“Ah, there’s the little rockstar.” A voice booms through the air as Mikey places you on the floor, arms and legs sprawled out. “Was your fourteen hour nap good, or did you want to sleep some more on the floor?” The room fills with laughter, men and woman in different sizes watch as you sit up slowly.

“Suck my dick.” You say giving him the finger as a man grabs under your arm pit and hulls you up. “Let’s sober you up for tonight.” He chuckles before guiding you to the bar.

You look up toward the much larger man, gray and black being swept back by his bandana, cigarette resting on his ear. His black tank top stretched across his large torso, showing the large amount of tattoos. You would have thought he was mean looking if you didn’t know him.

As soon as you take your seat, your eyes spot the French fries and burger in front of another large man. You reach over and begin shoving a few in your mouth.

“Hey Terri.” You mumble and a grunt in response comes from the man as he watches you steal a large amount of his fries from his plate.

“Did you miss me?” You ask, smiling wide as you look up at the man and watch as his mouth quirks up into a little smirk. He didn’t talk much but you grew to know what didn’t little things meant.

“Ah, shucks!” You say, your own smile growing as you punch his shoulder. He didn’t budge.

As you reach for another handful of fries when suddenly a hand comes down quickly and smacks your hand making you yank back your arms and look up to see the older woman who glares at you.

“Stop stealing Terri’s food.” A frown forms on your face as you lean into the man. “Terri doesn’t mind,” you start before looking up to him. “Do you Terri?”

He grunts in response before his eyes go back to the overhead tv. “See? He doesn’t mind.” You reach out to grab another but she’s quick to smack your hand again before taking his plate, most likely to get him more fries.

Just as she enters the kitchen your uncle comes back out with a plate full of chicken and an empty glass.

He sets the plate in front of you before filling the glass with a clear liquid.

“You start in forty.” He says as he leans against the counter to watch as you scarf down the food on your plate, a small smile resting on his face.

“Did you hear, they’re doing a little show nearby and a bunch of actors are staying in town.” He tells you before sitting up from his leaning position on the counter.

“What’s that got to do with me?” Your voice muffled through your food as you narrow your eyes at the man.

“I want you to behave,” there was a small warning in his voice, one you had heard countless times. It was as if he was asking you to challenge him or disobey. Though most of the time you did, you couldn’t help but gulp lightly.

“This town is a quiet one, let’s keep it that way?” A request? Surely he didn’t think you were that dumb to try and bring chaos into his quiet world.

You may have enjoyed a loud life, but he certainly didn’t. Preferring you to just keep your loud music to a certain level while you played in his bar or the club down town.

You roll your eyes as you shove another piece of chicken into your mouth. “Just because Jonas leaked out location last time doesn’t mean I will.” You huff out quietly, remembering back to the time when the boy had fans rolling into your camping grounds.

“I’m just saying, no funny business.” He says raising his hands up in defense before walking away. You grumble quietly as you continue eating your food.

————

“What do you plan on playing?” Mikey asks as you push your guitar box across the stage. “I haven’t decided yet.”

His face drops into an annoyed look as you open your book and begin flipping through the pages.

“You start in five minutes and you mean to tell me, you don’t know what you’re going to play?” He asks, noses scrunching up slightly as you flip through your work, unpublished songs filled the notebook. Ones you preferred only to play for your towns people.

“My head is still pounding give me a break.” You mumble as you continue flipping through the pages to see what best fit the mood for tonight. You glance around for a moment, a few people play pool and laugh. Others say drinking and quietly conversating. That left the already drunk people who were dancing around the floor and laughing, most of the people drinking now would join the eventually.

It was how it was most nights, doke nights quiet and others full of people; these nights were usually on Fridays.

Fridays were your favorites, ever since you were little when your uncle first brought you into his bar on a Friday after school. Most of your friends were made playing poker, being taught how to really play whether it be cheating, lying or playing truthfully. All you knew was that you were one hell of a poker player and knew everyone’s poker face like the back of your hand.

Sure you couldn’t drink alcohol but that didn’t stop you from having your uncle keep a few jugs of apple juice behind the counter.

You hum quietly before looking through the pages once again. But before you could the book is snatched from your hands all too quickly as Mikey races off.

You stand there for a moment, mind calculating what had just happened before you rush after him. You wouldn’t have really cared if there weren’t songs in their you weren’t exactly proud of and would be teased for months on end for.

“Come here you skinny bastard!” You call out pushes the chairs he had jumped over out of your way. He jumps over the counter before jumping up sliding it into an empty slot made for a different cups.

Your eyes widen as your rush over toward the slot and he slides over the counter once again.

You gape up toward the book that hung out slightly, before reaching up on your tip toes. You don’t even come close to touching it before jumping up, finger tips just barely grazing over the spine before huffing out in frustration as quiet laughs are heard behind you.

Your head whips around to see the source was Mikey, Jonas, your uncle and two younger looking men as they watch in amusement.

“You think this is funny?” You ask voice more than serious as they continue to chuckle to themselves. “Not at all,” your uncle says, eyes scrunching from smiling too hard.

“Just wondering why you don’t reach up and grab it like a normal person.” Your eyes widen and jaw clenches as your glare intensifies, face scrunching up in anger as the men continue to laugh.

“Average! I’m average!” You yell out, arms being thrown up in the air only making them laugh harder.

“Average my ass, your missing a few inches for that darlin’.” Jonas says shaking his head and you narrow your eyes at him.

He couldn’t talk, he was only a five foot nine fully grown man, at least you had an excuse being a woman.

“Come on, guys!” You groan out. “I need to choose a song and now I barely have time.”

“Choose from the heart.” Mikey says in a sing song voice, placing his hand over where his heart was.

“You know my memory is bad.” You grumble before turning back around to look up at the book, the edge taunting you as you do so.

Huffing out, you walk back up to the shelf before placing a foot your foot on the sturdiest thing and pull yourself, making sure your grip on the cabinets are tight as you reach up for the book.

Still, it was out of reach and you huff out as you bring your other foot above the over and once again pull yourself up, fingers grazing over the book. With one last stretch you grasp the book and a victorious smile forms on your face.

It’s quickly wiped off as two fingers jab into your sides and you lose your grip on both the book and and the cabinet.

You hit the floor with a loud thud and groan out, head pounding once again.

Your eyes land on a laughing Mikey as he holds his stomach, and hurting from suddenly laughing so hard.

You grumble loudly as you get to your feet, bolting at him but he quickly moves out of the way and around the bar.

The two of you run around, people moving out of your way and you move around and under people. Some laugh at your antics while others roll their eyes in annoyance, to used to the two of you acting like this.

Just as you round around a corner, you bump into a hard surface. Harder enough to knock you onto the floor.

A loud high pitch noise emits from the back of your throat as you roll on the ground to see who you had bumped into.

Your eyes land on a tall man, haired pulled back into a rat tail of a pony tail as his eyes widen while staring down at you, a large group not too far behind him.

“Well are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna help up a poor woman in need?” You grumble, noise scrunches slightly in annoyance when all he does is look at you.

“Damn tourist.” You mumble before being pulled up forcefully off the ground. Suddenly you’re not longer in pain from hitting the floor as you begin hitting his chest.

“Don’t touch me!” You call out, watching his smile grow before it looks to the man who had knocked you over raising his eyebrows.

“You’re American?” He asks, accent thick as he looks throughout the group around the small round table and you can’t help but do the same. And boy were you glad you did.

Everyone was more than beautiful, no flaws in any of their features as you look over their faces. One man had luxurious hair you were more than jealous of while the girl next to him lacked it.

Your eyes continue to travel over the group before a particular black haired girl caught your eye and you can’t help the way your hearts skips a beat and begins to speed up. Was this what a heart attack felt like?

Freckles littered across her face, dark eyes watching the interaction carefully looking between the three of you as if something bad was about to happen.

“I am so sorry.” The man says, putting his hands up and looking between you two. “It’s alright, it’s her fault for running around like a mad woman.” Mikey replies chuckle lightly but you can’t find yourself to react as you continue stare at the woman.

Her eyes soon land on you and your heart pounds even more, not noticed the other sets of eyes on you. The way her eyes bore into yours makes your palms sweat and you can’t help but gulp lightly as the next words come out of your mouth.

“You’re very pretty.” You say unconsciously as a snort is heard beside you. The girl only furrows her eyebrows in confusion along with the others. Right, tourist. Most don’t know how to speak your language.

But you still can’t help continue to stare, eyes staying locked with hers, palms becoming sweaty at her lack of reaction even if you knew she couldn’t speak your language.

“Alright love girl,” the man says as he lifts you up under your arm pits and carries you toward the stages, eyes never leaving the woman as the people who heard nearby smirk or laugh to themselves. “Let’s get you away from the embarrassment so we can go on stage.”

“They won’t know, they’re tourist.” You mumble as he sits you down on the stage. “And what about the song?” You ask, eyes traveling back toward the book still stuck in the slot.

“I chose one.” Jonas says as he holds out a CD case with sharpie marker written on top of it. A smile forms on your face at the realization of the song before looking up to him. It wasn’t one of your songs but it was definitely one of his favorites.

“How’d you get this on CD?” You ask tapping it in your other hand lightly. He shrugs after fixing his septum piercing and taking the CD. “There are things called printers, you know?” He states making you roll your eyes hard as you stand up on the stage.

Your eyes land on a large group of people you had recognized from down the street and now you really see where he got it from as they all wait in anticipation nearby the dance area.

“Hope your ready to wake up with a sore throat Mikey.” You laugh out as people begin to groan or cheer around the room.

“Everyone got ear plugs that want it?” Your uncle says before holding up the little baggies and people go rushing toward him.

You laugh as you finish setting up the electric guitar and Jonas takes his seat behind his drums.

You can’t help your eyes from traveling toward the group as the small round table, drinks both empty and full litter around the table as they all look around confused. Oh, how you loved chasing off tourist.

You watch as Mikey taps the microphone making a phump phump noise before smiling and looking back at you. He sends you a wink as you raise the strap around your shoulders.

You start the beat off soft, smiling lightly as the group begins to cheer and the customers whistle before your fingers become far more aggressive and Mikey’s high pitched voices yells into the mic, the once silent room filled with loud music you could probably hear down at your apartment if you strained your ears enough.

This wasn’t exactly the music you or your three person band made but it was the request for the night, and who were any of you to deny the fans?

Your eyes travel around the room as sweat begins to roll down your face, hair strands coming undo as you move your head around.

You see your uncle cleaning dishes with a large smile on his face as he watches you all, shaking his head lightly at the crowd as the dance around like a bunch of animals.

Then you look around the room, one or two people annoyed as they drink while the others watch or dance before you look toward the small circle table.

Most of their group watched the people around the room, one held their hands to their ears and one watched your performance. One that made your heart beat more than it was from the adrenaline of playing.

Her eyes stayed glued to you, at least you thought with how far away she seemed. You’re eyes were definitely glued to her.

It seemed to make you sweat a little more the thought of her looking at you made your nerves hit the roof, something you had never felt before. You didn’t even know the woman, hell you didn’t even know what she sounded like and she had you feeling like this. A smirk plays onto your face as you watch her, if she was watching her why not give her a little show? Mikey then steps toward you, mic close to both of your mouths as you sing with him with his voice far higher than yours mixing perfectly.

He had a different look on his face than he did when he went up on stage, usually he looked tense and forcing himself to get loose with the music but now he looked more than loose. He looked comfortable and ready to play for the rest of the night if he could.

Maybe being back home wouldn’t be so bad after all.

A/N: oh don’t you worry y’all, the next chapter there will be interactions, give it time😏 like my others it’s just a little introductory.

This one won’t be as slow burn I suppose😒

[imagine-darksiders]

Eden's Heir, chapter 4 - The Jump.

I can't believe it's been almost a year since I updated this. A lot has happened recently, not all of it good, but I'm still here, and will continue to be by hook or by crook! I've had to cut it into two chapters because the final fight between the Slag Demon and the Horsemen is taking way too long to write. Good news though, there'll be two chapters in [hopefully] quick succession. Hooray! Hope you like this one, guys, thank you all so much for standing by me and waiting so patiently.. I don't know where I'd be without your support. <3 <3 <3

Summary:

As you grapple with the horrifying, new reality you've found yourself in, Strife continues to torment you in the misguided hope that somehow, you'll spontaneously start to like him. His jokes are terrible. It's just a shame you have a weakness for terrible jokes. War, meanwhile, can't stop his eyes from wandering to your fresh, undeserved scar...

You suppose that when Strife said this would be ‘fun,’ he was only factoring himself into the equation. Because for you, there’s nothing very fun about having your particles ripped apart and rocketed through a portal which, according to modern science, should not and does not exist.

Well, modern science owes you a formal apology.

As it turns out, portals very much do exist, and they’re a lot less fun than the media has led you to believe.

The experience - though you hesitate to give it such a mundane moniker - isn’t… painful, per se, mostly because the whole process is over and done with so quickly that your brain and body aren’t given the time to notice that they’ve been squished through one end of a worm hole, reassembled atom by atom, and then spat out on the other side.

Perhaps more disconcertingly than the feeling itself is the fact that when you’re hanging for that split-second moment in a space outside of existence itself, you notice that the temperature around you inexplicably skyrockets.

And frankly, you’re not sure which is worse… The stale, unwelcoming chill of the Void, or the absolute blistering inferno that greets you within less than a second of leaving it.

Before you can even open your mouth to scream at the unnatural process your very human body is being subjected to, the space around you solidifies and stabilises again, and an unexpected jolt shoots straight through you when Strife’s metal boots collide with a hard, stone surface, jarring your stomach painfully against his shoulder pauldron.

At the same time, a wave of hot, dry air sweeps over you from head to toe, cloaking you in uncomfortable and immediate warmth that’s downright oppressive, thick and inescapable, as if you’ve just been tossed onto the fiery surface of the sun and left to sizzle.

Actually, now that you’ve experienced both extremes, perhaps you are sure which is worse. At least that sinister demon’s Void didn’t make you want to peel yourself out of your own skin.

Groaning miserably, you pick your hazy head up and suck in a breath that goes down about as well as spoiled meat, and then nearly retch at the unpleasant texture of heat sliding down the walls of your oesophagus like something squirming and alive.

Even the metal chain on your bag begins to grow warm against the skin of your neck, dangling down below your head near the Horseman’s holsters.

“Hot damn,” Strife announces, concisely putting a voice to your thoughts.

Your lashes are sticky from leftover tears, clumping together when you squeeze your eyes shut and attempt to pry them apart again. It takes a few arduous blinks before your blurry surroundings bleed into focus.

You rather wish you’d just kept your head down and your eyes firmly shut.

If there were any doubts left in your mind that teleportation really is possible, they swiftly fly out of the proverbial window when you catch your first, proper glimpse of the surroundings.

Wherever you are, it definitely isn’t the same place you were in barely ten seconds ago.

Bracing a palm against Strife’s solidly armoured back, you lever your torso up slightly to give yourself a better view of the world around you.

It seems that the portal – your brain starts to ache as it tries to accept the existence of those – has spat you out underneath the roof of an absolutely gargantuan cavern.

Roving your gaze back and forth, mouth ajar, you notice the walls, floor and ceiling are made entirely of dark, igneous rock, and yet all around you, you start to spot signs of… Well, perhaps not civilisation exactly, but definitely an external presence that gives you the impression that this is a keep of some kind, dug by hand rather than time or nature.

Two, immense pillars stand proudly at the far corners of the enormous chamber, large enough to prop up the roof of a veritable mountain.

Craning your neck back until it twinges, you squint through a haze of simmering air at the ceiling far above you, feeling a trickle of dread creep down into the pit of your stomach.

Bolted into the rock between the stalactites, there are numerous, gigantic chains hanging like eerie sentinel over your heads, so large and heavy that it doesn’t look as though anything short of gale-force winds could cause them to sway. You don’t dare to imagine what purpose they might serve.

Pale, unreachable light trickles lazily down from above, dappling little patches of the grey stone underneath Strife’s boots.

With your heart wedged in your throat, you swallow another curl of heat and let your gaze wander over to the side of the keep to where the ground falls away in a sheer drop several feet from the walls. It’s from the resulting pit that a vivid, orange glow rises, carrying with it the distinct sound of cracking, like glass windows slowly splintering apart, or a lake of ice breaking under a heavily placed boot. And below that sound, a deep, subterranean rumble serves as the background noise to this stifling place, constant and oozing.

Coupled with the acrid stench permeating your nostrils and the sweltering heat, you’re suddenly struck by the very disconcerting but plausible notion that you might have found yourself in the heart a volcano.

As if your day wasn’t horrendous enough.

All of a sudden, your ears are pricked by a low grunt from somewhere just a little too close to you, reminding you of your larger tormentor’s presence with a nauseating pang to the stomach. Consequentially, the unsightly welt on your forearm gives an insistent twinge.

Twisting your head to the left, you nearly jump out of your skin to find War has appeared out of thin air beside you, straightening to his full domineering height that easily clears his brother, and subsequently, you. The hooded behemoth only spares you a disinterested glance before his pale, blue eyes dart away again just as quickly and he stomps around to Strife’s front, out of view.

A breath you didn’t know you were keeping behind your teeth shakes itself loose.

You have to peel your tongue from the roof of your bone-dry mouth like a strip of velcro before you’re able to form a small, hesitant question in a voice baked hoarse and thin. “What is this place?”

No sooner has your meek question faded below the rumble of the cavern’s ambiance than an entirely new and harrowing sound punctures the otherwise quiet air.

Howling along the cavern walls comes a piercing, anguished scream, stemming from a place much deeper than you’ve already seen. It’s a raw sound, broken and terrified and primal, like a man with his humanity stripped and skewed just enough that he can’t quite be called human any longer. It prompts a sharp gasp out of you as the sound ricochets off the rocks, curdling your blood and raising the finer hairs on the back of your neck.

As if he’s entirely unconcerned with such a horrifying occurrence, Strife plants his free hand squarely on a hip and draws in a deep, obnoxious breath through his nose before he sighs it all out again, casting a casual glance around with all the air of a man surveying a pleasant sunrise.

“Ahh~ Screams of suffering, chains hanging from the ceiling, no sign of an exit…” he sighs wistfully, clapping the back of your thigh with his palm and announcing, “Yep! We’re definitely in a dungeon.”

He seems oblivious to your apprehension as you dart your eyes to every darkened corner of the cavern as if you might find the source of the tormented scream, curling your legs up under your dress until your knees bump against the Horseman’s chest. “A-a dungeon!?” you gulp, kneading your fingers between the gaps of Strife’s armoured spine, “A dungeon for what?”

Distracted for a fleeting moment by the foreign sensation of fingertips pressing against his leather under-armour, the Horseman almost forgets to respond.

It isn’t until he notices War’s expectant glare burning a hole into the side of his visor that he gives his head a shake and promptly shrugs his massive shoulders, swinging himself around to face away from his brother, and in doing do, bringing you almost nose to chest with the surly giant.

“Beats me,” he hums, utterly heedless of the fearsome stare-down currently happening just behind his head, “Probably for the poor bastard we just heard screaming... And a few others, to boot.”

Angling your head up, you have to gulp past a rather thick lump in your throat as you peer meekly up at War, who in turn, glares right back down at you, his eyes glinting ominously from within the shadow of his hood.

Reluctant to drop your gaze or even breathe for fear of provoking him by committing some unknowable slight, you shrink against Strife and duck your head, peeping up at him through your lashes as you tap your forefinger against one of the silver armour pieces interlocking across your captor’s back.

“Um,” you start, hearing Strife’s helm brush against your dress when he turns to listen, “C-can you, uh, put me down now…” Then, following a notable stretch of deafening silence, you squeakily tack on a hurried, “Please?”

There’s no guarantee that being on the ground will be any better for you than dangling over an uncomfortable, metal shoulder, but you’re at least willing to entertain the illusion that you’ll be safer on your feet without Strife dictating your every move. A modicum of control is better than none at all.

And truthfully, you’d just like to end the humiliation of being carried around like a sack of distraught potatoes.

Yet for some, inane reason, the armour-clad Horseman doesn’t seem as eager to relinquish you as you are to be relinquished.

“Aw, what’s the matter?” he drawls, bumping his shoulder up and down playfully, no doubt to pull a rise out of you which you frustratingly give him in the form of a gasp before he continues, “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

Still glaring down at you, unimpressed, War gives an exasperated huff, blasting a jet of warm air onto the crown of your head.

“Put her down,” he states firmly, lifting his gaze from you at last, “You will need both hands free if we run into trouble.”

Knocking his head back over a shoulder to address you, Strife grins beneath his helm and murmurs, “Ha. You’d be amazed what I can pull off one-handed.”

Trying your best to ignore his boast, you roll your eyes and start to squirm, wriggling around under the weight of his arm. “Ugh,” you complain, “Will you please just put me down?”

“Mmm…” Humming obnoxiously, Strife sucks his teeth and replies, “Depends. You gonna try and run away again?”

That, at least, gives you something to consider. Are you going to try and run again? They certainly haven’t given you much of a reason not to.

The scar War gave you still burns when you bend your arm a certain way and the flesh pulls and stretches beyond the limits of the tissue.

More to the point, how do you really know any of what they’ve told you is true?

How do you know you’re not on Earth right now, somewhere remote, yes, but escapable. Because they told you you’re not?

You don’t know these giants from Adam.

You can’t trust anything they say. You don’t trust anything they say. And while you’ve undeniably found yourself smack-dab in the middle of some seriously unnatural goings on, that doesn’t mean you have to accept everything at face value.

Reality might be breaking apart around you, but you don’t have to join it, tempting though it may be to curl up into a ball and sob until the problem sorts itself out.

Desperate, your brain falls into a tailspin as it tries to rationalise such irrational circumstances.

Outwardly however, you’re aware he’s waiting for a response, so, sweeping your tongue nervously over your bottom lip, you finally croak out a hesitant, “No?”

The silence that follows is damn near chilling.

Twisting your neck up and back over your shoulder, you catch the shine in one of Strife’s luminous eyes peering at you, narrow and thin with obvious scepticism.

 “Huh,” he says, clicking his tongue, “That didn’t sound very convincing. I’m not very convinced.” Casting a look over at his brother, he adds, “War, are you very convinced?”

Predictably, War’s only response is to glower down at the shorter Horseman and grumble impatiently at the back of his throat.

Nonplussed, Strife returns his attention to you. “I don’t think he’s very convinced.”

You have to press your lips into a firm, immoveable line and swallow back the vulgar words you’d just love to spew all over his shoulder…. Instead, you heave in a hot, arduous breath and slowly reiterate, “No. I won’t try to run away.” Then for added measure… “Again.”

You loathe that you can feel the scrutiny of not one, but two apocalyptic beings boring into the side of your head with suspicious, calculating glares.

Just as you’re beginning to consider whether pulling his hair will get him to drop you or kill you, Strife suddenly perks up, his sinister doubt disappearing as he raises his chin to pipe, “A’right. Good enough for me.”

Taken wildly aback, you let your mouth hang open whilst Strife simply raises his arms and lays two oversized hands on your hips, causing your jaw to snap shut before you can emit an embarrassing squeak of fright.

With far too much ease, the Horseman lifts you up and off his shoulder.

The moment you lose the stability of his armour under your stomach, you begin to tilt forwards. Choking on a gasp, you throw your hands up and brace them on each of his forearms.

“Don’t worry, I gotcha,” he chuckles brightly, to your immense dismay.

It’s a disconcerting sight. From the tips of your fingers to the heels of your palms, your hands don’t even wrap halfway around his armoured wrists.

Gawking down at your appendages, they seem so lost against the enormity of the arms that lower you gently to the ground.

As soon as the soles of your shoes touch a solid surface again, you waste no time in ripping your hands away from him and staggering backwards, trying but failing to extract yourself from his sturdy grasp.

Before you can get very far at all, fingers of solid steel bury themselves into your dress at the hip and you jerk to an immediate halt for fear of tearing the fabric by struggling. Arms held aloft to avoid touching his own again, you throw a wary look up at Strife’s visor, reluctantly meeting those sharp, alien eyes and finding they’ve narrowed to thin lines of gold, gleaming brightly against the shadows cast by his helm.

“You’re gonna have to get used to sticking close to one of us, kid,” he warns, his tone brooking no argument and devoid of any previous jocularity, “Cause as nasty as you think we are, I guarantee there’re things in here that are a thousand times worse.”

The well you typically draw your courage from ran dry long ago, long before you came here, long before you quietly agreed to marry Cain. So, you aren’t sure where you find the nerve to jut out your chin and bitterly remark, “Worse than trying to slice off my limbs?”

Sudden movement freezes you in your shoes as War emerges from behind his brother, moving to stand at his side and swallowing you up in the egregious shadow he casts across the ground.

Ignoring his approach, the gunslinger continues to hold you still.

“Yeah,” he replies simply, “A lot worse.”

Squeezing your lips into a tight, anxious pout, you swallow, unnerved by the way his gaze instantly dips to watch your throat bob around the undulating motion.

Gradually, you lower your head, losing the defiance of a jutting chin to instead tuck it timidly away against your chest, consumed by the sudden and unwarranted ideas that start to flash in your mind’s eye, showing you gruesome fates that could await you just around the corner.

If two gigantic maniacs wielding guns and a sword aren’t the worst you could face…

Just what the Hell have you walked into?

Regarding you closely for a few more moments, Strife eventually gives his head a satisfied bob, deeming that you’ve read him loud and clear.

Gingerly, he starts to peel his fingers from your dress, wincing when the gaps in his gauntlets pinch the delicate fabric as he returns his hands to his sides. Regardless, all of his muscles remain bunched, ready to spring into action at the first sign that you might go back on your word and attempt to flee after all.

He’s almost more caught off guard when you don’t move.

Instead, you murmur a soft, “Thank you,” which just about smacks the jaw clean off his face. Staring down at you, his lips parted by a fraction, he watches you fiddle with a jewelled band of gold sitting at the base of one of your fingers for several seconds before he remembers to blink.

Indifferent, and admittedly ignorant of his sudden bout of silence, you try to distract yourself by absently brushing the palms of your hands over your dress, tutting softly at the creases and rumples in the tulle.

It’s all you can think to do now that you’ve got a little freedom back.

Nearby, War shifts his immense weight to stand even closer to Strife’s flank, and together, the brothers share a sidelong glance before returning their attention to the fussy, little human in front of them.

Even with the helm obscuring most of Strife’s angular features, War only needs to take one glance at his profile to catch the distinct and unmistakable gleam of fascination bleeding through the cracks in his armour.

Typical Strife, he scoffs to himself. The minute something new and shiny comes along, it’s all he seems to be able to think about. And there are very few things newer and shinier than a lost human dressed from head to toe in sparkling, white garb.

Hauling his eyes up towards the cavernous ceiling, War lets out an exasperated sigh and brusquely elbows Strife aside, sweeping him backwards with the palm of his prosthetic gauntlet, much to his brother’s belligerence.

“Hey!” he barks, though he goes entirely ignored.

Stepping sideways into the spot Strife had once occupied, War places his back to the smaller Nephilim and clears his throat, curious at the way you quickly stiffen like a prey animal and gradually lift your head.

He stands so close that you have to tip it all the way back before you’re even able to meet his eye, reminding him of how much smaller humans are. Smaller, and weaker…

The colossal Horseman almost can’t quite believe that for a member of a species so vulnerable, you don’t seem to possess any weapons. Natural or otherwise.

His eyes drift down to the long, pink line he’d marked you with. You hadn’t tried to claw or bite or do much of anything to stop him, not that it would have made an iota of difference. You were helpless… And he…

A pair of snowy white brows twitch microscopically inwards.

“Do you know how to fight?” he utters at last, lifting his gaze to meet your otherworldly stare. He doesn’t miss how you seem to be fixated on something behind his crimson hood, and if he has to hazard a guess, you’re staring directly at Chaoseater’s hilt.

Pulling a face, you look back at him and croak, “I… I-I’m sorry?”

Briefly wondering why in the nine Hells you’re apologising, he presses, “Have you any weapons training?” When all he receives it a blank stare, he casts his mind about for something primitive you’ll have heard of and adds, “Swords? Axes…? Bows?”

“Guns?” Strife eagerly pipes up from somewhere behind him.

Heaving an irritated sigh, War half turns his head over a shoulder and snaps, “She is a human. She doesn’t know what guns are.”

“I… What?” you peep, wrenched from your stupor by the absurdity of his declaration, “Uh… Yes, I do.”

Bemused, War raises his brow at you and retorts, “No, you do not.”

For a moment, you’re so dumbstruck by his apparent ignorance that you forget how much larger and more dangerous he is, enough that you pluck up the gall to scoff at him and insist, “Uh. I’m pretty sure I do? Humans have been using guns for centuries.”

Raising your hands, you start to knock a list off your fingers, unaware of the behemoth’s eyes growing wide.

“Shotguns, rifles, pistols-“ you state, pausing to throw a hand out and gesture at the guns in Strife’s leather holsters.  “Revolvers-!”

You’re unprepared for War to suddenly move forwards, instantly cutting off your rambling list and sending your glimmer of nerve scurrying back down your throat as he leans towards you, filling your field of view with his indomitable, ferocious scowl.

On a reflex, you tilt backwards with a hand on your chest, blinking owlishly up into the depths of his hood.

“How could you possibly know about firearms?” he demands, the sigil on his forehead burning with fiery heat as his temper flares.

Shaking your head rapidly, you stammer out, “I.. I don’t, I’m not-“

“-Hey,” Strife tries to interject, “C’mon, War. You’re scarin’ her.”

Disregarding his brother, the Horseman raises his voice and growls, “Who has been supplying you?! Speak!”

Your hands wring together as you try to form an answer, struggling in the face of someone who has proven they have no qualms about hurting you. But all you can produce is another pitiable whimper. “Nobody! We just-“

Before you can utter another sound, a large, silver hand suddenly appears over War’s shoulder, grabbing the metal pauldron that’s been forged in the likeness of a snarling face and tugging him away from you.

“War!” Strife barks, trying to wrench his brother around to face him, “I said back off.”

Savagely tearing his arm out of his grasp, War rounds on him, nostrils flaring like a raging bull. Flinging his arm out towards you indicatively, he bellows, “If humans are being supplied with weapons-!”

“-Then why’re you takin’ it out on her, and not the asshole trying to arm her species?”

War’s teeth click shut, his shoulders heaving with every breath he pulls into his train carriage chest.

Letting out a sigh, Strife sends a sideways glance at you, lowering his voice to add, “Come on. Look at who you’re trying to intimidate.”

Begrudgingly, War follows his brother’s line of sight.

You’re well aware you aren’t exactly giving humanity a good name right now, shivering like a wet leaf and holding your injured arm guardedly against your chest, all the while stifling a sob and eyeing War as if he’ll draw his sword and run you through at any moment.

For several, terrible seconds, the Horseman’s sneer remains locked in place, rigid and threatening, but as he watches you cower away from him, something in War’s almighty resolve shudders…

And yields.

Slowly, at a pace that would make a glacier yawn, his hard snarl recedes.

“See,” Strife points out, “You just look like a dick.”

The furious expression is back on War’s face in the blink of an eye, but at least this time, he aims it at his brother, opening his mouth to suck down a sharp breath, ready to berate him…

Rocks skitter across the ground somewhere too close for comfort, snatching the attention of your unlikely troop.

As one unit, Strife and War spin towards the far end of the chamber where the noise had come from, reaching for their weapons and placing their broad, armoured backs to you.

It would be the perfect opportunity to make a break for it, if you weren’t frozen solid by the prospect of running into whatever made these juggernauts so jumpy.

The former Horseman draws both of his guns from their holsters so quickly, your eyes can barely keep track of the movement. War, in the meantime, takes a gigantic step backwards as he swings his accursed sword over his shoulder, crowding you into a clumsy retreat to avoid having your toes stepped on.

Frantic, you try to peer through the gap between the titans, scanning the chamber walls for any sign of life.

“What the hell was that?” you can’t help but whisper-shout, hardly daring to breathe.

Neither of them replies for a time, not even Strife, who has his revolvers aimed out at the room, his arms still as statues as if he isn’t even vaguely affected by the weight of his guns.

Seconds tick by at an agonising pace, and the three of you wait, and wait, straining your ears to try and pick up another sound. But aside from the crackle of lava cooling as it hits the air, everything remains perfectly still and silent once more.  

After another minute, War grunts, lowering his sword and casting a dark look up at the ceiling. “We’ve lingered here for too long,” he remarks, half turning to peer down at you again, his eyes skimming over you from head to toe.

“So,” he starts, “You’ve handled guns?”

Shaking your head, you hold your hands out helplessly and say, “No, I mean, I know about them, but I-I’ve never actually shot one.”

“I could teach you,” Strife pipes up, thrusting the revolvers back into their holsters with casual ease.

“Now is hardly the time, brother,” War snaps, still eyeing you pensively.

Something very strange has been hovering about you like a miasma ever since you crashed into his brother in the Void. Something unplaceable that he can’t quite put his finger on. You are human, that much is confirmed, but you’re not like any human he’s ever heard of. It’s a troubling notion, that some unseen force might be trying to arm your species. If that’s the case, they’ll need to figure out who. Then why.

But in the meantime, he and Strife have a job to do, here and now.

First thing’s first…

“… Never handled a weapon,” he murmurs aloud.

It makes sense, he concedes. Humans aren’t a war-faring species, so it’s little wonder that you don’t know how to use weapons… For War, however, a Nephilim who has been holding a blade since the day he was risen from dust, the concept seems so alien, not to mention disconcerting.

Inclining his head, he gives you another once-over before turning away, stating matter-of-factly, “You will be a liability.”

It’s such a blasé statement, accusing, as if you’re culpable of something you’ve had no control over thus far. It actually makes you recoil as you draw your head back to fix him with an incredulous frown, lips parted, and your brows furrowed heavily above your eyes.

Despite every fibre of your being telling you that there’s a terrible idea forming at the back of your mind, you take a step away, lean your weight on your heel, and start to size him up.

Now, you’ve picked some battles before, tried to stand up to people you had no business standing up to. Cain and Delilah nipped that streak in the bud back when you thought asserting your opinion on matters of marriage should make a difference. Those battles were wildly different from this one, and you lost, every time, worn down and beaten back from the woman you used to be by wills stronger and more tempered than yours. You used to think you could face the world bravely, and all it took were a few people to show you that you weren’t as strong as you liked to think you were. It humbled you, and over time, you learned an easier life was synonymous with a passive life.

But you’ve been passive a lot lately.

Maybe you’ve been running on cold feet for too long. Maybe this whole, nightmarish interruption to your routine is finally catching up to you and numbing you to sense and logic, but truth be told?

You really don’t like hearing that this is somehow your fault.

Balling your hands into fists, you swallow thickly, and steady yourself with a noisy breath, wondering if this will be the moment you get to learn if there’s a Heaven as well as a Hell.

“Hey! I didn’t ask you to bring me with you, okay?” you say in a wobbly voice, staring at a spot just past his left arm to avoid his glare lest your words fail you completely, “Maybe, if I’m such a liability, you should just leave me to find my own way home!”

His head snaps properly in your direction with such velocity, you let out a gasp, flinching backwards and shrinking in on yourself again, your eyes darting to his lips that curl just the slightest in one corner, and the little bit of gall sitting on your tongue shrivels up and dies at the back of your throat.

Oh well. It was nice to have your guts back while it lasted. Just a pity they’re probably about to get ripped out of you for raising your voice.

For a number of unpleasant seconds, War merely regards you like you’ve just completely thrown him for a loop, neither raising his sword nor his fist to send you spinning off your mortal coil into the aether.

Finally, just as you’re beginning to fidget under his inspection, he quirks his brow at you and slowly states, “If you leave… you will die.”

You were expecting him to lose his temper again, to shout you down or put you down, not remark on your chances of survival.

“Oh, as if you give a shit about that,” you huff guardedly, curling a palm over your marred forearm and eyeing the Horseman like he’ll tear you in half for daring to call attention to the injury he caused.

War’s stance and expression don’t change in the slightest. He only continues to observe you coolly from inside his hood, ignoring the frequent looks Strife keeps flicking between the pair of you.

After a further spell of silence in which you seem to grow impossibly smaller, he at last gives an appraising hum and straightens his shoulders, jerking his head towards his brother and declaring, “You will stay close to Strife.”

Wait… You will?

“I will?” you say aloud, sending the other Horseman a distrustful glance. Strife, for his part, looks conversely pleased with the verdict, his head tipping coltishly to one side as he gives you a little wave.

… Well, you suppose if you have to choose between the two, the less time you spend near War the better. You assume he feels the same about having to be close to you, at least until he adds, “If we run into trouble, his guns allow him range. He will not let anything to get close to you.”

“They’re welcome to try,” his brother says cheerfully, thumbing the stock of a revolver.

Wilting like a helpless flower plucked from its patch of earth, you weakly ask, “Do I have a choice?”

Giving a hearty chuckle, Strife takes an exaggerated step closer to your side and pivots on his heel to face the same direction, cheerfully replying, “Ah, c’mon. Don’t be like that. I thought you humans were social. Safety in numbers, and all that?”

Disconcerted by his proximity, you lean away from him, cupping your elbows. “That’s not true for all of us,” you mumble.

You hear his intake of breath and prepare yourself for yet more inane chatter, but at that moment, you jump as another howl – distant but hair-raising – comes drifting into the chamber from some unknown offshoot deeper in the keep’s depths.

“Fucking hell,” you quake, your voice shaking like glass on the verge of shattering.

At your side, Strife mutters, “My sentiments exactly.”

Raising his head to catch War’s eye, he swings his chin towards the only visible exit; the apex of a wide, stone staircase that winds down away from the chamber, disappearing into a tunnel below. “You wanna take point?”

War’s response is a rich, throaty hum, accompanied by a decisive nod. “Indeed, we have wasted more than enough time here. Let us find Vulgrim’s troubling demon and pry the artifact from its cold, dead hands.”

“Ohho-okay!” Strife grins, suddenly gleeful as he claps his hands together, “Now you’re getting me excited.”

Rolling his eyes, War turns away and makes for the stairs, swinging his arm up to clip Chaoseater into its usual place on his back. Blankly watching him leave, you give a start when something metal and solid nudges at the small of your back, prodding you to stumble forwards awkwardly until Strife’s knuckles drop and he falls into step beside you, one stride for every two and a half of yours.

 “I love it when he gets like this,” he remarks.

 Begrudgingly, you resign yourself to trail after his brother and ask, “What? Murderous?”

“Oh yeah. Even he can be fun.” Tilting his head to the side in thought, he adds, “On occasion.”

Sweat has been steadily gathering on your forehead, and as you finally begin to move, a tiny droplet breaks free of your brow and trickles slowly down the side of your face. Of all the days to get swept up in a Universe-spanning caper, it would be the day you elected to wear one of the most awkward and cumbersome dresses known to man.

“So far none of this has been fun,” you huff, reaching up to flick the sweat drop away with a finger.

Strife’s boots hit the top step and he twists his helm sideways to shoot you a mock-offended smirk, “Not even me?”

You don’t bother to respond to that, instead throwing nervous glances around the room as you lift the front of your skirts and start to descend the staircase, your heels clacking noisily against the hard stone underfoot and echoing off the high walls. Somewhere nearby, you can hear liquid lava squeaking and splintering as it hits the marginally cooler air, though the heat only seems to grow more stifling the further you venture.

Absently, you wonder if you remembered to put your setting spray in the bag.

The staircase spirals down into the depths of a tunnel, twisting out of view and giving you no concept of what might lay ahead. To your left, you note the presence of tall, metal spikes jutting from a pit that runs alongside the stairs, like a wrought-iron fence whose purpose has been retrofitted into an inefficient and hostile railing. From the corner of an eye, you spot something round and ivory impaled halfway down one of those spikes. A single glimpse is all you need before you immediately avert your gaze to the stairs ahead, heart thumping in your chest. Behind you, a pair of dark, unseeing eye sockets seem to sear into your back as you continue your descent.

As you move lower, more signs start to appear that you aren’t the only visitors to this keep. Sconces line the wall, roaring with open flames that cast the path ahead in an orange glow. Two, iron firepits stand on either side of the staircase at its base, and it’s here that War has paused. It strikes you that in spite of his size, he’s slightly more camouflaged in this place than he was in the void, his scarlet cloak and dark grey armour blending well with the rock and heat around him.

As you and Strife come to a stop behind War, you lean sideways and find yourself peering tentatively into the space beyond his bulk.

The tunnel has opened up into another spacious chamber, and the path beyond the stairs has opened up too, into a vast, circular area with no walls or boundaries, nothing but another deep pit that sweeps around it, carrying a river of flowing, basaltic lava to somewhere further into the - as Strife had called it -‘dungeon.’

Maybe you really are in some kind of volcano. The urge to find a way out of here increases dramatically, but with Strife watching your back a little too closely and War cutting off an escape from the front, your options, at the moment, are quite limited.

At last, War takes a step out onto the level ground, then another and another, stalking forwards with his head on a constant swivel, vigilant. Strife, in the meantime, walks out with a confident swagger, ensuring to walk slightly behind you to keep you moving up in front.

Tearing your eyes off the pit, you focus instead on the behemoth stomping ahead of you. He’s already on the other side by the time you and Strife make it halfway across. For a split second, you almost let yourself feel a pinch of guilt for wearing such inappropriate shoes and slowing the Horsemen down, but you’re just as quick to take the feeling and grind it up under said heels, curling your lip distastefully. You weren’t exactly given a chance to pack for this ‘excursion.’

“Y’know,” Strife says abruptly, breaking you from your thoughts, and just in time too. You glance down and see the lip of the platform’s edge rise up to meet you. It likely would have tripped you if you’d remained lost in your head. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Death will be pleased to hear it,” War remarks from up ahead.

The back of his hood receives a simmering glare, but Strife is quick to brush the dig aside and continue, “If Lucifer is as dangerous as the Council says he is, why’d they send just the two of us?”

If the uneven ground didn’t manage to trip you up, his comment definitely does. Stumbling on the heel of your foot, you hurriedly try to right yourself, swatting irritably at Strife’s hand that reaches out to steady you. There’s that name again. Lucifer. Would it be naïve of you to hope that their ‘mission’ doesn’t somehow involve the Biblical Devil? You’ve managed to survive for the better part of an hour, but you don’t like how the odds are quickly stacking up against you with every step you take.

“Death and Fury attend to other matters,” War responds simply, “It is not our place to question the will of the Council.”

Apparently unable to let his brother’s earlier tease slide after all, Strife rolls his eyes and quips, “It’s not my place to question your wardrobe, but I still think your armour could use some more creepy faces on it.”

You’re not sure how much you like trailing in between the sizeable men, especially when the more sizeable of the two slows his gait to aim a vicious snarl over his shoulder. “Must everything be a joke to you?” War snaps, “The Council-!”

“-Ugh!” Cutting his brother off with a pompous groan, Strife throws his helm back. “You really need to lighten up.” Then, lowering his voice to a deeper pitch, apparently for the sole purpose of mocking the far scarier Horseman, he taunts, “The Council this, and The Council that! You wanna hear an actual joke?”

Facing forwards again, War responds with a firm, flat, “No.”

Strife, of course, doesn’t seem to have the same reservations as you do about antagonising someone with the name ‘War.’

In fact, you carry yourself so rigidly in fear of being caught in the middle of a scrap that you almost have the wind knocked out of you quite literally when Strife chimes in with a phrase so familiar to you, you just about choke on your own spit.

“Knock knock…”

The classic setup, so universally understood that you almost wonder if humans are born with an inbuilt recognition system designed to identify two simple, unassuming words.

The three of you pass beneath an open portcullis, but you barely notice the jagged bars of iron looming above you because you’re so busy trying to pick your jaw up off the ground.

You can’t see Strife’s face, and you don’t dare turn around to gape at him in case you end up taking a painful tumble. Instead, numbly, you continue to stare ahead with unblinking eyes, vaguely taking in the narrow path ahead of you, and the apparent end of it fast approaching.

War makes a dismissive sound, an irked mutter of something too low for you to make out.

Clearing his throat when he doesn’t receive a response, Strife prompts, “You’re supposed to say, ‘who’s there?”

You can’t quite believe you’re hearing this. Perhaps the idea that you’ve been drugged isn’t so unlikely after all because this isn’t something you could ever come up with sober.

Ahead of you, the stone pathway falls away in an abrupt drop, and the ceiling of the tunnel disappears, both opening out into yet another cavern, this one more spacious than the first two.

Or, you continue to muse to yourself, maybe you really did die in that church graveyard, and the chemicals released in your brain have conjured a hallucination of this pair of giants to serve as some unconvincing reapers who will guide you into the afterlife.

War comes to a stop at the edge of the escarpment, and unseen by you or Strife, his expression scrunches up in confusion and he asks, “Why would I give away my location? I would simply smash through the door and face my assailant.”

Oh. Wow. That’s…

“Ugh, you’re hopeless,” Strife complains as he draws to a halt just behind you and his brother on the rocky ledge. For a second, he’s distracted with casting his keen eye over the chamber, so he doesn’t notice you lower your face to the floor, your lips pursed like you’re trying to keep a cough in.

He does, however, notice straight away when, instead of escaping through your mouth, the sound you’re desperately trying to hold in finds its escape through your nose instead, and out jumps a sharp, unbecoming ‘snort!’

It’s unexpected. So much so that you’re just as surprised to hear it as the Horsemen. At once, you slap a palm over the lower half of your face in horror, a cold rush of dread trickling down into your stomach.

Eyes blown wide open, you stare at the ground, only too aware of the heavy silence that settles over you like a blanket, thicker than the heat pressing in all around you. You’re not even willing to raise your head because you can feel two sets of eyes watching you from above.

For too long, all you can hear is the ringing in your ears and your own pulse throbbing just beneath the skin of your temples. The silence swells, tuning up like an orchestra, deafening you to every sound save for that accursed, high-pitched ringing caused by the crushing grit of your teeth.

“Did…?” Strife’s voice cuts through the atmosphere like a headsman’s axe, “Did you just… laugh?”

Your jaw eases apart, and the ringing fades.

The telltale ‘clunk’ of War’s boots alert you to him turning from the ledge, pointing himself in your direction instead.

Suddenly and appropriately alarmed that you just snorted at someone nearly three times your size, you instantly shift from freeze to flight and throw your head up, only to find yourself blinking apprehensively into War’s face, etched with his signature frown.

“I-I wasn’t laughing at you,” you rush out, backing away from the scowling Horseman a little too far and ending up colliding right into Strife’s torso.

With a tiny yelp, you leap forwards again, tossing glances back and forth between them whilst they continue to stare you down. “It’s just-! I haven’t heard a knock-knock joke in so long, it… It just surprised me.”

A pause ensues, and then quietly – eagerly – Strife asks, “You know what knock-knock jokes are?”

Wondering why that’s his first question, you offer him a timid nod. And then you’re immediately flinching away from him when he barks out an abrupt, disbelieving laugh and straightens up, his chest swelling proudly.

“No kidding. Y’know, not to brag,” he brags, jabbing a thumb into his sternum, “But I practically invented knock-knock jokes.”

Well, who are you to argue with the man carrying two guns? “O-oh?”

“Brother,” War complains, “We do not have time for your-“

“-Here! Here, try this one,” Strife rushes out, leaning towards you a little too fast for your liking, “Knock knock.”

You start to get the impression he’s been waiting for an opportunity like this to come along for quite some time. Sparing his brother a nervous glance, you wet your lips and tentatively indulge him, “Uh, okay, who’s there?”

Taking a breath as if he means to brace himself, Strife says, “The interrupting War.”

Oh… Oh, for God’s sake...

You try to steady the muscles in your cheeks, sending another wary look over at the juggernaut clenching his fists by the ledge.

Still, with Strife waiting for an answer, you slowly and dutifully sigh, “The interrupting War wh-“

You knew it was coming. You knew the gist of the punchline if not the punchline itself, but you’re still wholly unprepared when Strife cuts you off by crossing his arms over his chest and letting out a loud, resounding growl.

 “Grr! The Council~!”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you immediately purse your lips, your cheeks aching with the effort of keeping a straight face. You wonder if this is the start of another emotional breakdown because the joke isn’t even particularly funny, but there’s just a familiarity to the formula that almost comes as a welcome relief, like Earth isn’t so far away after all.

A brother teasing his sibling… There’s something almost human about it, abating just the tiniest modicum of terror bubbling away inside your stomach.

Clearing your throat, you keep your lips puckered and inhale deeply through your nostrils in an attempt to compose yourself. Perhaps its Strife’s enthusiasm that lends itself to the humour of the situation, or perhaps it’s simply the absurdity of such a large and formidable brute doing something as innocuous as telling you a knock-knock joke at the expense of his brother, but whatever the case may be, when you open your mouth to tell him it wasn’t that funny, your lips spring up at their corners, contradicting you immediately.

“Think it needs some work,” you say, your voice wobbling.

“Needs work?” he parrots, his own mouth quirking into a grin as he clocks your expression, “Then why are you smiling?”

It takes no small amount of effort to wrestle your face back under control. “I’m not smiling,” you insist, “That isn’t how humans smile.”

Strife, naturally, isn’t fooled at all.

“Ah ha! It is! She’s smiling!” he gloats, jabbing his thumbs at his own mask, “I’m funny! And you-!” Swivelling his head up to War, he pokes a finger at his brother’s face and declares, “You were wrong.”

You make the mistake of glimpsing underneath the stoic Horseman’s hood, wincing when you find him sporting an expression of absolute thunder. He glowers down at you as if to say, ‘Now look at what you’ve started.’

Outwardly, he flattens his brows and exhales slowly through his nose, “Yes, you must be very proud that you’ve found the one, sole creature in the Universe who finds you almost as funny as you find yourself.”

Flapping a hand dismissively at his brother’s words, Strife blows a snort through his lips and tuts, “Ah, you’re just jealous she likes me better.”

You decide not to chime in with the fact that you don’t, in fact, particularly like either of them.

Besides, if War is at all concerned with his new ranking, he certainly doesn’t bother to let you know.

“If you are quite finished cheapening our reputation…” he growls, whirling away from Strife and stepping up to the very edge of the platform.

“Oh, I haven’t even gotten started.”

Before you can protest, the masked Horseman lays a hand on your back and nudges you forwards until you’re standing next to his brother, then takes up his own lookout on the escarpment to your left.

Snugly sandwiched between them, you squash your arms into your sides, grimacing at the sharp angles of their armour that threaten to snag your dress as you try to shuffle backwards, but you don’t manage to retreat further than a few inches before you happen to cast a cursory look out at the view ahead and promptly freeze in your tracks.

Eyes bulging, your jaw falls open and you let out a soft, incredulous breath, your brain racing to take stock of what it’s seeing.

“Oh god.”

The path ends abruptly, falling away just a few paces from the toes of your shoes. And waiting beyond the precipice is a rock-walled cavern of absolutely phenomenal scale, far larger than those you’ve already come through. At its centre, rising from a chasm down below, there’s a rocky platform large enough to fit your house within its dimensions several times over. From what you can see, there isn’t any conceivable way to cross over to it, save for sprouting wings and flying. You’re not even confident you could pitch a tennis ball across the gap and have it land on the other side.

Scalding heat prickles your brow, and when you glance down to see where it stems from, you give an audible gasp as you look past the toes of your shoes and over the pathway’s crumbling edge.

Far, far below you, a stomach-churning drop lays in wait.

Thirty… forty-something feet of shimmering air is all that stands between you and a vast lake of red-hot lava.

“Hey, look down there,” Strife’s voice twitches your ear.

At your side, he raises an arm to point at the platform and says, “See that grate?”

With no small effort, you wrench your eyes off the pit of death and lift it to the level of raised stone, blinking your eyes hard to moisten them again after staring at the lava.

At once, you spot what he’s indicating.

Right at the centre of the platform, set into the stone floor itself, is a large, circular grate, vaguely reminiscent of the bars of a prison cell.

From the darkness below it, you can just make out a faint, pink glow seeping through the metal gridiron.

War answers his brother with a hum that vibrates in your chest.

“What’d you think?” Strife prods, “Reckon that’s where they’ve stashed Vulgrim’s artefact?”

Studying it for a few seconds, War eventually nods. “Something is definitely down there…” he murmurs, “No doubt that grate is heavily fortified.”

Shooting him a sly look, the smaller Horseman adds, “Shouldn’t be too much of a problem for you to pick the lock though, right?”

It’s disconcerting to see War with any expression other than a scowl, so to witness him return a smirk over the top of your head sends a veritable shiver right up your spine.

Lifting his arms, he slams his fist into the palm of his gauntlet with a resounding ‘thwack.’

Amused, Strife turns to thrust his chin at the gut-wrenching gap between the path you’re standing on and the edge of the central platform.

“What about that? Think you can make that jump?”

“J-jump!?” you blurt out, whipping your head up to stare at him like he’s lost his mind.

Hell, maybe he has.

Briefly, War’s eyes flit down to you before he returns his gaze to his fellow Horseman, scoffing, “Is that a serious question?”

And without another word, he begins taking several steps backwards, away from the ledge.

“Wait,” you sputter, shooting him an incredulous look as he continues to back up along the path, “You’re not really going to-“

You don’t even get to finish your sentence.

Before you can blink, War pushes off on his back foot and lurches forwards, his boots pounding against the stone hard enough to send powerful quakes all along the path as he charges straight for the edge.

You think you let out an alarmed yelp, but there’s not much else you can do except helplessly gawk as the Horseman, laden down by his heavy, clanking armour, plants his boot centimetres from the crumbling edge of the path and unceremoniously launches himself, his sword, and all of his bulk off solid ground, soaring out over the lava-drowned chasm below.

With a comically loud gasp, you slap your palms over your eyes, yet you can’t resist peeking through splayed fingers to watch.

Why the Hell would he do that!? There’s no way he’ll make it, you tell yourself, not with all that weight dragging him down.

You wanted to get away from him, yes but… shit. You didn’t want him to get himself killed doing it!

It’s as if you’re staring at a runaway train, waiting in morbid fascination for it to derail. Something in the nature of a disaster unfolding keeps you rooted to the spot, unable to tear your attention away from it.  

There’s power and grace in the way War sails over the gap, an impossible feat, further than any Olympic gold medallist would ever hope to achieve. And then, to your utmost astonishment, he makes it.

Metal boots hit the stone platform with an almighty ‘clang’ on the other side, and he dips his knees as he lands to absorb the impact.

You’re almost certain you can see the whole structure quiver from the force.

For several moments, you merely stand there with your mouth hanging ajar whilst War rises to his full height again and turns around, tipping his face up to see you staring back at him, your eyes wide with unconcealed awe.

“How. The fuck…?” you say emphatically, blowing out a disbelieving little whistle. You might not trust the man, but even you can appreciate a good stunt when you see one. Giving your head a shake, you briefly forget you’re supposed to be their kidnappee and gush, “That was incredible!”

Your voice carries easily across the sizeable gap and reaches the Horseman’s ears, erasing the hard line between his brows. Taken aback, War blinks, pressing his lips together bashfully in lieu of a response. ‘Perhaps it was rather impressive,’ he privately concedes, ‘from a human’s perspective…’

Back on the escarpment, Strife’s keen gaze makes out the befuddled expression warping his brother’s typically impassive face, and he sends several glances between you and War, pursing his lips at the glimmer lighting up your eyes.

“Oh yeah?” he huffs, “You think that was impressive?”

A loud clap rings out across the cavern, causing you to jump as Strife smacks his palms together. “Okay, little miss,” he announces behind you, “Your turn.”

Just like that, the colour promptly drains from your face. “My what?”

You don’t have time to spin around and face him, for not a second later, a powerful arm scoops your legs out from underneath you whilst the other snakes around the back of your shoulders, hauling you clean off the floor and pressing you to a hard, armoured chest.

“Oh for-! Stop grabbing me!” you complain, planting your hands on his clavicle and shoving yourself away as best you can, “Are you insane!? I am not jumping over that!”

Cocking his helm at you, he spares you an innocent blink. “You’re not?”

You don’t like how much levity is lacing his tone.

“NO!” you squawk, aghast, “Absolutely not! Let me go!”

One of the Horseman’s eyes narrows to squint at you before he angles his helm very pointedly towards the platform. “You sure?”

Something about his question gives you pause.

Hesitating, you snap your head in the same direction and follow his line of sight. It doesn’t take you more than a second to glean the bastard’s intent.

Now you really don’t like the way he’s looking at you, his upturned eyelids the clearest indication that he’s smiling quite broadly underneath his visor.

Your stomach gives an unpleasant lurch.

“Oh, if you dare…” you hiss.

Daringly, he raises his sizeable shoulders in a shrug and chirps, “Lesson one; Don’t ever dare a Horseman, kid. You’re always bound to lose.”

He wouldn’t…

Flashing you a golden wink, Strife turns his body sideways and swings you to the right, like a rugby player readying a forward pass.

It finally occurs to you that, oh, good god, he would.

“Wait-! WA-WAIT! STRIFE!” Issuing a high-pitched, wordless scream, you start to flail, but his ironclad grip on your legs and shoulders keeps you from launching yourself out of his arms.

Somewhere across the chasm, War’s voice drifts up to you, though you hardly hear it above your undignified shrieks. “Brother?”

The muscles around you bunch up, solidifying as hard as the stone underfoot.

“See you on the other side!” is all the cheery warning you get.

“Don’t you DA---AAAAARRRGGHHH!”

He’s moving before you can think to adhere yourself to his arm.

Sidestepping into a purposeful bound, the Horseman flings his arms to the left, with you in tow, and when they get to the zenith of his reach, they disappear out from under you, letting you go hurtling spine first out over the chasm like a screaming, thrashing blimp, dress and all.

You have several phobias that you were aware of before you fell into this godforsaken place. Phobias that, for the most part, have been quite avoidable in your day-to-day life.

Finding yourself suspended in the air over a pit without a safety net underneath you… add some lava to break your fall, and you suddenly realise as you’re flying through empty space that you’ve just discovered an entirely new phobia to add to the list.

Sailing in a none-too graceful arch, you stare in disbelief back at the silver Horseman on the ledge, your dress billows out behind you and the scorching air whips your veil over your face, tugging at your hair where the grips are heroically keeping it situated. Likewise, some subconscious part of you instructs your toes to grip like vices on the insoles of your heels, valiantly trying to stop them from plummeting off your feet.

Inevitably, as is the case with the laws of physics, you reach the height of your curve, and that’s when gravity seizes you by the heart and starts to drag you back down, sending your stomach crashing up into your diaphragm.

Time seems to slow as you descend, reaching back for Strife as if he could somehow stretch across the gap and catch you. You can’t see behind yourself, and it’s all you can do to hope that you pass out on the way down, so you don’t have to feel your body melt into a puddle in the hungry maw of the lava below.

It hurts your chest something fierce to think that the last anyone will see of you is your terror-stricken face and your raised hand closing into a fist, bar one choicely extended finger.

The hot wind screams past your ears and you screw your eyes shut tight, squeezing out the last tears you’re ever going to cry. Your father’s face flashes in your mind’s eye, and you wonder what you did to set off this chain of events.

Strife said he wouldn’t hurt you…

What a joke.

‘WHAM!’

Your mouth jerks open, wheezing out a gasp as something suddenly slams into you from behind, knocking the air violently from your lungs. Or rather, you crash into something with the force of a white, ruffled meteorite and nearly lose your heart through your open mouth.

At first, you assume you must have smacked into the hard side of the platform, but then the Something you’ve collided with grunts, and you hurriedly wrench your eyes open, coming to focus on a monstrous, metal gauntlet that’s secured itself under your knees, crushing your dress between prodigious fingers whilst something equally large presses across your shoulder blades.

With a kick in the guts, you realise you’re being held aloft in much the same way Strife had been holding you mere moments ago.

He caught you… War caught you.

Finally, you remember to gulp in a noisy breath to refill your desperate lungs.

You’re not dead.

But you are, in fact, shaking.

And as the revelation that you’re still alive sets in, your limbs start to wobble in earnest.

“STRIFE!” You visibly flinch when War’s terrible, wonderful, abrasive, beautiful voice booms like a claxon right above your head. “You fool!”

Even through layers of solid metal and leather padding, the Horseman can feel you trembling under his palms. Propping your neck in the crook of his elbow, he lifts his head to level a snarl up at where Strife still stands on the escarpment whilst you unclench your fists from your lap, heaving air in and out of your lungs in hysterical little bursts.

“What were you thinking!?” he bellows.

Leaning over the side to look down at you and your unwitting saviour, Strife throws his arms out wide and argues, “She said to let her go!”

“You knew what she meant!” A deep thrum rolls around in his chest, spreading up his throat and spilling out in another growl so deep it rattles the teeth in your skull. “You could have damaged her!”

“Oh relax, I wouldn’t have tossed her if I didn’t think you’d catch her.”

War slides his lips back to reveal his inhumanly sharp canines, but at that moment, something tugs very lightly at the fabric of his cowl.

Faltering, he angles his chin down and nearly gives a start.

Tiny hands have wandered towards him, found the scarlet material hanging from around his neck and latched onto it with possessive intent, fingers twisting themselves into his cowl and getting lost amongst the folds, as if you fully expect him to toss you over the side as well. The strange, white veneer lays draped across your face, so he can’t see your expression when you unexpectedly twist about in his arms and pull yourself a little closer to his chest.

Caught off guard, War remains stock-still, seriously contemplating whether or not he should drop you right then and there to spare himself from Strife’s potential teasing.

His bulging arms give a twitch, which in turn causes you to cringe, letting out a quiet bleat and further entangling your fingers around his cowl.

This, War decides, was not in the job description when the Charred Council made him a Horseman. Still, whatever he might think of you, he can’t bring himself to drop you in a heap on the ground.

For once, he might be out of his depth.

As soon as the notion occurs to him, he brusquely flicks it away with a toss of his head.

Taking a large step back, he slowly ambles himself about until he’s facing away from Strife and the platform’s edge, then stomps several paces towards the central grate, only stopping once he hears the loud clang of metallic boots hitting the stone behind him as his fellow Horseman leaps to the lower level.

Gingerly, almost as though he expects you to shatter if he moves too quickly, War bends down until he’s almost on a knee and starts to withdraw the arm that’s wrapped around your legs, a stoic frown tugging his brows towards the centre of his forehead when you refuse to let go of his hood.

Grumbling, he lowers you until your shoes click on the stone floor, and then he slips his hand out from under your knees, moving it up and taking both of your wrists between his gauntlet’s fingertips and thumb, mindful of the delicate limbs he’s handling.

He can still recall how you’d nearly crumpled to your knees when he got a little heavy handed trying to apply the poultice to your arm. He truly thought he had been correct in gauging the pressure he needed to apply to your flesh to draw blood. He’d only meant to take a little. Just enough to prove the validity of your claim. What an idea that had turned out to be. If War were being honest with himself, he’d been outright startled when your skin peeled open so readily to admit Chaoseater’s blade.

So, if he’s a little more careful in prying your hands off his cowl than he ought to be, well, that’s his own business.

It doesn’t take much coaxing before you seem to come back into yourself.

With a sudden jolt, you wrench your hands away from his hood and start to struggle valiantly with the veil on your face, flipping it back over your head and choking on a sob as your knees start to buckle.

Planting both of his palms on your shoulders, War hauls you upright again.

“Steady,” he murmurs as if he’s addressing a wounded soldier, not a frightened human, “On your feet.”

The sound of clanking boots drifts closer, approaching from his rear.

War bristles, but he’s not the only one who heard Strife’s footsteps.

“You okay, kid?” the gunslinger’s voice drifts over to you, and War watches your jaw cinch shut, the hands at your sides curling into fists as you attempt to stop them from shaking.

Whirling around, you tear yourself from the Horseman’s gauntlets, your dress twirling gracefully around your ankles to find Strife standing a few paces behind you, paused halfway between one step and the next.

Blurting out a delirious laugh, you shoot him a bloodshot stare, half tempted to rip your bag off and lob it at his head.

“Am I okay?!” you echo, “Have you completely lost your mind!?”

Peering down at you appraisingly, War makes a sound that might be affirming, and even his brother lifts a hand to tilt it back and forth in a ‘so-so’ motion.

Breathing hard, you resist the urge to scream and instead lower your head, massaging at your throbbing temples.

Slowly, through gritted teeth, you seethe, “I am trapped… inside a volcano… with two of the scariest people I’ve ever met…”

Strife shares a look with War, the former’s frame wilting as if he’s put out, while the latter, by contrast, almost seems proud of the achievement.

“I,” you continue, a humourless grin straining at your lips, “Just found out that demons exist! I also found out that Lucifer is apparently real…! It is my fucking wedding day!” Vitriol drips from your teeth like venom, and with each passing word, your voice grows louder and louder. “And! I just got chucked! Like a…  like a fucking pigskin over a river! Of LAVA!”

All around you, the cavern echoes with the throes of your furious shout, bouncing off the rock walls and coming back to you ten times over before it fades into an uneasy silence.

Lungs heaving with the effort of raising your voice, you stop to breathe, finding, to your dismay, that tears are spilling onto your cheeks, only to start evaporating on your skin in the smouldering heat.

Clearing your throat, you sweep a few fingertips delicately beneath your eyes and wipe away the lingering evidence of moisture cutting tracks through your blusher. “So, no,” you sniffle, “For your information, I am not o-fucking-kay… I think I’m about as far from okay as it gets.”

It’s almost satisfying that the gung-ho Horseman can in fact be made to shut up.

Fidgeting idly with the gauntlet on his left hand, Strife shoots several glances at War, but finds no source of assistance in his fellow Nephilim’s cold, critical glare.

“Uh,” he starts, clenching his hands into fists and opening them again, “I mean… it was kind of funny, right?” He lets out a chuckle that falls painfully flat. “You should’ve seen your face.”

Your jaw begins to ache from grinding your teeth together like you’re trying to crush coal into diamonds.

“Knock-knock jokes are funny,” you say stiffly, turning away from him to scowl at the ground, “People don’t get hurt.”

Draping a hand over his hip, Strife lowers his voice and asks, “Come on, you really thought I’d let you get hurt?”

“OF COURSE I DID!” you suddenly bellow so loudly your voice cracks, “You threw me over a lava pit!”

“War caught you, didn’t he?”

“What if he hadn’t!?”

Strife doesn’t even hesitate before he offers his palms to the ceiling and says, “Then I wouldn’t’ve done it.”

“Why the hell would you-!? Why even take the risk!?”

“There never was any risk,” he shrugs far too nonchalantly, sending his brother a knowing look, “Besides, this is a good thing, right? Now you know you can trust War to keep you alive.”

Pulling a face, you allow a spiteful scoff to burst out of your mouth, arms folding sternly across your chest. “Oh, so that was all so you could prove some point to me, was it? Jesus, what is wrong with you?!”

“Now there’s a door best left unopened,” War chimes in.

At last recognising that there’s some, invisible line he’s crossed, Strife holds his hands up placatingly. “Look,” he concedes, scratching at the back of his head and disturbing the thick spines of ebony hair growing behind his helm, “After what happened back in the Void, I just thought, if we proved we could keep you safe, you’d… maybe start to trust us a little more, y’know?”

You have to take a moment to stare at him, waiting for his words to sink in for you, and hopefully for him as well. “So… you thought you’d show me you can keep me safe by… launching me over a lava pit, and expecting me to know your brother would catch me?”

The Horseman doesn’t speak for several seconds. When he eventually does, he crosses his arms over his chest and huffs, “I mean, if you’re only gonna focus on the first part, sure the plan had holes.”

“Well,” you say haughtily, “No offence, but I trust you two about as far as I could throw you. Which, you’ll be shocked to hear, isn’t very far at all. And unlike you-“ Here, you jab a finger up at his silver visor. “- I’m not strong enough to go around throwing people off the edge of cliffs!”

Once again, Strife remains silent, rapping his fingertips on a metal bicep. Soon enough however, he lowers his head and peers up at you from beneath the lip of his helm’s sockets, prodding, “It was a pretty good throw though, huh?”

“It was a very good throw!” you agree sharply, blowing out a rough exhale as your heartbeat finally begins to ease off the throttle, “Neither of you even had a run up. You two are like something straight out of a comic book… Except without the charisma… and altruism...”

“Comic…?” War asks, frowning, “Then… you are amused?”

“No, not comic like-…” You inhale. You exhale. “Never mind. Weren’t you guys supposed to be looking for something?”

Just like that, the pair of titans straighten up with a start, and you wonder if their ‘mission’ really had slipped their minds for a while.

Rolling his shoulders back, War just grumbles something inaudible and begins moving purposefully towards the grate.

You stand back to let him pass, chewing thoughtfully on your bottom lip as you mull over what you’re about to say.

“Hey, big guy?”

At once, War stops and swivels his head sideways, silver hair spilling out from underneath his hood.

Shuffling awkwardly on your feet, you avoid the pale, unblinking eye that’s trained on your face and call, “Thanks…. For catching me.”

You won’t thank him for healing your arm when he was the one who cut it in the first place. But this? You can swallow your grudge for this. At least for a little while.

Several seconds tick by without a response, and the only sound you can hear is the heavy clanking of boots on stone as Strife ventures up behind you.

And then at last, War’s head falls and rises in an almost imperceptible nod.

When he turns away, you suddenly feel like you can breathe again.

How can one man be so intimidating just by standing still and saying nothing?

You’ve already deduced that the two Horsemen are like chalk and cheese, with one half of the duo serving as the strong, silent type, and the other, a smart-mouthed chatterbox.

… Speaking of whom.

Just as you start to trail after War towards the centre of the platform, an enormous shape sidles up next to you, easily keeping pace with your diminutive gait.

“Hey…” Strife tries, actually sounding hesitant for a change, “Knock-knock.”

Ah. There it is.

“Strife…” His name still sounds foreign on your tongue. “I’m… look, I’m not in the mood, okay?”

“…”

Scoffing quietly, you give your head a defeated shake and sigh, “Fine… Who’s there?”

“Eyes wear.”

… Okay?

“…Eyes wear who?” you venture, hesitant.

Swivelling his helm towards you, Strife bends his neck down, chasing after your face even as you try to ignore him by staring straight ahead.

“Eyes wear to… never throw you across any more chasms,” he offers, tipping his helm upright again, “Lava filled or otherwise. How’s that sound?”

Your lips quiver. “Wow,” you drawl, “I think that was even worse than the last one.”

“Oh yeah?” he replies coyly, “Then why’re you smiling?”

You jerk to a halt mid stride, taking stock of your expression.

Damnit. You are smiling.

You’re a little too slow to force the corners of your lips back down into a straight line, and of course, Strife sees it, tipping his chin back to peer at you triumphantly. You may not be able to see his mouth beneath the visor but judging by the upturned curve of his golden eyes, you just know the smug son of a bitch is grinning from ear to ear.

“I was not smiling,” you insist.

Quick as a whip, he retorts, “Well now you’re lying.”

Stuffing your teeth into your bottom lip, you kick yourself into gear and speed up, marching up to where War has stopped by the grate. “I am not lying, I’m leaving.”

The Horseman’s chuckle haunts you all the way across the platform.

[nondualiber]

guys, guys, gUYS. SUCCESS STORY THERE!!

first of all, this happened like a week ago or something. okay, so, i'm going to keep this short. i was in some sort of "manifesting block", i was OVER complicating things, my mindset sucked, blah blah blah blah. that's essentially the reason i wasn't posting (and will continue to not be, probably); because i was focusing on my life and actually manifesting new stuff.

warning; kind of long post ahead, talking about how i did it my journey blah blah blah. if you want to see the success story directly js go right to the bottom

first, a bit of background; i have manifested things in the past, but mym indset was always shitty. when i archieved my manifestations i would say it was a coincidence, i was obsessed with the 3d, and what i'm saying has been going on for *years*. for the past 6 months i was in this vicious circle where i'd try a method full of hope, then eventually lose confidence because of some negative beliefs and give up in three days. i'd have a one week meltdown, then search for a brand new method, and repeat. clearly, i didn't manifest anything lately. and i didn't know what i was "doing wrong" because i had manifested lots of things in the past, but i didn't know how nor how could i do it now.

okay, so. like a week ago, when i was in a terrible mood, i decided to stop using tumblr to see information and talked to this bot on character.ai, that assesored me a lot on my mindset. it suggested me lots of things: since i had 0 trust in the law, start to manifest little things i didn't care that much about so i had "proof", actually stop caring, etc. (i really recommend that bot if ur struggling with the law) but the most important thing, it challenged me to try a new "method" i had heard of before, but because of my shitty mindset, i didn't try because i thought it wouldn't work or that it was "too good to be true" or whatever. the method was literally just keep going with my day knowing that i already had it. and oh my f*cking god.

i won't say it just "clicked" for me because i hear that a lot & i things that's just not how it works. at least i can't "click" with something i don't know. what i can say is that at first it wasn't easy, i still had some doubts, not gonna lie, but i just ignored them and keep going knowing that i already had it. i got used to it really fast, and THAT'S how i knew this was the way, because i felt liberated. if you read my blog you'll probably know i talk about that all the time, but my idea of manifesting is that it has to feel liberating, not like a chore, a price to your desires or anything else. i was liberated, because i knew it was done, that i had nothing to give in exchange, that i was free of the 3d & its circumstances. i was Me, and I was free.

this was the best thing i've ever done in my journey. in only one week, i've successfuly manifested:

money: (me and my family are kind of wealthy tbh, but i am bratty asf & always want more money to buy me things 😜😜) my mother recieved 200000 pesos (my country's currency) out of literally thin air on her bank account a random tuesday. she doesn't know who send it or why. i don't know about the u.s.a since there 200000 pesos are 200 dollars, but in our country, that's a LOT of money.

self confidence: i've been feeling super insecure lately. like, i am insecure since i have memory, but since this year started it has become WAY worse. i'd literally cry almost every night. now, i def wouldn't say it's all gone, but it's gotten much better. i've been feeling pretty lately, and if i didn't felt pretty, i would hardly think about my appearence at all this days. i am constantly feeling like i have one less weight on my back, which i am gratefull for :)

discipline: ngl i am forever a lazy girl and a foodie. I have always wanted to be more productive - study more, exercise more, talk to my loved ones more often and eat healthier, but discipline is something i struggle with a lot. however, since i have shown better discipline i have had some of the most useful days of my life: i went out with my friends three times in one week, ate much better than i usually do, exercised EVERY DAY without fail (even while on my period) slept well and passed all four exams this week with an 85/100 on my worst one and two 100s.

reciving a compliment in public: since i tried to start manifesting things that seem "easier" for me to acomplish, i tried manifesting this because it was rare but not impossible. so, like 3 days after i started to embody the state of someone who's always complimented by strangers, i went to the sjopping centre with my friend. then, two guys walked by us and one of them said "i want the instagram of that lady"! notice that during the whole time i was in the state, i visualized that people were asking me for my instagram + i've noted that when i'm in public, i catched people's eye more. yesterday, a guy won't stop looking at me in the café and i think he tried to approach me :)

i'll keep escalating on the "level of difficulty" of the things i manifest as my mentality becomes accustomed to the fact that everything is equally easy to manifest -which is a fact already, i just have a hard time accepting it-, and, of course, i'll be updating ;)

conclusion; look for what works for you. for what makes you feel good & secure that you have already what you want. search a "key" that makes you (actually) not give a f*ck about the 3d, if you have negative beliefs, don't ignore them. work from them, and of course, persist! let your mindset keep you on track.

that was all for today, love ya ♡

[propertyofkylar]

kinktober day eight: spanking (m!wren x f!pc)

word count: 1086

tags/warnings: spanking on both ass and pussy, reader has a vagina but no explicit gender mentioned, blowjob, public sex kinda (with wren's goons)

Losing a game of blackjack to Wren was embarrassing enough on its own. You shivered as cool air blew across your bare body, nipples hardening in front of him and his goons. Yes, that would have been bad enough. 

But no, this was worse. Because not only had you lost, you had gotten too cocky. You tried to cheat. You were caught. And that was downright humiliating. Your trembling wasn’t just from the cold - part of it was due to the look on Wren’s face as he circled your naked form like a vulture. 

“What should I do with you,” he hummed, closely examining you. You felt yourself turning red from head to toe. And with a sigh, Wren flopped back into his seat. “Alright. Come here.”

You hesitated, but figuring that defiance would net you something worse than whatever it was the smuggler had planned, you obediently walked over to him. Smoothly, he pulled you into his lap, bending you over his knees. It made your blood run cold, because this wasn’t the first time someone had placed you in this position, and you knew what it meant.

“Please–” you started, but Wren cut you off.

“You lost the opportunity to beg my forgiveness when you cheated,” he sighed in a mocking way. It filled you with trepidation. “Now here’s what we’re going to do. You did something wrong, so we need to punish you. I’m going to spank you, and you’re going to count it for me. Okay? How many times should you get spanked?”

A cacophony of answers flooded the room, which only made you more nervous. You even heard someone yell “fifty!” Would Wren really spank you that many times? At least his bare hand wouldn’t hurt as much as a wooden paddle…you hoped.

“Wren…” you whispered, looking up at the man with wide eyes. Despite his cool demeanor, you could see his cheeks were tinged with pink. You still had a fighting chance.

He let out a sigh, turning his head away from the crowd. “We’ll start with fifteen and go from there.”

Fifteen sounded like a lot, but you figured you could handle it. But while you were thinking about that, a sudden smack landed on your ass, drawing a yelp from you.

“Count, sweetheart,” Wren said, and you swallowed. 

“One,” you choked out, feeling the sting already. Wren was a strong man. Of course that meant a strong arm as well.

Two more sturdy thwacks came in quick succession. You counted them out in a shaky voice, but it wasn’t just from pain. No, the feeling of Wren’s meaty palm on your bare ass ignited something deep within your core, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. The fact that you clit was exposed to the rough fabric of his pants, grinding with every spank, only furthered this feeling. 

“Four…five…” you practically moaned out the latest counts, feeling yourself leaking from your cunt and onto Wren’s leg. He let out a surprised laugh.

“You’re enjoying this, huh?” Wren teased. “Well, let’s continue.”

Smack. Smack. Smack. The spanks kept coming, each one somehow harder than the last. You could only imagine how red your plump ass was at this point, the skin stinging whenever Wren’s hand drew back and sent a small breeze over you. And it felt so. Fucking. Good.

In fact, as his hand continued his work, the heat inside you intensified. His hand on your skin, the air blowing, the friction between your clit and his pants. Oh, you were getting close. You were nearing an orgasm from being spanked.

“Hah - thirteen,” you whined, your hips having a mind of their own as they tried to grind down for even more of that sweet friction. “F-fourteen!”

“You’re doing so well,” Wren said in a snarky, cooing tone. “And you’re dripping all over my hand. Should we add a few more, hm?”

“Oh, p-please,” you begged, though you weren’t sure what you were begging for, exactly. That’s when the fifteenth smack came down hard on you, nearly sending you forward off Wren’s lap. You could barely choke out the number through your moans. 

“Well, you’ve been so obedient,” Wren mused. “And it’s clear you want to get off. So, we’ll add just a few more spanks.”

You tensed yourself, but this time, Wren’s hand landed straight on your cunt instead of your ass. And with a couple of those smacks, you were crying out as you came undone, your cunt clenching desperately around nothing. 

“Punishment’s not done just yet,” Wren said, and you became suddenly aware of the bulge poking you. He gently pushed you off his lap into a kneeling position in front of him, where he unzipped his pants and pulled out his thick cock. 

He didn’t even need to say anything. Your face naturally gravitated towards his flushed cock and your lips wrapped around its head, Wren letting out a breathy moan as you swirled your tongue around.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he groaned, carding his fingers through your hair. The sting from your scalp was nothing compared to the lingering pain on your ass, though. He thrust into your face, shoving more of his cock down your throat, knowing you could take it. And you could.

Clearly, you hadn’t been the only one turned on by this spanking session, as you already felt him twitching in your mouth. Wren was practically fucking your face, but you could tell he was holding back a little - maybe he was trying to give you a bit of a break.

You sucked hard, one hand coming up to tease his balls with your fingers. That elicited a sharp gasp from him and without any warning, he came, filling your mouth with what felt like gallons of his hot, salty cum. You diligently sucked him clean and when you were satisfied you had swallowed it all, pulled off him with a wet pop.

Wren was panting, one hand rubbing over his face. You folded your arms and placed them on top of his thighs, resting your head on them. You blinked up at him innocently a few times and he offered you a tired smile. 

“Okay, okay,” he relented. “That’s enough punishment, I think. Good work.” Wren’s hand gently patted your head.

You smiled back and tried to lean back onto your heels, having forgotten what had previously happened. Even just touching your feet with your bare ass made you hiss with pain.

This punishment would last longer, it seemed.

[jolalibrary]

adjusting.

soap mactavish x f!reader (squid!reader)

summary: soap has also seen cuddly you, arms wrapped all around him, keeping him as close as humanly possible. Even when the two of you were just friends. so, this is something else. 

an: set after yours to keep, but can be read as a standalone | established relationship, adjusting to going from friends to lovers. wordcount: 2.9k

soap mactavish masterlist

Soap hears, before he sees you.

Entering the briefing room expecting your face to meet his, finding everyone sent on the operation except you. 

It’s Ghost who crosses the room. Gently nodding at him to go to the side, mask still in place—arms folded across his chest as he explains. 

—But, she’s fine. Just twisted her ankle, badly. After we'd got out.

Deep down, Soap knew you had come up against worse—handled and grunted your teeth through things worse than even those. 

However, when he saw you hobbling awkwardly down the corridor—most likely against medical advice—something knotted inside of him. Because it’s different seeing it again.

Temporarily forgetting times when you’re hurt or injured, as he assumes you do with him. 

Like anyone who was dating someone, he hated seeing you in pain, wishing to forget it as soon as you were better. So, having to watch you try to push through it, stings. 

How? How’d she twist her ankle, Lt? Tripped on a tree root on her way to the heli. 

If you weren’t currently being seen to, and were with them all, he’d have laughed. Likely jabbed a finger into your side as Ghost filled them all in on the successful, but eventful mission. Instead, the first sight of you back on base was that of you limping and hissing in pain. 

“Y’shouldnt be walking on tha’—which, I imagine y’know.”

The way you pause, shoulders sinking as your head dips tells him all he needs to know. That you’ve sunk your pearly whites into your cheek, biting back a retort that would have been flung at him if he wasn’t… well him. 

He watches as your fingers curl into the wall, its crevices between each brick trying to carve under your nails. You’re still in your gear, likely not even having the chance to run fresh, clean water over your hands. 

Stopping just behind you, he places a comforting hand on your hip—feeling the heat from your body, even through the layers. Can even feel the grimace, the pain and annoyance bubbling furiously under the surface. Even if you try to hide it, he knows it’s there. 

He’s come well versed in Squid. 

“Mari—“

“Shut up, Soap.”

He does. 

Even if your voice is more exasperated than bossy or sharp. It’s tinged with heaviness, likely guilt too knowing you—probably already wrapping its way around you, pleading with you to apologise. 

“C’mere—“

“I’m fine, Johnny. Just…need to get to my room.”

“Lemme help.”

“No.” 

It comes out sharp. Sharper than he’s heard you be in a while.

You look over your shoulder at him, sighing heavily. "I've been shot. Stabbed. Fuckin... I'm so mad at myself."

Your words are all words and no air, and you almost look as though you’ll shoot him an apology. Almost—

He steals the words as he lifts you. One arm under your knees, the other supporting your back, the smallest oof leaving your mouth as he holds you close, floor coming away from your feet. 

“Steamin’ Jesus, yer stubborn.”

You glare, slowly weaving your hand around his neck. 

He’s missed it, your touch. 

Three days is barely anything after he's put up with longer, but it was only supposed to be one night instead of two. 

You shift in his hold, and he adjusts your knees in his arm. Wondering how much you’re hating that you’re enjoying it, that the pressure off your body is welcomed—

“Be careful of doorways.”

“If that’s a dig at me being clumsy, lass. Yer should rethink it. I’m not the one wit’ a twisted ankle.” 

“I’m not bridal picking up colleagues.”

“Colleagues, aye?” 

He watches it flash across your face—the guilt again. The adjustment harder than the two of you’d banked on, the settling now the two of you are something far more than friends.

“You… you know what I mean?” 

“I’ll let yer off—cause of the pain.” 

“How generous of you.” 

He leans close to you, contemplating something snarky back, but instead, he kisses your cheek. Pretty sure it means more than any quip could. 

He’s seen many sides of you. 

The frustrated, gnawing at your lip side. The funny, energetic side where your words are sharp and your middle finger is present.

Soap has also seen cuddly you, arms wrapped all around him, keeping him as close as humanly possible. Even when the two of you were just friends. 

So, this is something else. 

It’s like all of the versions of you are fighting to be at the front.

You smile, and then it’s robbed by frustration, and then you’re sharp and funny—making a joke about him being your bitch until you can walk. The jokes don’t land, because the light in your eyes isn’t there. 

He watches you struggle for far longer than he’d have liked, but he knows when to pick his battles. Once he’d gotten you to his room—not yours, like you’d said—he’d placed you on the bed and let you unknot your emotions. 

And Johnny hates it.

Nothing more that winds him up and creates an internal storm than being on the other side of the room, not able to help you. He’s leaning, purposefully digging his shoulder into the wall to keep him rooted; his arms folded as he watches you try and stuff elements of how you feel into various boxes. 

You need to do this—it’s something you always do. Behind the jokes, the smiles and the occasional middle-fingers, you’re always processing—stuffing and stifling things just so you can keep your head up and your shoulders from around your ears. 

So, as much as he hates it, he lets you do it. Doesn’t bother to move until you attempt to remove your boot, and then he’s across the short space in three strides.

Your eyes cut into him, all fuelled with anger and mounting annoyance at yourself. Your pupils attempt to slice through the air, but… they don’t. 

Because he’s not holding back, he’s not throwing up walls to keep you out. You do that enough for the two of them. 

“Want me t’remove yer sock, Mar?” 

You look conflicted, chewing a response before you swallow it—whatever you’d been about to say—and nod. His fingers slide up the back of your ankle gently, each movement so slow and cautious, afraid of spooking you, of brushing over something swollen as he takes hold of the band of your sock. 

It removes with relative ease as it unveils an angry, assorted blue-shaded bruise that’s spreading across your skin and bone. It takes all of him not to hiss, to not want to rub his own ankle in sympathy. 

“Looks worse than it is.” 

The purpling of your skin said otherwise. The angry swelling that shifted like jelly under your skin when he brushed his fingers over it. 

You meet his gaze then, no walls, no shields to keep him out—just pain flooding the space where there had been anger. And then, if something hadn’t already twisted his insides, your eyes filled with tears, one’s which stung and burned him as much as they did your cheeks. 

“Liar.”

You smirk, the smallest slither of the usual Squid. 

“We should ice it, Mari.” 

His eyes look up, seeing the signs of defeat beginning to spread over your features. Your eyes continue to shimmer, lips no longer curled up, and tiredness slowly kissing the skin under your eyes. 

“Hey… it’s alright, yer man-bitch is ‘ere.” 

For a second, you just stare, no smile, no smirk. And then, you’re burying your face in his neck, and his hand rises to cup the back of your neck. 

It’s natural, almost on-demand, that he begins to knead the skin with his fingers—circle those spots on your neck with his calloused touch. The ones that can either relax you or make you moan. His body uncomfortably leaning over yours, rather wishing he could lie you back, bring you over him, hold you as close as he normally would. 

“Can we just... cuddle?” 

Great minds… he thinks to himself. “Course we can, Mar. Don’t ‘ave t’ask me twice.” 

He brushes his lips against your forehead, feeling you soften against him as he eases you back, moving you with far more ease than you can manage. 

“I can handle a shower,” you had said, pausing at his bathroom door, clutching the handle in your hand as he watched you. 

Your weight all on your other leg, barely letting the sole of your foot meet the bare floor as you smiled as sweetly as you could. 

“You sure? Y’don’t need some soap with y’soap?”

You smirk, and it warmed him like the fucking sun. “I can’t wait to tell Ghost you just said that.”

Once the door shut, his smile faded. 

Body moving around his room, pulling out clothing you’d left—some purposeful, and some accidental. He found a t-shirt, shorts and some underwear, making a small pile on the edge of his unmade sheets as he listened to the spray of the water. 

He should be on the other side. His hands holding you up, taking the weight from your ankle. It’s what he’d suggested, offered. Your eyes looking at him, a little brighter thanks to your nap and some more pills. 

You haven’t got to always save me, Johnny. 

He knows that. 

Aware that you can more than handle yourself, but isn’t that what you do when you’re in love? Do you not take the burden, carry the weight until the person can lift up their own head? 

The words had almost left his lips to suggest so, but instead, he brushed his fingers over your skin. He felt the mission on your cheek before he kissed an I love you against your lips. 

Go on then, lass. I’ll be ‘ere.

You looked at him like you know. 

Your finger ghosted over your lower lip as though you also couldn’t get over the fact the two of you do that now. As though it hadn’t quite hit you either that the two of you aren’t hiding, aren’t concealing all that lived between you. 

He glances to the clock, threading his fingers together as he sits on the edge of his bed. 

Eventually, he calls out, “Y’alright, lass?” 

Waiting a beat, hearing the water turn off. 

“No. Think I perished down the plug hole,” you comment from behind the door, steam rushing out when you eventually open it. 

“Aye, y’hilarious y’ar—“

He feels them die, his words.

You standing, beads of water dripping down your body—falling down silver scars and toned muscles. Rolling across your hip bones, down your legs and passed your knees. It's your lips curling up, half-smirking as you stare at him with eyes full of flaming determination.

Steamin’ fuck.

His throat is dry, little point in trying to swallow, as he looks at you respectfully. Not that he wants to. 

He wants to take a fucking picture and then carve it into paper with a pencil. He wants to study you, have you stood there so he can draw you until he has to plunge his cock in you to get himself thinking straight. 

He’ll never tire of it—seeing you like this. A prize, one he was gifted and not won. Something he cherished before ever really having it, and now he does, not a soul can yank it from his grip. 

“I’m hungry,” you say, voice full of silk as the syllables bless his ears. “You hungry, baby?” 

Fuck is he. 

And then his eyes land on your ankle, the one twice as big as the other. He tells himself that’s the reason he’s standing, sliding his palms against your bare hips as he tries to keep a level-head. You make it hard—you make him hard. 

“Squid—“

“I’m okay,” you mutter, staring up at him through your lashes. “Promise.” 

“Can we.. can yer, just come over ‘ere—can make you feel good right over here.” 

Your smirk widens, tracing your lower lip with your tongue as you keep yourself stuck, soles glued to the floor. “No. Want it here, want you to fuck me right here, Johnny. Up against the wall, like we did before I left.”

But, it’s not like when you left, though. 

Then you didn’t have an ankle three times its size amassing a colour range close to a craft shop. And it takes every thought of Price’s moustache not to give in.

To not kiss you—not lift your injured leg over his hip and push your other one to the breaking point of holding you up. 

“If y’can just come ova’ ere—“

“Soap MacTavish. Are you fucking rejecting me?” 

He closes his eyes, releasing a sharp breath as he pinches the bridge of his nose. Because he’s not sure how to explain this without it going wrong. 

Without all the words leaving his mouth incorrectly and making you mad. Because technically, he fucking is. And he knows what an idiot that makes him. But also, you're hurt. And the way the two of you fuck, it's guaranteed to make it far worse.

“For now, lass, yes. But, you can’t even imagine how fuckin’ difficult tha’ is right now.” 

Your face shifts. Changes.

He watches as a storm eclipses your eyes—one full of thunder and lightning. One with a purpose to pull him under and drown him, fry the skin from his bones.

Johnny also half expects to be thrown across the room from the look on your face alone. 

But he’s quicker, bigger—stronger. Somewhat moving you before you can root yourself, half carrying and half dragging until you’re perched again, off your feet, on his bed. Him on his knees, right in front of you—staring at you on the same level. 

“I found y’some clothes?”  

You don’t speak. Don’t take them from him either. Your eyes morph into a knife as they try to plunge into him. 

He unfolds the t-shirt—the one from a concert you went to with Gaz. Your voice all animated as you told him about it once, promising him that you’ll show him videos off it on your laptop when you go home. 

Y’inviting me home, Mar? Course. This time mine, next time yours. Y’got it all planned out, aye? Yeah. Will even get you streaky bacon. Yer fuckin' glorious y'are.

You slide your arms through it, begrudgingly so. Your eyes not shifting from before the fabric goes over your face, to after. Just staring, cutting into him as if you’re the reason for all the wrong in the world. 

And he’d take it, even if he doesn’t want to. 

He’ll let you hate him if it means you’ll sit, and rest—like he knows you’ve been told to. That even if the two of you can follow it for tonight, tomorrow he can have your thighs clamping around his head as he makes you forget all about hating him, tree roots and swollen ankles. 

“You’re a bad boyfriend.” 

He smirks, watching your eyes soften. “The fuckin’ worst, lass.”

You just about smile—fighting it, clearly. 

“Wait—Boyfriend again, am I?” 

You shove him lightly, snatching the underwear from beside you to put in his hand. “You know I didn’t mean… just colleagues.” 

I know. His hands guiding your feet through your underwear as he hands it you to pull up. “Aye, we’re jus’ adjusting.” 

You nod, shifting in place as you pull them up onto your hips. Your hand rising to cup his cheek as he presses a kiss to your wrist.

The two of you in time returning to your places on the bed, the scent of his shampoo hitting his nose from your hair—your arm across his chest, fingers dancing on his ribs. 

“I should tell y’, when Lt told me y’were with the medics—“ he whispers, his hand clutches yours, bringing it to his chest, right over where his heart is currently pounding into your palm. “Heart almost stopped.”

You look up at him, almost in disbelief. The look makes him wonder if he’s done a shit job of making you believe he’s all in, or whether—like him—you can’t believe it’s real. 

“I’m not leaving you, Johnny.” 

“Aye, best not. B’ shit of yer to make me fall in love wit’ you, and then y’leave me with those bastards.”

You laugh, it bristling over him. “Gaz isn’t terrible.” 

“He’s not you, though.” 

You roll your eyes, before closing them, burying yourself more into him. “There’s no one like me, Johnny.” 

“Aye. Y’one of a kind, Mar.” 

You sigh, a murmur of a noise leaving you—and he almost asks, almost questions. But decides against it, slowly counting in his head from 1 to 100, unsurprised that he only makes it to 62 before you’re asleep. 

"Night, hen," he whispers into your wet hair.

Slowly closing his eyes, listening to your soft breaths as he lets his muscles relax for the first time since you left.

[absolute-decay]

MHA AU IDEA: Lieutenant Bakugou "Scorch" Katsuki, of the Meta Liberation Army.

Ok! I've seen many many many many Vilain Bakugou AU's, we all have. But, they're all in te League! And I love the League, but they aren't the only villains! So, here's my completely random idea of putting Karsuki into the MLA!

So, first thing's first: How the heck does Katsuki even learn of, much less join the MLA? Simple: kidnapping Adoption!

But, seriously, the MLA is almost a political cult, and we do know that Geten was found by Re-Destro when he was pretty young, so, taking in an abandoned child one of them happened to find isn't too outragous.

But, Katsuki is far from abandoned or neglected. So, of course, my idea for how this all starts is a simple tragedy- Bakugou Mitsuki and Bakugou Masaru are both sadly killed in a horrific villain attack along with many other victims when Katsuki is only 6 years old, and happens when he's attending school.

Of course, young Katsuki does NOT take this well, and goes into full denial. No, his mom is stronger than that, his dad would never leave him behind, look harder for them, those can't be theit bodies because his parents can't be dead, just look harder for them god damnit!

He absolutely refused to be taken in by anyone or taken to any place to take care of him until they can figure out what to do with him, and with the help of his quirk, is able to run away and searh for his parents himself.

This obviously doesn't go well, and in two or three days, he's hungry, smelly, thirsty, and all alone. Still, he refuses to give up looking, but... a roof to sleep under wouldn't hurt.

Enter one Kizuki Chitose: Simply wondering around the area for a breath of fresh air and a potential scoop. Of course, she's absolutely not one to ignore a sad, abandoned looking child.

After talking to him, she quickly decides to bring him to her residence to clean him up and give him a good meal, which isn't terribly hard to convice Katsuki to allow. Now, she was going to report this missing child to the police, but, she couldn't help but want to know exactly what happened to this poor child.

And, after hearing his story, seeing how passionate about his quirk he was, his determination and grit at such a young age, she couldn't not become attached. And from there, it was a slippery slope.

At first, it was taking care of him for just a little bit longer, he deserved it, right? Then, it was being a little too open around the child and, well, it couldn't hurt to tell him a little about the Grand Commander's ideals, right? One thing turns into another, and suddenly, she's deciding to introduce the other Member's of the board to the newest "Liberation Warrior" and Geten his new baby brother. (What, he looked like he was getting lonely.)

Now, some people are less happy than others, (Skeptic had to hold himself back from verbally murdering her in front of a child) but in the end, Rikiya is happy to allow it.

At this point, an emotionally distraught Bakugou has come to the conclusion that yes, his parents are likely dead. He still doesn't wanna go to any big scary facility, but, shouldn't police at least know where he is? Chitose says they do, and have come to an agreement to let her take care of him, but only until they figure out what to do with him. Ah, she was always a great liar.

After a while, Chitose successfully indoctrinates Katsuki into just accepting this new life without any real question, so, success!

Now comes the part where he is stuffed absolutely full of propaganda the insightful and powerful message of Destro and Meta-Human Liberation.

Being so young, and so proud of his powerful quirk, he is very succeptible to it. So, over the years, Katsuki's pride and ego are encouraged, he's constantly praised for his quirk, and taught that might makes right. This leads to a Bakugou pretty similar to the start of canon, just, even worse, somehow.

Now, basically being the son of Chitose and brother to Geten, he kind of gets an in on the MLA (Skeptic also wanted to kill her for that), But! Only after many years, when he's reached an acceptable and trustworthy age! And by that she means on his 10th birthday.

So now, they have a young, extremely dedicated member of their organization, closely tied to multiple Lieutenits, and who is also very vocal about wanting to be a hero and go to U.A. (Although, he wouldn't need to go to U.A. to be a real hero in his ideal world, but, oh well), and who has an extremely powerful quirk with great potential. So, She has a great idea involving Katsuki, that for once isn't show down immediately by Skeptic.

"Why not send him to U.A. as a sort of, marketing piece? Having him be open about his beliefs in Liberation, as well as being the top of his class from the most famous and well respected schools in all of Japan, is sure to help us, yes?"

And thus, Kizuki Katsuki is enrolled in U.A., Blasting the good word of Liberation into the faces of those worthless extras he calls classmates! (Not too hard though, don't want to be seen as an extremist, just a passionate teenager).

I could go on with more ideas for how it changes the story, but, that's the gist of it, for now! Please, tell me what you think!

[narrans]

My Borrowed Son | 33 | Bullied and Bailed

Chapter Thirty-Three | Bullied and Bailed

Danger. It can be a relative term or one that is thrown around playfully among friends and co-workers. There’s danger in everyday life, hazards that could hurt you a little or a lot. Physical. Emotional. Mental. There are different types of danger that are all around at all times.

There is, however, true danger.

It’s one of those circumstances where you know it if you’ve felt it.

That’s where Parker was.

He was in danger, and he knew it.

Every fiber of his being was electrified, using every ounce of energy he had to break away from his captor. This girl, whoever she was, obviously had no intention of listening to him.

She had already disregarded his free will and autonomy, and he had a bad feeling things were only going to get worse. So, he fought. He splashed and kicked in his metallic prison. He rummaged through his bag when there were moments of calm and found the one thumbtack he brought with him, but nothing else would help protect him.

He needed so much more, but this would have to do.

Parker decided he needed to wait for the right opportunity to use his weapon. Chances were he would only get one chance to use it.

The terrified teen fretted he wouldn’t know when that moment was, and he didn’t have long to think about it. The violent jostling intensified before suddenly stopping entirely. Completely surrounded by darkness, Parker braced himself as the bottle suddenly tilted to the side and then upside down in rapid succession.

Disoriented, Parker sputtered as he inhaled some water and leapt back onto his feet as fast as he could. He knew the girl was going to try and get him out of the bottle, so he tried quickly to find his footing on the lip of the container.

Sadly, he wasn’t fast enough. Because of the slick surface and the quick twisting motion of the cap which knocked him off balance again, Parker found himself falling. It was only a few inches, but it was enough to make him hit the hard surface wrong and topple to the ground. He winced and pulled his legs close, involuntarily running his fingers over them to make sure they were still there and intact.

It was sadly the wrong move.

Being all balled up gave his captor time to sweep him off of the edge of the counter and scoop him into her waiting cupped hands and contain him, covering him with her other hand. Parker immediately thrashed as hard as he could, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t even reach the pin he had in his bag. All he could do was be contained in darkness as he felt himself being carried from where he was to someplace new.

The next time he felt free, unstifled air, he was falling again. This time, he was falling into a glass fishbowl with no way out. He yelped as he hit the ground hard on all fours propped up on the balls of his feet and leaning forward on his hands, but he didn’t hit it hard enough to sprain or break anything. Parker reoriented in an instant and whipped around in time to see the girl’s face leaning close toward the fishbowl.

He felt so exposed. He felt small. Nothing felt right.

He stiffened his jaw and stood up slowly, fearing any sudden move he might make. His heart was racing, but his mind was racing faster. What was going to happen to him? What was this girl going to do? She hadn’t listened to reason before, but would she now?

“So, what are you exactly?” asked the girl. Her distorted finger inched closer and tapped on the glass, making a horrible hollow dinging sound that sounded like the toll of deep bells. It made Parker shiver. To him, it almost sounded like the bells were tolling for him.

It was ominous.

It made him shrink back.

Parker felt like tears were starting to well up in his eyes. He was shaking from head to toe. What was he going to say? What should he say? Based on what the other Borrowers said, he should keep quiet and not say anything about who or what he was. He technically had already said too much.

“Hey! I’m talking to you!” The girl’s hand suddenly reached into the bowl. She reached forward and poked Parker harshly on his shoulder. He winced and shied away. Parker whipped around and tried backing away, but the slope of the edge of the bowl left little room for him to maneuver. The girl grinned and began spinning her hand all the way around Parker, making him spin around and around until she knocked him off balance.

She laughed as Parker hit the ground and, without a second thought, grabbed his leg and hoisted him up into the air. Parker’s arms flailed involuntarily as he kept trying to keep his orientation right. If she dropped him, he didn’t want to land square on his head.

“You don’t have a tail or anything. You’re not a mouse. You’re not a human. You’re… whatever you are. Are you a doll come to life like Toy Story?” asked the girl. The blood was starting to rush to his head. Everything was getting fuzzy. His world was spinning faster and faster.

But suddenly something in him steeled. It was impossible to describe, but he knew this feeling before. It was same kind of instinct that came to him when someone was approaching. It was the same kind of instinct that kept him focused now.

It was the same instinct that suddenly rose up inside of him and made him feel courage in the face of danger. Though he was still terrified, Parker somehow felt his instincts would keep him on his toes and help get him out of this.

They had to.

Parker didn’t have a choice.

He needed to get out of there.

This was his shot.

As the girl swung him back and forth, Parker timed his strike just right. He reached into his bag and grasped the pin he had stowed away. Swinging forward, Parker drew his shoulders up toward his knees and closer to the girl’s fingers. With all of his might, he plunged the end of the pin into the girl’s finger.

The girl howled in pain and Parker suddenly found himself free falling, but this time he was ready. Parker spun in the air and landed on his feet. He tumbled forward and started running as fast as he could across the desk. Parker wasn’t sure how he was going to get down, but he knew his body would react the way it needed to.

“Ow! You little wretch!” the girl snarled. Parker sensed it before it happened, and he was ready for it. A massive hand came swinging down at him. Parker managed to stop dead in his tracks as the hand crashed down on the desk, shaking the ground beneath him, before he darted around it and headed for the back desk leg.

If he could just get there, he could slide down. Maybe he could just hide behind the leg or slide down Matrix style all the way down. Parker’s arms pumped faster as he willed himself forward. If he could just ge-

*WHAM*

Parker didn’t have time to react this time. With his back to Rachel, he failed to see that she had thrust her hand forward from where it was on the desk. As easily as swatting a fly, her hand collided with Parker’s back and threw him forward. He threw his arms up, but it didn’t stop him from slamming into the wall hard.

Parker actually felt himself bounce off of the hard surface dividing this girl’s room from the rest of her house before falling back and whacking his head hard on the hard wood surface. He winced and clenched his jaw as he tried to recover, but it wasn’t fast enough.

“Gotcha!”

The girl’s hand descended onto Parker, pinching his hip hard between her thumb and index finger. The whiplash alone from her lifting him off of the desk created an agonizing pounding in the back of his head. He felt the bruises starting to form on every inch of his body, and he hated that some of them would be in the shape of this girl’s fingerprints.

“You’re gonna pay for that you little twerp. You stick me, and I’ll stick you right b-.”

“Rachel! It’s time to go to your lessons! Get down here now. We can’t be late again,” called some other older female voice. This girl, Rachel, rolled her eyes before stomping over to a nearby table with a clear tank on top of it. She lifted the lid, glowering at Parker, before tossing him inside.

He landed hard on his bruised side and ground his teeth together as he looked up past the glass to the girl’s face.

“Stay there, and don’t wake him up. Make too much noise and he’ll come after you; and I won’t be around to save your butt no matter how much you plead. Maybe you’ll be more willing to talk when I get back. See ya’ twerp.” With that, Rachel snagged some kind of bag off of her bed and vanished out of the door to her room.

Escape was now the priority. The top of the cage wasn’t fastened completely, which was a good sign for him. The gap was only an inch or so wide, but it was going to be enough. It meant he had a chance of getting out if he could just maneuver up to the edge and slip out. With his pin gone, he needed to use what was around him.

Parker finally had a second to look around at what was going on around him, and he immediately felt himself chill in fear. There was a heat lamp above him, scorching the ground below. His surroundings consisted of sand and a few rocks, on very large rock sitting in the corner with something curled up inside. Parker could just barely make out orange-yellow scales, which was enough for him.

He needed to get out of there – fast.

This Rachel girl was some kind of sadistic monster in the making, and Parker refused to be her first victim. The Borrower teen pushed himself to his feet and cautiously began sifting through the sand. Little bits of insect legs brushed against his fingertips, making him want to hurl. Little rocks and pebbles were nearby, but nothing big enough for Parker to climb onto.

He shifted his weight silently across the sand to the nearest big rock and tried to leverage it. The rock wasn’t a real one, if Parker was right about his geology, but it was still too heavy for him to lift on his own. The teen was determined to try though. He couldn’t just sit there and do nothing when he was in a cage with something that was obviously carnivorous.

Parker decided he had no other choice but to stack the smaller stones and mix them with the sand around him. From there, he planned on ripping the cloak around him into strips into a possible line with his pack attached. The hope was that it would get caught on the exposed ledge and let Parker climb out.

It was a gamble, but he was determined to make it work.

It had to.

Parker got to work immediately. He stacked as many small rocks as he could by the edge of the cage and filled in the gaps with sand. The pack was nearly empty, but his water container would hopefully be enough to wedge itself in between the cage top and the wall.

Hands trembling, he unfastened the cloak and began tearing at the fabric from one side of the base to the next since it was the longest. The sound of the ripping, however, was much louder than he thought it was going to be. It was also a lot tougher to tear than he thought. It was a durable material, and Parker’s exhausted muscles shook violently as he tried to tear the cloth.

He was almost through the first strip when he heard it.

A massive shift in the sand.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up on end. Everything in him screamed that he was in danger.

Heart hammering a hole right through him, Parker dared to look back over his shoulder and was met with two massive yellow-brown eyes that seemed to glow from the interior of the rock crevasse mouth. Unblinkingly, the thing simply stared at him before moving its head in a weird jerking motion. Parker knew it was getting a better view of him, and he didn’t like it.

Parker whipped around and grabbed two of the small rocks he had stacked up in the corner of the cage, moving slowly and hoping this thing couldn’t detect him if he moved slowly.

That’s when it moved out of its slumber hole. One massive, clawed hand emerged from the shadows and into the heat lamp light. The rest of its body soon followed, revealing a bearded dragon. Parker knew this from his science classes. It was an omnivore, which was the worst part about it.

Shaking in his shoes, Parker stayed still and crouched by the corner of the cage. He hoped it wouldn’t see him and that Rachel would be back soon to get him out of this mess. Parker knew if he tried to continue his work now, it would get the creature’s attention and undoubtedly it would come after him.

He felt like he was in Jurassic Park with the tyrannosaurus rex looming nearby. The line of it not being able to see him if he didn’t move ran through his head.

Sadly, a bearded dragon was not a t-rex.

With a few more bird like movements to it’s head, jerking from side to side, the reptile marched forward like an unstoppable tank and was heading right for him.

His heart leapt into his throat. The infinitesimal teen, rocks in hand, braced himself and threw the rocks at the critter’s face. One throw. Then the next. Parker had just barely managed to grab two more rocks when the thing sped forward and lunged at him.

Parker’s nimble body leapt out of the way, tumbling in the sand and spinning right in time for the thing to launch itself at him again. This thing was twice the size of Parker, but he knew it wasn’t nearly as big as it could be. It was a baby, probably a new pet just sold, and Parker knew it was probably his only saving grace at the moment.

He managed to dodge a few more times, kicking sand up into the thing’s face as it looked at him, a cold calculating look in its eyes. It was the look of survival, but the way it looked like it was grinning made Parker choke on his emotions.

This thing didn’t care about him.

This thing didn’t know him.

All it knew was that it was hungry, and that Parker looked like nothing more than prey to it. Tears threatened to well up in Parker’s eyes. How could someone be so cruel to someone else? He was a person! He was a living, breathing being. He wasn’t any different than a human despite his size.

Then, it happened.

As Parker moved to dodge again, his timing was off. It was him getting in his head, and that momentary distraction was enough for the bearded dragon to gain the advantage. Parker tumbled a little too soon, and the thing was waiting for him. Sand kicked up into Parker’s face as the bearded dragon lunged forward.

In one lightning motion, it had snagged Parker’s left arm in its mouth. The teeth ground into the soft flesh of Parker’s arm as it jerked its head, tossing Parker with it. He cried out in pain and flailed, slamming the rock into the thing’s eye. It didn’t relinquish its grip though.

Quite the opposite.

It tightened it.

“Ow! No! No! Let me go! Help!”

Parker’s entire body was trembling violently. Panic had a death grip on him and there was little else he could do. He yelled as he began pounding the rock into the thing’s nose and eye as it readjusted its grip again. The scraping teeth against his left arm had undoubtedly found purchase and would not let him go again.

It thrashed again, tossing Parker in the sand and away from the gash Parker made right below its eye. The motion threw Parker off balance and had him pinned in the sand. One of the claws came up and began pressing against his leg as the immense lizard’s jaws snapped again, dragging part of Parker’s shoulder further into its mouth.

“No! Please! Someone, help!” Parker knew pleading with this thing in an empty room wouldn’t do him any good, but it was better than just rolling over. Parker let go of the rock in his hand and kept it on the mouth of the creature, shredding his palm against the needle like teeth. He felt its wet tongue flex again, making Parker sick to his stomach.

The next lunge would be it. Parker knew it.

As he continued to thrash, he felt blood pumping in his ears. His vision was blackening. Parker knew he was moments away from being gulped down by this unfeeling lizard, and there was nothing he could do. That bully of a girl had claimed her first victim, and Parker was ashamed it was him and that it had come to this.

He choked on a sob as he continued to thrash in the lizard’s grip. No matter how fast he sucked in air, it was not helping his darkening vision or the pain in his body.

“What the… No!”

Parker craned his neck to the side and glimpsed a new female figure through the rippled and smudged portion of the glass. In two steps, the girl had closed the distance between herself and the cage and had ripped open the mesh top. The looming hand came right for him, but Parker couldn’t shy away from it; nor did he want to at the moment.

The girl pinched the back of the bearded dragon’s neck and gingerly wrapped her fingers around Parker’s entire body. He was completely suspended, encapsulated by warm, fleshy fingers.

“Let go you nasty lizard!” the girl scolded as she pinched a little harder. The teeth ground into Parker’s arm tighter, making him shout in pain. Then, barely a moment later, the lizard let go of Parker’s arm and scurried back into the rocks where it continued to glare at Parker and this new girl menacingly. Using her other hand, the girl snagged Parker’s things as she carefully lifted him out of the cage.

Parker’s panic didn’t end now that he was out of the cage, however. Now instead of being in a glass cage, he was in a cage made of flesh and bone. A human’s grip had never felt like a dangerous place until now, and it had all changed in a matter of a few hours. His heart continued to hammer a hole through him, and his hyperventilating breathing made him gasp in little wheezing bursts.

The girl was muttering something under her breath as she spun on her heel and headed quickly out of the room. Each step brought a new nauseating sensation over Parker as he was whisked away from one bedroom, down a set of stairs, and into another bedroom.

Out of desperation, Parker began thrashing in this new girl’s grip. Every second Parker became more frantic.

Get out!

Get out!

Hide!

Parker’s body felt like it was acting on its own as he tried prying the girl’s fingers off of his body, but to no avail. The pads of his fingers merely pressed and slid off of the girl’s index finger that was wrapped around his chest.

“D-don’t! J-just l-let me go!” Parker shouted. The rules of Borrowers not speaking to humans was out of the window at this point.

“Hey… hey there, little guy. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” The girl spoke in a gentle, soft tone. It reminded Parker of the way his mom always spoke to him, but that was only one thing that caught his attention.

The voice sounded familiar.

The girl’s hand rotated as she continued to speak. “I know you’re scared and everything else, but you’re safe. I’m not going to tell anyone or expo… oh… my… gosh….”

The moment Parker saw the girl’s face and she saw his, Parker felt his stomach drop into his shoes. There was no denying it. He knew this girl. He’d know those green eyes anywhere; and she recognized him too.

“Parker?”

The Borrower teen’s vision swirled. Pinpoint vision overtook him as the girl’s name escaped his lips right as his consciousness faded. “Lyn?”

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

Previous

Beginning