#this is probably what silas sees when he looks at them

[jrueships]

gay

anyways happy birthday jg 😎

[darkbluekies]

Secrets

Mafia!yandere x reader x hidden brother

Summary: Silas has a brother you've never heard of, who seems to be just what you need, so you decide to escape with him, only to find out even more secrets.

Warnings: mafia, crime, scamming, murder, blood, manipulation, mentions of selling a human, smuggling, nsfw mentions (let me know if I missed one)

Word count: 5.5k

Silas has brought you to his family's summer house on the Greek island of Rhodos for you to be alone, away from everyone. Only you and him for a week. Weirdly enough, it brings you some kind of relief. His men and his work has worn you out.

"Stay here, I have to go get some food for us", Silas says and picks up his wallet. "I'll be back in thirty minutes, baby, so try not to die in the meantime."

"I won't", you promise.

Silas smiles and kisses your lips. "Good. I love you, little thing. I'll be back soon."

He locks the door behind him. You breathe out and finally relax your body. Being all alone with Silas has been excruciating. If he learned to keep his hands to himself, you wouldn't feel as tired as you do now. Every night, he wants to feel you underneath him.

Just a few minutes later, you hear the lock turn. Silas must have forgotten something. But the man who walks in … isn't Silas. You could swear that it was in your first glance. The man looks extremely like Silas with thick, black hair, dark eyes and broad build. This man, however, has a bigger nose and lips.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" he gasps as he walks in. "I didn't know Silas was here."

You take a step backwards. When someone knows Silas, it is almost always bad.

"Who are you?" you ask suspiciously. 

"I'm Ares, Silas’s younger brother", he says and holds out his hand in front of him in a pleading way. "Please don't be afraid. I'm not like my brother." He looks around. "Where is he, anyways?"

"He'll be here soon …"

"What's your name? You're Silas’s partner, right?"

You nod hesitantly. There's a bad feeling in your stomach. 

"I've heard about you", Ares smiles sweetly and rolls his eyes. "Or not about about you. Silas never tells anything to the family, but I've heard that he has a partner. There's a rumor."

Ares sits down by the kitchen table. You follow him closely with your eyes.

"How is he treating you?" Ares asks carefully and points at your neck. "He isn't hurting you, is he?"

Your hand shoots up to your neck, remembering the (probably) hundreds of love bites Silas has left on you.

"N-No!" you stutter embarrassedly. "This isn't-!"

"Oh, I see. Sorry for assuming. I just know that my brother isn't a very soft person so I just- … that was dumb of me, I apologize."

"It's okay …"

Ares smiles coyly. You find yourself smiling slightly at the awkward misunderstanding. 

"What was your name?" he asks.

"Y/N", you say.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I didn't mean to intrude like this. I was under the impression that the house would be empty."

"It's fine-"

Your sentence is cut short by the door opening.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Ares?" Silas growls and holds out his hand to you. "Y/N, come here."

You walk over to your boyfriend who is quick to scoot you behind him.

"Mom and dad said that the summer house was free", Ares says and crosses his muscular arms — something that seems to run in the family — with a cocky smile. "You didn't tell them that you were here."

"Why should I? They disowned me, they don't need to know about my whereabouts. Now get out. I don't want you anywhere near my partner."

Ares stands up. He walks over to Sials, glancing at you over his shoulder.

"A tip, big bro", he says amusedly with raised eyebrows, "if you break Y/N when you're having sex, you'll be living in involuntary abstinence for weeks. Don't be so rough."

Silas flinches forward upon hearing your name, as if he's about to attack him, but seems to force himself to remain still. Ares leaves, closing the door behind him. Silas turns to you instantly, cupping your cheeks.

"What did he do to you?" he asks quickly, worry glowing in his eyes. "Tell me everything."

"He didn't do anything", you answer. "I'm okay. You never told me that you have a brother."

"Y/N, he's a horrible man, I don't want you talking to him. I hid him for a reason."

Silas's usual jealousy is talking again, you notice.

"Pack your bag, we're leaving tonight."

"Silas, I don't want to go back. I hate it there."

"You're safe at home. Apparently, you're not here."

"Silas, who cares if your brother knows that we're here?"

"No one should know where we are, do you get that? Only my closest men should know about my whereabouts. I don't even trust people in my organization. Go pack your bags now."

You sigh and give in. You notice how quiet Silas is. He throws everything around and glares. With a harsh grip on your hand, he pulls you with him to his car and speeds all the way to the airport. You're afraid of opening your mouth. He's going to explode at any moment … but you can't stand this much longer. The second his private jet lifts from the runway, you decide to try to ease the air.

"Silas, please", you say quietly with tears in your eyes. "You're scaring me."

That seems to snap Silas out of his dark cloud. His eyes dark over to you and soften, as if he's realized that you're there as well.

"Oh, I'm sorry, baby", he apologizes and unbuckles his seatbelt. "Come here."

You unbuckle your own and walk over. He pulls you down into his lap and hides his face into your abused neck. You can feel his heavy sigh.

"Why are you crying?" he asks quietly into your neck.

"I don't like it when you're mad .. every time you're mad, you kill someone", you whisper in horror. "I don't want you to be mad. I don't understand. He's just your brother-"

"I hate that piece of shit. Don't call him my brother."

You gulp.

"I will not let him take you", Silas mumbles and tightens his embrace on you. "He's always wanted everything I have. Even when we were kids. He threw tantrums when I got presents on my birthday because he wanted his own. If my dense, thick brained parents hadn't given in ye probably wouldn't he a piece of shit now."

Younger siblings are often like that, you're not surprised. Always wanting what the older one has — to be like them.

Silas lifts his head from your neck and presses his lips to yours.

"You're mine", he tells you and gives you a gaze you can't seem to read. "Say it, say that you're mine."

"I'm yours, Silas", you say hesitantly. "Please calm down, I'm uncomfortable."

He sighs heavily and intertwines your fingers.

"I'm sorry, baby", he apologizes. "Ares just pisses me off like no one else."

"You'll not have to meet him again", you remind him. "You ran into him by accident."

"Yeah, I guess. If I had known that he would stumble in like a fucking pig I would never have left you alone. I don't even want to imagine what he could have done …"

"Silas, I'm okay, right? Nothing happened. He was friendly, you have nothing to worry about?"

He scoffs. "Nothing to worry about? Yeah, right."

"Can we please drop this now? I don't want to sit with you if you're going to be like this."

You're about to stand up, but he pulls you down again.

"Alright, alright, I'll not talk more about it. Just stay."

A month passes. Silas weird behavior has finally toned down and to make up for his extremely overprotective manner, he's agreed to take you out on a car drive. Silas needs to meet up with a "colleague" to trade something he hasn't told you. You don't question that anymore — frankly, knowing will only bring you nausea and headaches.

Silas’s car has many buttons and screens inside, both in the front and behind the seats, LEDs that light up in different colors and heaters under your seat. The car is more comfortable than your bedroom. 

He parks the car in a gas station, making it look like he's supposed to fuel his car, when in reality, he walks off to meet with his contact. Before he leaves, he handcuffs your hand to the steering wheel and locks all doors. Knowing that you can unlock them from inside paranois him. You sigh and look around you for something to keep your eyes on, finding a familiar face in the slot beside you. Ares has parked his red sports car beside the gas pump. He smiles when noticing you and gets out of his car. He looks around in confusion. You point towards the gas station  with your free hand. Ares nods and scurries over to you. You unlock your door.

"Y/N, hi", he smiles. "What a coincidence. I’m so glad to see you. Ever after I was kicked out by Silas, I’ve been so worried about you. Are you okay?"

"What do you think?" you sigh and lift your cuffed hand.

"That's easy to pick." Ares picks up something resembling a needle from his back pocket and inserts it in the lock. Just a minute later, the lock clicks open and you remove the cuff from your wrist. “Y/N, you should come with me. I can save you from him.”

Those words ring in your head. I can save you from him. You can finally get away? Ares tugs on your arm and you realize that you have to decide now, before Silas returns. If you decide to leave with Ares, changes are you’ll have to live on the run for the rest of your life. You’re certain that SIlas won’t let you go that simple. And once he does catch you again, you’ll have to regain his trust — that took such a long time to acquire. But you don’t want to stay. You don’t want to have his suffocating presence around you, don’t want to be locked in his bedroom all day every day, don’t want to be present in that kind of lifestyle. You just want to go back to normal … although that will never happen. You’ve stepped into this world (although involuntarily) and now you can never get out — not fully at least. 

Ares helps you into the front seat of his sports car. You find it humorous that two brothers who seem to be so completely different like the same things.

"Let's go", Ares says and hits the gas.

"Thank you", you whisper, in shock over what just occurred. "I don't know how I'll repay you."

"Don't worry about it", Ares smiles and glances at you. "I don't think it's safe to get you home to your family. That's the first place Silas will look. Let's go to my house."

"Silas doesn’t know where that is, does he?"

"No. Just relax, Y/N, you're safe now."

You nod and decide to sink down into the car seat. You wonder how Silas is feeling right now.

Ares stops the car in front of a white house before helping you out.

"Is this your house?" you ask.

"No, I'm just using this as a decoy", Ares grins and rolls his eyes. "Come, I'll show you to the guest room. You must be tired."

You nod. If you are. Ares unlocks the door and you step into an empty hall.

"You have to excuse the empty space", Ares says, closing the door behind him. "I just moved in, I haven't had the time to get all the essentials — but I do have beds prepared."

"That's okay", you sat softly.

"The rooms are upstairs. I decided to give you an upstairs bedroom so that in case my big brother ever manages to find this house, he won't reach you. I will be able to stop him before he manages to get upstairs."

You start to walk up the stairs. 

"But he has many men …", you say quietly. 

"Trust me, Y/N, after growing up with him, you learn how to win feuds", Ares chuckles. "He's easy to read, you know? He acts like a child. He hates to share stuff, keeps unnecessary grudges and plays too hard with his toys." Ares raises his eyebrows teasingly and grins at you. "I see that your hickeys are gone."

Your hand touches your neck sheepishly. "Oh, yeah …"

"If you're ever up for some soft sex that doesn't end up looking like a murder scene …" He holds his hand up to his head like a telephone, "call me."

You chuckle and shake your head. Ares smiles and opens a door to your left, showing you a simple bedroom.

"I hope that you'll be able to recover from my brother's treatment here", he says behind you. "I'll leave you be for now. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to tell me, alright?"

"Okay", you nod. "Thank you, Ares. Genuinely. For everything."

"Of course."

He closes the door and you sink down on the mattress, breathing out. For a moment, your entire body goes numb. You really did escape Silas … with the help of Silas's brother. You have to be dreaming. How much more absurd can it get?

You find yourself enjoying Ares's company. You often sit on his couch and watch TV while he plays with his phone. It seems to occupy his every hour. You want to ask about it, but after spending so mu g time with Silas and his demeanor of 'don't ever ask what I'm doing' you hesitate. 

"You've been staring at me five times now", Ares says without looking up from his precious screen. "If you're going to ask something, do it."

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"I'm doing some business. I work mostly online."

"With what?"

Ares looks up from his phone and you freeze. You shouldn't have put your nose into his business. 

"I manage a few companies, just a couple small ones", Ares smiles. "You know — buy, sell, trade. All of that stuff. Why? Are you interested?"

"I just … I don't know. I was just wondering why you were always on your phone."

"Yes, shit, sorry. I'm so used to working all the time. Were you feeling ignored?"

"N-No, not at all. I was just curious."

"That's good. Stay curious. Just not too curious, alright? It was curiosity after all that got you into this situation from the start, wasn't it? You shouldn't have watched what was on that USB."

You gulp, remembering how you and Silas met. You had found a USB in your bag that one of his men had dropped one day. He had tracked the USB ones it had been used … and found you.

"How did you know that?" you ask.

"Do you want to know a secret?" Ares smiles boyishly. "Some of my friends work for Silas. Just under cover, to spy on him a little. They told me. That's how I knew you actually existed. You're just a rumor, but my friends could ascertain that you were real."

The mention of 'friends' brings your thoughts back on your own friends and family.

"Ares, when do you think I can go home?" you ask.

"Not for a while", Ares replies.

"But I've been here for two weeks. I'm bored. I want to meet my family."

"I know, little dove, but that isn't the ideal for now. Silas could take you. We need to be patient."

Little dove? You think that it sounds eerily similar to Silas's favorite pet name for you — little thing.

"Don't call me that", you say quietly, suddenly feeling guilt. "It … reminds me of him …"

"Reminds you of him? I saved you, remember? I'm better than him."

"Yes, yes, I know … but …"

"Come here."

You walk over to him and he takes your hand, kissing it gently.

"You're just overthinking because you're scared", Ares says. "I get that. My brother put you through horrific things. But you don't have to be afraid anymore. You're with me now. Trust me. Trust that I'm doing what's best for you."

You nod, but can't help but feel like his grip on your hand is a bit too tight. You look into his black eyes, searching for some kind of excuse for it — he's just trying to be comforting, it's just how strong his hands are … it runs in the family.

When going to bed that night, you're left with a heavy feeling in your stomach. Ares has been nothing but kind to you, so why do you suddenly feel uneasy? Or is it really sudden? Didn't you feel uncomfortable in his presence the very second you met him for the first time? Before he flashed you that boyish smile of his? Or do you just miss Silas? That can't be it … can it?

You turn in bed. 

Something doesn't feel right. Ares is supposed to be different from Silas, why does everything he does remind you of him? Just being brothers can't be the entire reason. Ares's car is the same type, just in a different color, his flirty behavior reminds you of Silas, just a tad bit different, his strong grip in your hand felt exactly like him and the way he called you "little dove" makes your stomach turn. 

What was it that Ares worked with? Did he ever tell you what he bought and sold and traded? He never told you what companies he owns.

You sit up and look around in the dark room. Ares haven't put in any effort to go out and buy furniture for his new house. The house itself doesn't make sense. Everything about Ares seems so similar to Silas, how come the house is the only thing that separates them? Silas has his black, modern, renovated villah and Ares has … an old, white house? While owning a sports car? While managing so many companies?

Suddenly, you get it all. Why haven't you noticed it before? Have you been trying to pretend that everything is fine so badly that you've missed all the red flags? You scurry out of bed and change into your clothes with shaking hands. 

You sneak out into the corridor, hearing Ares's voice from downstairs.

"No, they're asleep", he says. "Yeah, I'm thinking about doing that … they seem to piece things together and so does my idiotic brother. I can't keep them here. I'm thinking Spain. Silas will never find us there. Last I heard he got banned from entering the country. Or that might have been England. I'm not sure. Bastard's probably banned from half of Europe by now." Ares chuckles. "We'll do just fine in Spain. I know some people there that would pay a lot of money for Y/N. All because they're Silas’s partner, isn't that funny? Everyone has something against Silas and to piss him off, you have to use his little partner."

You freeze. Is Ares planning to smuggle you out of the country to sell you to one of Silas’s enemies? You have to get out of here. Oh, how you wish you were at Silas’s house right now, that you had never accepted Ares’s help. You really do miss your forced boyfriend.

You sneak down the stairs, feeling lightheaded when the wood under your feet creaks. 

"I have to go, mate, I think I have a wandering toddler", Ares says.

You hear him get up from his armchair and suddenly he appears in your vision, right in front of you down the stairs. He smiles sweetly, but you tense up.

"What's wrong?" he asks. "Can't sleep?"

"Are you taking me to Spain?" you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

He seems to be taken aback for a second but quickly gathers himself. "Yes, I thought that it would be good for you to change scenery to recover. You'll love Spain."

"I don't want to leave the country, Ares. I can recover here. I promise."

Ares eyes narrow. He must have heard the shaking in your voice that you tried so desperately to hide.

"Y/N, do you believe that I want you harm?" he asks calmly, leaning his hand on the wall.

Your heart starts to beat.

"No, of course not", you lie.

Ares smiles and walks up the steps to you. You fight the urge to flinch, suddenly feeling like you're back in Silas’s house — although you were more comfortable in Silas’s company. You knew him better.

"Let's think about it", Ares smiles and rubs your back. "It's late. Spain doesn't disappear overnight, we have time to come to a decision. Come."

He leads you back to your room and gives you your pajamas before leaving you alone. You change and sit down on your bed, holding a shaking hand over your chest.

Suddenly, you hear the door lock. You rush over, feeling the handle — just to assure you that you didn't hear things. It is indeed locked.

"Fuck …", you whisper. "Oh my God, Silas, help me."

You decide to play along. 

You sit with Ares in the living room every evening, watching the TV. And then, the day comes when you’re supposed to go to Spain. The night before, you know that you have to do something. You don’t want to leave the country. Not with him. 

You put on your clothes and sneak downstairs, finding Ares on his phone as usual. He doesn’t see you sneak by the living room door, over to the front door. You try it once. Locked. This old house needs to be unlocked with a key from the inside — a key you don’t have. You look around quickly, glancing every minute towards the living room. You try the window. Nothing. The only window responding to your tries are the kitchen window above the sink. As quiet as you possibly can, you get up on the counter and pull the window open. WHen climbing out, you accidentally knock a glass over. The sound of glass crashing against metal in the sink makes your heart drop. You don’t wait for any responses. Without a second doubt, you jump down onto the grass outside and run. Past his red sports car, past the gates, down the street. 

From your month at Ares’s house, you’ve learned that the people in the surrounding houses are nothing more than drug addicted humans. No reason to try to get help from them. You run until an old telephone box appears in the distance. If there’s one phone number you’ve had to memorize, it’s Silas. You’re surprised he hasn’t tattooed it on you to make sure you don’t forget. 

You know that you should call the police. You really should … but you have a feeling that they won’t be much help. If there’s one that will help you at all cost … it’s Silas. He will do what it takes. You can’t waste this opportunity on something and someone that might not work.  

You rip the glass door open and grab the phone. 

��A quarter?” you pant in panic, looking around. “I don’t have a quarter!”

To your big surprise, someone must have dropped one while fumbling with their wallet before you. You pick up the shiny coin and press it into the slot before hurrying to press in the phone number.

“Please pick up, please”, you plead, panting. Your entire body is jittering, you can’t stand still. “Please, Silas!”

Finally, the long signals break. Silence.

"Hello?" you pant.

"Y/N?" Silas gasps.

A weird relief flows through you when hearing his voice. You hadn't realized that you had … missed it. 

 "I was wondering who had gotten my private number!" he continues quickly. "Where are you? Are you safe?"

"Ares wants to take me out of the country — to Spain! He wants to leave tomorrow. I'm so sorry I didn't believe you! You were right about him-"

"Where are you?"

You give him the description of the place while he forces his men to track the call. You crouch down while sobbing. Your entire body trembles.

"Don't worry, baby, I will get you", Silas comforts you. "You'll be safe soon, okay? Just hold out for me. I'll be-"

"Deposit another quarter to keep the call going."

"Fuck!" you shout and slam the phone back in its place. 

Everything seems so quiet again. You open the phone box to get some fresh air when you see him. He's standing with his back leaned against the glass cubicle. You freeze.

"You're not a good actor, Y/N", Ares says with a small smile. "You heard everything I said in my phone call that night. You couldn't fool me."

"You were going to smuggle me out of the country and sell me!" you say through gritted teeth. "Silas was right about you. You are jealous of him, want everything he has. But you'll never have that. You're just a copycat."

Ares stands up and takes a step closer. He towers over you like a predator. You force yourself to stand your ground while glaring at him. 

"A copycat?" he asks, raising his eyebrows testingly. You can hear how he's trying his best to stay calm. "How can I copy someone who isn't deserving of anything? He doesn't deserve even half of the things he's gotten. Not his empire, not his wealth, not his reputation, not you."

You gulp, but train your glare on him.

"And you do, or what?" you question.

"I've actually decided to keep you", Ares says with raised eyebrows. "I'm not going to sell you. How could I? Not after you've been so good to me, actually giving me attention for once. Do you know how sick I am of hearing 'Silas this', 'Silas that'? Despite disowning him, my parents still talk about him constantly! It's always been that way. No one cares what Ares does." He points at you. "You listened to me. You had a good time spending time with me — don't try to lie about it — and I'm not letting you go. I'm not going to be alone again. Silas doesn't take care of you in the way I do. In one month, I've fixed what he's destroyed. Unlike him, I give you freedom. I give you what you want. Silas didn't give you a TV, didn't even let you out of your fucking bedroom! He never answered your questions, I do."

"You tricked me. That day you stumbled into the house the only time we were there wasn't a coincidence, was it? Or the day you met us at the gas station? Your friends had told you, hadn't they? Because if they hadn't, how would you just happen to have a lock pick just when I needed one? You pretended that you were nice to lure me away from Silas, but you're just as bad as him."

"So why do you try to go back to Silas, hm? If he's as bad as me? If you can love him, you can love me too, if you are so persistent that we're the exact same."

"Because at least Silas doesn't pretend to be someone else and would never even think about selling me. But since you're so money hungry, Ares, what do you work with? Your companies. They're not legal, are they? None of the money you have is clean, like you pass them as."

"Silas money isn't clean either. If you're going to call me a scum, you better take a good, hard look at your boyfriend. He has people killed, tortured and manhandled. I don't do that. The worst thing I do is put people into debt, I do not kill."

"People die because of that — and that is your fault. You're both bad, don't pretend to be someone honest." Your eyebrows twitch. "For your information, I would never go to Spain with you, even if I didn't know what a total psychopath you are."

Ares smiles a predatory smile that makes your veins turn to ice. "You're going to Spain with me if I have to drag you by your hair."

You give him one last glare before you run. He sets off after you, grabbing you by your arm. He folds it and reaches for the other while kicking the back of your knees. You fall together and give him just enough time to lock you in place. 

He drags you back to his house where his car is already being loaded with bags. A big box is standing on the grass with its lid open.

"If you hadn't been such a pain, Y/N, I wouldn't have to do this", he pants and pushes you into the box, closing it from the outside. "You could have sat beside me in first class, but now you go with the luggage."

You hit, kick and punch. Stars shoot from the pain.

"Let me out!" you shout. "Ares!"

Silence. You can hear the engine of a car starting and disappearing into the distance. And then comes back.

"Y/N?" a familiar voice shouts.

Silas.

You start to kick and punch the wooden box again, shouting back. Soon, the lid opens and you are met by Silas’s worried face. You have never been so happy to see him before. 

"Oh, Y/N …", he breathes out and lifts you up, hugging you tightly. "My baby."

You cry against his body. He squeezes you in his arms, making sure that you really are real. He examines your poor knuckles, giving them a kiss.

"Are you okay?" he asks worriedly. 

"Ares was going to take me to Spain", you sob.

"Yes, you said something about that on the phone. We'll talk more about it later, okay? Now we need to get you home."

You look around in horror. "Where is Ares?"

"Not here, don't worry. If there's one thing about him that he can't change, it's that he's the biggest coward you'll ever meet. I saw him in his car driving past, shouting that you were here. He'd rather blow off his entire operation than get caught."

You breathe out. Silas hangs his coat over your shoulder before placing his arm around you.

"Let's get you home", he says and kisses your temple. "It's about time. Ive missed you so fucking much. I haven’t been able to sleep without you, I’ve been so scared that Ares had killed you. I’ll cut off his hands for touching you. I’ll pluck out his eyes for looking at you, I promise."

“I’ve missed you too”, you admit and wipe your tears. “He tricked me. I’m sorry.”

Silas kisses your lips and caresses your cheek without saying anything. You can see tears in his eyes, for the very first time.

A paper on the ground catches your attention, but before you have time to look at it, Silas asks about what happened and you have to put it in your pocket.

"He has infiltrated your organization", you say as Silas helps you into the front seat. "He has spies in your group who report to him." You tell him the entire story. "He wanted to smuggle me to Spain to sell em to one of your enemies …"

"Bastard", Silas mutters and hits tye instrumental plate with his palm. "He knows I'm banned from there."

"Why?" 

Silas is about to tell you that you shouldn't worry about it, but then sighs. "A murder or two. But that doesn't matter. I'm just happy that you managed to escape him in time to call me. If you hadn't … I probably wouldn't have gotten you back.”

You fiddle with your fingers guiltily in your lap. "I'm sorry for not believing you …"

"Don't be. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have brought you along. I shouldn’t have thought that he’d give up. Ares is a master manipulator. That's why his businesses are going so well. He knows how to manipulate his way into getting what he wants. He played on your insecurities and fears. I should have protected you better.”

“What will happen to him?”

“I’ll let that cowardly cockroach slip away this time. But the next time I see him, I will kill him.” Silas takes your hand with his free one. “From here on, I’ll make sure it never happens again. I’ll get better security and I’ll make sure we can do more stuff … to make sure that you aren’t locked in the bedroom all the time.”

“That sounds nice …” you say quietly. 

You sit in silence for a while. Suddenly, you remember the paper in your pocket. You pick it out and fold it open. For a few seconds, you’re sure that you can’t breathe. 

'I will come back for you and when I do, it’s going to be bloody'

[sainamoonshine]

So I know the entire narrative in The Locked Tomb is like « oh ahaha Babs, what a loser » but I genuinely think that there might be something really interesting about him. Babs was the only person in the whole galaxy to know about Ianthe and Corona’s secret. And I’m starting to think that as much of a natural asshole he is, at least 50% of what we see of him in GtN is acting.

Let me explain: he is obviously in puppy love with Corona, and dismissive of Ianthe when Corona is looking. But privately, he is terrified of her. He knows she’s his necromancer and NOT Corona; this is proven when the Second challenges the Sixth, and Corona wants to intervene but Ianthe says no. Ianthe is 100% certain that Babs will do as she says, but Corona is actually surprised. And when he finds Corona duelling Gideon, he is scared and tells her that he will not tell Ianthe. I think Ianthe probably threatened him behind Corona’s back one time or a dozen. And I think Babs isn’t just protecting their secret, he might be trying to protect Corona from Ianthe’s anger too. Being the annoying go-between, the butt of the joke, the meat shield. On purpose.

Pay close attention to when he’s being a contrary asshole for no reason. A lot of it seems to come naturally to him, sure. But also: when Jeannemary finds the human ash and asks for Corona of all people to help her identify the deceased: he immediately redirects attention by being a mega-asshole. Corona ends up not having to do any necromancy; her secret is still safe. Similarly, later on in Dulcinea’s sick room, when everyone is having a discussion about necromancy: he makes a tetchy comment, prompting Corona to whisk him away like ‘oh ahah he’s getting hangry’. How familiar is this routine for them?

I think deep down, while he’s an arrogant dickhead, Babs isn’t evil. He’s shocked and appalled that Silas went and took Dulcinea’s keys, and I don’t think it’s because he wishes he thought of it first, as Jeannemary accuses. I think he genuinely thinks that’s dishonourable. And when Corona tries to stand up for the Sixth and Ianthe says no, Babs follows her order, but is pissed about it.

But hold on, you might say to me, five minutes later HE is the one to issue a challenge to the Sixth!! Yeah, after a tense stare-off with his necromancer. After, perhaps, coming to some conclusions of his own about the Third house’s chances regarding the key situation. Ianthe herself says to Corona: you need a facility key. This is your only chance. Might be that Babs figured something similar!

When Harrow answers the call, his face is frozen in a look that’s both cautious but trying to look though. When Jeannemary jumps on the table, he immediately backs out. Without waiting for Ianthe to call him off. He tries to play it off, but Babs is pretty consistent on NOT wanting to fight the teenager.

In conclusion: the dude is a dick but I think he’s got honour and he is stuck between a rock and a very hard place. AND he fights Ianthe after the lyctoral process for a surprising and impressive long time!

Also: lmao when he jumps off the table he mutters ‘should have just stayed home and gotten married’. Okay??? Babs what’s that about? 👀

[bots-and-cons]

Can I request scenerio Arcee with a fem human S/O that was experimented on as a prototype of how Silas would be infused with the corpse of breakdown but the S/O was infused with the corpse of Airachnid. How would Arcee feel knowing that her S/O was now going to spend the rest of her life in the body of her worst enemy to survive?

A/N: This is going to be all angst babyyyyy. I kinda wanna do a part two where Airachnid’s personality starts to affect the reader or something, more angst in any case

Warnings: Body horror?

Arcee hadn’t heard from you for months, and now Airachnid was back. Could the day get any worse? Arcee was feeling frustrated about you seemingly disappearing from the face of the earth, and angry about Airachnid resurfacing. Little did she know those two things were very much connected.

When you came to, you felt incredibly out of it. It was like your brain wasn’t connected to your body at all. You weren’t sure if you were even moving your arm when you tried to bring your hand to touch your face. After a moment of trying, you came to the conclusion it was in fact not moving. It felt like the distance between your brain and the hand you wanted to move was too far to reach.

“What the hell?” you muttered.

The voice that came out didn’t sound like your own. It was a garbled mess and sounded somewhat glitchy, which didn’t make any sense.

“I see you’re awake” an unfamiliar voice said. “Your voice and motor skills will come back to you… hopefully”

While you couldn’t really move, you could still feel that you were restrained. You finally tried to open your eyes, and it was like a TV screen turning on. You couldn’t see clearly right away, but you could tell you were laying on the floor or a table of some sort. There was a lamp above you, slowly swaying back and forth. You turned your head and saw a man standing next to you, he looked like he was oddly small. What the hell was going on?”

“Sir, they’re awake” the man said to someone else in the room, and you heard someone walking towards you.

“Would you look at that, the experiment seems to be a success” he said.

You recognized his voice, it was that M.E.C.H freak Silas.

“What did you do to me?” you asked.

Your voice was still pretty garbled, but better than moments before, so he could make out what you were saying.

“See for yourself” 

The table you were on, started to move into an upright position. You could see a wall of screens in front of you, there were some sorts of schematics displayed on them. Your vision finally focused properly, and you could see what was on the screens.

You felt like you were going to pass out, but something wouldn’t let you. It was like you got to the edge, but something was preventing you from falling into the void. You started to struggle, and some sort of machine started to beep rapidly. You had to get away from them, you had to get back to the autobots, surely they could help you. How long had you been gone? Those sick bastards hadn’t done this in days, it was probably more like weeks, even months.

By some miracle, you managed to get out of the restraints, but you fell down immediately, your legs wouldn’t hold you. Were they even your legs? Or were they hers? You could hear the crackling of those big taser-like devices the M.E.C.H members used.

"You shouldn’t strain yourself, your body is still adjusting" Silas said, standing next to you.

You could barely hold yourself up with your arms, so escape didn’t seem likely. However, staying there wasn’t an option either, who knows what kind of experiments they had planned for you. You probably only had one chance, if you managed to catch these bastards by surprise and your body would cooperate, you might have a chance to get away.

Suddenly there was a commotion outside.

“The autobots are here, we need to retreat!” someone yelled.

Arcee had come for you, you knew she wouldn’t abandon you. Now all you had to do was make sure Silas and his henchmen couldn’t take you with them. You swiped them away with your hand as quickly as you could, while the commotion outside had caught them by surprise.

“I’m in here” you tried to yell.

Your voice didn’t sound like your own at all. You could speak more clearly now, but the autobots wouldn’t be able to tell who you were by your voice. Would they be able to tell at all? You were in Airachnid’s body now. You had somehow been put together like some sort of Frankenstein’s monster. Would Arcee even know it was you? Would she believe you if you told her, or would she just think it was another one of Airachnid’s tricks? Would you even get a chance to explain?

The people who’d done this to you were all leaving through the door behind you, but you were too weak to stop any of them. You were half laying on the ground, barely able to hold your upper body in an upright position.

When Arcee busted into the warehouse, she was ready to put an end to the life of that spidery con. So when she found her nemesis, and the first word out of her mouth was “Cee!” she was understandably confused.

“Don’t call me that” Arcee hissed at the con in front of her.

“I don’t know what they did to me, but I’m not Airachnid. Cee please, it’s me (Name)”

“Shut your mouth decepticon. You don’t get to say their name, and for the last time, stop calling me that” Arcee said as she pointed her blaster straight at your chest.

“Please, I’m begging you. Remember the first time you told me you loved me? We were on top of the base that one chilly night, looking at the stars and I tripped and almost fell off. You grabbed me and stopped me from falling. You saved my life that time. Airachnid wouldn’t know something like that”

Arcee’s blaster started to shudder, and she lowered it slowly. She didn’t understand what was going on. Whoever it was in front of him, they didn’t seem like Airachnid. They didn’t give off the malice and bloodlust that was always present when she was around. It couldn’t be you either, right?

You were almost sure you had convinced her of your identity, and you could leave the strength leaving your body. You collapsed, and the last thing you saw before it all went dark, was Arcee’s confused face.

Arcee decided it would be best to have Ratchet take a look at you at the warehouse rather than bringing you to the base, in case this was some sort of scam. Ratchet scanned you and immediately told everyone else to leave, he needed to talk to Arcee alone. He had an odd look on his face, but mainly it came off as disgust.

“It is Airachnid, isn’t it?” Arcee asked gravely.

“Not exactly” Ratchet said, not looking at Arcee.

“It is Airachnid’s body, yes, but she appears to be dead. (Name) seems to be in control of this… amalgamation”

“Ratchet, could you explain what’s going on? What do you mean by amalgamation?” Arcee asked, starting to sound impatient.

Ratchet was a medic, he had seen all kinds of horrific things, but this might just be the worst. He didn’t really have a choice. He had to open up the chest panels of this thing now in front of him. He had to make sure that whatever the situation was, you would remain alive, if it could be called living. It might have been a mercy to let you drift away.

If cybertronians could throw up, Arcee was sure this was the situation where it would’ve happened. When Ratchet popped open the chest panels, Arcee staggered back a few steps. Almost falling down from the shock. You were in there, a part of you was at least. She felt sick.

“What…?” Arcee whispered.

“I don’t fully understand what’s going on, but it seems they’ve somehow fused (Name)’s consciousness with Airachnid’s body by connecting their brain with-”

“Stop, I don’t want to know!” Arcee exclaimed.

What kind of person could do this? What kind of monster did one have to be to do something like this to another person? Arcee didn’t really care much for the fact that Airachnid was dead, but even she didn’t deserve this. 

“Are they alive?” Arcee asked coldly.

“You could say that. In any case, we must take them back to the base, so I can assess the situation properly”

She couldn’t even bring herself to help carry you through the ground bridge. Arcee couldn’t touch you, she could barely even look at you. How could she move past this? Would she even be able to? Just thinking about touching you while you were like that made a shiver go down her spine. She couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, but was this really a better option? Was it really better to doom you to such a horrible existence? You would be forced to live in a foreign body. You weren’t human anymore, but you weren’t a cybertronian either, you never would be. Like Ratchet said, you were an amalgamation, a nightmarish one at that. Arcee didn’t know what to think. She didn’t know what to do. She just felt sick. No matter how much she loved you, could she live with how you were now? Would death be a mercy for you?

[hoedamn-eron]

shut up, kid

You awake to your first Mother’s Day with baby Bateman.

Warnings: Nathan is honestly the only warning you need. I suppose some hints of breastfeeding too (a fed baby is a happy baby, whether bottle or breast). Actually proofread for once, but probably still mistakes that I missed. Word count: 750 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

This was written VERY last minute (by last minute, I mean at 9:30pm on Mother's Day in the UK 😂). Anyway, happy Mother’s Day to all the parents out there! 😊 I’ve recently been very broody and very Nathan oriented, so I created this mostly self-indulgent fic (loosely based on this post from a few weeks ago).

I struggle to write Nathan, I feel like I can't get his personalty, or his demeanour right, so please let me know if I can improve anywhere! I want to write more Nathan!

It was the sound of a loud, high-pitched, excited squeal, that woke you up.

“Hey,” came the voice of your boyfriend, sounding distant and muffled as the sweet caress of sleep called back to you. “I know we came to wake up your mom, but that’s not the way to do it. You want to deal with the dragon before she’s had her morning coffee? No? I fuckin’ thought not. Shut up, kid.”

“You shouldn’t swear at your son,” you muttered into your pillow, knowing now that sleep was just a distant memory.

“Ah, shit.”

You grin into the pillow before you look up, your eyes blurrily settling on your boyfriend, who had a mug of coffee in his left hand (in your favourite mug – one you got from a Blue Book convention back when you were in college, long before you met Nathan...Nathan hated it), and his other hand was occupied supporting your seven-month-old son, Silas, who was happily sitting on Nathan’s hip, still in his footsie pyjamas, chewing on his pointer finger. It was sickening how you carried the kid for nine months, and going through a 36-hour labour, sacrificing your body and your boobs (your nipples will never be the same again), for him to look exactly like Nathan.

You still love the bones off him anyway.

“Kid doesn’t know what I’m saying, it’s fine,” Nathan continues, coming over to you and holding out the mug. You take it, smiling up at Nathan as he leans down to you and presses a kiss against your lips, murmuring a ‘good morning’ to you before he straightens up.

He’s so hot. Even now, he’s just wearing some old sweatpants and a t-shirt (it even has a stain of old baby throw up, which you just couldn’t get out), but it’s the way he’s holding your son...it does things to you.

“Good morning,” you greeted back, taking a sip of your coffee. You nod at Silas as he continued to chew on his finger. “Lost another pacifier?”

“I don’t know what he does with them,” Nathan said, shaking his head, gesturing with now free his hand around the room. “Spend all my fuckin’ spare time trying to find that blue one that he refuses to nap without.”

“Language,” you tell him, take a sip of your coffee.

“Sorry,” he says, almost on autopilot. “I’ll request more for the chopper next week. Think 50 will be enough? Obviously fuckin’ not, he’ll lose them all within a week.”

You laugh as you shake your head at him before looking at Silas. “Is your dada silly?” you ask him in your most annoying baby voice.

The kid loves it. He smiles widely at you and kicks his legs in excitement.

“Anyway,” Nathan says, adjusting Silas in his grip as he looked back at you, evidently choosing to ignore your comment to your son. “Happy Mother’s Day, or whatever. I made you breakfast, your favourite. The kid had some, he loved it, so now we’ll probably have to make it for him every day. I’ll run you a bath and by the time you’re finished it should be ready. While you’re being a lazy ass in the tub and skirting your duties as a mother - “

You go to swat Nathan on the thigh, but he dodges you swiftly and carries on like he was never interrupted.

“Me and this one,” he nods to Silas. “Will work on some tummy time, see if we can start crawling today.”

“Not all kids start crawling at seven months.”

“Not all kids are mine.”

“Debatable, regarding all the sex you were having before we met.”

“You’re reaping all the benefits from ‘all that sex’.”

“You pig.”

“You love me.”

You do. God, you do. So much. But you’re not going to tell him that.

You take a gulp of your coffee, hiding your smile.

“Get your pretty ass out of bed,” Nathan said, already turning away from you, grabbing Silas around the tummy and tossing him lightly in the air and catching him, causing Silas to laugh that cute baby giggle he has that melts your heart. “Come and celebrate your first Mother’s Day.”

He leaves the room, and you laugh to yourself as you distinctly hear the sound of Nathan giving Silas a raspberry on his belly as he walks down the corridor, the squealing sound of laughter from your son following right after.

It sends a warm feeling of joy and happiness through you.

[abigail-pent]

Thoughts on HTN Act Five on ??th reread:

- the joke about the Ninth knowing a thousand shades of off-white is absolutely a 50 Shades of Grey reference

- Ianthe wonders what Harrow's face "could have done to it" - ohhhhh yeah she is doing hella cosmetic "surgery" on Corona. this still isn't explicitly canon as far as I'm aware, but that line makes it pretty damn close

- Harrow Nonagesimus breaks into the Tomb and Harrow Nova breaks into the Anastasian. Baby girl is the same in every universe

- Harrow Nova is "the unfulfilled vow" and "the bloody teeth of the unkissed skull" AND THEN ALECTO KISSES HARROW NONAGESIMUS IN FULFILLMENT OF THE VOW AND SHE BLEEDS. I've connected these things, I've connected them

- ok if Harrow is pulling everyone who's dead into her River bubble, then doesn't that mean that in the BARI Star AU she is actually interacting with the actual spirit of Gideon Nav?

- I don't know if we talk enough about how Harrow actually becomes a full Lyctor after she's stabbed and remembers Gideon. It feels kind of weird that her body only gets Lyctoral healing once her soul is gone from it. The construct in her skull is still there, it stays there until Gideon talks to Mercy and hears her name.

I mean, the weirdest thing about it is it implies that John and Gideon the First were right that they could fix Harrow by killing her. And given that the sort of cav Gideon becomes is explicitly and canonically analogous to the sort of cav Pyrrha is - still conscious and able to pilot the body in the absence of the necromancer's soul - that makes me wonder if maybe this happened to Gideon the First too. Like maybe that's why he's described as such a zombie, and maybe that's why John seems to know that killing Harrow would "fix" her, and Gideon agrees.

- Abigail talks about the place over the River the way John talks about the place beyond the stoma - it's an undiscovered country he knows nothing of, where his power is meaningless.

- Mercy says if Gideon Nav were Alecto, she would have "gone for me already" - so yeah, Alecto wasn't just incredibly weird and creepy, she was directing violence at Mercymorn. Pyrrha later says Alecto wasn't so bad (but that absolutely doesn't preclude Alecto being super violent to Lyctors, Pyrrha would respect the shit out of that), and of course it seems like she and Anastasia loved each other. But: John says that anger was Alecto's sin; The Unwanted Guest implies that that anger may have been John's, but in a different body; and it seems like this anger got expressed at Mercymorn and probably other Lyctors too. When Gideon meets Augustine she says he looks at her eyes in Harrow's face like they were the last thing he'd ever see; which suggests she took her anger out on Augustine too. But why was she angry at them? Was it because they ascended?

- "I gave you one damn job, and instead you rolled a rock over me and turned your back!" Harrow IS the Ninth House for real... (this is exactly the problem Silas has with the Ninth)

- in GTN, in the Cytherea fight, when Gideon looks back at Harrow right after she says "Then we're all dead, Nav, but let's bring hell first" 🤝 in HTN, in the Sleeper fight, when Ortus looks back at Harrow who has just followed his lead to recite the Noniad ... the way both of her cavaliers are a little surprised, but very impressed and comforted, by her loyalty to them and trust in them ... I am very fine and normal about this

- when Abigail summons Nonius: blazing like a flare from an alien blue sun! appearing to hold a book made of blue radiation in her hands! soaking wet! everything smells like water and brine and blood! she screams as though there are a multitude of voices in hers! time seems to slow way down! her eyes become dark and liquid and feral! this is both extremely fucking cool and probably meaningful. the smell and wetness are for the River, the many-voiced quality recalls Alecto and her many voices, the time slowing recalls John's ability to stop time, the eyes recall John's (so, Alecto's) as well. SHE IS ABIGAIL FOR HER MOTHERS AND PENT FOR HER PEOPLE AND I LOVE HER

- I love that Nonius canonically fought Gideon the First, and calls him "a rival and ally". I'm not much of a fic reader myself (heresy, I know) but I absolutely want to read a fic about "we met long ago, and I fought him."

- "Genuinely sad, bordering on very funny" legitimately could have been the tagline for this book

- Augustine says that if it's really Wake, then Gideon has proved "yet again" that he's unfit for any job besides making simple gruels and stews. Yet again??

- it's probably Augustine that Mercy tried to kill tbh

- I think Wake recognizes Pyrrha in Gideon's face when no one else does. That's why she looks at her like that.

- the way Gideon Nav has always yearned for her parents vs the way her bio-parents treat her... oof ohh oww... Pyrrha Dve is the only parent I will diplomatically recognize for Gideon Nav

- Alecto's eyes end up in John's genetic code - Lyctorhood doesn't only meld souls, it melds bodies as well.

- John says Mercy and Augustine killed Alecto because he told them the truth about her; and Augustine says he told them that because Alecto also knew the truth. But ... which truth was it? When we hear from Alecto, she seems to have a fuzzy memory.

Also, worth mentioning that this is a different account than what Teacher offers. Teacher says that the Lyctors asked John to kill Alecto after they ascended and "found out the price." If this account is correct - and why wouldn't it be, it comes from Augustine, who was a key player - then the "price" wasn't the death of the eight cavs, the "price" was something to do with the truth about Alecto. And whatever this truth is, it isn't that Alecto was John's cavalier, because Mercy and Augustine are only finding out about this now. I suspect the "price" is the price of creating necromancy - murdering the 10 billion - and then when Mercy and Augustine know that Alecto is the Resurrection Beast of Earth they ask John to kill her. So I was wrong, and he must have basically told them "lol we've been hanging out with an RB this whole time."

- when John reconstitutes himself, the light he emanates leaches all the color from the room and turns everyone into shades of gray. LIKE WHEN SILAS SIPHONS COLUM. It makes sense that he's taking thalergy from somewhere to build himself back up, but where exactly is it coming from? Alecto?

[forwhump]

a/n; this one’s pretty fucked up :-; more rape & more murder but it’s a story about a sex slave & a weapon so that’s just kinda what you get ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ my bad !

tw/cw: rape, noncon, mutilation, dismemberment, decapitation, murder, grievous bodily harm, misgendering, transphobia, psychological torture, urine, gore, bodily fluids

living weapon whumpee, multiple whumpers, revenge, military

There has not been a time, since his creation, that Silas has been above ground.

Everything that’s been done to him, everything that he’s done, it’s happened hundreds of feet below the ground in the concrete labyrinth of the district. Every surgery, every slaughter, every field test.

Even the fuckin’ field tests. The field tests are training exercises, combat training, but they don’t trust Silas above ground to participate in them. They’re probably right not to. They’re smarter, sometimes, than Silas will ever give them credit for.

Within the labyrinth there are these arenas, these massive, open spaces made up to look like a world Silas has never seen. There’s a number of them, made to look like different practical terrain; forests and deserts and small villages and mountains and cities. It would be impossible for Silas to fathom if he ever had the time or the means to sit and try and fathom it. He’d almost think he left the district were it not for the concrete sky, hundreds of feet above his head.

He didn’t always mind the field tests. It was a chance to stretch his legs. The enemy was always played by military recruits, young and green. Silas isn’t sure if they know what they’re getting into when they enter the arena, if they are briefed on exactly what Silas is, but none of them ever walk out again. Their grieving families will bury a flag and a handful of teeth on Silas’ most generous day.

Barbarity is encouraged. Bloodshed is lauded. It’s always a slaughter, but it’s expected of him. It’s always been a good way to blow off some steam, even if he never walks away unscathed. He gets to use his hands.

But the rules had changed since they’d taken Wren from him.

The rules have been the same for every field test so far — kill or be killed. The recruits get weapons and machinery and supplies and dogs; Silas doesn’t even get a shirt. He gets a pair of prison grey joggers and his own two hands. Kill or be killed.

They didn’t tell him they’d added civilians.

He doesn’t realize that anything’s wrong for an entire three days. He soldiers through the rainforest arena and kills recruits with tooth and talon. When the lights get shut down for the third night, nighttime in the wilderness, Silas has become that thing the field tests always stoke to life in him; Silas isn’t human anymore. It slides under his skin, that feral, rabid thing, and it rips limbs from screaming bodies, it peels skin back with his teeth. When the lights get shut down for the third night, Silas’ hair is glued to his back and his throat with the thick layer of blood that crusts his skin. None of it is his own. Not a single recruit had gotten a single shot in yet. It was going exceptionally well. Silas should have been suspicious.

He should’ve fuckin’ known. He should’ve done better. He should’ve been faster. When he finally sees Wren again, his Wren, bathed in the flickering firelight of the enemy camp, all the human parts of him are reignited with a screaming rage and a sort of guilt that makes Silas feel heavy. He should’ve known something was wrong. He should’ve been here three days ago.

The surviving soldiers are set up around the fire, cocky and comfortable. Wren’s in the dirt at their feet.

Fuck, Silas had missed him. Silas had missed him in a big, impossible way, and he can’t even be happy to see him because Silas wishes more than anything that Wren was not here. Wren would be safer almost anywhere but here.

He’s dressed like a child and his hair is down, grimy and matted, pooling in the dirt around him. He’s face down, limp, and Silas has to blink red mist from his vision. Before he’s close enough to stop it, one of the soldiers stands, pulls his belt, and pisses in Wren’s hair.

Wren doesn’t move or moan or otherwise react in any way. He’s still limp — he’s so still, actually, almost unnaturally still, and Silas is — he can’t be too late, Wren can’t be —

Another soldier stands, some blond puke, and he turns Wren onto his side with his foot before he boots him in the stomach.

Weakly, Wren groans. Weakly, softly, but he groans. He isn’t dead.

Silas is gonna cause a fuckin’ bloodbath.

“Stop passing out on us,” the blond groans. “You got a long night ahead of you, girl.”

Wren doesn’t make another sound and the recruit kicks him again, so hard he’s forced onto his back. He groans softly.

A soldier with a shock of red hair spits in the dirt next to him as he stands. “I know how to wake her up.” His grin glints in the firelight and the blond laughs. He spits again as he takes a handful of Wren’s hair, coiling it around his fist, hauling him across the dirt and a safe distance away from the bonfire. He whistles back over his shoulder at the other recruits, watching him with varying degrees of obvious humour. “C’mere. Hold her open for me. Hold her down when she starts fighting and I’ll let you have a turn when I’m done.”

No.

How can this keep happening? How can this be somebody’s life?

There’s something casual, something genuinely amused in the way the recruits laugh between themselves as they splay their hands over Wren’s skin, as they hold his limp body into the dirt and he whimpers. The redhead tugs his belt free before he kneels between Wren’s legs, shoving the frilly hem of his little dress up and around his ribcage. He settles over him, his knuckles white against the purpling bruise of Wren’s skin. His answering groan is loud and low and satisfied.

Silas can hear when Wren regains consciousness because of how horribly and primally he screams.

All of the recruits laugh, but it’s the blond that coos, pleased, “there she is.”

When Silas breaks the tree line it’s his shadow that gives him away. One of the soldiers, holding one of Wren’s thighs, looks up, distracted, and the double take he does would be comical if Silas weren’t out for blood. He jumps to his feet, fumbles for his gun, green and unprepared. He cries, “what the fuck is that?”

Silas grins, but it isn’t nice.

The rest of the recruits look up in militant unison but react quickly with varying degrees of unrestrained horror. Almost every one of them scrambles to their feet and for their weapons. Except, of course, the redheaded puke knelt between Wren’s thighs. He stills, a picture of cruelty.

Silas cracks his knuckles.

Wren’s head lolls against the dirt and he finds Silas through the idiot cavalry. This’ll be easy; the recruits are always just as evil as the soldiers — a requirement of them, apparently — but they aren’t nearly as dangerous. They aren’t trained, polished, quick in the way the soldiers are, they aren’t used to Silas the same. This will be embarrassing for them.

Wren looks up at Silas with huge, wet eyes and the way the relief crests across his face would probably make Silas cry if he were capable of it.

“What the hell is that thing?” The recruits are shouting. “Who are you? Back up! Back the fuck up!”

Silas barely hears them. To Wren, he says, “I’m sorry I’m late.”

Wren tips his head back as he sobs.

The redhead looks down at him quickly as he hisses, “what the fuck is that?”

He folds an arm over his face and his chest hitches as he cries into the grime.

The recruit tries to grab him, to pry his arm from his face, hisses something else like “look at me when I’m talking to you. What the fuck is going on?”, but Silas is across the camp in a second and he takes his ginger head in both hands. The recruit flails, pulls away from Wren, and as soon as he does Silas turns, trying to shield his Wren from the splatter with his bulk. He crushes the redhead’s skull between his hands.

The noise it makes is like a crack of lightning.

The sort of silence that’s close behind unrecoverable trauma settles over the camp and Silas grins so widely something clicks in his jaw. He’s merciful — the recruits won’t have to live with this for long.

“What are you?” The blond asks, and his voice is thin.

Silas cracks his neck. “Does it matter?”

A different recruit swallows so thickly that Silas can hear it. But he’s trying to be brave, so he says, “back up, freak.”

Silas does not, in fact, back up. The blond is standing close and he doesn’t react quick enough when Silas grabs him by the collar — he panics, flailing as Silas lifts him clean off the ground. It kind of wakes up the recruits, who lift guns and take aim, but what’s the worst they can do to him? Really?

It’s one of the worst things about these men, about this place. It’s one of the reasons Silas hates them so viscerally it’s become interwoven into his DNA. Silas, in a way, gets off easy — Silas just gets shot, and he can take a fuckin’ bullet. It’s the least he can do. Wren isn’t so lucky. They aren’t afraid of Wren. He’s small and he can’t fight back the way Silas can. What’s the worst thing they can do to a fuckin’ machine? They’ll shut him down, and he’ll begin again. Wren is vulnerable.

He pries a handgun from the blond’s flailing grip hands and forces the barrel down the back of his throat. He grabs at Silas’ wrist, frantic, and Silas grins at him as he pulls the trigger.

He bursts into blood and viscera and the other recruits explode into shouting and panic. “Get back!” The brave one shouts, and he makes the grievous mistake of getting too close. Not within reaching distance, but still too close. “Get the fuck back!”

“What are you gonna do?” Silas asks, raising his eyebrows. “Shoot me?” The recruit lifts his gun, a threat, and Silas grins at him. “Tell you what. Let me do you one better,” and he points the gun down, firing a round into his own foot. It crackles with a pain that the simmering rage quickly dissolves.

The soldier gapes, hesitating, and he only hesitates for half a moment but it’s a full moment too long. Silas raises the gun again. “Now it’s your turn,” he says, and unloads three rounds between his eyes.

He drops to the dirt and another recruit steps over him quickly, into Silas’ personal space.

Silas doesn’t take kindly to that.

He takes him by the jaw and wrenches his mouth open. As he tries to scream around Silas’ hands, Silas hooks his fingers behind each row of his teeth and rips his face in half through the middle. His throat is still working as Silas pushes his body out of the way with the side of his foot.

“What the fuck?” A recruit cries, standing too close, splattered with blood that isn’t his own. Silas reaches out to him with his free hand and tears out his windpipe with bloody fingers. As he chokes, Silas breaks his nose back into his brain with the base of his gun. His eyes are rolled back into his head when he dies.

There are four surviving recruits, and they try to scatter. Silas lets them try, because he enjoys the panic, but he doesn’t let them get very far. Eight rounds, one for each knee. There are cries of pain and noises of impact and Silas laughs loudly.

He weaves his way across the camp slowly, tauntingly, and he kills them one at a time. He crushes both hands and the throat of the first recruit; he removes both hands and the throat from the second. The third is decapitated, and not quickly or cleanly; Silas removes his head with force, and the way his skin splits is like wet paper.

The last recruit had pissed in Wren’s hair.

Silas approaches him with the unhurried stalk of a predator. The recruit trembles, trying to scramble away from Silas, but he’d been shot in both knees and he’d fallen hard, the bones of his calf poking out from his flesh in opposite directions.

“That’s gotta hurt,” Silas says.

“Please,” he’s begging, and his voice is trembling, “please, please, don’t — don’t —“

Silas brings his foot down on his fractured leg as hard as he can. Puts all of his brawn and bulk into it.

The recruit tips his head back against the dirt and screams at the concrete sky.

Silas lets him scream. Who gives a fuck? He crouches next to him and takes his left arm by the elbow. The soldier screams again, tries to pull out of his grip, and Silas rips his arm out from the socket of his shoulder.

He shrieks at a pitch that Silas finds kind of irritating and he reaches across the recruit to grab his other arm and pull him over onto his stomach, face down in the dirt. He breaks his right arm off at the elbow.

He screams again and he’s screaming still when Silas stands to toe him back onto his back. As the recruit screams, Silas shoves down the waistband of his joggers, pulls out his dick, and pisses in his mouth. It’s only fair.

He flails with what’s left of his right arm and chokes in panic. It makes Silas grin. When he snaps his waistband back into place the recruit stares up at him with a look that Silas has come to recognize as resigned hatred. It never gets old. Weak and wet, he drawls, “they told us we didn’t have to worry about her dog.”

Silas raises his eyebrows. “They lied.”

The recruit chokes out a sound that would probably be a laugh if all the blood in his body weren’t seeping into the earth beneath him. “C’mon, man,” he tries. “Don’t — don’t. Please. Come on.”

Silas lifts the gun.

The recruit inhales quickly. “Please. Come on. Please.”

“Eat shit,” Silas tells him sincerely, and he empties the gun into his face.

[thehollowwriter]

Human! Silas ideas (basically if he got to go to NRC for a parents day or smt):

•Really short ofc like he's probably only a few cm taller than Riddle

•Cane because the damage to his tail translated to his leg and he's new to walking (if it's both legs he'll probably need a wheelchair tho or he's going to be in excruciating pain)

•Special glasses so he doesn't go completely blind from the sun (while I'm thinking about this please consider both him and Finn knowing braille and having many books and things in braille)

•Either wears the most old man TM clothes you could possibly imagine or wears something similar to whatever casual clothes Finn wears because he's got no clue about land fashion (he listens quite intently to what Floyd has to day about shoes lmao)

•His teeth stay the same, though he doesn't hide them like Finn does which is an interesting experience because his teeth are way scarier than Finn's:

•Said teeth probably don't fit in his mouth very well

•He's very unused to his hair not floating around his head, he probably keeps it tied either in a bun like he does on when he's working or plaits it

•Bumps into things a lot

•Absolutely goes to Mostro Lounge and Azul nearly has a heart attack

•Probably goes through Morrigan's yearbook and goes to look at his portrait in Savanaclaw

•He's very amused when meeting other students because he thinks they're funny

•Deeply regrets not accepting his letter even more the entire time he's there

•Asks to see Finn's paintings and gushes about how amazing they look (he compliments Finn a lot, ok)

•If there's an ongoing magishift match by any chance he definitely observes it bc he's a curious fella

•Very fascinated by Yuu (and probably gave them a fright because of his staring)

•Most students took one look at him and were like, "So that's definitely Clearcove's dad, right"

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

@galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker

@offorestsongs @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @am0nline

@1dont-really-know @kazumify @minteasketches @officialdaydreamer00 @whspermy-name

@elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy @casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @tixdixl

@poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch @ramshacklerumble @ghostiidasponk

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Beauty and the Freak part 7

Warnings: human captivity/used as party entertainment, emaciated & starvation, infection/festering injuries, recovery whump

And if Silas fell asleep on her, she wouldn't have to worry about finding a way to transport him to a bed.

Annabelle took a seat next to him on the mattress and opened the medical kit she'd snatched. She knew how to properly dress wounds, because she'd always preferred to take care of her own wounds rather than have servants do it.

She took Silas's shirt off, inhaling sharply as she took in the damage. It looked far worse now that his skin was clean. Several deep gashes were torn across his back, ragged at the edges, along with several shallower ones ripped across his chest and stomach.

Annabelle reached out with a shaky hand and lightly pressed the area a few inches away from one of the infected back injuries. "This probably hurts, doesn't it?" She said in disbelief. There was no answer, and she remembered to rephrase it. "Does this hurt?" She revised. Apparently Silas wasn't permitted to speak unless directly spoken to, either.

"...Yes," Silas wheezed.

"What about here?" Anabelle shifted her hand further away and pressed down again.

"Yes."

"And here?"

"...No." Silas's answers were always short and simple when they came, but it was enough to give Annabelle an idea of how far the infection was spread by the distance of pain around the injury.

"All right... this will sting a little, but it'll help kill off the infection," Annabelle warned, and poured some disinfectant into each of the festering wounds.

Silas winced at the first one, but didn't react to any of the others, sitting as still as humanly possible. He barely even flinched when Annabelle sanitized her hands and started smearing antibacterial cream over them.

Annabelle made sure to apply the cream generously, before wrapping gauze around his whole torso to protect the wounds while the cream worked its magic.

But Silas didn't relax when it was over, his shoulders stiff and tense with apprehension, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He looked so much more emaciated now up close, so sick and ill, his face hollow and devoid of emotion. Like he was barely clinging to life by a thread. And yet, somehow he was still toughing it out. Miraculously. Hardly showing any pain, though Annabelle knew he was in excruciating agony from his dull eyes alone.

It made her want to cry, seeing how much he was suffering, but she bit back her tears, watching in confusion as Silas slid off the bed to lay on the floor, using his thick arm as a pillow after glancing at her to check that she was done treating his injuries.

"Uh, why are you on the floor? Don't you want to sleep on the bed?" Annabelle asked.

Silas gave her a genuinely shocked and surprised look that broke her heart to see. "I'm... not allowed to sleep anywhere but the floor," he rumbled in his deep voice, brow furrowing. It was one of the few times she'd seen his face turn into a recognizable expression that wasn't blank and lifeless.

Annabelle patted the mattress invitingly. "No sleeping on the floor tonight. Get up here, big guy," she chuckled.

Silas visibly flinched at her tone, despite it being obviously teasing and lighthearted, but he sat up with a grunt of effort, taking a second to coordinate his shaky legs beneath him before pushing upright, wobbling unsteadily. But he was exceedingly careful as he sat on the bed again, reluctantly letting Annabelle guide him down to lay on it with a soft pillow under his head. It was clear he was anxious about it, probably from an old habit drilled into him screaming at him to obey his former captor's rules, number one of which was 'you don't deserve bedding, freak'.

But Annabelle was giving him permission, so it was okay, right?? Or was she planning to trick him and punish him even for obeying?

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222

[darkbluekies]

HEAR ME OUT.

READER WANTING TO HAND OUT CANDY TO LITTLE KIDS 😭 LIKE EACH OC IS PROBABLY GONNA SAY NO BUT READER CONVINCES THEM SOMEHOW

Halloween special<3

Warnings: the three dirty yanderes being dirty as usual

Silas: 

Genuinely loves halloween, loves to scare little children for absolutely no reason at all. But he doesn’t want you to want to do the same thing — or whatever you wanted to do. He wants you to be with him only, dressed up for his eyes. He has never allowed kids to come for trick or treating, but you manage to convince him to leave out a bucket of candy this year. You sit curled up in the window in your costume, watching to see if any kids will come take from your prepared bucket. Time goes, but no one comes. 

“Don’t be sad, little thing. They’ve never been allowed to come here so they probably don’t know that they can come here this year. And I think that their parents know who I am, so they don’t want to send their kids over here anyhow. I know that you were excited, but this is the reality of being a criminal. Bring the bucket inside and we can overindulge. By the way, your costume turns me on.”

Dr Kry: 

Dr Kry has given you a little makeup to paint you into a vampire. You have a bucket of candy in your hand while Dr Kry brings you through the hospital to visit small children laying in their beds. He thinks that you’re adorable with kids and finds himself staring at you talking to a little boy. You pet his teddy bear and give him a chocolate bar before walking out of the room to go to the next. 

“You’re really nice, and great with kids … wow. Why I’m not dressed up? I don’t like that very much, but I like to see you dressed up. That fulfills my need of costumes for this year. Next year maybe. Let’s see how much candy you have left. Do you want to keep those for yourself or give them out? Give them out? You’re so nice, Y/N. Let’s move on. You need to go back to bed soon, so better hurry. Before the air and its toxins get to you.”

King Edmund: 

Halloween doesn’t exist in his timeline, but he decides to have a masquerade ball for kids and by your request, the doors standswide open for the entire kingdom. Parents of all classes came to drop of their kids in cute costumes. Edmund sits on his throne, watching over you and the fifty children in the big hall. He looks at you with a small smile, seeing how you take such good care of the little kids. While they dance, you go to get a bucket of candy. Edmund gets down from his throne and walks over to you. 

“It seems like you have quite the control, my dear. I can't understand how you like these creatures. Yes, I know I've been a kid and yes I know I'll have to have a kid in the future, but still. Look at them? You're doing great though. Keep doing that and I'll have to pump a child in you sooner than planned."

Jerry:

She refuses, but gives in once she gets to hear that she can scare the kids. Doesn't want to couple match because she finds it cringe, but if you're going to match, she wants to be superior to you like owner and dog or queen and peasant, or even cop and jailcriminal. 

"I'm going to scare so many fucking kids, this is going to be amazing. Don't give me that look. It's trick or treat! You give the treat and well … I do the trick. Stop being a baby, it'll be fun. We could do role-playing in these costumes, by the way. Just wait until we get back home. I'll show you what a queen does to the peasant who hasn't given crops to the castle."

Hedwig:

Of course she'll love it! She will buy too much candy and decorate the entire mansion for kids to come trick or treating. You'll be in adorable couple costumes (chosen by Hedwig of course) and have fun with the little kids. Hedwig shines every time she pretends to get scared by a little kid.

"You look really cute, Y/N. Do you like this? Imagine when we get kids, we can do this every year, create our own traditions. We can dress in family costumes and … and have really, really fun. You look really cute with kids, Y/N. But I’m starting to wonder if you like the candy more. It’s okay, we have a lot, sweetheart, just eat away.”

[cineresis]

Angels in America

It's amazing how fast an evening at your favorite club can be ruined by someone keeling over and frothing at the mouth. The band never quite gets back into the swing of things afterwards.

"Angel," sighed one of the men, or nearest approximants, at the table next to mine, "why is it that I can never go anywhere with you without stumbling across a body?"

"Oh, come now," said his partner, a soft, fluffy confection in caramel and cream, rising hastily to make his way toward the source of the commotion. The first gentleman, dark, lanky, and excruciatingly chic, got up to follow him. "It's hardly every time."

I stayed where I was for now, casting my gaze around the room as I went over my memory of the past twenty or thirty minutes. Too many people passing close enough to slip something into the victim's drink, too many others to watch at the same time, too many more opportunities to poison him outside my field of view. I was a detective, not God.

"Stumbling upon, once. Literally. Do you know what it's like to have to clean up after that sort of thing? It takes a personal toll."

"Hush, Crowley," chided "Angel". "People can hear you, and you know how queer they get about these things. Ooh, yes, that's strychnine, all right," he added cheerfully, pulling a small vial from his vest pocket and tipping it into his handkerchief. "Nasty stuff."

I got up. As I approached, I caught the faint, unmistakable chemical sweetness of ether fumes and gave them a wide berth, choosing instead to inspect the victim's plate and glass before turning to scan the room from this perspective.

"Now, just what might you be doing?" drawled Crowley.

I looked him over, too, while I was at it. In Crowley's case, this involved a lot of looking and not much over; he was easily more than six feet tall, even while slouching rakishly. The snake tattoo on his right temple suggested certain things about him. The dark glasses that he hadn't removed since he'd entered just suggested questions, since I highly doubted he was blind. "I'm a detective," I said, leaving the obviously at the end of that sentence to implication. "What are you doing?"

This response seemed to delight him. "So are we," Crowley answered, and grinned. "But if you want to get specific about it, I'm keeping you distracted while my friend saves this man's life. Let's see your license, then."

As I took it out, keeping at least one eye on him and his partner, Angel called out to the rubbernecking crowd around us, "I need someone here to run and call the nearest hospital, and a couple of strong men to help get this poor fellow someplace dark and quiet to rest. Best use one of the tablecloths for a stretcher," he added to the first volunteer who stepped forward.

Crowley leaned in closer to study my license. "Drake Silas Donovan," he read off. "'Silas', really?"

"What about it?"

"I've just always wondered what kind of parent would name their kid Silas."

"The kind who had a grandfather named Silas," I replied coolly, snagging my license back. "Your turn."

He obliged. Anthony J. Crowley, it read, licensed in London since 1905, the year before mine. I wondered how long he'd been at this; he looked too young for his apparent age, but then I looked too old for mine. "A. J. Crowley," I read his signature aloud. "Get asked if you're any relation every time, or just most?"

There's a certain motion a person's head makes when they roll their eyes. Crowley's was making it. "The man's an embarrassment to the side," he griped. "I made my name legitimately."

"And your friend?" It wasn't as if I couldn't put two and two together. There's a certain type of person who's got both a nose for trouble and the brains to prepare for it; if it walks, talks, and thinks like a dick, it probably is one. It was just that I wasn't in the habit of trusting people, and I'd be a real schmuck to neglect basic due diligence on the guy purportedly surrounded by bodies. 

Detectives are no better or worse than any other person. They just think it's usually more interesting to solve crimes than commit them.

"Oh, he's as legitimate as it gets." Crowley turned to his companion, who was getting to his feet, brushing his clothes off fussily. Beside him, the two volunteers hoisted the unconscious victim onto a tablecloth spread across the floor, momentarily dislodging the ether-soaked cloth before Angel caught it and laid it carefully back in place over the victim's nose and mouth. "Aren't you, Aziraphale?"

Angel — "Aziraphale"? — looked up, startled. "Pardon?"

"Mr. Donovan here wants to see your detective's license," Crowley explained, enunciating his words with malice aforethought.

"Oh! Yes. Of course I always have that with me. Now just where did I..." He started patting down his pockets, stopped suddenly, and took a lovely calfskin card holder out of his coat. "Ah. Here it is."

Beaming, he passed it to Crowley, who passed it to me with the comment, "You'll find everything in order, I'm sure."

I glanced down at the card, then back up at Angel. "Am I supposed to call you A. Z. Fell or Aziraphale?" I asked, pronouncing the Z correctly as zed.

"A. Z. Fell is how 'Aziraphale' is pronounced in the King's English," said Crowley blandly, affecting a cut-glass Oxford accent on the last phrase. His partner seemed pleased by this comment, rather than annoyed.

"I'm afraid my progenitor bestowed me with a rather unwieldy given name," Fell admitted, raising fascinating questions about just how many syllables the British peerage could fit on a birth certificate when they really tried. "Aziraphale just sounds so much more euphonious, don't you think?" Crowley was right; I couldn't tell whether Fell had meant to say A. Z. Fell or the de-accented gloss. He'd lengthened the half-syllable between zed and Fell to a full vowel, but some people said zetta.

"I wouldn't know," I replied, handing the license back to Crowley, who was nearest. When Fell didn't take my bait, I added, "Lucky that you happened to have ether handy. I wouldn't like to imagine what might've happened if you'd decided to stay in tonight." I also lied when I said sorry, and when I swore to tell the whole truth and nothing but. Little white lies are the oil in the gears of civilization.

"Oh, I always carry that, too," Fell explained earnestly. "One gets into the habit after one's first run-in with strychnine, and of course ether has so many useful applica—"

"I wouldn't, angel," Crowley interrupted, sounding very amused. "Mr. Donovan thinks you're the one behind this."

"Oh," said Fell, nonplussed. "Gosh. Well, I — I suppose I can't blame him. He doesn't know me from Adam, after all, and has no reason to trust me — I did warn you about giving people funny ideas, Crowley, honestly. Of course," Fell turned to me, laying an elegant hand across his chest, "if you were to search me, you would find only a small collection of antidotes — oh, but a habitual poisoner would probably carry those, too, especially if he were the sort of voyeur with a penchant for playing the hero. I certainly wouldn't be convinced of my innocence. Yes, I can certainly understand whatever suspicion you might feel towards me, however misplaced it may be."

Crowley watched this thought process with an expression somewhere between fascination and agony. "Well, at least now he probably thinks that if you'd done it, you'd have been caught by now," he remarked, presumably because he was thinking the same thing. "You'll have to excuse my friend," Crowley added to me. "He still believes that the innocent have nothing to fear. Somehow."

"First time visiting?" I guessed.

Fell's bemusement answered my question before he did. "Pardon?"

"Never mind."

[echo-goes-mmm]

Silas and Wren 2.0 #6

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: eating disorder

It was only a few days later when Wren realized what was wrong with him.

He was hungry, and it was lunch time, and Wren was staring at the fresh strawberries. He’d never had fresh fruit before; usually it was canned or dried, or jam if he was lucky.

But fresh strawberries were right there. 

He licked his lips before plucking one from the container. He bit into the berry, and it was delicious. Juicy and sweet and tart. 

He ate more and more of them, sucking the juice off his fingers, and soon the half-pint was gone.

Delicious, but… wrong.

He shouldn’t have eaten so much.

Wren put the container away and went upstairs. He pulled up his shirt and looked in the mirror.

He had gained weight. Fuck. Why hadn’t he noticed earlier? It was so obvious.

Wren had never had access to so much food, and it was showing. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. No wonder Silas was turned off. He probably noticed Wren eating like a pig.

Wren turned in the mirror, checking his profile. His full stomach stared at him accusingly. 

He’d been eating eggs, cheese, meat, and all that fruit. Things that would have been considered wasted on slaves, and Wren was so greedy. He wanted to try everything, and look where that got him. Selfish.

He sat on his bed, head in his hands. At least he caught himself before it was too late. Losing five pounds was much easier than fifteen, or heaven forbid, more.

Luckily, he had experience getting rid of excess weight.

All masters wanted thin, attractive slaves. One of his old masters in particular had him lose ten pounds before he was good enough.

Surely he could manage five.

___________________

The scale in the bathroom was very helpful; a tool he didn’t really have before. He weighed himself twice a day to keep track. 

Wren mixed up porridge for breakfast, just like the way he used to at his old masters’ houses. Oats, water, a pinch of salt.

Half a sandwich for lunch. Salad for dinner.

The number on the scale slowly went down. Half a pound, then one. Two. Two and a half.

It wasn’t happening fast enough for him. 

Three days in, he broke. 

Wren stuffed himself with food; blackberries and toast and spoonfuls of peanut butter.

Guilt swirled in his gut. He quietly put the dishes away and put the remaining bread and peanut butter away.

He checked himself on the scale. He’d gained a pound.

Wren began to cry.

___________________

He reduced his meals even more.

Dinner was only some vegetables. Fresh ones, as a treat. They were a lot better than what he was used to, so he carefully portioned them out to avoid eating too much at once. 

A handful of broccoli, cooked to reduce the calories. He didn’t season them, forgoing salt and pepper.

If it didn’t taste that good, he could manage to eat less.

___________________

“Are you alright?” Master asked later that week. “You seem a bit tired.”

“I’m okay, Master Silas. I’ll go to bed early.”

Silas eyed him, but to his relief didn’t say anything more. 

Wren checked himself on the scale before bed. His stomach pained him, but he ignored it. He caught his reflection in the mirror, and he did look a bit tired.

His body just needed to get used to it, and then he’d be fine.

___________________

Finally. Finally, he was five pounds lighter. He nearly wept with relief.

He didn’t feel good; the world went dark when he stood up too fast, and his stomach screamed at him at all hours.

It didn’t matter. Now all he had to do was maintain his weight, and Silas would be happy, and he’d be pretty, and he’d feel better once he stopped being so strict.

He went upstairs to change out of his pajamas. 

Wren glanced in the mirror, expecting to see his old body again.

To his horror, he didn’t look any different.

He still had a stomach, still had that chub on his thighs. It wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough.

Five more pounds, he told himself, just five more.

___________________

Silas knew something was wrong when he came downstairs.

Wren sat at the table, a bowl empty in front of him. He looked pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

He’d asked about it, but Wren insisted he was only tired.

Well, Wren would know his body best.

“Finished breakfast?” asked Silas lightly.

“Yes, Master,” Wren said, muted.

“Then do you mind if I-?” Silas gestured, and Wren tilted his head to the side, his eyes closed.

“Thanks.”

Silas brushed his lips over the usual spot, numbing the skin. Wren’s pulse was slower than usual, but maybe he had just woken up.

Silas bit down, warmth blossoming over his tongue.

It tasted… off. Like it was missing something.

Hm.

He drank slowly. 

Suddenly, Wren’s heartbeat dropped like a stone.

Silas pulled off, and Wren slumped in his chair.

“Wren!”

Oh god, he thought. I’ve killed him!

Silas scooped him up and ran up to Wren’s room. He put Wren in his bed, and his skin was so stark against the dark sheets.

Silas laid his head on his chest, listening for his heart. It was there, barely, along with the sound of his slow breathing.

Silas stood up, and sighed in relief. He was alive; he’d only fainted.

He tilted Wren’s head. The wound had clotted, and Silas wiped away the stray drops of blood.

God, he was so cold.

Silas grabbed a blanket and tucked Wren in. He sat heavily in the chair next to the bed, and waited for him to wake up. He looked so thin on the bed, his cheeks devoid of color.

How had he not noticed that Wren was sick? The evidence was right in front of him, and yet he’d done nothing.

How could he let this happen?

taglist: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @secretwhumplair @freefallingup13 @mylovelyme @whumpzone

@paintedpigeon1 @haro-whumps @whumpthisway @fanastyfinder @extemporary-whump

@susiequaz12 @keepingwhumpwiththekardashians @the-cyrulik @morning-star-whump @writereleaserepeat

@annablogsposts @tobiaslut @starfields08000 @ghost-whump @bitchaknso

@cepheusgalaxy

[bots-and-cons]

Howdy again! Is it possible you could do the same prompt l asked last time (reader dies and turns cybertronian) but with Autobots instead of cons? Thank you so much!!!!

A/N: If someone’s interested in the decepticon version you can find that here. Ratchet has morals, hence no human experimentation on the autobots’ part

•You were taken by the decepticons and experimented on 

•Ever since the whole thing with Silas, Knockout and Shockwave were both interested in if they could repeat the experiment

•It was mostly Shockwave though, Knockout thought what happened to Breakdown was absolutely disgusting, but he also wanted to know how it was done, so repeating the experiment on you was a chance for that

•So, they did their experiment, constructing you a body from vehicon parts and putting the necessary parts from you into it

•Anyway, the cons returned you to the autobots in a rather cruel manner, basically Megatron just tossed you at their feet saying something like “I believe this is your pet”

•Ratchet worked for days to make sure you would survive in your new body, but he had a lot of trouble, because he didn’t know how much at all about human anatomy or biology

•Shockwave and Knockout had already done most of the work for him though, so he just had to finish the job and make sure you would continue to stay alive

•When you woke up, you were very confused, and scared too

•Your head was all foggy, you couldn’t remember much of anything, certainly not how you’d come to be this way

•It took a couple of days for you to be even able to move your arms or legs, and being able to stand and walk took much longer

•Ratchet was there to look after you the whole time, someone had to be, because you were pretty confused most of the time

•You had a lot of gaps and holes in your memory, you knew things like your name and you knew the autobots were friendly or at least not a threat to you, but you didn’t know who they were or what they were like

•You also didn’t remember anything about how you’d been made into this thing you now were

•You knew you used to be human, but it felt like it had been a dream

•Optimus was of course furious that the decepticons had done this to you, but he kept it under control, so hardly anyone noticed

•Except for Ratchet of course, he was also horrified by what had been done to you and he honestly just tried not to think about it most of the time, because you were still alive

•Arcee was probably the most visibly furious about the whole thing, she even ranted a little about how this was the last straw, etc etc

•Bee was also seething, but his anger was more mixed with this overwhelming sadness and confusion, he had seen the decepticons committing countless atrocities, but this was undoubtedly among the worst

•The whole team had a very hard time understanding how the decepticons could do this, you were no threat to them

•They were all furious, but they tried to keep a lid on it, some managed that better than others, because they wanted to aid in your recovery

•Your recovery was very slow, but they all tried to be there for you as best as they could

•You had to learn to control your new body, and all that came with being a pseudo-cybertronian

•Ratchet kept scanning you constantly for the first three months, at least twice a day, more if something unusual happened

•You had a very hard time mentally for a long while, because of getting used to your new body, never being able to see your family/friends again, and the fact that you had been dead

•Even though you didn’t exactly remember how you had been experimented on, the whole thing still plagued you in your nightmares

[hoedamn-eron]

bluey!

Nathan discovers your son’s favourite show.

Warnings: As always, Nathan is a warning. No offence to Miss Rachel or anyone who uses Miss Rachel (I’ve personally never watched her, just needed Nathan to be a dick). Hints of infertility (from this episode of Bluey). Teeny tiny mention of parental anxiety of meeting milestones (from this episode of Bluey). Not proofread this time. Word count: 1,238 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

Yet another self indulgent fic about dad!Nathan. Set in the same universe as Shut Up, Kid, but can be read as a stand-alone. This also was only meant to be a quick one shot but it turned out to be over 1k 😂.

Nathan Bateman was a fucking genius.

He built the code for Blue Book when he was thirteen years old.

He used to think himself a God. He could build realistic androids, for Christ's sake (not anymore, not since ‘The Incident’).

And because of this, he finds it hard to ‘switch off’. His brain was always moving a million miles a minute, constantly filled with thoughts of how to improve the company, and now that he’s a dad, it just added another thing to think about. And he isn’t complaining about having to think about Silas – he loves the kid, would do anything for him – but at the same time...it is just another thing to keep his brain busy.

Like today.

You come walking into his office (the door is open most days now), holding Silas on your hip, his favourite pacifier in his mouth, and carrying as many toys as you could in your other hand.

“Can you watch him for an hour, please?”

You see Nathan’s shoulders slump before you’ve even finished asking, and you ignore the spark of irritation that sits uncomfortably in your chest as Nathan turns his chair to look at you. You know he’s busy, but you’re busy too; you’ve been called in for a virtual meeting, on your maternity leave, no less, with the department heads – you know they wouldn’t appreciate a noisy baby in the background (despite the fact you want to make a point that they requested you...on your maternity leave).

Besides, Nathan doesn’t have any tight deadlines right now. He’s the CEO, he can push anything back whenever he damn well pleases anyway.

“Nathan, he’ll just sit and watch his TV show for a bit, it’s only an hour.”

Nathan sighs, and you tense at it.

He makes a mental note to make up for it later.

“Okay,” he says, and without looking at him, you walk over to the rug in his office, sitting Silas down on it before placing the toys around him, in easy reach for him.

You turn on the TV and place Bluey on, before walking over to Nathan’s desk and placing the remote on it. You give a swift, “See you in an hour,” before hurrying out to make your meeting.

Nathan gives a quick look to Silas, who – in your defence – was still, watching the TV, sucking away on his pacifier. Satisfied, Nathan turns back to his computer, his eyes drifting over to Silas every now and then before turning back to his screens. The noise from the TV fades into the background, until one particular line jumps out at Nathan.

“Magic Claw has no children. His days are free and easy.”

Nathan huffed a laugh through his nose. He couldn’t agree more. He glanced at the TV then back at Silas before turning back to his computer.

After a while, another line came through, causing him to chuckle again.

“Can I help you?”

“I wish you could, mate.”

Eventually, when he hears the characters talking about – what he thinks is – wanting kids and being unable to have them, he turns his full attention to the TV.

“What the fuck are you watchin’?” Nathan asks before standing and slipping his hands in his pockets as he saunters over to stand behind Silas.

Nathan stands and watches the family of cartoon dogs; Bluey and her sister, Bingo, and their parents, Chilli and Bandit. He watches with a furrowed brow for a moment, wondering how this was his son’s favourite show (it was probably all the colours). And he guesses the theme tune was a little catchy. And sure, Silas didn’t quite understand it, but the dialogue was funny.

“This is better than some of the other shit you watch,” Nathan said, bending down and picking Silas up, without taking his eyes off the TV. “That whiney black bunny you watch? Hate him. The Teletubbies? Also awful. I don’t understand why your mom thinks it’s a classic.”

Silas made a small noise around his pacifier and pointed to the TV.

“Yeah, she your favourite?” Nathan asks, looking at Silas. “What’s her name again? Bingo?”

Silas makes another noise, almost as if confirming with Nathan, still pointing at the TV.

Nathan nodded anyway. “Okay, okay, gotcha.”

After a moment, Nathan stood holding Silas, the two of them watching Bluey together.

Your meeting overran.

By nearly 45 minutes.

Nathan was going to be pissed.

You speed-walk to his office, ready to blurt out an apology (even though it wasn’t your fault the meeting went over), but you stop mid step when you hear Nathan say to Silas, “I think she’s sleeping with the neighbour.”

Your brow furrows in confusion as you hear him, then Silas babble back.

“Oh yeah, you agree? They’re too friendly, right?”

You slowly walk into the Nathan’s office, seeing him standing with his bank to you on the rug, holding Silas in his arms as they watched Bluey together. Nathan was lightly swaying, almost as if he didn’t realise he was doing it.

You sucked in your lips, holding back a laugh. You didn’t want to ruin the moment.

“You better not turn out like Muffin, she’s insane,” Nathan said. “I’ll love you regardless, but still.”

Your heart skipped a beat, like it did every time you heard those words come out of his mouth. It wasn’t as if Nathan had never said ‘I love you’, but he…struggles…to express his emotions that aren’t irritability or exasperation. But with Silas, it came naturally to him. He never failed to say ‘I love you’ to his son (of course, Nathan does say it to you, but he understands you’re a ‘full-grown adult who can identify acts of love’; his words).

You’re brought out of your reverie as a new episode of Bluey started, the theme music kicking in. Your eyes widen and you laugh quietly as Nathan starts lightly jumping around to the music, Silas laughing and kicking his legs excitedly.

“I’m watching the footage back to this,” you say.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Nathan says, jumping as he whirls around to look at you. “Announce yourself, would you?”

“You, uh…” you say, still grinning. “You watching Bluey?” you look at Silas, who smiles at you and kicks his legs in excitement. “You watching Bluey with dada? Does dada like Bluey?”

“This is fuckin’ great,” he says, giving you a pointed look. “So much better than that Miss Rachel, or whatever her name is. She’s fuckin’ annoying.”

“Excuse me, she’s very educational!”

“She’s overdoing it. The kid will learn to talk fine with just us.”

“His first word will probably be something inappropriate,” you say. “Like fuck. Or asshole.”

Nathan doesn’t reply as he turns back to the TV. You come and stand next to him, watching the episode with him. It’s the one where Chilli was telling Bluey about how she was worried that Bluey wasn’t going to meet her milestones, but Coco’s mom had told her she was doing an amazing job. It was one of your favourite episodes.

“I’ve been stood here for an hour watching these,” Nathan said quietly. “It’s nice.”

“Just standing and swaying with him?” you ask gently.

“Yeah,” Nathan said simply, not expanding.

You nod, before leaning against him a little. You feel him push back at you.

You stand together and watch a few more seconds of Bluey before you ask, “So you think Chilli and Lucky’s dad are going at it?”

“Oh they definitely are.”

[crimsonlyinglilly]

No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA

Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?"

Here's Day 15 of @whumptober 2024, Mikael counts as a childhood trauma for the Mikaelson.

Taste of sin Part 3 - Kol.

----

Kol wasn't going to admit he was worried as Elijah failed to answer his phone again.

Elijah was fine.

Nothing could’ve hurt him, he was probably distracted chatting up the doppelganger after having talked them out of the stupid plan to bring back Silas. It was the whole reason he had reached out to his oldest living brother, but he couldn't explain the growing feelings of unease, so he had decided to go to the Gilbert house. It had been long enough that his appearance wouldn’t undo Elijah’s work and contrary to the belief, Kol could control himself, he just rarely bothered to.

It’s words he catches first as he get closer to the Gibert house.

“Fine. You can gloat and multitask. This place is a disaster. Starting with a horrific burnt corpse.“

He pauses for a moment because what could have pushed his ‘soft for dopplegangers’ brother to kill the latest before his mind forces him to think.

Elijah wouldn’t had set either of them on fire, sure he had used fire before, removing his ring to set the fire himself but he wouldn’t have used that for a pair of teenagers.

Finn had burnt, he had been told, when they staked him.

No.

He wouldn’t accept even the idea of that as his heart started to beat heard and he forced himself to move.

Nik’s voice as a comfort until the words hit him

“Tyler's mother is dead. So is my brother.-“ 

The rest of the words were lost as a rushing filled his air, he finished the journey to the open door of the Gibert house

Nic stood facing the girl as the first or was it last of Klaus’ hybrids stood further back, a sheet laid over a body on the floor, he didn’t cover everything.

One of Elijah’s cufflinks sat on the burnt suit cuff.

“How delusional are you?” the blonde- Caroline was speaking, she had been the one to cover his brother with the sheet. He thought about sparing her for giving his brother the respect but the brief idea flew away.

Elijah was dead, he wanted to paint the town red.

Maybe if he killed enough, made enough of a mess Elijah would beat death itself to return to yell at him.

“You killed his mother.” The girl kept talking unaware she was wasting her last words. “And let's not forget that we're standing in a house where Elena's aunt Jenna used to live. Or did you think that your charm-”

“What’s this then?” he asked, forcing a carefree smile onto his face 

“Kol!” Nik called, sounding oddly concerned.

“You're labelling my brother’s crime and he has done many, but who's body is under the sheet?” he ignored his brother to look at the two teenagers.

Nik’s first hybrid lunged for him whether to fight or flee, Kol didn’t care as he threw him back.

“Come now.” he called grinning, before it failed and rage replaced his false mirth “ I asked a question, maybe I should try another, who killed Elijah?”

The girl threw herself forward, red eyes and fangs on show,Nik had described her as a natural vampire. Maybe in a few centuries she could have been in an entertaining fight, a possible challenge. Kol caught her with a hand around her heart and tore it out, stepping over her body as the hybrid screamed.

He wasn’t in the mood to play.

Tyler's mother is dead. So is my brother, So is my brother, So is my brother it was echoing in his head. 

There was only one other brother left by now.

He called Elijah to help, he was the reason Elijah came back- he- Kol got his brother killed again.

Only this time it was permanent.

The hybrid screamed, throwing himself at Kol, all rage and grief, Kol’s heart reflected those feelings but his face betrayed nothing as he looked up at him.

Elijah had always warned him about showing too much, would he be proud to see him now?

Kol decided to end the fight quickly after the hybrid avoided his hand by throwing himself backwards and stepped on the edge of the sheet covering Elijah’s body.

Elijah deserved better.

He lets the hybrid get past his guard, allows him to bite, letting out a scream of pain even as he reaches out and grabs the hybrid’s head. He tore it from his shoulder and let it fall with the body.

The house was silent following the thump.

The bite burns and throbs but he ignores it.

Kol found he didn’t like the silence as it left him alone with his thoughts staring at the white sheet.

That couldn't be Elijah but it was.

Horrific burnt corpse, Elijah shouldn’t -couldn’t -

“How?” The word leaves his mouth without any plan, he ignores the burning feeling from the bite, he had dealt with werewolf venom before.

It was nothing compared to the wrongness of the burnt body on the floor.

“What happened?” Klaus demanded in return. “Why was Elijah here?” 

Kol almost laughed, Klaus must have come here to stop Kol, had he been disappointed when Kol wasn't the one dead.

Elijah was dead.

“I asked him for help, to speak to them and make them understand why Silas can’t be-” he cut off his explanation to snap back “How is he dead?”

“They were prepared for you, wanted the death of your sireline to complete the tattoo.” Klaus told him and he felt the ground slip out from under him.

Kol should be concerned about the finished map about Silas but he couldn’t.

He was human again, terrified and confused as Finn lay dead on the floor and father turned towards them with the bloodied sword. Elijah moved between them, telling Kol to run but he had frozen until he watched Father's sword stabbed through Elijah's back.

Blood dripping from the blade he had watch father sharpen days before had haunted his dreams, now was it going to be Elijah’s burnt body or the short last phone call that would do the same now.

“He died for me again.” The words threaten to choke him coming up.

“Again?“

“The night we were turned, we saw father kill Finn and instead of running Elijah put himself between father and I. I watched his sword come out Elijah’s back.’ he recited, eyes stuck on the body hoping Elijah would just get up, sighing in disappointment at the state of his suit.

The body remains still.

He's not sure if the shiver that racks him is from the memory of that night, Elijah body falling or the Venom, it seemed a hybrid venom was worse than normal wolves.

“Kol, come here you need my blood.” Klaus' voice is oddly soft as he calls, wrong Klaus doesn't talk to him like that, the last time was after Henrik.

“‘Lijah.” He can't help the name escaping him, sounding like a child even as his body moved on autopilot towards his older brother.

His last brother.

He was the last left, the last of Mikael's blood sons, the one who took after him the least.

Three left of seven, he had wanted to be part of their ‘always and forever’ but not like this.

If he wasn't in shock, if he could tear his eyes from the burnt husk of the person he took his first steps for as he stumbled away, he would have noticed the dagger dipped in white Oak ash.

Kol should have questioned it more when Klaus cut his neck, when a wrist would have worked but he was stuck on the realisation as he leaned in to bite. 

Klaus was his only older brother left, his only brother, out of four.

He can almost feel Nik’s blood chase away the venom but as he goes to pull away Klaus' hand moves to cupped the back of his head and he isn't that surprised when a sharp pain erupts in his heart. 

The dagger is only a fraction compared to aching grief.

Klaus is gentle when he daggers him yet Kol can’t think of anything but the idea of how wrong it is to have Klaus hand on the back of his head not Elijah’s.

It's a moment of clarity.

It's never going to be Elijah’s again. 

The dark nothing is a blessing over the yawning ache in his chest.

[maverickscorner]

Faber suae fortunae

Or Maider's love story towards freedom.

Chapter 12

Warning: some heavy themes mentioned in this chapter.

Domitian sighed nervously.

-Are you telling me that, from what you've heard, people prefer this... new music to my majestic games?

-Yes, Caesar- said the Praetorian -Don't take it as a definitive judgment, but the people seem... different when that girl sings.

-And "that girl" has a name?

-She is Maider, emperor. She is of Jewish origin and belongs to Tenax.

Domitian clenched his fists.

Tenax.

For days, his Aedile Ludi had been avoiding him like the plague. Of course, he would come to his court and present the new proposals for the games, but then he would slip away before Domitian could ask him anything. Neither of a sexual nature, nor of any other kind.

Not that his ideas for the games were disappointing: the man had a vivid imagination, and certainly the people's interest remained high due to his inventions.

But there were too many things he wasn't telling him. Starting with that Maider, the new entertainment in his tavern.

Domitian looked out the window of the throne room. It was inevitable: the more Tenax avoided him, the more he desired him.

To hell with it, the next time he came to him, he would have his guards detain him, and he would speak to him directly. He had been patient long enough.

-I will send my two protégés to his tavern tonight- he said, referring to his two lovers Silas and Rufus -They will see this Maider live, and summon Tenax to my presence. He will have the opportunity to explain himself and please me.

The Praetorian nodded, bowing his head and pounding his fist on his chest. Although his expression betrayed no emotion, a single thought crossed his mind.

"Dear Tenax, I wouldn't want to be you."

But also:

"What will you come up with this time to escape him?"

Then he took a step back, turned, and left the throne room.

***

Maider kissed Tenax passionately, pushing him against the surface of the entrance door.

He responded with equal fervor, then smiled.

–Maider...

–Mmh?

–We have to go.

–Five more minutes... – she murmured, gently biting his lower lip.

He sighed, amused.

–You said that five minutes ago.

She pulled her lips away from his. Her hands rested on his shoulders. She sighed.

–Alright, alright.

He pulled her into his arms, tenderly bringing his lips back to hers. This time it was Maider who laughed.

–Not that I don't like it – he said, catching his breath – But Rome is waiting for its most beloved singer.

–Not to mention its illustrious engineer, landowner, real estate mogul...

Tenax kissed her forehead, then pulled away to put on his cloak.

–You flatter me, my lady.

She raised her hands.

–I'm just telling the truth.

–So am I. Come on, get dressed. We really have to go.

Maider grabbed the green cloak and draped it over her shoulders. She looked at Tenax, dressed in a tunic of green tones as well, with a dark cloak. She found him terribly attractive.

It had been two weeks since their first kiss, but for Maider, the time had flown by. She loved spending time with him: revealing his hidden sides little by little, giving him all her affection, and discovering that beneath the armor of indifference he had built over the years, Tenax could also joke, play, and laugh.

Maider didn’t care that he had killed in the past or that his work was violent. She would forget the world if it meant being able to hold in her arms, even for a few minutes, the sweet man Tenax truly was, a side he only showed to her.

With her, Tenax could allow himself to be vulnerable. How many evenings had they fallen onto the couch, his head in her lap, as she stroked his hair and he looked at her as if she were an extraordinary, yet real, entity?

–Where have you been all this time? – he would murmur.

–Probably in Jerusalem – she’d reply.

And he’d chuckle to himself.

–Maider! – Tenax called, standing at the doorway – Let’s go, come on!

–I’m coming!

Claudia saw them leave together as they did every morning, smiling. They had been together for two weeks, but had been incredibly cautious. Outside the house, they continued to maintain a certain distance. She, on the other hand, had been very discreet: she hadn't told anyone.

Well, except for Cala, Aura, Jula, the kids...

Claudia stopped her disordered thinking. She told herself that, in the end, she was a real gossip, but that there was no harm, considering all of her confidants pretended not to notice when they were around Maider and Tenax.

"Let's just hope it stays that way, or I'm done for!" she laughed to herself.

She picked up the broom and went off to clean the bedrooms.

***

It was evening.

Maider was performing for the last time that day.

The usual crowd filled the tavern. People drank, ate, and danced, singing chaotically. Tenax watched everything from behind the betting counter. He caught Maider’s gaze. He winked at her. Cala, who was taking orders, couldn’t help but stifle a giggle.

The children were watching the scene, dancing with each other from a distance. Little Nica, in particular, sang along to Maider’s song with a very sweet voice. Maider had continued giving her singing lessons, and that morning she had even brought her on stage to sing "Nothing you can take from me," one of the staple songs in her repertoire.

Maider and Nica had grown very close, and Tenax noticed that, in turn, the little girl had started to be close to him as well. It wasn’t unusual to find her clinging to his leg or bringing him some peculiar little pebble she’d found on the road.

Tenax, on the other hand, found this closeness surprisingly endearing.

In short: his house was full of pebbles, and he was rather proud of it.

–If we keep on drinking, we gon' fall back in love

So fill it up, fill it up

Bartender, can you pour some love?

Maider finished strumming the last chords. The crowd erupted in thunderous applause.

–Bravo!

–Encore!

–Maider! Maider!

And then, in a split second, the unthinkable happened.

A man made his way through the crowd with a dagger in hand.

As soon as he was close enough, he raised it and tried to jump onto the stage, shouting:

–Zonah de-Roma'in!

Which in Aramaic roughly means "Romans' whore".

Maider didn’t know, but that man’s name was Isaias, and a small group of Jewish slaves had chosen him to plunge the dagger into her heart that night and kill her.

The crowd started to pull back and scream.

Panic spread.

Maider, for her part, acted purely on instinct.

She grabbed the handle of her chitaràs with force.

She held it tightly and, with a scream and all her strength, smashed it against the man.

Isaias, unbalanced, fell off the stage. The dagger flew out of his hands.

The chitaràs was destroyed, but Maider was safe.

Tenax, for his part, had rushed towards Maider the moment he saw the dagger.

–MAIDER!

He was surprised by her show of strength, but didn’t hesitate. Pushing through the crowd, he pinned Isaias to the ground and, with blind fury, began to punch him.

–Who sent you, bastard?! Who the fuck sent you?!

Tenax was of average build, but he was very strong. After half a dozen punches, Isaias passed out.

If Tenax had continued, he would have killed him.

–Tenax, please! Stop!

He felt Maider’s touch on his shoulder, heard her voice.

He stopped mid-punch. He was out of breath, his knuckles bruised and covered in blood.

–Enough, please. I’m fine... I’m fine.

Tenax looked up. The crowd had thinned out. Cala, Tyrone, Aura, and the children were watching, scared but unharmed.

He turned toward Maider.

He thanked the gods. She, too, was unhurt.

–Are you okay?

Maider couldn’t hold back her tears. She nodded.

Tenax stood up and hugged her tightly. His legs trembled beneath him.

He had come so close to losing her.

He held her close, kissing her.

–I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry!

Maider was trembling, shaken by sobs.

–I... I broke the chitaràs.

–It doesn’t matter. You were very brave.

–Take me home... – she murmured.

–Immediately.

Porthos and Abel, his loyal men, approached him.

–Boss, what do we do with him?

Tenax looked at the man on the ground with disdain.

–Get him to wake up, and find out who the fuck sent him. Oh, and great job with security. Thank Maider for being able to handle herself – he snarled.

–There were too many people... – Porthos apologized – We couldn’t have imagined.

–We’ll deal with this later – Tenax said – Porthos, take care of this bastard. Abel, you’ll be our escort. Let’s get Maider home.

The two men nodded.

Tenax focused on Maider.

–Don’t leave me – she said.

–Never – he replied.

He took her hand, and they walked together. In front of everyone.

But after just a few steps outside the tavern, Tenax found himself face-to-face with Silas and Rufus, Domitian’s two lovers and occasional messengers.

"What the hell now?" he cursed to himself.

–Tenax, Domitian summons you urgently – said Silas, the dark-skinned boy.

–Tell the emperor I have personal matters to attend to. I’ll see him in the morning – Tenax said.

–He won’t take no for an answer – Rufus said – Come at once, or else...

Tenax let go of Maider’s hand for a moment.

He walked up to Rufus and slapped him. Then he grabbed Silas by the tunic, hissing:

–You want some too?

Silas shook his head, terrified.

–N-no, please, we’re just delivering...

–Then deliver my message. I’ll see the emperor tomorrow. Now get lost! – he said, pushing Silas away.

Tenax took Maider’s hand again and walked toward the Esquiline, while Domitian’s two lackeys fled.

***

They crossed the house threshold and closed the door behind them.

Maider hadn’t stopped crying for a moment. She was still trembling like a leaf.

–Tenax...

–Come here.

He held her tightly in his arms.

–I’m so sorry, Maider... – he too had tears in his eyes – If anything had happened to you, I...

–I’m here. We’re here – she said, her voice breaking – But don’t leave me now, please.

–I’m with you.

Claudia entered the room with her heart racing. The children had warned her in time.

—By the gods. Tenax, Maider, are you alright?

—Thankfully, yes—said Tenax, without letting go of Maider—Abel is outside. I asked him to stay all night.

—Alright. What can I do for you?

—Two herbal teas, Claudia. I’ll take Maider to her room, you can leave them outside.

—It’ll be done. If you need anything else, just call me.

—Alright, thank you.

Claudia walked away.

Tenax picked Maider up in his arms and carried her to her room.

Maider clung to him as if he were a rock in a stormy sea.

***

Maider sipped the herbal tea. She was starting to relax. She hadn’t said a word since Tenax had laid her on the bed. She remained sitting, begging him to stay close to her. He had obeyed. One of her hands was firmly anchored to his arm. She wouldn’t let go for anything in the world. Tenax wished with all his heart that she wouldn’t.

—Are you feeling better?—he asked her.

She nodded.

—Yes, but I don’t understand why.

—Why what?

—Why he wanted to kill me.

—I don’t know, Maider. Like I said, fame and safety don’t always go hand in hand. It’s entirely my fault.

—Stop blaming yourself for something you didn’t do. There’s nothing you could have done.

—I’m not sure. If you hadn’t defended yourself…

—It all happened in an instant. I barely realized what was happening, I just reacted.

—Yes. Good move.

She smiled for the first time in hours.

—Thank you.

Tenax hesitated.

—I’m sure we’ll get answers from Porthos soon. The only thing is, I think I heard him say something in another language before attacking you…

—It was Aramaic. He called me a “Romans' whore".

Tenax clenched his fists.

—Bloody bastard. But that might be useful. It’s not the first time groups of Jews have banded together to kill people they consider traitors or infidels. This could narrow things down.

Maider sighed.

—It seems absurd to me. Jews, people of my own blood.

—Ah, they have nothing in common with you, Maider. They’re slaves, desperate people…

—I was desperate too.

—But you were never violent.

—But I was a desperate slave, Tenax. Until I met you.

Tenax caressed her cheek. Maider took his hand in hers. She kissed it.

—Your clothes are stained with blood—she murmured.

Tenax looked down at himself with a bitter sigh.

—You’re right. I should probably go change.

—No—she stopped him—Change… change here.

Tenax’s eyes widened. He blushed.

—Maider…

She sat up, placing the tea on the nightstand and moving closer to him.

—Listen to me. It’s true, I could have died tonight. And if I had, the only physical and intimate experience of my life would have been with that damned Roman officer who did nothing but use my mouth and my body for his pleasure, covering me with his... fucking fluids. So please, please, Tenax. I don’t want to die without having made love to the man I love.

Tenax’s breath caught.

—The man you love?

Maider nodded. She kissed him.

—Yes. I love you, Tenax-with-no-last name. Strong Tenax, stubborn Tenax, sweet Tenax, beautiful Tenax. I love you. Damn it, maybe I’ve loved you since the first day I saw you. Tenax…

—Maider…—he softly said, taking her face in his hands—Quintus. My name is Quintus.

Maider held her breath. She nodded.

—Quintus. I like that, Quintus.

Quintus cried. She held him in her arms, and they fell onto the bed facing each other. They began kissing passionately. Their hands explored. Their tongues chased each other in their mouths. He took off his tunic. She removed her dress, leaving herself in just her slip dress.

There was no need for more words. She kissed the tears on his cheeks. Her hands moved down to his bottom. She felt thick, rough lines cutting across it.

He hesitated.

—It’s not a pretty sight.

—I want to see them.

Quintus undressed completely, overcoming all his resistance, feeling like clay in her hands.

Maider admired his pale, lean, and toned body. And then she saw them.

Dark scars covering his lower back and bottom. Thick and rough scars. Vertical and horizontal.

He was ashamed. His blue eyes met hers; they revealed great vulnerability.

—My childhood. When I was a boy, my master would beat and whip me. And then he would abuse me. I hope I don’t disgust you.

She kissed him.

—Nothing about you could ever disgust me.

And she undressed.

Quintus was left speechless. He saw her thin, toned body, and his desire grew exponentially.

—Maider…

—Quintus…

They embraced, and their skin touched. Maider moaned.

Quintus brought his tongue to her breasts, and she moaned again.

She brought her hand between his legs, and then he moaned too.

They made love in the shadow of two candles.

Their moans and sighs were lost in the night.

***

Hi, Eli here. I know I KNOW. Things escalated quickly. But I loved LOVED writing this chapter. It was such an emotional roller coaster it almost destroyed me. But here we are. I love Maider and Tenax/Quintus with all my heart.

Let me know in the comments what you think. Love you all. ❤️