#this was one of those drawings that gripped me out of nowhere and wouldn't let go till I finished it

[xmrnothingx]

Samus Aran from Metroid, Aerith Gainsborough from Final Fantasy VII, and Tharja from Fire Emblem Awakening

Merry Christmas!🎄 I drew my favorite video-game girls hanging out under the mistletoe

[edenesth]

[9:47 PM]

Noticing Mingi's persistent gaze fixed on you yet again that evening, you frowned and nudged his shoulder, whispering sternly, "Quit staring at me and mingle with your coworkers! It's impolite to ignore them. Take advantage of this chance to network, for heaven's sake."

Your boyfriend had eagerly brought you along as his date to his company's annual dinner, eager to finally introduce you after enduring endless teasing from his colleagues for always attending solo. Despite the opportunity to establish connections with influential figures ranging from high-ranking executives to international affiliates, he found himself unable to leave your side.

Extending his hand under the table to clasp yours, he leaned in and slyly murmured in your ear, "But darling, how can I possibly take my eyes off you when you look so irresistibly stunning tonight, hm?"

"Behave yourself, Song Mingi."

As those around you began to shoot knowing glances at both of you, you felt a blush creeping up your cheeks. While you weren't usually one to shy away from public displays of affection, this wasn't just any place—it was Mingi's work event. You felt it important for him to maintain a professional impression among his colleagues.

With a smirk, he tightened his grip on your hand, planting a mischievous peck on your cheek, "And what if I refuse to?"

"Don't be ridiculous," You scoffed, lightly swatting his hand away and pushing him back by the chest, though it wasn't easy given his towering size and strength. Deciding it might be best for him to give his coworkers some attention, you sent the people at your table a polite smile before excusing yourself, "I'm just going to freshen up. Please keep an eye on him for me."

They chuckled at your jest, assuring you as you rose from your seat, a hand on your boyfriend's shoulder as you passed behind him. Leaning down, you whispered in his ear, "Listen to me and be a good boy, perhaps you'll be rewarded when we return home."

You didn't need to look at him to sense the warmth creeping up his cheeks. You could hear his colleagues laughing, likely teasing him for being so whipped. Suppressing your giggles, you made your way to the nearest washroom to touch up your makeup. With the dinner drawing to a close, you dared to utter those suggestive words, relying on the fact that it was almost over. You just needed him to behave a little longer. Maybe that would serve as good motivation.

Or so you hoped.

To your surprise, when you walked out of the facilities, Mingi was nowhere to be found. You let out a sigh of disbelief when you realised he wasn't in his seat. There went the chance you wanted to give him to socialise, "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

As you reached into your purse for your phone to text him, you gasped when your actions were abruptly halted by a pair of arms wrapping around you from behind. It was only when you registered the familiar scent of your boyfriend's cologne that you relaxed. However, your calmness didn't last long as you remembered your surroundings. It wouldn't be appropriate if any of his colleagues were to turn around and notice the back hug he was giving you.

"Stop it, Mingi—"

You froze when you felt his face right beside yours, his breath brushing against your cheek as he spoke in his famous low voice, "You're so cruel to me, you know that? How do you expect me to remain professional after that stunt you pulled, darling? As if you haven't already been seducing me all night."

Protesting, you attempted to free yourself from his embrace, "I was not—" but your words caught in your throat when he pressed his lips against a sensitive spot on your neck, sending an immediate shiver down your spine and weakening your knees.

"Say what you like, princess. But we're leaving now," He declared, finally releasing his arms from around you. Without delay, he firmly secured your hand in his and led you out of the hall. Sensing your resistance, he quickly reassured, "Don't worry, I've informed them we're leaving early due to an emergency at home."

"Huh? What kind of emergency?" Your brows furrowed with concern.

He grinned, casting a glance back at you over his shoulder, "I'm in desperate need of that reward you promised, darling."

ATEEZ Masterlist

It would be a crime not to write anything after seeing these damn photos HAHA the way I was trying so hard to focus on writing part 20 of TWTHH, but I literally could not do so until I get this out of my system first.

Anyway, hope y'all enjoyed this one! As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho @the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[howyouloveyourdragon]

Hello. If you are taking requests, can you write to yandere husbands Gellert Grindelwald, Albus Dumbledore, Aberforth Dumbledore, Percival Graves, Severus Snape?

hi anon! thank you for the request, i hope you like it

i won't write great about the fantastic beasts characters because it's been a long time since i've seen it but i tried my best, i hope you enjoy! :)

Gellert Grindelwald

i feel like this man is possessive as hell

more of an isolating and protective yandere

he doesn't want anyone pressing a finger to any hair on your pretty little head

above all else he is driven and charismatic so after his obsession develops, he will immediately sneak in there and manipulate you

but he also wants you to depend on him, that way you will never leave

he wants to make you his whether or not you know it

he fills and indoctrinates you into think all muggles and wizards supporting them want to hurt you, that he's only trying to protect you because you're so special

he almost wants to curse you for gripping his heart so tightly, for controlling him without even knowing it

he has few qualms about killing in front of you but he'll try not to, just not very hard

when it comes to the wedding, he might try and convince you by inventing a false prophecy that if you don't he'll die

you wouldn't want to hurt him so, will you?

he doesn't like physically telling you how much he loves you, instead he'll say things like "We belong together." or "You're very special to me."

he does make an effort to keep you protected and feeling secure

and he doesn't like other people talking to you too much

if you also had a deep connection with Dumbledore then Grindelwald would make sure to server that tie, whispering lies about him wanting to betray or hurt you

as far as kids go I think he would them to keep his lock on you and to further his line but I'm not sure how deeply he would care for them

if any of them favoured your features however I think he would grow especially fond of those children in particular and teach their sibling to hold them in higher esteem

i think he would grow quite clingy over you, always keeping you on his arm when it's safe

Albus Dumbledore

this man already has a mischievous spirit and high charismatic presence so i feel like he could get you to trust him easily enough

after that he puts in all the works, fixating on you being in his life and drawing away for just long enough to keep you longing and missing him

he wants you to want him too, unlike some of the other yanderes who don't care so much about making your relationship real, he needs it

he would give you gifts in forms of sweets particularly so you associate them with him

he will insert himself into the most intimate parts of your life so you can't escape him

he doesn't want another lover to let him down like Gellert did so he manipulates what you can and can't do whether that be your friend suddenly avoiding you or you start feeling mysteriously ill out of nowhere

as a husband he is attentive and will likely bring you to live at hogwarts by his side, never leaving his sight

he doesn't lock you away though, he doesn't need to when he has you safely among the school

how much trouble can you get up to under his watchful eye?

he gets a certain thrill when there is danger about and you crawl into his protective hold

if you start teaching he will encourage it in fact, liking the way you integrate your lives together

as far as children goes he doesn't really want them, your always surrounded by them and watching grow, if you really want one then he won't mind you giving some extra support to some of the kids or being particularly parental but other than that he's not fussed

he is a regretful man and so i think he also makes a point to make sure none of those regrets include you even if his antics get quite obsessive, giving you flowers almost everyday and smothering you with affection as soon as he wakes up even if you're still asleep

if you ever died he would want to go with you and enjoy "the next great adventure" by your side

he doesn't intend to live without you

Aberforth Dumbledore,

in his school years that instead of negotiating, he preferred to settle things by duelling and combat

therefore i imagine he would approach this in a similar way

unlike his brother, he does not dedicate himself to winning your affection or charming you, he may very well attempt at developing a love potion or just take you away

he was not above using underhanded tactics against his foes and you would see this in how he interacts with you, for example he might use polyjuice potion to gain your trust in someone you are close with's body

he doesn't care how he gets you, just that he does get you

i think he could very well be a punishing yandere if you do not give in to him

as for the wedding i think he would want a small ceremony if any at all

potentially could use influencing spells such as the imperius curse if he won't get caught

i could see him wanting you to have a daughter with him so he could name her Ariana to honour his sister

whether or not you are a wizard/witch yourself, he is far more powerful than any other and he knows it

legilimency is frequent in your relationship, he doesn't see much point in asking you something if he can just know it already and the more he finds out the harder he falls, your thoughts infiltrating his brain is what fed his attraction to you in the first place

he will hold a grudge if you try to escape and will make the effort to make sure you watch while tied up as he blocks off every possible exit you could make

eventually his trust will be earned back but it might take a year or longer

Percival Graves

this one was a bit trickier because out of everyone i know the least about him but i think he would be a calculative yandere...precise

he is ambitious and serious

he does care about what you want and is willing to develop a romantic or platonic arrangement but he will always see you as his

if you're not married to him then you won't be married to anyone at all

he will trick people carrying romantic interest to you with rumours and lies about you until you come crying to him, he likes to comfort you and will do whatever it takes to feel your warm body in his arms

he will consistently take you to work events and slowly make you dependent and close with people connected to him and only him

he doesn't mind how long it takes until you get to the point where you accept his advances, he can wait

all because he knows it's necessary and once you are together then he will never have to work so diligently for it ever again

the wedding will seep of extravagance and he will keep the ceremony intimate

this is for you and him, no one else

he doesn't particularly care if people try and convince you to leave him, he dispels any of your worries by telling you they are poisoning your mind

he knows them better than you do, he assures, listen to him and no one else

he won't be a very bloody yandere i don't think

he's got too much at stake and he knows that if you ever found out about it then everything would be over

i don't know whether or not he would care for children, i think he would prefer to keep a small family

Severus Snape

this man has already lost one woman he believed himself to be in love with, he doesn't want to lose another one

and if anyone takes away the person he is infatuated with then there will be hell to pay

he has the dark lord on his side now but he is also a skilled potions master, if someone gets to close to you he can easily slip an extra helping into their cup or food of something less...appetising

enough to maim them seriously, maybe in an indistinguishable way

he will only resort to murder as a last stitch attempt

he can't lose you, he refuses to

he won't propose, he knows he won't accept no as an answer anyway and will force an agreement, perhaps threatening those you care about so he can keep you

as far as archetypes go i think he would be on the eliminating side of things

Lily chose James over him and so he simply won't give a choice this time

doesn't have the energy for such things

he doesn't have time for it and he's not lenient either

surprisingly he's not too possessive, he will keep a keen eye on the friends you choose but won't hurt them if he thinks he can trust them enough

he's not particularly fond of children so i don't think he would push the subject but if you wanted them i could see him begrudgingly complying

when he sees harry he is still furiously raging at the sight but it will be subdued if you have children of your own

i could see him locking you away once the war is started no matter what side he is on

Voldemort killed Lily, he will have no problem kill you too if you're on the side of the order

whichever side of the war you are on, so will he

[kissorkill16]

Two Little Girls: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: Trinity finds Nicky in the basement again, but this time, he's not alone.

Trinity was about to go to bed, but as she was about to close her window, she saw something walking to the backyard of the Peterson house.

She grabbed her binoculars and saw that it was Nicky.

"Seriously? Again?", she thought. "You'd think therapy would knock a little sense into you."

She left her binoculars on the window sill, and ran out of her room to go see why he was there.

The moment she got to the backyard, she saw that Nicky was gone. She looked all around the backyard to see where he could be hiding, and saw two trap doors. She opened the doors and climbed inside.

The basement wasn't really any different from when she'd first been here. It was still dilapidated and messy. She walked down the brown, wooden corridor, and moved the board with the picture out of the way, and there he was.

"I love you guys so much.", he was whispering.

"Nicky?", Trinity called to him. Nicky turned his head, and smiled.

"Trinity! You're just in time for the party! The girls have been dying to meet you.", he said, getting up and grabbing her arm, pulling her to the wall with two drawings on it.

On the wall were two drawings of two little girls. Trinity recognized them immediately, and her heart stopped.

The girl with the brown hair and red dress, and the girl with the ginger hair and blue overalls.

"Lucy, Mya, this is Trinity. Trinity, this is Lucy and Mya. They're my bestest friends.", said Nicky.

Trinity gave a little half wave to the drawings. "Hi, Lucy. Hi, Mya."

Suddenly, two shadows emerged from the wall, making Trinity fall backwards.

The two little girls were dark, shadowy, and distorted. Almost like demons. She turned to Nicky and grabbed his hand.

"Come on, Nicky. I'm taking you home.", she said. Nicky pulled his hand away.

"But we were just about to play our favorite game, hide & seek. Do you want to play with us? Lucy and Mya can count first!"

Trinity grabbed his shoulder again, and tighter this time so he wouldn't break free.

"Nicky, we're not staying here. You left your house in the middle of the night, and I had to come find you. Just come on!"

Out of nowhere, the shadows jumped onto Trinity, scratching her and pulling at her hair.

"NO!", screamed Lucy. "NO ONE LEAVES!"

"NICKY, YOUR FRIEND'S BEING MEAN TO US! TELL HER TO STOP!", screamed Mya.

But Nicky just sat in the corner, curled up to his knees and shivering.

Trinity broke free from the shadows, and grabbed a crowbar she saw in the other corner of the room, hitting the two little girls with it until they were completely out of sight. She took Nicky's hand again, but this time, the boy grabbed her arm in a vice grip.

"Nicky, what the hell?! Let go!", she said.

"Don't make me leave them!", begged Nicky. "I don't want to leave them! They're my friends! Please, Trinity, don't make me leave them!"

The two shadows of Lucy and Mya emerged once more.

"Nicky...", said Lucy's distorted voice. "You won't leave us, will you?!"

"Don't go, Nicky. We love you."

Nicky started crying, and Trinity had to do something terrible. She didn't want to do it, but it felt like the only way to get him out of here. "Forgive me, Nicky.", she said. She raised the crowbar high over her head, and swung at Nicky with lightning speed.

Nicky fell to the floor as he felt the impact on his head. Trinity swung at the two shadows, making them disappear, then she turned back to Nicky, who was lying unconscious on the floor, his head slowly bleeding out.

She wiped away the blood with her thumb, then she took off the sleeve of a shirt in another corner of the room, wrapping it over his head. As she was done, she hoisted him on her back, piggyback riding him out of the basement.

"I promise you, Nicky...", she thought, "Those demons won't hurt you as long as I'm here with you."

[givekennyabreak]

Refuge (Kenny Liu x gn!reader)

Summary: Life is tough at whatever the hell this town is, but at least Kenny got you by his side.

Word count: 733

Rating: M

Warnings: spoilers for s2e3 of From, mentions of blood, death, canon compliant violence and gore, a lot of swearing, reader is hinted to wear glasses, hugs, use of (Y/N).

The loud slam of the front door is what startles the duo.

"The fuck?" Swears Jade, as they watch Kenny storm by without a single word.

The chess board is on the coffee table between them, ivory pieces thrown around as Jade tried to teach his confused friend how to actually play it - not just imitate my little pony characters with the horse pieces.

"Something's wrong." (Y/N) whispered, already standing up from their seat on the couch.

"He probably saw his crush with her fianceé again-"

"Dude, he'd just sulk." They retorted, brows furrowing, glasses slipping down their nose. "Something bad happened."

Jade opened his mouth to say something again, but whatever it was got lost as the resident fix-it 'guy' turned around and towards Kenny's room.

"Well, fuck me, then."

Three quick raps against the door was enough to let Kenny know who was on the other side.

His mom called out to him instead of knocking and Jade knocked once before storming in shouting or mumbling from time to time.

"What is it?" He asked, voice strained. It wavered a little, and he heard a small thump against the wood - his friend leaned their forehead against it.

"Do you want to talk about it?" (Y/N) said quietly, but loud enough for him to hear.

The freckled man chewed on his bottom lip, fists clenching by his side. He wanted to stop - to sit or lay down, he was absolutely fucking tired, but his legs wouldn't stop pacing around.

He just saw a young, bright woman die with an iron stick through her head, and those things, those monsters, had the audacity to leave her there to suffer more and more and more until-

"Kenny?" (Y/N) whispered, softly, still waiting for his answer.

"Come in, please."

The deputy kept his eyes on the ground. He heard the door open, and then close; then, a pair of black combat boots appeared in his field of vision.

"Kenny, look up, please."

He didn't. He wouldn't dare look up because he'd see his friend's innocent, happy face and remember the screams amidst the forest.

The first tears fell without him realizing.

The sobs wracked through his body like the thunderstorm a couple of days ago, and it was only then that Kenny felt his friend actually hoist him up by his waist (with little struggle) and his legs soon felt the soft mattress against them. With a small push, he sat down, still looking at the ground, and (Y/N) kneeled by him.

"I don't know what happened." They said, hands cupping Kenny's freckled, warm cheeks. "But I'm here for you. If you do say anything or not, I will be here."

"They- they stuck an iron stick through one of the passengers head's." The deputy managed to say through the sobs, his own hands now engulfing the ones over his cheeks. "She was in the forest. They kept her a-alive."

(Y/N) gritted their teeth, jaw set tight.

"And she felt nothing at all, until she started to scream and then Boyd had to pull the thing out and Kristi held her hand and all Ellis and I could do was watch as she died stuck to a tree in a forest in the middle of nowhere without being able to call her mom one last time!"

The deputy cried harder then, holding his friend's hands with an iron grip. He sobbed until his body shook, and the entire time (Y/N) stayed close to him, their own forehead resting on the crown of Kenny's head.

At some point, the freckled man let go of their hands, and snuck his arms around their waist instead, hiding his teary face on the crook of their neck. (Y/N) opted to hug him back, one of their hands on the back of his head, pointer finger drawing random patterns on the soft black hair.

"I'm sorry." Kenny whispered, still sniffling. "Sorry to dump this all on you."

"Don't ever be sorry about telling me these things, Kenny." They retorted. "I'm here for you, always. No matter how gruesome or cruel, you can let it out to me."

Kenny, for the first time since he got home, looked up at his friend.

Lopsided smile, fogged up glasses, wild hair sticking up to all possible directions, gentle eyes.

"You can always count on me."

Kenny smiled back.

"I know."

Okay this was a RIDE

I hope I made all the two characters justice lmao sorry if I made Jade seem annoying, he just strikes me as an annoying brother (like my own younger brother) so yeah

Hope y'all like it :)

Also if the English is kinda wonky pls tell me bc I'm a tired Brazilian worker :')

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐭 (𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚! 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨) 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙼𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊! 𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘 (𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣) × 𝙼𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎)

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝, 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝙼𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊 𝙰𝚄

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙿𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 3.8K

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚓𝚘𝚋, 𝚐𝚞𝚗 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢, 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢, 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚞𝚗𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚡 (𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜) 𝙳𝚘𝚖! 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘 × 𝚂𝚞𝚋! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @little-precious-baby @yunhoiseyecandy @galaxteez @yunhofingers @brie02 @deja-vux @multidreams-and-desires @rvse-miingi

✽+†+✽――――✽+†+✽✽+†+✽――――✽+†+✽

Swerving into the sidewalk, the female took less than 5 seconds to fit herself into the passenger seat and slam the door behind her. Stepping on the accelerator, her partner's eyes looked firmly forward as he maneuvered himself through the alleys to safely get them out of the city without having to use the main highways. Once making sure no one was following them, they both breathed out a sigh of relief, thankful that the mission had run smoothly.

"Got it?" The male asked.

Reaching into her cleavage, she took out a folded piece of paper and held it in front of him, the male slightly cringing when he saw where it had came from.

"Like taking candy from a baby." She snorted before stuffing the piece of paper in the glove compartment.

As if on cue, the small screen on the dashboard began blinking, letting them know someone was trying to contact them. Pressing the answer button, the driver looked momentarily to see the face of their leader pop up.

"Tell me neither of you got your limbs torn off." He voiced his concern.

"We're on our way back already, give us an hour and we'll be there."

Satisfied at the success of the mission, the platinum blonde male looked over at the woman who simply had her arms crossed over her chest, staring daggers at him.

"Thank you for your sacrifice Y/N." He smiled at her.

"Oh shove it up your ass Hongjoong. It was embarrassing enough to dress like a whore let alone have some middle aged man grope my body. I would rather be bored to death walting in a car like Yunho did." She was fuming, still disgusted at the ordeal she had to go through, even her partner grimaced slightly when he thought about what she had to go through.

"But it was a success right? Thanks to the fast acting sedative Yeosang gave you." Hongjoong tried to reason with her.

"Whatever, as long as she doesn't have to do those dirty jobs again I think we're fine." Yunho piped up, unconsciously gripping the steering wheel a little too tight.

Hongjoong held back a smirk threatening to form across his lips.

"All right then. I expect you both here very soon."

With the screen going black, the pair just sat there in silence, one focused on the road while the other opted for looking out the window, having no other amusement besides the endless trees surrounding their path.

"Why even would you care about me doing jobs like this?"

Yunho was not expecting her to talk let alone ask a question like that out a nowhere.

"What do you mean?"

Y/N rolled her eyes.

"You know exactly what I mean. What you said to Hongjoong before, why should you care about me having to do these kinds of jobs?"

Yunho stayed quiet, pondering over his next words.

"I just....working so long with you I naturally feel an attract- a concern!...over your well being." He quickly corrected himself.

"I just think you're too talented and too good at your job to have to sink down that low just because Hongjoong wants to use the easy way."

Y/N had an amused look on her face as she listened intently to Yunho's words. Scanning him all over, she wasn't going to lie she found him extremely good looking and she'd be lying if she hadn't thought about fucking him more than once. She had often heard the snickers and teasing San and Wooyoung often directed at him too and she was more than curious to find out whether the rumors were true or not.

"You know what I think Yuyu?"

The way he suddenly straightened up and swallowed hard at the nickname did not go unnoticed by her. Taking off her seatbelt, she leaned over to him, her breath ghosting over his ear.

"I think you're jealous." She giggled when he moved his face away from her proximity.

"Why would I be jealous?" He cleared his throat, keeping a straight poker face one.

With a sly smile, Y/N began unbuttoning the top of his shirt.

"Cause some rival actually got to do what you wish you could do but are too scared to."

Yunho inhaled deeply when he felt her nose pressed up against his neck, lips dragging themselves up his jaw.

"And what exactly would that be?" Although he seemed nonchalant about her behavior, truth was he desperately wanted to know just how far the dirty bastard had gotten with his gorgeous partner.

"Oh you know the usual..... a kiss, with tongue involved." As she said that she made sure to lick the shell of his ear.

"A hand in between someone's legs, cupping a certain member."

Yunho let out a groan when he felt her hand squeeze at his growing erection, palming him through his trousers.

"Or fingers sliding up thighs and inside a little black dress."

Yunho's eyes widened significantly at her description.

"How far did they go?" His knuckles were turning white from how hard he was gripping the wheel.

"That's not important-"

"How far did he go?" The sudden raise in his voice startled her slightly, but it also meant that perhaps her plan was working.

"If you really must know.....he got 2 fingers in before passing out cold."

Y/N could see a tiny vein poking out from the side of his neck, telltale sign that he was really trying hard to not loose his temper. Looking away from her, she heard him mutter a soft 'damn him' before turning his eyes back on the road. Wanting to further anger him, she decided to throw in a little lie in her story.

"Had to readjust my dress after he was knocked out and wipe some of the spit off my chest."

Yunho's reaction was instant as he gripped her hand that up to now had still been groping at his cock, crushing her fingers in his palm.

"What do you mean wipe spit off? He saw your chest?" His pale complexion was suddenly turning a light pinkish and red shade.

"Saw, kissed, licked, bit the girls, you get the gist."

Releasing his harsh grip on her hand, Yunho took a deep breath, trying to remain calm but no longer being able to hold himself back from doing something he had been wanting to do for a long time.

"Take off your panties and spread your legs for me." He suddenly ordered her.

Y/N was so taken aback by his instructions that she looked at him as if he was crazy.

"What?"

Rolling his eyes, Yunho repeated himself.

"Take off your panties and spread your legs for me."

Turning on the cruise control on the car, Yunho looked over at Y/N, eyes burning with anger.

"Don't fucking make me repeat myself."

Y/N wanted to laugh at how silly he sounded, which he noticed how she held back a snort and he did not appreciate it.

"What if I don't want to?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I didn't ask what you wanted, I gave you an order."

Wanting to further test him, Y/N smirked.

"Why don't you make me?"

"Gladly."

She shuddered when she heard the sound of a gun cocking and then gulped when Yunho held it right in front of her face.

"Now babygirl....let's try this again. Those panties, off." He said as he pointed the gun down at her legs.

Reaching into her dress, Y/N peeled her underwear down her legs, embarrassed about the wet patch that was in between them caused by her teasing on her partner. Looking over, Yunho chuckled when it did not go unnoticed by him. With one hand still on the steering wheel, he used the hand that held the gun and dragged it across her thigh in slow, circular motions.

"Spread those pretty legs for me now."

Tapping the inside of her thigh, the corners of his lip curled when he heard her shift in her seat, signaling that she was obeying him. Taking a peek, he was not satisfied with the results.

"Spread them out as far as your able to baby, and lift up that dress of yours. Let me see how wet your little cunt is." The gun he held was already lifting part of her dress up.

Sitting up, Y/N lifted her dress up to her waist before spreading her legs out, feeling the cool air breeze at her glistening folds. Taking his eyes off the road for a moment, Yunho admired the beautiful picture sitting next to him, all pliant and awaiting further instructions.

"Fuck you have a really pretty pussy."

Y/N bit down on her lip when she felt the barrel of his gun press against her clit before dragging her her folds, collecting much of her already formed arousal.

"What if I just shoved it inside that filthy hole of yours? Fuck you with my gun? You'd probably like that wouldn't you?"

Y/N gasped when she felt the gun poke at her entrance, her walls already tightening themselves. But instead Yunho simply pulled the gun back, bringing it up to his face before licking off the juices left over. Y/N couldn't keep her mouth from falling open slightly as she watched him practically eat up her slick. Setting the gun down on one of the cup holders, Yunho snaked his hand in between her legs, thumb pressing against her nub which had her inhaling sharply.

"Such a sensitive little one....and so responsive."

His thumb began to draw circles around her clit, flicking against it occasionally. Y/N couldn't understand how he could still be focused on maneuvering the wheel without getting distracted or being lazy with the movements on her mound. The way his thumb worked her clit was so precise, so skilled, as if he knew exact what to do to get her more and more worked up with each brush of his thumb. When he moved his thumb away it was only so he could slide one of his long and slender fingers inside her.

"Oh fuck." Y/N's hands gripped at the arm rest as she felt his finger reach so deep in her.

"What never had something this long in you before?" He snickered amusedly.

Slowly, he pumped his finger in and out the her, loving the way her walls seemed to suck him back in whenever he pulled out. Y/N decided to close her eyes and just enjoy as her longtime partner invaded her most intimate part, first with one finger which was soon joined by a second one, further stretching her out.

"So warm...." Yunho mused while curling his fingers upwards.

"That feels so good."

Yunho felt proud of himself as he heard her say that, ego boosted further by the tiny sighs her nose breathed out.

"Yeah? You like my fingers inside you baby? Like having them inside your tight pussy?"

Y/N moaned in response when he began thrusting his fingers with more force, sloppy sounds being heard throughout the car due to how wet she was. Her thighs began to close around his hand, which resulted in Yunho slipping his fingers out before landing a harsh slap on her clit that had her nearly jumping in her seat.

"Keep those legs open for me you slut. After all, that's all you're good at."

If it had been anybody else, she would have slapped them for saying that. But something about Yunho actually had her nearly cumming at his words. Spreading her legs once again, she welcomed his fingers once more, bottom lip caught in between her teeth.

"You said he got 2 fingers in? Tsk. Pathetic. I bet I can top that."

Y/N's mouth dropped open into a perfect oval shape as Yunho stuffed yet a third finger in her, momentarily slowing his pace down so he could brush the tips of his fingers against the roof of her walls. He knew he found what he was looking for when she let out a particularly loud moan and her legs shook.

"Found you."

Y/N began writhing in her seat as Yunho jammed his fingers in and out of her at a rapid pace, his tips always making sure to brush at her g-spot. Yunho had a smug grin throughout the whole time, every 5 seconds or so he looked back to watch Y/N's blushed face as his hand fucked her.

"If you're already this worked up about just my fingers, I can't wait to see what you'll be like when I'm fucking you balls deep."

Y/N whipped her head at him after he said that, her incredulous eyes meeting his haughty ones.

"Yes Y/N, this is merely a prep to get you ready for my cock. I need you stretched open so you can fit my massive cock inside that tiny pussy of yours."

Y/N threw her head back as she began picturing getting fucked by his cock.

"Oh my- oh my God! Fuck!"

Yunho's speed never slowed down even after he felt her cum all over his fingers, wanting her to keep the high for as long as possible. He wanted to make sure he managed to get her to spill out as much as possible. Only until he felt her come down from her high did he remove his fingers from inside her. Holding them up to her lips, his thumb grazed her bottom lip.

"Taste yourself baby."

Her mouth opened and enveloped his fingers inside it. She hummed against his fingers as she sucked off her juices off them. Yunho didn't pull them out of her mouth until he was sure she had licked them clean. Wiping himself off on his pants, he then undid his zipper and began pulling himself out of his tight confinement.

"Be a good girl and suck me off baby. Put that pretty mouth of yours to work."

Seeing him whip out his massive length had her drooling over it. It was the biggest cock she had ever seen in her life and she couldn't believe that she'd actually have that in her soon, no doubt destroying and rearranging her insides. As she kept staring at it, she was smacked out of her trance when Yunho harshly yanked her down by her hair and pressed her face against his dick.

"Are you already too dumb to obey a simple order from just getting fingered? Or from seeing my huge cock?"

With his grip still on her hair, Yunho guided her so her nose brushed all around his length, making her sniff him which she gladly did.

"If you're really that much of a cockslut then you should have no problem sucking me off. Now get to it."

Opening her mouth, Y/N first took his thick head in her mouth, giving his slit a little dig with her tongue which made Yunho groan. Being in the mood for teasing him, she kept only his head in her mouth for the meantime, sometimes pulling off to give his slit sweet kitten licks before slurping around it once more, making sure to moan as dramatically as she could.

Knowing what her game was, Yunho wasn't having any of it.

"I know you can do a lot better than that you slut. Or did you forget how to suck dick?"

Putting one hand on the back of her head, he smoothed out her hair, petting and stroking her head in such a caring and tender way, all while having a sadistic look plastered on.

"It's ok, let me remind you."

Y/N gagged as she felt Yunho push her down his length, her nose hitting against his pubic bone. He held her there for a few seconds before pulling her back up from her hair. Letting her gasp for air first, Yunho fisted some more of her hair in his fingers before shoving her back down his length. His hips would often come up to stuff more of his length down her throat. Her mouth was so warm and he loved hearing her choke around his cock. Y/N hollowed her cheeks out as much as possible, sucking as much as Yunho as she could without gagging too much. The car was filled with her slurping and gagging sounds, and whenever Yunho would look down to see the mess she was it only fueled the feeling that was brewing in his lower stomach.

"Shit! You're going to make me cum- cum inside your mouth."

Yunho tried so hard to focus on not swerving out of the lane. He was thankful it was a deserted road that hardly anyone used, otherwise he would never have gotten away with face fucking Y/N as he drove. Hearing him finally start spewing out lewd sounds from his mouth had made Y/N proud. Sloppily, she kept deepthroating him, letting his head hit the back of her mouth as her hand reached over to cup his balls, massaging them in her palms.

Yunho began frantically bucking his hips up.

"Shit! I'm going to cum- Oh fuck!."

Swiftly pulling her off him, she had saliva trickling down her chin, lips swollen and red after making her practically swallow him whole. Y/N was confused when Yunho suddenly got off the road and parked the car. Struggling to take off his seatbelt, Yunho turned his attention to her.

"Backseat."

Getting the hint, Y/N got out of the car, pulling the rest of her dress over her head in the process. Opening the door, she quickly climbed into the backseat where seconds after Yunho joined her. He practically slammed the door behind him. Pulling his pants further down, he began pumping himself, spreading more of his precum around his shaft.

"Get on top of me."

Not needing to be told twice, Y/N climbed on top with his lap, a little too earnestly given how she hit her head on the roof of the car.

"Watch your head." He teased her.

"Fuck off." She hissed as she rubbed her head.

Holding her hips, Yunho lifted her up and then sunk her down onto his length. Y/N shuddered then stood still as his enormous length ripped right through her, stretching her far beyond anything she ever felt.

"I'd rather fuck you if you don't mind."

Y/N couldn't contain her whimpers and shrieks as Yunho slammed his hips into her, fingers digging into her ass to hold her down on his lap. Her hands held onto the top of the seats to keep herself from bouncing too much and accidentally hitting her head again. She cried out harder when Yunho angled his hips so he'd hit at her g-spot over and over again. Their heavy panting and breathing, mixed with the steam and sweat their bodies were producing was staring to make the windows fog up.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to fuck you."

Y/N gasped when one of his hands came up to wrap itself around her neck, not pressing down at it but it made her shiver in anticipation at what he was going to do.

"Seeing you parade yourself in such short skirts during meetings, bending down and having everybody stare at your ass or tits-"

Letting out an animalistic growl, Yunho's hand gripped her jaw tightly, squishing her cheeks together to the point of hurting.

"Made me want to bend you over the table and spank your ass red before fucking it in front of everyone."

Releasing her jaw, his hand once more went to her neck, except now he gripped it tightly, cutting off part of her oxygen intake. Yunho grunted as he felt her walls compress around his length. Leaning his head to her chest, he began to suck and bite all across her breasts and sternum, not satisfied until he was sure to leave purple marks on it. Yunho continued to bounce her on his cock, loving the way her eyes shut tightly and her mouth stayed agape and poured out such sinful sounds. Because of his hand on her neck, she tried to warn him that she was about to cum but instead gibberish came out.

He understood though what she was trying to say.

"Awww is my little slut going to cum so soon? How desperate and needy were you that you're about to burst anytime now?"

Y/N began tearing up at his words and the endless strokes of his head hitting so deep in her.

"Or do you just love my monster cock that much?"

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she began quivering on top of him.

"Fuck! Yes- love your monster- oh god!"

Feeling her cum all over him, it didn't take no more than a couple more roll of his hips for Yunho to start pumping his seed into her, deep and raspy grunts spilling from his throat as he continued to grind himself into her so as to ride out their orgasms.

Once they both came down from their highs, Yunho tilted Y/N's face up so he could kiss her. His kiss was desperate and his lips would harshly nip and tuck at her bottom lip, biting down and making it more swollen than it already was.

"You're mine now doll. I'm claiming you as my own. From now on anybody who wants you has to step over my dead body first."

Y/N giggled and blushed at his words, not against being Yunho's property one bit. Her fingers ran themselves through his hair as she kissed him back with the same amount of passed he had. Their kiss was interrupted by the loud buzzing of Yunho's phone.

"Shit." Yunho muttered as he reached for his phone, grimacing when he saw it was Hongjoong.

"Hello?"

Hongjoong's voice boomed through the speaker.

"Where the fuck are you two?! It's been over 2 hours! You should have been back a long ass time ago!"

They both looked at each other, trying hard not to burst out laughing.

"Uh.....we stopped for ice cream?" Yunho tried to make up an excuse.

"I'm not in the mood for games Yunho, so tell me what the fuck happened. Did you two get chased?"

With a shit eating grin on his face, Yunho stared straight at Y/N as he said the next words.

"Well if you really want to know, I just got done fucking my sweet partner in the backseat of the car."

They could hear Hongjoong wheezing while someone in the background started screaming hysterically.

"And you're going to be waiting for us more cause I'm not done with her yet...."

✽+†+✽――――✽+†+✽✽+†+✽――――✽+†+✽

[hogwartsmarvelmommy]

Empty Mugs and Unexpected Hugs (H.O) 🔥

Word count: 3.3K

Enemies to lovers

(HarrisonOsterfeildxReader)

Warnings: Smut (fingering, unprotected sex *Wrap it up*) cussing, that’s probably it..

🌼🌸 MASTERLIST 🌸🌼

With Tom came Harrison, you knew that. What you didn't know was when you had agreed to a roommate situation with Tom, you were also agreeing to one with Haz. “Tom, you said ‘would you like to live with me.’ not ‘me and Haz’” you told him as you stared at the blonde boy who was carrying box after box. He opted to do this shirtless, despite the cold London breeze. A sheen layer of sweat glistened on his overly defined chest, and you hated the way you longed to reach out and touch him.

“I figured you just knew?” Tom said coyly rubbing the back of his neck as he saw the way you stared down his best friend. He wasn't blind, he knew the hatred you supposedly had towards Haz was something with much deeper roots, but anytime he tried to figure it out, you would deflect and change the subject.

“I'm not doing either of your dishes,” you said loudly enough to catch Harrison's attention.

“Wouldn't expect you to, princess,” he winked at you. With a loud groan, and a dramatic flip of your hair, you proceed to your empty room to unpack your things.

Living with Tom and Harrison was way more entertaining than you had ever thought possible. Most nights were spent at the dining room table with one to many empty beer bottles laid out in front of you, while you laughed and joked about things that were probably not funny. Of course there were also the quiet days when Tom was away filming with Haz in tow, and on those days you would usually have the company of one or both of the twins.

“You should just admit you love him,” Sam said suddenly while you were taking a sip of your beer, causing you to spit your drink all over the table.

“Sammy!” You cried out the sting of beer in your nostrils. “I do not,”

“Y/N, It's written all over your face,” Harry argued. They were supposed to be on your side, you had been friends with the twins for years, the only reason you even knew Tom, was because of Sam and Harry..

“I do not love Harrison,” You told them, but even you were unconvinced by your own words.

It was late when you heard the front door to the flat open. The twins had left a few hours prior, Tom was in the states, and Harrison was with him, so who was coming into the apartment?

You were in just a shirt, an old one of Harrison's you had taken a while back, and a pair of cheeky underwear. Tip toeing to your bedroom door and grabbing a golf club from your bag, you proceeded to sneak down the hallway to the large living area where the front door was. Your heart was pounding with the thought of having to defend the place against an intruder, in just your underwear nonetheless. You saw a shadow, next to the couch, and raised the club ready to attack. As soon as you went for it, the lamp flicked on and Harrison saw you charging towards him with a golf club. Luckily he had fast reflexes, catching the club in one hand and your quickly moving body in the other. “Christ Y/N. What are you doing?” he asked, holding your body close to his. You felt your muscles relax into him, thankful he was in fact not an intruder, and you wouldn't have to explain why there was an intruder beaten and bloody by your hand to the authorities.

“I thought you were a robber,” You admitted coyly, stepping back a bit to look at him. His piercing blue eyes looked deep into yours, a small smile on his lips as his eyes trailed down your overly exposed body.

“So you would charge at an intruder with a bright pink putter, in just your underwear?” he asked you. “Also is that my shirt?” you could feel your cheeks heat up. You pushed away from his body with a scoff and turned to go back to your room, already done with him, but his hand caught your wrist, pulling your body back into his arms. His grip was tight as he held your body close to his. Something was off. Something was wrong. This was abnormal, Haz without Tom, and showing you any sort of affection.

“Hazzy, why are you home?” You asked, finally wrapping your arms around his waist, accepting the unexpected hug that you usually would not share with Him.

“Family stuff, I've been back for a few days. Just been with my mom,” He said, still holding you. You instinctively hug him tighter, getting the feeling that something bad had happened.

“You okay?” You asked him quietly. To which he just hummed into your head, still holding you.

“Better now,” He whispers. You're so confused, and exposed. You hear the twins' voices in the back of your head. ‘Just admit it, you love him.’ Was that what you had been feeling for months on end? Is that the feeling you were feeling now, making your stomach turn? “I missed you,” He whispers and you swear you could feel him press a kiss against the top of your head. It's too much, so suddenly.

“I need to..” you push your body away, scrambling to find any words to get you away, your mind is clouded by thoughts and feelings. “Pants,” You finally let out, leaving Harrison in the living room, stunned at how flustered you had become in the matter of a millisecond.

As soon as you're back in your room, you let out a groan, you're so confused. He missed you? You? y/n? Why would he miss you? All the two of you did was bicker, bicker and flirt. Flirt. Because you did in fact have feelings for Harrison. Feelings that were not not supposed to be had towards him..

“Y/N? Can I come in?” you haven't even put on pants yet when his voice calls to you through the closed door.

“Sure,” You call out to him, desperately searching your floor for the discarded sweats you had had on a few hours before. Nowhere, great. He cleared his throat from behind you, while you were bent over, ass on full display. Fully aware now, of how exposed you are you decide to just crawl under your blanket on your bed.

“Did I do something?” He asked, concern plastered all over his face.

“What? No, why would you think-”

“You just ran from me, like literally ran, after trying to attack me with a golf club,” He points out, making you cringe.

“I- Uh, yeah. I'm sorry about nearly attacking you,” You mumble, a little more embarrassed than you'd like to admit.

“So why'd you run away?” he pondered, watching you closely as you struggled to find your words. Unbeknownst to you Harrison was also having an internal crisis. You were Y/N. Someone Tom considered a little sister, Harry and Sam's best friend, but he couldn't help the way that you made him smile every time you couldn't open a jar, and would defeatedly ask him for help after way too long of attempting it yourself. Or the way you would curse at the line of dirt that you could never seem to sweep into the dustpan. The way you would always make a cup of tea before finishing the last, leaving so many mugs with a single drink all over the place, something that would drive any other person crazy, but he just found it endearing, and was sure if it ever stopped, he would miss it.

“You said you missed me,” You finally managed to say, making a smile spread over Harrison's lips. He took a chance, stepping into your room, towards where you were sitting on the bed, and when you didn't object, he crossed the empty space sitting right next to you.

“I did miss you,” He said, grabbing your hand and squeezing it gently.

“We fight, and argue,” You started, obviously ready to explain all the reasons he shouldn't have missed you.

“And we flirt, and share memories, and glances. You drive me nuts y/n. But the second I step out that door, I miss it all. The obnoxious quirks, the way you can't pronounce some things correctly, no matter how often I correct you. I miss hearing you call out goodnight to me in the nighttime, and how you always wish me to have sweet dreams. I don't know when, or why it happened, but yeah. When I'm gone I miss you,” you feel a tear escape your eye at his confession, not sure exactly what to say or think for that matter. His finger caresses your cheek wiping the tear from your face.

“Haz?” You whisper.

“Yes?” He asks, full attention turned to you.

“I miss you when you're gone too,” You finally admit, a weight lifting from your chest. He's thankful to know his feelings aren't completely one sided. Your admission of missing him is at least enough to confirm that you don't actually hate him. “Can I be honest?” You ask, catching even yourself off guard.

“Please,” He says, waiting for you to say whatever you had to say.

“I- '' You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for rejection and embarrassment, but if you wait much longer, you'll never say what you have to. “I get so irritated with you, because everything you do just draws me in. I can't not stare, or listen. It drives me nuts, to be so flustered by everything that you do, and it's the simple things Haz, the way you insist on sitting on the left side of the couch, or how you always make sure I've eaten after a long day. The way you constantly clean up my mugs that I leave everywhere, and you have never once said a thing about them, even if you have had every right to,” you don't even want to look at him, afraid he will be appalled, but you have to say it. “I’m pretty sure I've managed to fall in love with you, while trying desperately to hate you,” you whisper.

That's enough of a confirmation for Harrison, that you're on the same page. With his hand gently on your face, pulling your chin up towards him, he leans in, pressing his lips ever so gently against yours. And the electricity that you both feel from the slightest touch? Fucking magic.

“I tried so hard not to love you,” He whispers. You look up at him through your lashes, his eyes gazing directly into yours, and it's like you're looking at the sky on a clear summer day. “And dear God did I fail,” he whispers, making you melt. He leans back down, this time kissing you with something so much more. It's meaningful, it's beautiful, it's everything you have wanted without realizing it. Your hands are against his chest, feeling each thud of his heart, while his are cupping your face. He kisses you like his life depends on it, and in that moment it surely feels like it does. He deepens the kiss, his tongue making its appearance in your mouth. It's everything and more. You wrap your arms around his neck, wanting to extend this moment forever, and his slip down to your waist, pulling you closer. He pulls away, and a soft whine escapes your lips.

“Tell me to stop,” He whispers, as he caresses your cheek. Eyes searching your face, making sure he's not crossing a line. You lean into his hand, closing your eyes and letting a soft humm leave your lips. With no objection from you, he reconnects your lips for a third time tonight. This time it's hot, so so hot. You can feel the ache forming in your stomach as his lips move from yours to your neck. You need him, you have to have him, just a little taste and you realize you have been starving. With a swift motion you're straddling him now, leaning down into him instead of leaning up, giving him so much more access to your neck and jaw, and then he remembers an unanswered question from before.

“This is my shirt,” He says, this time it's not a question, just a statement.

“Yeah,” You giggle. His eyebrows raise a bit as he remembers all the shirts that have seemingly disappeared over the last few months.

“Do you have others?” He asks. You feel like you have been caught red handed, nowhere to go or hide.

“I- Yes,” You admit. “I like to sleep in them,”

“In just your underwear?” He asks, to which you shyly nod. He throws his head back and lets out a dramatic sigh. He's done for, “That is so fucking hot,” he mutters before leaning back in taking your bottom lip between his and sucking it slightly. He feels his pants tighten as your hips grind into him instinctively, and you're so wet and warm he can practically feel it through his jeans.

“Hazzy,” you moan as he pushes you down onto him, providing a friction you desperately need, even though it's not what you want.

“What is it?” He asks you, as he does it a second time. Your head falls down onto his shoulder, and you don't know if you can even express what it is you want.

“Can you..” You trail off.

“Can i?” he asks, needing to hear you say it out loud.

“Touch me?” The words are like music to his ears, flipping you onto your back as he slips his hand between your bodies, running his fingers along the damp fabric of your ruined panties. The fact that you're this wet from just kissing is driving him crazy. He slips his hand into your panties, finally sliding his long digits along your slit. One thing about Harrison that drove you absolutely crazy was his hands, because dear god were they perfect, his long fingers and veiny tops, you'd be lying if you said you had never gotten off imagining his fingers in the place of yours, and now, actually having the real thing, you felt like you were flying.

As he slid his finger inside you, you let out a gasp, his being so much bigger than your own, and it being way too long since you had been with anyone.

“Say the word and I'll stop,” He says, as he looks at your face twisted in pleasure, but he can't tell that it's not pain, he's never seen you like this before. This is a whole new territory.

“Please.. Please don't,” You nearly beg as your hips buck against his hand. The smirk that replaces the concern on his face is unbelievably hot, his pupils are blown with lust and you're sure yours are as well. He thrusts his one finger in and out grazing against your spot each and every time, his palm rubbing your clit as he does so. You're going to lose it, this is so much better than you could have ever imagined. He pulls his finger out, causing a whine from you, which quickly turns to a gasp as he replaces it with two. If you're falling apart to his fingers you're not sure how you'll be able to handle his cock.

“Hazzy,” You moan out, right on the brink of losing it.

“Come on my fingers princess,” He coos, and that is precisely what you do, your whole body shakes in pleasure, and your toes curl, and he keeps going, as your walls squeeze tightly around his fingers.

Once your legs finally stop shaking he pulls his hand away, and although that was probably the most powerful orgasm you had ever had, it is not nearly enough. “Haz.” You say quietly as he peppers kisses on your neck.

“Hmm?” He hums.

“Need more, need you,” you say, and his head peaks up, a smile on his face, a bit in excitement, a bit in surprise.

“You sure?” he asks, to which you respond by kissing him, you nibble at his bottom lip, and he lets out a moan. You reach down unbuttoning his jeans and sliding his zipper down, and he assists you in pulling them down. You can clearly see his length through his boxers, his cock, rock hard and leaking on to his boxers, it's flattering. You let your fingers trail his length and you can feel his eyes on your hand, and you're not sure if he's worried, nervous, or excited. You slide his boxers down and his cock springs free, and you can see the violent red hue of the tip, he's begging to be touched and he hasn't even said a thing. You wrap your hand around him and he lets out a gasp at the sudden contact, you stroke your hand up and down a few times before, he pushes you back onto the bed and climbs over you. He slides his fingers in the hem of your panties and slowly drags them down your legs, before dropping them to the floor, and then takes his time lifting his shirt over his head, exposing his chest, you follow suit, and throw the shirt you had on to the ground. You're both completely naked now, no turning back, you've made it this far already.

"Y/n, baby we don't have to," he whispers against your ear.

"Hazzy, stop worrying and fuck me please," you nearly beg as you pull his lips to yours in a desperately hungry kiss.

"Christ," he mutters as he lines himself at your entrance, pushing into you at a slow, agonizing speed. Of course he's only doing this to make sure you're ok, his fingers seemed like so much to your tight pussy he's worried he's going to hurt you. But the way you moan out his name gives him full confidence that you in fact are fine. Once he's fully sure you're fine to take him, he speeds up his thrusts, finding a place that is perfect for the both of you. Your legs wrap around his waist as he pounds into you. You're not sure you're going to last long.

"Not gonna last," you moan into his lips.

"S'okay, me either," he says back. He slips his hand down, rubbing your clit strategically. You let out another loud moan before his name leaves your lips, repeatedly as you convulse around his cock, and it's only one more thrust before he completely empties himself into you.

It's a few quiet moments of your bodies laying flush against each other, enjoying the afterglow of sex. "I'm gonna clean you up," he whispers in your ear before pushing himself up and off of you. He disappears from the room for what feels like an eternity, but is back within a minute with a warm rag and a glass of water, and he then cleans you up, being gentle with how sensitive you now are.

Your eyes get heavy after everything is said and done, and you're worried he's going to disappear from your room, but he lays next to you instead. Pulling you into his arms.

"Hazzy?" You whisper after a few minutes.

"Hmm?"

"Is everything ok with your family?" You ask, getting worried this may have been a lapse in judgement on his part because of heightened emotions.

"Yes. Char decided to give us a scare and disappear for a weekend, so I came back to try and keep my mom from murdering her," he admitted with a chuckle.

"Oh," you giggled.

"Y/n?" He whispers.

"Yeah?"

"I meant it. I missed you," he says, pressing a kiss atop of your head. You smile before falling asleep in his arms. Maybe this was a mistake, maybe it would be forever. All you knew was it felt right.

[sonoftatooine]

Whumptober 2021

DAY 6: ‘TOUCH AND GO’ - TOUCH STARVED / HUNGER

Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Sheev Palpatine

Warnings: Abuse, starvation, solitary confinement

Summary: Prequel to my raised as a Sith Anakin AU where Anakin saves Padmé from execution by the Separatists, here, here and here. A young Vader defies his master, and he pays the price.

***

Curled up in the pitch darkness of the cell that his master had thrown him into three days past, Darth Vader, second apprentice to the Sith Lord Darth Sidious, wrestled down the urge to moan in pain as he wrapped his arms tight around his midriff in a futile attempt to soothe the gnawing ache deep in his stomach. It had been three days since he had been given even so much as half an old ration bar to eat. Three days since he had seen the slightest sliver of light or spoken to another being, organic or droid. Three days that he was only able to count because of the small ration of water he was given through a hatch in the wall what he presumed was each morning—enough to keep him alive but nowhere near what was needed to relieve the the dryness in his mouth, nor the unrelenting headache that was pounding behind his eyes and wrapping around his skull like a vice. He felt sick and dizzy, and he had to fight the instinct to cry. It would do him no good—it would only waste water.

Another groan threatened to escape him as a particularly severe pang of hunger laced through his abdomen. The familiar tang of blood filled his mouth as he bit down hard on his lip to suppress it. His master could well be monitoring him, and any display of weakness would do little to convince him to put an end to his punishment. He wondered how long the man intended to keep him here this time, without food, with barely any water. Surely...surely it wouldn't be much longer. It wouldn't— It couldn't— But his transgression—

Oh Force, his transgression had been really bad this time.

He hadn't meant to disobey. He hadn't. He hadn't defied his master in years—not after the first few times he had balked at being brought...fodder to feed his growing power in the Dark Side, as Lord Sidious liked to call it. But those had been criminals and scum and slavers, people whom nobody would miss and could best serve the Galaxy by perishing on his blade. The trembling padawan that had been dumped at his feet, barely able to hold the lightsaber she had been thrown straight as his master prowled around them, hissing at him to prove his mettle against the Jedi and strike her down—well, that had been...different. He had fought her, of course, and won easily, but when it came to strike the final blow, something had stayed his hand. The look in her eyes, perhaps, wide and terrified and full of tears. Or the fact that she must have been much the same age as he was—fifteen or sixteen, he thought? Whatever it was, it had frozen him stock still above her, his saber pointed towards her throat, and no amount of cajoling, taunting or threats from his master could make him draw back and deal the blow.

It had done her no good in the end. Lord Sidious had killed her in his place, and his rage afterwards had been terrible.

It had only been after he'd taken out the worst of his fury on his wayward apprentice that he had grabbed him by the hair, aching, hardly able to stand, and dragged him down to the small prison cell that he had first kept him in after he'd been stolen from Qui-Gon Jinn's custody on Naboo. The pain was tolerable—he had become accustomed to his master's cold but violent temper by now—but the cell... The cell always wore him down.

It was not necessarily the hunger and the thirst. Hunger and thirst were common even amongst the masters on Tatooine (with the notable exception of the Hutts), and amongst the planet's slaves even more so. Such things were well known to him, deep in his bones. But then, it had always been tempered by the loving embrace of his mother and the warm presence of his friends. Now, he had nothing like that. Only Tyranus, who loathed and resented him as an unnecessary waste of time and effort, and Sidious, whose touches brought pain more than comfort, and only offered him scraps of kindness as a reward for good behaviour. Here, in the dark, he only had misery and isolation and an ache in his gut that paled in comparison to the ache in his chest that was the absence of Shmi Skywalker. Like a hole that had been punched right through his heart.

Vader swallowed dryly as he tried, without success, to ease the soreness of his throat. He could feel a sudden surge of resentment growing within him, familiar and dangerous. It wasn't fair. Lord Sidious was as much Tyranus' master as he was his, but he never treated him this way. He didn't lock him up and starve him of both sustenance and sentient company. He let him see and speak to other people, didn't punish him for not bowing down like a slave to his owner in every aspect of his life. Yes, he was a lot younger than Tyranus—not yet even a man, the snobbish Count had a habit of sneering within his earshot—but both of them had become Sidious' apprentices at much the same time. He had been a Sith just as long as Dooku, and their shared master didn't even want the man as a permanent apprentice. So why was it him who was treated like—

His anger was well on the way to turning into a raging inferno by the time he managed to stamp it back down again. He mustn't think of such things. If he ever wanted to get out of this cell, he mustn't think of such things.

He had no way of knowing how much time passed before he heard the pneumatic hiss of his cell door being activated—it could have been minutes, hours. The sound was almost deafening after so long of silence, and the light which flooded into the cell from the other side of the door fairly blinded him. He blinked, dazed, stretching out his senses to identify who it was that was entering the cell. His mind brushed up against a horribly familiar presence, vast and cold and empty like a dark chasm in the Force. His master.

Still barely able to see, he scrambled to his knees, head bowed and properly subservient as he fought to keep himself from shaking. He could hear the hiss of soft robes dragging against the floor—the only warning he had before his chin was caught in a punishing grip, and his head was wrenched upwards to meet his master's gaze. Blinking away the spots in his vision, he stared up into what little he could see of Lord Sidious' face, shrouded in shadows, expression hard and cold with displeasure.

"Well, my apprentice," he croaked, his eyes gleaming like a hungry anooba's under the shadow of his hood. "Have you learnt your lesson yet?"

"Master..." Vader's throat was so parched that his voice was almost as dry and cracked as Lord Sidious'. He trembled under the man's gaze, trying to shrink in on himself and hating how pathetic he felt. "Master, please—"

Sidious' lips twisted into a wicked smile, teeth flashing dangerously.

"'Please'?," he taunted. "'Please' what, Vader? Do you believe you have paid sufficient penance for your transgression?"

Vader shut his eyes tight, forcing down the tears that were threatening to well up beneath his lids. He mustn't show weakness in front of his master. It would only make him angry.

Of course, disobedience made him angry too, and Vader had already shown him defiance beyond the limited patience with him the man possessed.

"I will accept your judgement, master" he said, because what else could he say when anything but complete subservience would mean further punishment? He wished his master would let go of his chin, so he could bow his head and hide from those piercing eyed behind a curtain of hair. But Sidious did not let him go, held firm and forced him to stare up into his twisted face, without reprieve. His gaze seemed to burrow into his skull like a laser, and Vader was sure that, without even bothering to call upon the Force, he could see past the lie he had so clumsily pasted over the truth of his feelings, even as he tried to bury them so deep down that no one—not even himself— would sense them. The man's smile turned grim and cold.

"Will you now?," he sneered. "How generous of you. And if I choose to keep you here until I deem you adequately punished? Will you accept it then?"

Vader trembled. He would do it, he knew. Lord Sidious was not in the habit of making idle threats.

"Master...," he whimpered hoarsely. "Master, please. Please forgive me. I-I'll obey. I've learnt my lesson. Please—”

Sidious smirked.

"Forgive you?"

The hand that had been holding his chin in a vice-like grip moved to slide up to his cheek in a gesture that, if not for his cruel words and the hard gleam in his yellow eyes, might have felt gentle, almost affectionate. Even as a worm of disgust—at himself as much as Sidious—twisted violently in his gut, Vader couldn't help but lean into the touch, desperate for even the tiniest scraps after so long in isolation. He wanted to shut his eyes—anything to pretend that he were somewhere else, with someone else—but he didn't dare. Not when one wrong move could turn the man back to icy fury at any moment.

"Perhaps I will forgive you." Sidious' fingers trailed down his cheek one last time before he drew back and suddenly, with only the slightest of warnings in the Force, struck him such a hard blow across the face that he toppled hard onto the floor. Vader let out a soft, startled little cry as pain jarred through his shoulder, his mechno hand shooting up to clutch at his burning cheek. "Once I believe you are properly contrite."

There was a whisper of robes above him and then something dropped down to the ground in front of his face. He blinked, dazed, at first not quite taking in what he was seeing. A ration bar. Oh Force, a ration bar. He scrambled to grab it, to snatch it up before his master took it away and—

But Sidious was already out in the corridor, and the door was closing behind him.

"Master!," Vader cried. His voice came out as a thin scream as he dashed to the already sealing door. He collided with it hard as he was caged once again in darkness. "Master—!"

For a moment, fear and anger and frustration welled up inside him to the point of explosion, and he let out a broken yell, slamming his metal hand into the durasteel of the door over and over. But it was not long before the exhaustion and sickness from his hunger overcame him and he sank down to the ground in a heap of dark robes and trembling misery. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair—

But... But at least he had food now, he thought as he clutched the ration bar possessively to his chest. His master had given him food. Did that mean he was on his way towards forgiving him? Would he let him out soon? How soon? At least...at least, even if it was a few more days, he would have something to stave off the hunger. He could make it last. He could make it last until his master decided to let him out. Yes.

All he needed to do was obey—truly obey—and then Lord Sidious would show him mercy.

[emachinescat]

The Day that Camelot Forgot

A Merlin Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat ​

@febuwhump​ day 24 - memory loss

Summary: A vengeful Morgana casts a powerful curse on Camelot on the day Merlin is named Court Sorcerer, making everyone in the citadel forget that Merlin – and his impact on their lives – exists. She can only maintain the spell for one day, but twenty-four hours is more than enough time for the warlock to get himself into some serious trouble.

Characters: Merlin, Arthur, the knights, Gaius, Morgana is mentioned

Words: 6,444

TW: anxiety attacks, burning at the stake, main character near-death

Note: This story is a bit late, as it was meant to be published on day 24 of Febuwhump, but I got sick, and missed a few days.  I did post the first half of it on Tumblr on the 24th, but this is the finished product. I am seriously considering writing a sequel, because there are definitely a lot of ramifications that I gloss over here, a lot of angsty, whumpy stuff that I could (and most likely will) expand upon in another story. But I'll let you read the story for yourself, and see if you're interested in a sequel! 

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, and re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

Merlin woke up to a broom head hitting him in the face, which was not how he expected his first day as Court Sorcerer to start.

An indignant squawk escaped him as he rolled off of his bed in an effort to escape the assault. He already had an insult for Arthur on his lips when his bleary eyes cleared and he realized that it had not been the king at all who had woken him in such a manner. It was Gaius, and he was poised to strike again.

"Gaius!" Merlin stammered, scrambling to his feet and dodging another blow from the broom. "What the hell are you doing that for?"

Gaius didn't answer. Instead, looking as mean and ornery as Merlin had ever seen him, the old physician demanded, "How did you get in here?"

Merlin cocked his head to one side, completely nonplussed. "I… live here? I remember turning Arthur's offer for new chambers down so I could stay and care for you – OW!"

Gaius had hit him again. "Who are you?" he all but growled.

Merlin blinked. "Gaius, you know me," he insisted, his heart hammering out his uncertainty at the pulse point in his neck. Something was wrong; Gaius might be cantankerous for his old age, and he might have enjoyed the odd joke at Merlin's expense, but never something like this.

Merlin tried again. "Gaius, it's me… Merlin." When Gaius only glared at him distrustfully from beneath two gnarled eyebrows, he added hopefully, "You know… Hunith's son?"

To his relief, recognition lit in his mentor's eyes at the mention of Merlin's mother, but distrust immediately replaced it. "I have known Hunith all of her life," Gaius said, voice low and measured, broom still held at the ready. "But she has no son."

Real fear exploded in Merlin's chest – fear for Gaius, not for himself. There was only so much Gaius could do with a broom, but if he was forgetting Merlin so suddenly and so completely…

"Ah, I'm sorry," Merlin said as calmly as possible, raising his hands in front of him to show he meant no harm. "My mistake. I'll … get out of your hair."

He darted out of his room, across the physician's main chamber, and out the door, leaving a confused and agitated Gaius in his wake. Merlin prayed that the old physician wouldn't get himself into too much trouble while he was gone, and then darted for Arthur's chambers.

***

He ran into Gwaine on the way – literally, he ran headfirst into the knight, so distracted by Gaius's sudden and dramatic loss of memory. At first he wasn't sure whose ridiculously muscular torso he'd bumped into, and despite his worry, he couldn't help but grin when he saw the bearded face glaring down at him in surprise.

Wait…

Glaring?

Merlin stumbled back.

"Watch where you're going, friend," Gwaine said in response. The way he spoke sent a wave of wrongness down Merlin's spine. He had called Merlin friend, but it was a vague, generalized term. When Gwaine normally called Merlin his friend, the word was saturated with warmth and shone with the light of a dozen charming grins. Now, it meant nothing. And when Merlin looked up into his friend's dark eyes, there was no recognition there. No smile that Merlin had come to understand as reserved especially for the knight's closest friends. Gwaine's eyes landed on him, flashed in brief annoyance, and then skirted off of him almost nearly as quickly.

"Gwaine?" Merlin asked, irritated at the uncertainty in his own voice.

Gwaine, who had already started sauntering away, turned back with a puzzled expression. For just a moment, Merlin was sure that kind, mischievous face was going to open up in an eyes-to-mouth smile like it always did upon seeing him, but then the brow furrowed, and Gwaine asked, "Do I know you?"

Merlin opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He stood there, gaping like a fool, his whole body coiled as if ready to spring into action, limbs numb, fingers trembling, fear wrapping its constricting tendrils around his chest.

Gwaine gave Merlin an odd look, then shrugged. "Maybe we drank together once."

Merlin nodded weakly, remembering not just once, but many times he and the man before him had gone to the tavern together, often with the rest of the knights, sometimes even the king, in tow. He thought of laughter, and promises of friendship and loyalty, and tavern songs and Gwaine standing on top of a table doing a clumsy jig. He thought of the first time they'd gone to the tavern after learning of Merlin's magic, how Gwaine had asked him a million questions that had gotten more idiotic with every drink. ("No, Gwaine, I have never tried to transplant my nose into the center of a rose to see if flowers can smell themselves.")

By the time he had resurfaced from the barrage of memories that Gwaine had forgotten and that Merlin now clung to with a new ferocity, the knight had gone.

Feeling distinctly sick, Merlin resumed his trek to Arthur's chambers, noticing with fresh terror that every person he passed either didn't acknowledge him at all, or gave him a second, bewildered glance like they'd never seen him before, like he had no right being where he was – being in his home.

***

Arthur didn't remember him, either.

Merlin was so near panic when he got to the king and queen's chambers that he almost forgot to knock. Knocking was never something Merlin had been particularly adept at remembering to do, especially when it came to his duties to Arthur, but since the king had married Gwen, Merlin had made sure to amend his habits. There were some things that Merlin absolutely did not want to walk in on, and besides, he respected Gwen too much to risk barging in on her unannounced.

It was Arthur who answered the door, and Merlin was so flustered that he didn't wait for an invitation to enter (when did he ever, though?), and he squeezed his way into the room past the king. Gwen was nowhere to be seen.

"Thank the gods you're here, Arthur," Merlin huffed as he bustled in. "Something very weird is going on. Gaius and Gwaine are acting like they don't know me, like they've never seen me in their lives!"

He turned around to face his friend. To his surprise, Arthur's hand was on the hilt of his sword at his hip, and suspicion rolled off of him in waves. "Who the hell are you?" he asked flatly, blue eyes flashing with an intensity reserved for those who wished to do him, his kingdom, or his loved ones harm.

Merlin had been expecting a joke like this. Arthur was never one to pass up an opportunity to tease his former servant, soon-to-be Court Sorcerer. The dry retort, "Very funny, Sire," died before it could escape his mouth, though, because when he looked at his king, his best friend, he saw no glimmer of recognition. No familiarity. No kindness or warmth or irritated indulgence. Arthur's face was that of a man who had just had a complete stranger barge into his room and started talking to him like they were old acquaintances – which, Merlin was beginning to realize, was exactly what had happened from the king's point of view.

Merlin swallowed heavily and entreated, "Arthur … King Arthur. Please tell me that you know me." Desperation clawed at his throat and infected his next plea. "Please."

Arthur didn't speak, didn't relax his grip on his sword hilt, but he didn't draw the weapon either, which Merlin thought had to be a good sign. Finally, after several long, tense moments, Arthur responded in a slow, cautious tone, "I'm sorry. I have never seen you before in my life. What business do you have with me?"

Merlin's world, everything he knew and understood and loved, crumbled around him in that moment. He staggered back, managed to stay upright by pure strength of will alone. What the hell was going on? The familiar sting of tears pressed against the back of his eyes, and he only managed to keep himself from crying by sheer stubbornness. He took a deep, steadying breath, made a conscious effort to look as non-threatening as possible, and tried very hard not to panic.

"Okay," he said, and his voice shook, so he tried again. "Okay." This time, his voice was steadier. Arthur's glare pounded into him from across the room, and knew that the king's already thin patience was running out. "Something very wrong is happening in Camelot," the sorcerer began.

Arthur interrupted him. "I agree," he said pedantically. "There's a strange man in my chambers."

"I'm not – I am, or I was, your servant."

"My servant's name is George."

Merlin couldn't help it. He groaned. "George? The one who makes jokes about brass? He's your servant in this hellish version of Camelot?"

Arthur sent Merlin a look that was almost pitying. "You are obviously very confused," he said in a surprisingly gentle tone. "But I am king of Camelot, and you have no right to be in my personal chambers. Go now, and I will think nothing more of this intrusion. If you do not, then I will have to treat you as a threat, and call the guards."

Merlin shook his head, unwilling to let this go. In the span of a single morning, his entire reality, the world he and Arthur had worked so hard to build and the future that they were about to step into, his new position as Court Sorcerer, his friendship with Arthur, everything, had been ripped away from him. He had to figure out what could have caused this to happen. He didn't have to think long – who was out there with enough power to make what seemed like the entire citadel forget he existed? Who was angry and envious and vindictive enough to take away everyone he loved on the very day that the culmination of his and Arthur's dreams were finally taking shape?

Even as Arthur stepped forward, hand tightening on the hilt of his sword, preparing to draw it, Merlin blurted, "It has to be Morgana!"

All the color drained out of Arthur's face in an instant. He stood there, frozen, a horrible expression of pain manifesting in his eyes. "How dare you speak of my sister," the king growled, and Merlin actually backed up a few steps, bumping into the end table that he'd polished more times than he could count.

"I know she's a difficult subject to talk about," Merlin managed, striving to keep his voice steady as the grief in Arthur's eyes turned to fury. "But it's the only explanation. Morgana must have cast a curse on the citadel – you have to let me go find her, please, and I can stop this, and the world can go back to normal."

Arthur drew his sword now, and Merlin had no more room to retreat. He stood before his king, his closest friend, his muscles aching from the tension gripping his body, his heart pumping so fast and hard he could feel the flutter in his chest. "Arthur, please–"

"I am your king!" the man who had Arthur's face but spoke like his father spat. "You will address me as such! And how dare you insinuate that the Lady Morgana was a sorceress! What vile game are you playing?"

Merlin's head spun; he had no idea what was going on, how Arthur was currently seeing the world, but he did know for certain now that Morgana was behind it. The reverence and love with which the king said his half-sister's name could only come from a delusion the sorceress in question had placed there. Then something Arthur had said hit home. "What do you mean 'was'?"

The expression on the king's face was faintly nauseated, as if he were being forced to remember something that he had hidden away deep inside, or as if he were actively fighting the urge to cut Merlin down on the spot. Either scenario felt entirely wrong and filled Merlin with a sense of dread. "My sister is dead," Arthur said flatly. "She who would have been queen – should have been queen." Oh, yes, Morgana was definitely behind this, Merlin thought wryly. It was bad enough she had these sick delusions in the first place, but to force everyone in Camelot to play a part in them was equally terrifying and sad. "Struck down by a sorcerer in cold blood."

Merlin flinched at the way Arthur spat the word sorcerer. It had been years since he had heard the title said with such hatred and derision, and never had he heard this level of malevolence for magic-users come from Arthur's mouth. After everything they had been through together, after the joy of watching their prophesied destiny unfold before his very eyes, after hearing Arthur accept his magic and plan to officially declare him Court Sorcerer, hearing the title that Arthur had so often spoken of with pride slide out of that same mouth slicked with hatred hurt. But Merlin reminded himself of the truth – this wasn't Arthur, not really; somehow he was being fed false memories – and he squared his shoulders and looked his king right in the eyes.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said solemnly. Arthur's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Merlin hoped it was a good sign. "But Arthur – your highness – I need you to listen to me, please. I can explain everything. I can try, at least. But your memories aren't what you think they are. Morgana is alive and… very well, considering the power of this enchantment."

"My sister was murdered by magic, and yet you still insist that she is the evil enchantress!" Arthur fumed, and Merlin felt like he was talking to a stone wall, or even more deaf and unyielding, Uther Pendragon. He very seriously considered knocking Arthur out with magic and tucking him away safely in a wardrobe somewhere while he himself went to deal with the sorceress who had caused all this trouble. But Merlin could sense Arthur, the real Arthur, somewhere beneath the surface of those familiar-but-foreign eyes, and he was sure he could break the spell without having to go to the source. Merlin was Arthur's dearest friend, the king had said this himself (and yes, it still counted even if Arthur had been incredibly drunk after a night in the tavern with Gwaine when he said it). And Merlin knew Arthur better than anyone else, save the queen.

I can reach him, he reassured himself. Arthur is still in there, somewhere. I just have to find him. And once he's back to himself, I can deal with Morgana.

"Please, sire," Merlin said, putting every bit of sincerity he could muster into his words. "Just… let me tell you my side of the story. Let me remind you of who I am, and who you truly are. I am your friend, Arthur, and you have said yourself that I am the most stupidly loyal man you have ever had the displeasure to meet." A desperate chuckle lilted his last few words.

"You have two minutes."

"Um, there's a lot to cover, actually," Merlin responded. "Can I have a bit longer, because I don't think–"

"One and half minutes."

"Okay, okay, I'll stick to the basics!" And so Merlin gave Arthur the quickest and most condensed version of their friendship and history he could cobble together in less time than it usually took to exchange greetings with his king in the morning.

He ended with, "And so you see, it makes sense that Morgana would want to sabotage this occasion, because it marks the beginning of a new era that she desperately wants to be a part of but is too bitter and proud to humble herself and change for. She wants to tear us apart, wants you to do something that you'll later regret. But I know you're stronger than this, Arthur. I know that you remember me, deep down. The life you're living isn't yours. Your memories aren't yours. They belong to Morgana, but your mind does not." A strange, almost trance-like mask had descended over Arthur's face while Merlin spoke, and hope started budding in the warlock's chest – he was so close to breaking through, he could feel it.

"So," Merlin prompted, when Arthur did not immediately respond. "Do you remember? Have you realized the truth, sire?"

Slowly, Arthur nodded, and the dazed quality to his eyes cleared up in an instant. "Yes," he murmured. Merlin allowed his eyes to close momentarily in relief; his body sagged against the table at his back. Thank the gods, the nightmare was over. Now all that was left was to find Morgana and make sure nothing like this ever happened again.

But Arthur wasn't finished speaking, and the hardness had steeled his gaze once more, his lips set in a straight line and his jaw clenched and held high. "I have realized that I was a fool to think that you were a harmless vagrant with delusions of grandeur who wandered into the wrong part of the castle. I should never have opened the door for you."

"Arthur–"

"I am your KING!" Merlin snapped his mouth shut, tears once again prickling at the corner of his eyes. The injustice of the situation weighed as heavily on him as his destiny once had. "You are a sorcerer, an enemy of Camelot, here in an attempt to take down Camelot from the inside. But your spells and tricks and poisoned words will not work on me."

"But–"

"Guards!"

"You don't understand, I–"

"Guards!"

***

Elyan and Percival were the knights who dragged Merlin to the dungeons and threw him roughly into a cell. Then Percival clasped his wrists in shackles, which were chained to the floor. The door slammed shut with a metallic clang.

"Percival – Elyan!" Merlin called out as the knights that had only a week ago pledged their acceptance and loyalty to him as the soon-to-be Court Sorcerer and chief advisor to the king. "Please, you know me!"

"You'll die for your treachery, sorcerer," Elyan spat.

The left, and Merlin sank to the cold, damp stone floor, chains clinking. He drew his knees up to his chest, rested his aching head on them, and did his best to remember how to breathe.

***

Merlin wasn't sure how long he had been in the dungeon, but it had to have been a couple of hours at least. He hadn't eaten breakfast because the old man who usually prepared it for him had instead attacked him with a broom. Now, he was certain he had missed lunch too. His stomach growled at him in protest, but the hunger pangs meant nothing to Merlin. Even if the guards dropped off a meal fit for a king, he wouldn't be able to eat a bite. Everything had gone so wrong.

And now Merlin was at a loss of what to do. He could escape the dungeons easily, he knew, and go searching for Morgana. But there were so many uncertainties, a litany of what ifs that railed against him whenever he thought about breaking out of his chains and sending the cell door crashing into the guards holding a silent but hostile vigil on the other side. If indeed he could find Morgana and discover a way to reverse the curse, then it would, of course, be an easy fix. Merlin's failure to connect with Arthur and break the spell himself had planted a seed of self-doubt deeply within the soil of his mind, however, and now what he had been so sure of before he'd tried to fix things himself – that he would be able to hunt down Morgana and stop this madness with magic – seemed like a distant, unrealistic goal.

And if he did fail? If he could not find Morgana, or if she had managed to employ a magic far more powerful or strange than he currently knew how to counter? If he was unable to break the curse? Then Arthur would go on believing Merlin was the enemy, and Merlin would have forfeited any chance of reaching his friend by flouting the king's edict, attacking the guards, and breaking out of the castle.

Merlin had only been able to get through to Arthur in his other life, his real life, by showing the king over a period of years that magic was not something to be inherently feared, not something evil in and of itself. He had had to show the king through his own life and actions the truth about magic, so that when Arthur had at last learned of his secret, it was from Merlin's own lips and with nearly a decade of loyalty and friendship to back up Merlin's assurances that he had only ever used his gifts to protect Arthur and Camelot. Sure, Arthur had been angry at first, and hurt that Merlin hadn't trusted him, but he had come to an acceptance of Merlin's magic much more quickly than the warlock had imagined. King and servant had grown even closer in the wake of the truth, and soon after, Arthur had started drafting plans for making magic legal and had proposed the idea of Melin's being officially named Court Sorcerer.

But if Merlin was forced to start from scratch, to rebuild his relationship with the king – a possibility that pained him deeply but that he was more than willing to do, if it was the only way to get Arthur back and get their destiny on track – then it would not be wise to start that relationship off with a jailbreak. Then again, he argued against himself, neither was blurting out his secret to an Arthur who had already shown great disdain for magic and who held no memory of or loyalty toward Merlin at all. At this rate, maybe it was better to just take the risk and escape, because how in the name of the Triple Goddess was he supposed to convince Arthur of his loyalty if the king most likely planned to execute him for treason?

He almost made his escape then, but something stopped him. At first, he couldn't identity exactly what it was, just a feeling, an uncomfortable squirming in his gut that could have been the voice of destiny, or instinct, or, quite possibly, hunger. But either way, it bothered him enough that he held off on his plans to break out and examined the feeling more closely. Eventually, he realized – if he left Arthur now, especially in the state he was in, alone and unprotected and with Morgana out there somewhere with her eyes feasting hungrily on the citadel she so earnestly believed should be hers, he could be putting the king in more danger. If Merlin wasn't able to find Morgana in time, and she used his absence to ease her way into the citadel and onto the throne, which Arthur would readily give up to her in his current state.. With him under her influence, she could do whatever she wanted to him – kill him, imprison him, break his mind forever… and Merlin wouldn't be there to stop her.

With this thought, he decided to wait it out, and to see how events would unfold. He would not use his magic to defy Arthur or make his escape unless absolutely necessary. After all, he tried to assure himself, there was the very real possibility that Morgana would not be able to hold this powerful of a spell for long. She might be a priestess of the Old Religion, but even she had her limits. Perhaps her plan was to lure Merlin out to find her and then to use his absence to take Camelot for herself, but it was entirely possible that she only had a limited window of time to achieve her goal and that she was counting on Merlin to act on his emotions and search her out immediately.

Or maybe her plan was just to simply wreak havoc in Merlin's life for as long as she could. Either way, Merlin reasoned, her hold over the entirety of Camelot could not last forever. Sooner or later, her grip would weaken and Arthur and the rest of the citadel would wrest their way out of her control.

Merlin just had to survive until then.

***

He was unsure of how much time had passed when they came for him again. No one had brought him food, or water, and no one had come to visit him during his imprisonment, either. Merlin thought it was highly likely that Arthur had ordered any curious parties to stay away; the king had made it abundantly clear that he considered Merlin a dangerous threat. The fact that he had not been given even a hunk of stale bread or a flagon of water sent warning bells off in Merlin's mind – if this strange Arthur was anything like Uther had been, then he knew that he would be executed swiftly and without trial, and there was no need to feed a dead man.

Gwaine and Leon came to collect him. Leon unlocked the shackles and shoved him at Gwaine, who spat at his feet. "And to think I was kind to you this morning," he growled, and Merlin fought the urge to remind him that he hadn't exactly been kind, more indifferent. Gwaine roughly spun Merlin around, wrenched his hands behind his back so hard that pain sliced through his shoulder blades. Merlin felt his hands being bound tightly, expertly behind his back with course, thick rope. He reached into himself and felt his magic, alive, pulsing, ready to rise to his defense, and he took solace in it, but kept it at bay.

Not yet, he told himself.

But he was getting scared, and he was running out of options.

***

They shoved him to his knees before Arthur, who sat unyielding and terrible on his throne, a mirror image of his father. Merlin realized with a start that there was only one throne.

"Where's Gwen?" he asked. Now that he thought about it, the servant-turned-queen hadn't come up when Merlin had told his story to Arthur earlier, and the king had made no mention of his wife. In fact, he recalled with a start, none of Gwen's more domestic touches had been in Arthur's chamber.

Arthur stood, striding forward and looming over his prisoner. "You should have gagged him," he groused. "He doesn't know how to shut up." For a split second, Merlin thought that maybe the real Arthur was beginning to resurface – that was exactly something that he would say! Then he crossed his arms over his chest and asked irritably, "Who is Gwen? Your accomplice?"

"No, no," Merlin quickly assured him, not wanting to cause any trouble for Gwen, wherever she was. It was odd, he thought: Most elements of Camelot had stayed the same in Morgana's living nightmare, like the knights – even the non-noble ones, even Elyan, Gwen's brother, had remained as they were. But Arthur, in this version of reality, had never married Gwen. It made sense if he thought about it, though. Gwen had occupied the role that Morgana had believed was hers, had, in the witch's eyes, betrayed her trust and left her for the man that represented everything Morgana hated. Of course, Gwen wouldn't have her happy ending, her marriage to Arthur, with Morgana in charge. She was being punished as well. Merlin wondered if Gwen had been left with her memories of the real world like he had been, or if she was somewhere in Camelot, living and thinking as a maid when she really was a queen.

To Merlin's relief, Arthur didn't pursue the line of questioning any further. "I have talked this matter over with my council and advisors," he said in a measured voice. A burst of bitterness howled inside of Merlin – he had been named Arthur's chief advisor! He had been a part of the original council, the Knights of the Round Table, when Arthur had first brought them together! And now this illusion of Morgana's had stolen that away from him, too.

Not yet, he reminded his magic, as it raged and boiled and frothed inside of him. Be patient.

He might have been able to control his magic, but he could not keep his sarcasm completely in check: "And I am sure that in your discussion with the council, you all came to a completely fair and totally unbiased decision based on facts and not the unfounded prejudices of your father's rule."

He didn't know what he had been expecting, but it certainly was not Arthur's face flushing an angry red, nor the back of his hand smashing full-force into Merlin's cheek, snapping his head to the side violently. He felt one of the king's rings split the skin on his cheekbone, and thought for a breathless moment that the entire left side of his face had caved in.

He couldn't keep back the lone tear that crawled from the corner of his eye. It didn't come from pain or even shock – but a sense of gut-wrenching betrayal that he could not reason his way out of, even knowing that Arthur was not himself. Even in the state that Arthur was in, even knowing that the king would make plans to execute him, Merlin never anticipated Arthur himself becoming physically violent with him. Somehow, Arthur's hitting him was so much more of a betrayal than a death sentence.

Just. Wait. He didn't know how much longer he would be able to keep his magic from rising to his defense.

"You will learn your place, sorcerer," Arthur hissed. "When you burn. Take him; we light the pyre at first dawn."

***

Fear screamed through Merlin's body like a whirlwind, and coherent thought fled in the wake of his worst nightmares manifesting before him. He had been sure that Arthur would have chosen hanging or even the chopping block, but a pyre –

Merlin had grown up terrified of fires, horrified at the possibility of dying a brutal, torturous death, swallowed and ravaged by flames, all because he was born with magic. Because of who he was.

No one had been burnt at the stake in years in Camelot. Certainly not after Arthur became king. It was a barbaric practice, and even the worst war criminals and traitors were given a swift, merciful death. He had assumed that Arthur would continue that tradition.

But no, when he was dragged out into the courtyard – the sky was dark, but the air chilly and damp, heralding the approaching dawn – a great pyre had been constructed, and the rest of the knights – his friends – had gathered around, their faces lit eerily by the flickering flames of the torches they held at the ready. At least Gaius wasn't there.

You're not actually going to die, Merlin tried to remind himself, dragging desperately for air through his nose, his mouth blocked by his neckerchief that they'd dragged over his mouth in a bid to keep him from talking, or screaming, or just out of pure spite, Merlin didn't know. You can escape. You will escape, and find Morgana, and stop this. You can't delay any longer.

He drew himself up as tall as he could between Leon and Gwaine, calling his magic to his aid and –

He wasn't sure what happened, or how his friends-turned-enemies had guessed that he was about to try something – maybe he had given himself away somehow, maybe they had noticed the change in his stance or a shift in his energy, or maybe Morgana was interfering even now, ensuring that he would not escape his fate so easily. Whatever the reason, just as Merlin drew upon his magic, something blunt – a sword hilt? – crashed into the back of his skull, and everything was pain.

Agony ripped through his head, his neck, and crackled down his spine. Any grip Merlin had on his magic slipped through his fingers, and he fell forward, held semi-upright only by the knights escorting him to his death. He didn't lose consciousness, but he did lose all sense of control over his body and his magic, and the only thing that existed was pain. His stomach churned in time with the throbbing of his head, and his eyes were driven shut instinctively by the light of the torches before him.

The next few minutes passed in a state of distanced terror and pain. Merlin was acutely aware of the heaviness and agony of his head and the nausea in his gut. He also felt every spike of fear, every bit of helplessness, every scream that wanted to rise up from the most primal part of his being. And yet, at the same time, it was as if it was happening to someone else, and he could do nothing about it. Everything hurt and he was going to die and Arthur was going to burn him alive, his friends were going to light the pyre, and he would die in agony, and not even his magic could stop it, because he couldn't feel it, couldn't find it – he was magic itself, and yet it eluded his grasp, all that existed was pain and confusion and his head swam –

He felt, as if from a great distance, himself be hoisted onto the pyre. He felt the rough wood of the stake rub blisters into his tied hands as he was shoved against it, head lolling uselessly as if it belonged to someone else. He felt rope wrap around his torso, his legs, securing him to the pyre, and he tried to lift his head, which rested on his chest, tried to find his magic, but all he uncovered was fear and despair and pain.

He vaguely heard Arthur speaking from somewhere close by – or maybe it was from miles away. He did not understand the words but knew them to be a list of the supposed crimes Merlin had committed – being born with magic the chief of those. And then, far too soon, Arthur stopped talking, and Merlin sensed through his partially closed eyes the knights approaching with their torches, and he felt the warmth of the fire as those torches were lowered to the wood.

Merlin forced his eyes open, thrust his head up and looked at his friends, then beyond them, at Arthur. He maintained eye contact with his king, his brother, his best friend, even as the knights lit the pyre and he felt the heat begin to spread. Merlin didn't know if Arthur could hear him from this distance, if his words would be loud enough, strong enough, or if they would be caught up and consumed in the rising flames. It took every ounce of strength and concentration to push past the pain and call out, as loudly as he could, "I forgive you, Arthur."

And then, as the flames began licking at his feet, his boots, his clothes, something popped. I was as if the world itself had been out of joint, like a dislocated shoulder, and in that moment, the painful but satisfying second of release, it had snapped back into place. The air shifted, the world stopped spinning for the briefest of moments, and then, it clicked back into its rightful place.

The spell had been broken; Merlin could feel it in every fiber of his being – his magic cried out in relief, and it was only then that he realized that it hadn't been his head injury that had prevented him from fighting back, from escaping – it had been a last, desperate attempt by Morgana to get her revenge, to hide his magic away from him just long enough for him to die.

But she had failed. Her power, her hold and control, had finally given out on her, and Merlin felt his magic bubble back to the surface, and despite the pain and the fear, he summoned rain from a cloudless sky as the sun continued its golden ascent and put out the flames.

Around him, he heard yells, and cries, and his name was shouted from all directions, from the mouths of those he loved and trusted and who had very nearly killed him. But his head pounded, and he was so weak, and the fire was out. He slumped in his bonds, eyes fluttering shut, head dropping to his chest.

He didn't even feel the hands untie him. He didn't feel the knights gently lift his too-warm body from the pyre, didn't feel himself being carried into the castle and placed on a bed, didn't feel Arthur's tears of mingled guilt and relief splash onto his face.

He did, however, somehow, amidst the quiet and dark of unconsciousness, hear Arthur's voice cut through the silence, strong and familiar and real. "Gods, I – I'm so sorry, Merlin. My dearest friend, I–"

When he woke, Merlin would embrace his king, reassure him that no lasting harm had been done. He would smile at his friends, clasp hands with the knights and hug Gaius, find Gwen and make sure she hadn't suffered the same disorienting day that he had. He would answer all questions asked of him, and he would assure Arthur and the knights as many times as it took that he did not blame them, would explain Morgana's dark role in everything. He would find Morgana, and make sure that nothing like this would happen again.

When he woke, the world would be right. It wouldn't be normal – after everything that had been done to him, after all the betrayals, even though he didn't blame his friends, it would take a while for normal to come back around. But Merlin would persist, and he would have his friends – his real friends, with their real memories – to help him through it. As he would help them through the ramifications of their own pain, guilt, and regret.

And when he woke, he would be named the official Court Sorcerer of Camelot. He would be given a robe fine enough for a king, but he wouldn't care about that. All that would matter would be him, at Arthur's side, protecting him and fulfilling their destiny. That was how it had always been, and Merlin, when he woke, would look forward to a bright future of peace and hope.

But for now, he gratefully, peacefully slept, knowing that when he next opened his eyes, Camelot would remember.

[sophi-s]

Cost of Kindness

Chapter IV: Complications

By: sophi-s

Fandom: Darksiders video games

Words: 6,656

Characters: Raphael, Original Female Character (OC), Fury

Warnings: Blood and Injury, Swearing (a lot of it XD)

Summary:

After far too many close calls and an adventure that will last her a lifetime, Nicola and Raphael finally make their way towards Haven. Unfortunately, not everything goes as smoothly as it could.

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Many, many centuries ago taking off to the grand skies has become one of humanity's greatest dreams. They always wished to be able to fly, envying birds their wings and wishing to join them in their aerial conquest. It took many more ages to even try to think of it seriously and even longer for the humans to create the first working airplane and fulfill their dreams as the gravity kept thwarting all their plans. But once this seemingly impossible goal was accomplished, this event has been recorded on the pages of history as one of the most remarkable inventions of the human race.

When she was little, Nicola dreamed of flying on her own as well. She loved watching birds, tracking the planes soaring through the sky, so far away they looked like ants, and thinking about how it would be to have her own wings. Her dreams eventually were abandoned as she grew older, more serious and more reasonable. But honestly, if a week ago someone asked her if she would choose to have wings if she could, Nicola without hesitation would reply "a huge YES". Now however, she realised something she didn't really take into consideration before. While humans wished to rule the skies, they absolutely were not created for this. They have been made flightless, earth-ridden creatures and for a good reason. Her very apparent fear of heights made it awfully clear to her.

These thoughts were all Nicola could hear aside from the rustling of feathers on the wind as she desperately held onto her angel friend, her heart hammering in her chest, eyes wide and stomach making somersaults while everything was spinning around like a carousel. At a certain height the human body just starts to give up and refuse cooperation. For those who are afraid of heights the gap is even smaller and the symptoms more severe. All that was keeping her from fainting or throwing up there and then was the fact that she refused to look down to see how high they actually were but imagining the small buildings below her wasn't making it much better. If she survives this, she will never ask any angel for a fly again and - if it will ever be possible after the apocalypse - stay the heck away from any sort of working plane. Ground was where she belonged. Flying was not her cup of tea and no one will ever convince her otherwise.

Raphael seemed oblivious to the silent prayers spilling past her lips and just kept flying, fully focused on his destination, as she was absolutely certain she's going to die. Her muscles were completely stiff, as though she looked Medusa in the eye. She couldn't even see anything with how her face was buried in the rumpled fabric of Raphael's clothes but she assumed they were getting closer and closer. Focus on anything else than the height. Anything! She kept telling herself when her jaw started to hurt from how she was clenching her teeth. Easier said than done. Nicola knew that Raphael wasn't going to drop her. He promised her and lately she learned to trust him but the pull of gravity beckoning her down into the abyss and to a long plummet ending in a painful impact and certain death… The last time she was this panicked was when the Fallen jumped her out of nowhere. Speaking of which… God, please, let this be a smooth flight. No demons, I'm begging you..

Encounter with stray demons was the last thing they needed now. She didn't doubt Raphael's ability to defend both her and himself but if a flying demon was to attack them from surprise… Not a single part of her already malfunctioning brain could produce a scenario that wouldn't end in either of them dying or at least suffering grave injuries. In short words, any sort of aerial confrontation would mean serious trouble. And trouble wasn't something Nicola missed. Especially after the last night..

Seems like her prayers have been answered. So far nothing noticed an angel and a human passing overhead. And those demons which did apparently decided not to bother them since it didn't seem worth it or had no way of giving them trouble from where they were standing. Nicola stopped counting seconds of their journey long ago and the only indication of the passing time was the wind rushing through her hair slowing down as Raphael started to try and spare as much energy as he could, gliding whenever possible on his wings simply stretched out on both sides and flapping them only to keep the right height, out of range of any demons that could be sulking below when he began to grow weary. His stamina wasn't probably in the best condition after the time he spent in hiding and most likely not moving much.

When she gets back to Haven, Nicola is going to first, eat a solid lunch since her stomach was displeased again - though now she couldn't really feel it twisted in panic like that - second, go the fuck to sleep for the rest of the day. Even though she spent the last night sleeping like a dead woman, she didn't feel that well rested. The amount of stress she had to endure exhausted her and a few hours of rest weren't enough to regenerate her full strength. High on her bucket list was also taking care of Raphael, to at least make him look decent and dress any wounds he carried. Elanya could do that too but Nicola couldn't imagine that Raphael would let a maker he doesn't know do anything to him. She remembered how distrustful he was in the beginning. And after she gets back, no more escapades if not necessary. At least two weeks long break. Ulthane is going to make sure she stays there anyway so she might as well spend her time on sleeping and some light activities. 

Speaking of Ulthane… Nicola wasn't actually sure what she'd say to him once she suddenly showed up in Haven after all that time with a traumatized, crazy angel at her side. To say it will be awkward as heck, would be a severe understatement. It's not even about Raphael. How is she going to explain herself to the overbearing maker who is standing on his head to save the last survivors of her kind while, by nearly killing herself three times already, she acted nothing if not ungrateful? And honestly, she wasn't in shape to wonder about it now because her mind refused to focus on anything else than this one thought of the lethal distance between her and the ground. Damn it all.. Why does she have to be afraid of heights and find out this very unpleasant way? Really, if someone tried to take her from Raphael before he landed or too short time after, they'd probably need a crowbar to pry her off him.

While Nicola thought that the flight itself was awful, the moment her stomach seemed to move up into her gullet as Raphael dipped towards the ground she unwittingly shrilly cried out in fear. And that was a mistake. The angel, startled by the quiet human he'd been holding this entire time suddenly screaming bloody murder for no apparent reason, tried to halt his descent to figure out what's wrong but it was already too late for that. As a result the landing was rather rough. Nicola closed her eyes and so she didn't see how Raphael clumsily hit the ground and barely kept himself propped up not to land on top of her as she slipped out of his grasp and lost her grip on his robes. The expectations of a long fall made her throat tighten and trap her voice inside. All the bigger relief once after barely an inch or two, her back connected with the surface, drawing a soft and strained "oof" from her.

Still scared, disoriented and confused, Nicola opened her eyes to see wide-eyed Raphael hunched over her, hands on either side of her head - with the staff to her left - and gawking at  her with a slight panic on his face. Goodness, he was way too close. Pulling her arms close to her body in a helpless attempt to regain her personal space, she smiled awkwardly.

"H-hi there!"

The moment he saw that nothing was wrong and her face regained some of its color, Raphael breathed with relief and got off her, once again offering his hand to help her up. Once back on her feet, Nicola nearly cried out when she felt the solid ground under the soles of her boots. Blessed earth, she could literally kiss it right now. But the fact that they were not in Haven yet disconcerted her a little. Looking around, she noticed they're in an empty street in the middle of nowhere. Casting a questioning glance at Raphael she didn't even need to ask. The way his wings were slumped against his back, his breath heavier than before said it all. Plain and simple, Raphael was tired. Too tired to keep going. Still, he was eyeing her cautiously.

"Why… why were you screaming?"

Still feeling the nausea and the shaking of her knees, Nicola scratched the back of her neck and turned her eyes away ashamed.

"Ahuh… I'm not-... I'm not used to flying, that dip scared me a little. Sorry about this.."

Raphael said nothing to this, simply nodded, and lowered himself to the dusted road to have a seat by one of the decrepit stores. Nicola decided to let him have his five minutes to rest before going any further. Store. She suddenly realised. And not just any. A grocery store. At the mere thought her stomach rumbled. Not only could she have something for herself but also gather some stuff for others! If anything there is still edible that is. It wouldn't hurt to check. Every bit of food is precious.

"Raphael, can you wait here for a bit? I'll be back in a jiffy."

Out of the corner of her eye she already saw him shift in apprehension and almost begin to stand up. Probably because she ran once already and in his mind could do it again. She proceeded to calm him down immediately by pointing at the building she intended to search.

"I'll just go in there to look for stuff, don't worry. I will come back."

Staring at her for a couple of intense seconds, Raphael eyed her from head to toe twice before his concerned gaze softened a bit.

"Promise me…?"

Nicola smiled reassuringly and nodded. There weren't many options for her if she did want to run off. Besides, she wasn't quite sure where she was just yet. Her orientation in terrain was… less than decent as of late.

"I promise."

She offered and once Raphael sat somewhat comfortably back down, she took her backpack and shotgun - just in case - and stepped in through a broken window. The inside of the store was in utter disarray and even that was putting it lightly. Most of the shelves were toppled over, some even in pieces. Glinting shards of glass littered the floor, crunching under Nicola's feet every time she made a step. Unsurprisingly, nothing was working. No lights, no freezers, no ventilation. No time to waste. Nicola began her search immediately.

Approaching the fruit stand greeted her with bitter disappointment. Apples, oranges, pears and many other fruits were already rotten and sometimes even coated in white specks of mould. Definitely not good. With vegetables it was exactly the same. The only carrot that looked acceptable at first, turned out to have been completely wilted. Tossing it aside, Nicola moved on. She didn't even bother looking for meat. The stench hit her the moment she came inside and were it not for the smell of decomposing corpses that drifted around the sewers when she was there, she probably would've thrown up where she stood. Instead, she just covered her mouth and nose with her bandana.

Any dairy products were off the table too. Without working freezers every single one of them has surely gone sour by now. A diarrhea was not something she wanted to have in Haven and most likely neither did the makers. Nicola didn't dare to so much as touch any eggs that still were somehow intact. Bad idea. A smelly one as well. There's no way some of them haven't gone bad yet. The risk wasn’t worth it. Passing by one of the mostly whole shelves, she absent mindedly grabbed a bag of dry cat food and stuffed it into her backpack. It was highly probable that most of the survivors would be feeding the kitten with any leftovers but.. just to make sure the poor thing doesn't starve to death.

Most of the jars have broken during initial earthquakes but two small jars of pickles seemed to be mostly alright. Without giving it much thought, she placed them in her backpack. Four bags of freeze-dried fruits quickly found their way into her pockets once she got a hold of them. Under a broken shelf, Nicola spotted an edge of some packet. Assuming it was just crackers or something, she reached into the rubble for it but once she pulled it out… she immediately regretted her decision. It was, in fact, not a bag of crackers. It was a whole, torn bag of soured cabbage coated in some strange growth - probably mould - she didn't get a chance to really look at because her attention was caught by something inside the bag. Probably squeezed in through the tear and got stuck, a small, bloated body of a gigantic, hellish critter. Instinctively, Nicola yelped quietly and without giving it much thought she lobbed the thing across the whole store before wiping her hand on the nearest piece of rag that wasn't her clothes. She didn't even get any of the spilling juices on her but… gross. Just gross. Ew ew ew! Ignoring the wet splat the bag made when it hit the floor wasn't an easy task. Still shaking off the disgust, she continued her search, noting to herself never to touch something she isn't sure what it is.

From there it thankfully was starting to go much smoother. Two packets of crispbread, some dark chocolate and a box of tea were found and collected. Nicola nearly cheered out loud when she spotted a few Snickers on a shelf. One she immediately opened and eagerly ate while the rest landed safely in her backpack. It might be mostly sugar with a bit of peanuts but it was a good snack that could deceive the brain for quite some time. To be frank, Nicola lived half of the high school on those whenever her lessons lasted too long for her breakfast to keep her sated. Besides, she couldn't imagine others would mind her bringing a bunch. Especially Marie. Jacob will most likely strangle Nicola if his daughter eats too much sweets but in the end it'll be worth it. Anything would be worth putting a smile on that sad little face.

Somewhere on the floor, Nicola even found a box of vitamins which luckily was not out of date yet. With a deficit of fruits and vegetables, those could be lifesavers. Especially for Leslie. She needs the most of it. Unfortunately, the space in her backpack was very much limited and soon she couldn't put anything more in there. Rearranging the contents of it, she put in one bottle of water, careful not to crush the crispbread and chocolate. At least she found something. Her escapade wasn't all for nothing when it comes to supplies. But even without those, she wouldn't say she regrets it. Against all the odds, she lived. And most importantly, she gained an otherworldly friend. And in times like these, a friend is something to be treasured.

Slinging her now much heavier backpack on her shoulders, she picked up her gun and headed towards the broken window she used as an entrance before. Peeking out from the store, she saw Raphael where she'd left him and a very much awake cat playfully attacking the longest quill of his left wing. His head perked up when she dropped onto the sidewalk beneath the window and she could've sworn she'd seen the corner of his mouth twitch upwards for a second there. Smiling, she unfolded her hands and shrugged.

"See? I keep my promises."

The angel hummed quietly before leaning his head against the wall behind him and closing his eyes. Nicola was about to ask if he's good to go but let the thought perish when she noticed his eyebrows furrow and his chapped lips twist into a slight grimace. Soon after, his right hand wandered up to his chest as he took a couple of quick and shallow breaths through his clenched teeth. If Nicola didn't know any better, she'd have said Raphael was having a heart attack. Can an angel even have an infarct? She honestly had no idea. In fact, she didn't even know how old he is. She couldn't tell. All the angels she'd met so far had white hair so that's not a hint to go by and his face didn't necessarily look old or young. He seemed as ageless as the time itself. Still, she didn't want to take any chances.

"Raphael? What's wrong?!"

She asked as she crouched beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder to steady him if needed. Raphael simply slowly shook his head and turned to look at her tiredly. And in his blank eyes she saw the already familiar pain and a spark of a silent plea.

"Just a little longer.. Let me rest a while…"

It took everything Nicola had in her to stop the sigh of relief. It didn't sit right with her that Raphael was still suffering and she could do absolutely nothing about it but hearing he's mostly fine, with only the usual ailing him, made her feel a tad easier. When his breathing grew slower and calmer, she even let herself slip down to the floor beside him.

"Sure. We have time, I guess.."

It was still relatively early, barely an hour or two after noon and Nicola wasn't that eager to return into the sky so soon. Only thinking about it made her feel a little sick. Hopefully, it wasn't too far to Haven from here. Even though Nicola really wanted to finally get home, she decided to be patient with her companion. He was wounded and most likely ill but he still tried his best to help her, even though he hadn't known her that long. He deserves a moment. Nicola too needed to sit down for a second as her thigh was still a bloody nuisance. Just a few more minutes. It wouldn't do harm to have a little break now, would it?

Yes. Yes it would. Nicola suddenly realised when she saw the kitten arc its back and puff its tail out. It hisses loudly before scurrying away into the store she just left and soon enough Nicola realised why once she looked into an alley ahead of her. The sight of a massive, winged shape made it painfully obvious. Her heart nearly ceased and Raphael beside her tensed at the sight of an enormous demon with curved horns and teeth, each the size of her palm, resembling a set of barbed knives made specifically to cut meat. The edges of long healed wounds that left behind terrible scars on her abdomen began to itch as she gawked at the familiar monster that nearly took her life. Flapping of gigantic wings that covered the sky with its expanse… Razor sharp claws curling around her body… the same talons tearing into her flesh as Ulthane attempted to free her from its grasp. And this shriek… oh God, this shriek…

Despite the apparent pain and exhaustion, Raphael slowly - not to agitate the demon - got up to his feet and raised his wings threateningly as he stepped in front of aghast Nicola. The fact that due to its bulkiness this thing seems almost twice as large as he is doesn't make an impression on him. Or maybe it does but he doesn't show it. The Fallen stared at Raphael with its small red eyes as a pair of Phantom Guards rounded a corner and joined the beast. Each carried a jagged blade that could easily tear through angelic armor. Nicola had seen it happen. Following them was another bloody Goreclaw. But these three she barely even noticed. Her wide eyes were focused on the larger demon. She felt her muscles refuse cooperation and seize. She couldn't move, couldn't speak. Her mind repeatedly screamed No nono no NO! Not like this!!

With excited roars, the lesser demons charged towards the angel standing between them and the weak, pathetic and helpless human as the Fallen spread its wings and took off into the air. Even as Nicola kept stone still, Raphael remained sharp and ready to act as always. One spell spilled past his lips and the flying demon instantly went rigid before plummeting back onto the ground and crashing into a broken car, setting its annoying alarm off. It didn't discourage the other three but it let Nicola find will to move and clutch her gun tighter. Ever since she'd met Raphael, he'd been doing nothing but getting her arse out of trouble. Taking a shaky breath she decided to start repaying favors.

Though, once again she didn't really have a chance to do anything as she was dumbstruck by the following scene playing out before her. As the hellish monsters charged, Raphael took his staff in both hands and held it before himself, closing his eyes and muttering an incantation in his melodious language. The moment the first demon stepped a tad too close, Raphael's eyes snapped open, burning like two white suns and a sleek ethereal blade materialized from the tip of what Nicola previously thought just an ornament or a walking cane. It glowed like the purest light ever to exist. Another assumption Nicola made about Raphael turned out to have been false. The last thing she can say about him is unarmed. He carried no blade, no gun or anything but who needs a weapon as lame as those when in addition to powerful sorcery you have a freaking lightsaber?

Everything lasted less than a second as the angel led a wide, sweeping slash of his spectral sword… spear thing… and promptly relieved the Phantom Guard of its horned head, before stopping the pouncing Goreclaw with a flick of his free hand, suspending it in the air growling and hissing. The other Phantom Guard had no chance to either attack the vulnerable angel or retreat, when Raphael was busy cutting down the quadrupedal demon, as Nicola came back to her senses and, instead of running like she always has, jumped forward and fired her shotgun. The resounding bang travelled through the entire city, bouncing off the walls and drifting far into the desolate town but it had the effect Nicola counted on.

The Phantom Guard staggered backwards with a chest full of buckshot, wheezed a couple times and tripped over onto its back never to get up again. With adrenaline still pumping through her veins, Nicola stared at the either dead or dying demon in wonderment, her brain trying to process what just happened, before releasing a breathless laugh of triumph. She killed one. She actually killed one! Raphael too seemed rather surprised but not unpleasantly so as he let the blade fade away.

"I got it! Did you see that?!"

"That indeed, I have.."

He said as he eyed her carefully, probably just to check if she's fine. Aside from a little fresh blood on his boots and hands, Raphael didn't seem to have gotten hurt in any way. Well… more than he'd already been at least. Nicola beamed up at him nearly bursting with pride at her actual first kill on a demon larger than her shin. And he seemed happy for her, if the soft smile he regarded her with could be an indication. But this victory didn't last long. Her own smile faded when she saw the Fallen stiffly getting up from where it slammed onto the ground, pure rage on its monstrous face. Her pulse began to race again but this time she refused to let the panic get a hold of her just yet.

"Watch out!!"

She cried too late, just a sliver of a second too late. Raphael whipped around to face the attacker and all he managed to do was raise his hand before the charging demon swung its head to the left. And with the force of a truck driving at the speed of fifty miles per hour, slammed it into the angel, making a formula of a spell die on his lips as he was sent flying through the air and crashing against a nearby building. The force of the impact caved in the wall and the kind, mad angel disappeared in a cloud of dust. All that was left were a couple of white feathers slowly falling to the ground.

"NO!"

Nicola didn't pay any mind to how her voice broke and squeaked pitifully when her heart leaped up into her throat. She could only stare at the place where Raphael vanished with a rumbling crash as the enraged demon growled in the same direction. Not a single part of her being agreed with what she'd just witnessed. A second before he was standing right there, like nothing was about to happen, distracted by her gushing over her first serious kill. Nothing should have happened, why did the demon unravel Raphael's magic just like that? Even a Shadowcaster didn't manage to do that! Why would this one? And why… Tears welled up in her eyes as her lower lip trembled… why did it have to… end the way it did…?

To make matters worse, the Fallen was still before her, still furious and thirsting for blood. Not wasting more time, Nicola pulled out a handful of new bullets and tried to reload her weapon but it proved almost impossible with how much her hands were shaking. Thank Christ, the demon was taking its sweet time as it faced her and began to lumber towards her on all fours, huffing out breaths stinking of rotting meat. Faster, faster, damn it! Nicola cursed inwardly when she dropped a couple of shells before she finally managed to place the ammunition where it should be. But when she looked up, the Fallen was on top of her already. Parting its jaws wide, ready to swallow her whole.

The scream of anguish that felt so tempting in the back of her throat never came to be. In a second, Nicola thought about all the horrors she'd lived through. All demons she'd met, all shambling corpses of former humans brought back by vile sorcery. All friends she'd made and lost.. Raphael, do just one thing for me. She gritted her teeth as her knuckles turned white from how she was gripping her weapon. Despair started to turn into rage. Burning bright and white hot inside of her, the flame Raphael had helped her see. Please, be alive when I come for you… The demon lunged forward to sever the string of her measly life by biting her in half. But Nicola wasn't going to let it get her so easily. Her fear was forgotten as she stuck the barrel of her shotgun into the monster's opened maw. She didn't want to die. Not now, not like this. For once she wanted to have a say over her own fate. Over the date of her demise. She is still young, she had a whole life ahead of her. And all those demonic dickheads with the Destroyer leading the charge decided to ruin everything and not only for her, but for every human who lives still and who has perished. And those who are yet to be born. She refused. She will not die. Not here. Not killed by that thing.

"FUCKOFF!!!"

And she fired. Partially, the sound was muffled by the demon's mouth snapping shut just barely missing Nicola's arms as she let go of her gun. The Fallen recoiled and began to shriek in pain, spitting out its own blood onto the concrete at its feet. Nicola didn't have delusions she could kill it but it gave her the precious seconds she needed. She ran for the closest hiding place available, which was the store she just left. Nicola leaped in through the broken window and quickly made it to the opposite wall to put as much distance between herself and the writhing monstrosity as possible. And it was a good choice.  A loud roar from the street made her heart fall into her heels as the injured demon finally gathered its bearings.

Nicola looked at the Fallen that was coming her way with murder in its eyes. The unexpected bout of courage has long faded and the petrifying fear once again had Nicola in its chilling grasp. Even with the mouthful of bullets, the Fallen did not intend to give up on its prey. And here she hoped it would piss off if she fed it with lead… Snarling and panting, the demon approached the broken window with its own blood pouring from between its sharp fangs. It only added to the menacing image of the beast that had Nicola trembling and frozen.

Think, Nicola, THINK! What can she do against an opponent far bigger, stronger and more dangerous than a single human without a weapon? The Fallen was trying to fit through the window, reaching out with its clawed paw to try and get her. Nicola looks around in panic, looking for anything that could save her. In a grocery store. Good luck. Eventually, she says "fuck it" and grabs a most likely rancid egg. The laughably small projectile splatters over the face of the demon with a squelch and even from far away Nicola is sure this egg was definitely rotten. Even the Fallen stops for a second to shake the disgusting goop off of its head but before it's done, another egg flies through the air and cracks on its head, just as stinky as the previous one.

"How'd ya, like that, asshole?! Wanna have some more?!"

Nicola yells at the demon, holding yet another egg, fully prepared to just chuck it at the monster. Unfortunately, all she managed to do was piss it off even further as its efforts in reaching her doubled. Pieces of plaster and bricks were coming loose as the demon tried to wriggle into the shop to finally kill that annoying pest lobbing small, smelly things at it. As a result, an egg once again hit the demon while Nicola kept shouting out profanities that probably made her poor mother toss and turn in her grave. She's not going down without a fight, even if the said fight is done by throwing eggs and all the gross shit she found on the floor. But she knew she isn’t getting out of this one.

And so, this is it. Nicola couldn't believe she would die by the claws of the same creature that nearly killed her once before. Was Ulthane rescuing her only delaying the inevitable? What a sick joke… Why does fate insist on being cruel? There was so much she wanted to say, so many apologies she had to give… so little time… There was nothing she could do. At least… she will see Nicholas again.. her parents and every friend she'd lost in this cursed apocalypse. A miracle would've been nice. A tiny one. Just this once. Please?

And boy, did she get her wish. A sudden force violently tearing the Fallen out of the shop nearly startled her out of her dirty and tattered jeans. Hardly believing her eyes, she watched as her would-be killer screeched in rage and surprise when it was wrenched free from the ruined window and was gone from her vision. A sudden tremor shook the whole building, sending small bits of debris raining down on her head as a mighty roar reverberated through her very bones. But it wasn't the Fallen. It was something meaner. Something… Nicola swallowed thickly at the thought… bigger. Or at least as large as this fucker. Then came clacking of metal, ungodly screeching of the demon. A second later Nicola saw as it was flung through the air like a sack of potatoes and crashed against a block of flats. Instant karma. She thinks with bitter satisfaction when she remembers what that faggot did to Raphael. I need to somehow get to him. Honestly though, she doesn't really want to know what managed to just YEET a Fallen like a skipping rock.

Unfortunately, she finds out and finds out quite soon. From her hideout, she sees an enormous creature, nearly as big as the demon that threatened her, charging towards the stunned monster still bleeding from its mouth. If Nicola had been terrified of the Fallen, then she was on the verge of having a straight out SCA after seeing this chunk of a behemoth. Whatever this thing was, it was the size of an average tree. Its armored hide was burning with red and white flames which were enveloping twin jagged, metal whips it held in its hands. Vestigial wings were trembling with wrath as it turned its radiant white eyes at the battered demon. Between a pair of sweeping horns that crowned its head was a flickering blaze that flared with each step the monstrosity took towards its quarry. Right.. What's the best way to get rid of a monster? Sic a stronger monster on it. The Fallen shrugged off and growled at its new assailant, challenging it to a fight.

While the two beasts were circling one another, battling she couldn't even guess what for, Nicola braced for what was to come. This is a horrible idea. Breath in and breath out. In and out. And when the Fallen pounced at its attacker, she bolted. Not stopping, she ran. Through the street the demons were fighting on, past them - so close she could feel the heat radiating off of the newcomer - and into the building Raphael disappeared in. Nicola hoped she was ready for what she was about to find. She really did. Jumping in through the punched in wall however, she soon found out she was, in fact, not ready. The moment she entered, she immediately caught the sight that made something squeeze inside of her.

On a pile of rubble from the destroyed wall was Raphael coated in dust. Still. Not moving, his mesmerising white eyes shut. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh God, oh NO! Not thinking, all fear and uncertainty she ever felt in his presence was long cast away, Nicola rushed over to him pleading, begging everything that would listen for him to be alive. Don't leave me here like this… Dropping at his side into the rubble, Nicola lays her ear on the top of his chest and doesn't let herself relax until she hears a heartbeat and a shallow breath within. Words cannot describe how much she deflated once she did. He's still alive.. but he doesn’t look good.

"Raphael! Please say something! Can you hear me?!"

Thankfully, angel's eyes lolled open as she spoke to him, hinting that he indeed can hear her. Trying his best to keep his unfocused gaze on her face, Raphael furrowed his eyebrows and lifted his upper lip in a pained sneer as his hand wandered up to clutch at his side where the demon's heat struck him.

"Nnn… Nnii… co…"

He weakly attempted to speak but without much success. No joke, he must've hit his head really hard and she dreaded to think about the state of his ribcage.. But hey! At least he hears and understands what Nicola is saying. And it's a good sign.. right…? Wasting no more time, Nicola helped him sit up, keeping her hand on his forehead to steady him as his own palm rested over hers. Even squinting in pain, Raphael kept looking at her, as though she was the only point of focus he could think of.

"Hang in there, okay?! Please, Phel.. We'll be fine…"

Liar. Something snaps at her. They're pretty much defenseless and vulnerable with a very livid demon still threatening them. One or the other will come out victorious. And to the victor go the spoils… Raphael tried to say something but still couldn't formulate words properly due to the splitting headache pulsing through his entire skull. Though even through ringing in his head and pain in his chest that somehow rivaled the one he constantly felt, he found something in this human's words that baffled him. In her panic, Nicola doesn't catch a puzzled look he sends her way.

Phel?

A choked up cry of a dying demon made them both jump a little and look out through the hole Raphael made when the demon gored him. Just in time to see the flaming beast standing on top of the Fallen and strangling it with its whips. Then, the creature of… quite blatantly feminine curves gave one sharp tug and the demon's head was brutally severed from the rest of its body. And everything fell silent.

Instinctively, Nicola halted her breath and ceased any movement, watching the winner (Nicola felt fully comfortable with calling it per "she" now) shoot a glance towards her and Raphael who by this point tiredly laid his head on her shoulder, heaving in attempts to draw a proper breath. The creature approached slowly, keeping Nicola frozen in place and desperately holding onto her injured friend. When the demon was at the wall, only her massive legs were visible. Seconds ticked by as a set of claws rested above the opening to the house, and a monstrous head loomed through the hole.

That would be more than enough to make Nicola pass right the Hell out but.. Something about this creature intrigued her. It didn't have a snarling, toothy maw but an almost featureless face with the curve of a nose and a pair of bright and ferocious, intelligent eyes. It stared at her with more understanding than any demon Nicola had ever seen. Whatever it was, it didn't seem aggressive for some weird reason. At least not yet.. Then, unexpectedly, the creature was enveloped in red flames as its humongous form began to shrink and reshape into something much smaller but still a good two heads taller than an average human.

From the hot light emerged a very humanlike woman in intricate metal armor. Black tattoos marked her stern face around her luminous, white eyes and on her forehead, right below the line of incredibly dense magenta colored hair which floated freely around her head, defying gravity like it's the most natural thing in the world. Whoever it was, even with an intimidating aura of strength and resolve, her close resemblance to a human calmed Nicola somewhat. Plus, she had to admit that this woman had the looks. Men would probably be killing one another for her. Honestly, Nicola felt kind of jealous.. But considering she was still pretty much helpless with a half-conscious angel leaned against her, it didn't put her fully at ease. At least until the stranger spoke in plain English. Then Nicola finally released the breath she was holding. Crossing her arms, the tall lady sneered slightly at the human and angel before her.

"Well, would you look at that. Guess it's your lucky day today."

--------------------------------------------------

It's finally done, my goodness! This one was hard to get right but I made it. Don’t ask me how i managed to finish it with two pictures, I have no clue :I

Fury makes an appearance! Badass as always. :D

Also, can I get an F for Raphael's poor ribs?

[quackeroos]

locker notes | p.parker

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Summary: peter sends a love note to liz. but what if it was sent to the wrong person?

Warnings: None

Words: 1.2k

Notes: originally posted on my wattpad account @aestheticarii. i’ll most likely post some of my other works on here soon! part 2 will be published soon!

*gif is not mine.

General Masterlist | Series Masterlist

"Oh! Draw more heart doodles on it, that'll make it look cuter!"

"Ned, it's a love note, not a sketchbook."

"Why not? Maybe Liz will like it!" Peter ignores Ned's comment and continued on writing. To be honest, the cafeteria was not the best place to write one of these. His hands were already sweaty and he couldn't focus on anything because of the constant babbling of students. When he got to the last sentence, he lets out a sigh of happiness and relief. Ned swore, he saw stars sparkle in those brown eyes of his.

"Looks great! Show it to MJ. Ask her for insights before giving it to Liz." before the two could even walk up to the girl, MJ had already sat in front of them, an unsatisfied look on her face as always. "Show me what, dorks?" Peter and Ned jump in their seats at the sudden presence of their friend. "You should really stop doing that. Anyway, what do you think about Peter's love note?"

"Ned! Not so loud!" MJ takes the piece of paper from his hand and reads it quietly. Her eyes scanned over the words written in ink with the slightly messy handwriting. The boys watch quietly as she silently judges the letter. Once she was done, her eyes looked up and sets down the paper. "This sucks. Did you literally just put in a Shakespeare quote in the end?" Peter blushed in his seat, embarrassed.

"I-I thought it would make it more romantic."

"Clearly. I can already tell by the heart doodles." Ned snickered at the side, and that earned him a nudge from Peter. "Dude." he whispered, in which his friend replied with a lopsided smile and a shrug. "You know what would really make this romantic? A poem."

"A poem?"

"That's what I said, didn't I?"

"I'm not g-good with poems, actually."

MJ stares for a moment and takes a piece of special paper from her bag along with a pen. Peter and Ned observed her writing and in only three minutes, she was done. "Here. Start over with your message and be direct to the point. You were using way too much metaphors in the last one." and without another word, she leaves with her tray and backpack on her shoulder. The boys looked at her with confusion before reading the poem.

"Wow. She really did a good job on that poem."

"Yeah she did. I guess I better go write a new message."

By the end of lunch, Peter had already finished his letter and immediately gives it to Ned. He was reluctant at first, because if this plan goes wrong he wouldn't know what to do. "You know what to do right?" He asks before handing it to him. "Secretly go to Liz's locker, slip in the letter, and walk away without anyone noticing. Don't worry dude, I got your back!" Ned gives him an encouraging pat, taking the letter as he does so. He walked through the halls, finding a certain locker that belonged to Liz Allan. Peter watches nervously behind one of the trophy shelves. His anxiety was eating him whole and the fast rate of his heartbeat wasn't helping.

Ned looked around him before he could slip in the letter. A couple of students were in the halls, others were already in class, now was the perfect time. When he had successfully slipped the note in, the two teens made a run for it. Peter bumps a passerby student who was walking briskly towards her own class. Her books fall down and it echoed around the now empty hall.

Y/n looks up from the floor and lets out an angry huff. "Hey! watch where you're going!" The boy looked back and only yelled back a "Sorry!" before going up the flight of stairs towards his classroom. Her annoyed groan bounced off the walls of the halls. Today wasn't one of her best days where she normally wouldn't he mind the people around her. But a recent event had struck a nerve on her and she couldn't move on with it. She brought the burden all the way to her next class and decided to focus on the topic ahead of her. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

Class ended later on. Students rush out of their classrooms and immediately went for their own lockers, eager to leave the dreadful building. Y/n walked at her own pace, not seeming to care of her schoolmates' loud personalities. She opened her locker and stuffed all of the things she used earlier, also taking one book she'll be needing for doing homework. Pulling out the book, a piece of paper with a heart on it drops at her feet. She eyes it curiously before picking it up. Y/n unfolds the paper and reads the letters written in black ink.

Her heart begins to beat rapidly, blood rising to her cheeks, making her flush red. Her eyes blinked once, twice, to believe if the letter was real. What made her even more intrigued was the last note under it, though it was in a different handwriting, a little messier.

Meet me in the gym.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

Peter waited anxiously inside the gymnasium. He sat by the benches, fiddling with the ends of his hoodie. His heart was racing and his mind was all over the place. What was taking her so long? He couldn't stand waiting and the longer the minutes had passed, the more he was getting anxious. Thirty minutes had passed and Liz was still nowhere in sight. Everyone in school was probably out by this time. Peter decided it was finally time to leave.

He looks at the time on his phone again and back to the doors of the gym. "I better leave." he says to himself before taking the straps of his backpack. Just when he was about to leave, the gym doors suddenly burst open. Peter froze in his place like a reindeer caught in headlights. His heart beats rapidly and palms start to get sweaty. He becomes calm for a little bit, only to realise that it wasn't Liz who came. In fact, it was another girl.

Peter had seen her a few times; along the halls, in some of his classes and in the cafeteria. Y/n, he thinks her name was. She was mostly known for being Liz's cousin, a member of the student council and homecoming committee.

"Uhh... Hi." Peter greets softly. "I was just about to leave. The gym's all yours."

The girl didn't reply, instead he looked at him blankly. She strides towards Peter and met him face to face. Y/n was just a few centimeters shorter, so it wasn't hard to meet his eyes. Peter awkwardly stands, he grips on the straps of his backpack even tighter.  "Uhhm... If you need to go have some alone time to plan for the homecoming I can totally do it."

"Parker, right?" She speaks up. Peter making him look up from the ground. "Y-yeah. I'm Parker. P-peter Parker." he manages to reply.

Her eyes squints and it made Peter feel more intimidated, despite being a little smaller than her. "Alright then, Peter Parker. Before you leave, I have one question for you." Y/n reaches in the pocket of her pants and pulls out a piece of paper. She held it in between her index and middle finger. He recognised the paper immediately, his blood turns cold.

"Did you write this?"

-

part 2 of Locker Notes

enjoyed this story? let’s talk about it!!

tagging people who might be interested: (basically just all of my idols and mutuals)

@hollandroos @roses-hxlland @delicatepeterparker @chxrryholland @websliinging​farfromhaz​ @uwu-peter-parker-uwu​ @pixiehollands​ @screamholland​ @painting-galaxiis​ @parker-holland-osterfield​ @hazsterfield​ @tomblrholland​ @spiderneds​ @kii-miii​ @lolaywrites​

[shadowknight465]

The heretic inside us all

I should, I shouldn't, I should, I shouldn't...

He whispered to himself while plucking the flower's petals. Maybe those things are lying to him, and because he has such a bad reputation, he doesn't know if he should talk to the Priest about them. Maybe if he does it would be another excuse for the Priest to tell more lies about him. Then again that Priest was creeping at one of his secret students. Making her feel uncomfortable. Or if he goes to detail on what those things look like he'll probably give him the answer, and maybe some holy charms to ward them off. Whatever the case is he has to do it at midnight to not draw any attention. But first he has to tell Dream, so he wouldn't be worried. He went back to his house feeling lucky that it's a Sunday. When he got home he instantly made himself some lunch and went to the well for a drink. He may not be a religious person, but Sunday is his favorite day. Where he can be alone for once, he knows the Bible well, but the real reason why he stopped becoming a Christian devoted man was because God never answered his prayers, and he saw how people use their religion as an excuse for being horrible people, and he doesn't want to be just like them. Still he can't change their perspective of things, and it will kept that way. He was probably asleep when Dream came back, because when he woke up the first thing he saw was the face of a green caterpillar. He slowly got up, and asked Dream what time it was. To which his brother pouted saying Nightmare can never be scared. Nightmare sighs with annoyance, and asks Dream what time it is again. Dream blinked, "Oh! Umm.. I didn't check the sundial, or in this case the moon-dial?" As Dream collects his thoughts, Nightmare walks to the sundial room. Midnight. Perfect. Nightmare grabbed his cloak, took off his crown, put the mysterious book under his shirt, and told Dream that he'll be back in five minutes.

He hope that even the Priest can help him about his supernatural encounters.  Who knows maybe the Priest will help him.  He went outside, and silently walked to the church building, later knocking on the door. "Come in my child are you trying to get closer the Lord, or are you committed a sin for me to give you forgiveness-Oh it's you." The priest said as he open the door. Nightmare doesn't need to look at him in the eye to know that the priest hate him with every ounce of his being. "I didn't came for either of those things, I just want to tell you that I've been supernatural encounters with ghostly creatures." Nightmare explained. He's wished that he told his brother earlier, but Dream will probably think he's insane. "What kind of ghostly encounters you demon?" The Priest ask with a bitter taste in his beak.  "Ghosts that are telling me that I'm their king or emperor-whatever the case is of their realm." Nightmare explained.

"Which is?" The Priest asked suspiciously.

"The Necro empire-" The Priest put his left-wing on Nightmare's head. "If this creature lied, then may God strike him dead." The Priest commanded to God. Nothing happened. "I guess you were telling the truth after all, and I never thought I will say this to a disgusting demon like you, but I'm afraid that even I can't help you."

"H-how come?" Nightmare started to get worried. "Because I know what the creatures are, but we banned all knowledge of them for this good village safety."

"And why is that? What they will do?" Nightmare pleaded for answers.

"They causes pain to those who has hurt you, and cause greater pain to the  people who had hurt you unintentionally. There's got to be a reason why they're doing this unless..."  The Priest turned to Nightmare. "You haven't sold your soul to the devil have you?"

Nightmare was shocked with disgust. "No, I haven't."

"Are you sure? Because the only way they can come back is if you sold your soul to these devils." The Priest explains. "I swear your holiness I didn't sell anything to the devils." Nightmare pleaded. "LIES!" The Priest voice boomed the building. "AND I BET THAT THE TRUE REASON THAT GOD DIDN'T STRUCK YOU DEAD JUST THAT EVEN HE HAS FORGOTTEN YOUR WRETCHED SOUL!" Nightmare dropped to his knees for he cannot stand the loud noises, one of the biggest reasons he hates going to church. "ARE YOU CRYING BECAUSE ITS TRUE?!" The Priest yelled at him. Nightmare, while trying his best to calm himself down pleaded. "N-No pictures I-I can't stand the booming sounds..."

"EXCUSES!" The Priest yelled. "N-No it's true." Nightmare tries to defend himself with words.

"GUARDS! GUARDS! TAKE THIS HEINOUS BEAST AND PUT HIM INTO THE CELL!" Nightmare heard The holy man yelled. He can feel the guards strong grip as his eyes were closed the entire time.

What has he put himself into?

~~~~~

Morning has arrived as Nightmare open his eyes blinded by the sun's harsh light, and felt a hard cold surface on his lower legs. He quickly regain his focus, and saw he was in the middle of a courtroom. People gathered all around him. Some were smiling, probably to see the torture. He seen one-too many courts to know what's going to happen to him. As he scanned around the room he felt a negative aura and headed straight towards it, seeing Dream crying.

Maybe it was a bad idea at all...

He thought to himself. "Nightmare." A deep voice echoed the room. Nightmare turned to the voice and in the minute he saw the court robes, he knew what this means. And knew there was no chance of him winning.

"So, Nightmare you were always the questionable person in this entire village, and for that we leave you alone," The judge begins his speech.

Lies...

Nightmare thought as he gave the jury a death glare.

"But now our holy man said that you sold your soul to beings that should not be named."

"I'm was telling the truth..." He mutters to himself. 

"What was that you say?"  The judge ask. Nightmare look up.

"Well?" The judge ask getting a little more impatient.

Nightmare sigh figures if he's going to be on trail he might as well try to prove himself to be innocent. "I said I was telling the truth." Nightmare repeated himself. "And why should we believe you." The Priest asked glaring at him, Nightmare didn't need to see the smile to know that the priest was enjoying this. "Should I get someone to defend me while all of you are against me?" Nightmare asked reminding everyone of the rules when it comes to trials. "In trials like this the defendant doesn't need to be defended." The judge explains to him. It wasn't a huge surprise for Nightmare. Which he couldn't care less. He does care that his brother has to be in the court room however and who knows if they've lie to Dream that he can't be defending Nightmare. "Anymore questions you want to ask before we get started Nightmare?" The judge asked to him. Nightmare shook his head. "Then let the trial begin." The judge announce.

"Nightmare you have been accused of selling your soul to they who shall not be named, is that true?" He said. Nightmare kept his head down, not because he was angry he's just uncomfortable of talking to strangers in the eye. "About the accused? Yes. But about the story? No." Nightmare replies. "So why do you have this book our holy man found underneath your shirt?" The judge asked. Nightmare had forgotten about it. "I was going to ask him about the strange book. Because it keeps saying things about the dead and the Moon King, including the value of lives." Nightmare told to court. "And where did you found it?" The judge asked. Nightmare kept quiet knowing they'll destroy one of his safe place if he told them. "ANSWER ME!" The judge voice echo the room. "It appeared out of nowhere." Nightmare partly told the truth. Then, one of the gaurds came up to Nightmare; towering over him as Nightmare was tied down. And with brute strength the guard throw punches and kicks at him. Then as if command, rips Nightmare's shirt partly to expose some already broken ribs, later grabbed one of them and ripped it out of Nightmare's chest. Nightmare screamed in agony, and losing black blood all over the floor. "Black blood..., so you are evil." Nightmare heard the judge over his pain. "I was just born with it, so it doesn't mean anything." Nightmare tries to reason while still in pain. The Judge and the guard both nodded while looking at each other. He had seen this before, and knows it isn't good. The Guard went to the back to come back later with a war hammer, and raise it over his head. Nightmare had to close his eyes to try to imagine he's in a different situation. And he would have succeeded if the hammer wasn't so fast when it hit the right side of his skull. Now half blinded he try to find Dream in the crowd, but couldn't see him. All he could see on his right side is black with a hot yet cold substance over the side of his skull. He tries to reason with himself to where his brother could be, till he heard two bronze doors slammed. "Do I need to go on with your crimes?" The judge asked. Nightmare was in so much pain that he couldn't hear what the judge, or anyone is saying. "Your silence has answered at all." The judge calmly said. "You were accused of kidnapping children, and teach them about witchcraft. Is that true?" Nightmare heard as his pain ease for a bit. "I would never kidnap a child, and I wasn't teaching them about witchcraft I was teaching them about how to read and write; something that you wouldn't dare do." Nightmare answered with disgust. He may known a bit of magic himself, but those are white magic he has been using, not black magic. "We have a church Nightmare," The judge reply. "and that is all what the children need to know." He continued. "Well maybe some kids wanted to know how to read the Bible on their own, and how write their names." Nightmare respond. "But you did kept a little boy, and didn't bring him back till the next day." The judge remind. "I was worried about his mom would do to him after his dad died. And I saw how she treated him after the funeral such as, blaming him over her husband's death when it was clearly not his fault. And later told him that he should replace his father." Nightmare explains. "Am I not allowed to worry about my neighbors' safety? Do I need to tell everyone that our strongest man try to commit rape to a little girl?" Nightmare reasoned with the court. "He would never do it, but you would." Nightmare heard someone, but he ignored it. "I also have met a few children who had heartbreaking stories such as, one little girl who was forced to touch our priest in areas that made her feel uncomfortable, as she could do nothing about it."

"That still doesn't give you the excuse on practicing witchcraft..." The judge reminded. "The so-called witchcraft I practiced wasn't meant to harm people it was meant to heal. And are we forgetting that we also have Wiccans in our village?" He said. "I'm going to ask you another question then," The judge reply. "Is all of this true about what you are saying?"

Nightmare look at floor from the tiredness, and the pain he was in. "Yes. All that I have said is the truth." Nightmare responded. "One last question Nightmare." The judge asked. This was at the point he knows it's hopeless, and does not care about the visions he started seeing about the Village being burned to the ground. Because all he cares now; is if anyone will listen to him. Or at least tries too.

"Are you afraid of God and his heavenly angels?"

Nightmare with all his strength look at the judge with his good eye-socket, and said in the most calm firm voice. "No. I'm not afraid of any supernatural being of extraordinary powers, because I know the real monsters are all of you."

A moment of silence had filled of room.

"You're an absolute liar, Nightmare." The judge reply with a sick, twisted voice. "And now you shall be sentence to death in front of our very eyes by one of God's angels." As a window flies open leading in a creature that is known as a throne. As it hovers in front Nightmare with its blinding light. Nightmare could see a naked man made out of light. Still not scare for his own life for once. He said to the angel. "I'm not afraid of you, or your God." To his, and everyone else's surprise. The throne breaks the Nightmare chains, and cleans up his spilled blood, later giving him back the mysterious book. Nightmare stood up with all the strength he got, and walk out of the church to be hugged by Dream who is sobbing because he didn't do anything to help him. "Brother?..." Nightmare asked in a weak voice.  Now seeing flashes of his memories. "Yes, Moon?" Dream asked crying over his shoulder. "I need to go back to the in-hill.." Nightmare said as he collapsed. Hearing an echoey distance of his brother calling out his name.

~~~~~~~~~

It was dark again with the same old spirit orbs hovering around him. "Let me guess: It's my time to go." Nightmare smile as he look down. He honestly never thought that he'll have to die like that. It's not like he could control fate anyways. "Actually, this isn't your time yet." A orb reply. "So why are all of you around me? Is it something I had to deal with every time I shut my eyes?" Nightmare asked. "No. We came to tell you about the weapon waiting for you in the ruins."

"Ruins?" Nightmare questioned.

"Yes, the ruins. Of the Celestial half-demons."

Nightmare remember the urban legend that's been spread around for 200 years. About the beginnings in the fall that ruins. About how 12 celestial succubi has seduce 12 powerful heroes, and gave up the daughters to their victims as soon as they were born.  And how the heroes had to give them up so an old man who claims to know celestial beings which includes raising them. The old man then raise, and turn them into 12 types of heroes. Hoping that one of them will become his wife. Unfortunately the old man turns into an abuser as the girls grew up, and start falling in love with each other. Well except for one who thinks she's a boy and is the lunar witch. As if his abuse wasn't enough, she was almost forced into a relationship by the sun paladin, who is in love with her. By making everyone else abuse her to the point they killed her only friend an black owl griffin. All so she can become the witch lover. It unfortunately cause her to lash out on everyone, and ran away to be killed by the old man. And just when you think it's over it turns out the old man killed, and trap the others into their own weapons. Now possessed the weapon they used to wield; they now have no choice, but to wait for a new master. So would that mean Nightmare is gonna have the witch as his weapon?

"I'm not using someone as a weapon." Nightmare said.

"Not like that Nightmare. We mean the warlock, even as a spirit possessing his own weapon can create your weapon." They reasoned with him. Nightmare is sort of satisfied they didn't misgender the warlock like everyone else who had heard about the legend. Nightmare sigh and thought about it. If he agrees, then he'll have to go to the ruins to maybe meet a few of the trapped ghosts, and might died before getting the chance to get it. But if he doesn't they'll probably summon the warlock, and turn him into his slave.

Nightmare took a deep breath. "I'll go to the ruins."

"That's what we like to hear." The orbs said as a blinding light flashes.

~~~~~~~~~

Nightmare woke up again. This time he's in a bathtub with Dream right by his side. From the tear stains on Dream's face; he could tell his brother had been crying a lot.

I shouldn't have let him see me like this.

Nightmare thought as he sigh. Causing Dream to wake up. "You're finally awake." He said this time crying with tears of happiness. "How long have I been asleep?" Nightmare asked. Noticing how dirty the room looked. "Four whole days. I had to have that fire ring thing to help me to not let you die." Dream responded expressing his joy and frustration. "Dream?..." Nightmare said calmly. "YES?!" Dream excitedly replied. "That fire ring thing is called a throne, one of God's highest angels." Nightmare replies with a laugh. "BROTHER YOU NEARLY DIED! YOU SHOULDN'T LAUGH!" Dream yelled in a worry tone. "Sorry, I just can't believe that you forgot one of the legends I told you as a bedtime story ." Nightmare calms down.

"Also, Dream?" Nightmare asked. "Yes?" Dream looked up.

"STILL ALIVE!" Nightmare cheered proudly. "STILL ALIVE!" Dream followed. Nightmare then notice the book Dream has in his hands. "So you found it, huh?" Nightmare reminded Dream. Dream nodded. "I can only make out a few of the words, but I wanna ask you you something." Dream replies. "What is it?" Nightmare asked. "That stick with a crescent moon on it, and the guy in the nun outfit holding it. I saw pictures of how he reaps souls like the Grim Reaper, but there's also some pictures where he heals souls. Like this picture with a disturbing fire creature in it." Dream pointed at the image where it shows the so-called Moon king comforting the fire creature in like it a crying child. "Do you think the creature might evil?" Dream asked. His eyes turned to Nightmare. Nightmare vision turns into a flash. This time seeing the flaming creature crying with Nightmare's hand is touching his cheek bone. "I-I just wanted to g-give you justice.." He said with a voice that sounds similar to Dream, but is overlapping with someone else's. And the smell of his breath is like burnt alcohol. Yet, somehow Nightmare felt that he knew why smelt like that. Just as the flash appeared it disappeared revealing a striking similarity between the creature's face, and Dream's face. "Brother, did you have another vision where you are comforting someone?" Dream asked waking Nightmare up from his thoughts. Nightmare nodded while catching his brother staring at his still-healing ribs. "I'm sorry that you had to witness to trial." Nightmare apologize, trying to figure out if Dream was part of the jury, or if he just snuck in without being detected. "It's not your fault, Nightmare. I heard rumors about you being taken as a prisoner, and I just came to see if it's true. And when I saw you getting beat up, and you nearly losing your right eye socket, I ran away because I was too scared." Dream confesses. "Actually it was my fault if I haven't come to the priest; None would happen." Nightmare reminded Dream. "Also I think you should enough tears for a few days. You should go to get some sleep." Nightmare suggested. Dream nodded as he walked back to his own bedroom. Nightmare took a look at the place where one of his ribs that got ripped off was on a table right next to him with a note reading. "Put it back on him as soon as he wakes up." Nightmare guesses it was probably meant for Dream. So he put it back to its original place and wait for the water to heal it.

I survive yet again..

Nightmare thought as he relaxes in the bath. Nightmare looks around to find his journal which had a few scratch and bite marks on it indicating Dream might've tried to read it. Nightmare then chuckled as he opens it with a charm spell, finds a quill and begans writing.

June 26 , 1517

It had been a while since I wrote the last entry, and it was because I try talking to the priest about my visions plus the supernatural encounters, but I ended up getting trialed, and was tortured there. Royal guards beat me up, and they trying to destroy my skull with a Warhammer. And unfortunately my brother, Dream had to see it. They all try to sentence me to death by an throne's hand, but the throne has shown mercy on me. Maybe it's because even God is disgusted by most of the village actions. When I fell unconscious after the trial. The strange beings told me to go to the celestial half-demons ruins where I can get my weapon from the moon warlock. Now thinking about it me in the warlock almost have the same origin story ,but I don't want to end up like him. Or be a vengeful spirit of any kind. Sometimes I believe that we're all heretics, one way or another. Including our holiest men, The Priest and The Judge.

He then put the quill down, and took another shut eye. Without having to worried about death again.

[arthurmango]

told u i'd write this >:)

i love it so much. i already love this kid. Arthur? Being a dad? Sign me the fuck up.

based off this post by @reddeaddenial ty for letting me write it!!

"Alright, kid," Arthur Morgan sighs, leading the 9-year-old with one hand and his horse with the other. He was muddy and tired, having saved this child from some of the locals after he had been caught stealing from the general store. Never did he anticipate beating a man over a loaf of bread.

"You get yourself in there and stay warm, alright? Make sure to wait for your Mama." The child is quiet. He gently removes his hand from Arthur's cautious grip and stands on the porch of the Valentine Sherriff's Office. His wavy blonde hair partly shielding his sad blue eyes.

Great. Now Arthur felt like an asshole. More than usual this time.

"You'll be alright, I promise." Arthur ensures as he climbs atop his saddle, adjusting his weight for comfort. "See you later, kid."

His ride back to the camp is quiet. He takes in the scenery; the birds chirping, the deer prancing about, the god-rays through the pinetrees. He was mentally locking this image in his mind for later, to draw when he was bored, or when he couldn't sleep, or both.

As he approached the camp, he spotted Bill, taking his shift for guard duty.

"Who's there?" Bill shouts.

"It's Arthur, dumbass."

"Welcome ba-....who's that you got behind you?"

Arthur freezes and doesn't dare turn. His first instinct is to reach for his sawed-off shotgun. He exchanged a glance with Bill, who was just as suprised...until-

"This your home, Mister? You live out in the woods?"

Goddammit.

"Kid-?! Didn't I-"

"Yeah, Mister, but it got real lonely and I didn't wanna wait!"

Arthur narrowed his eyes, then rolled them promptly as he slid off his saddle. He gave his horse a pat on it's rear in thanks, then turned his attention to the boy in front of him who fiddled with the sleeves of his shirt. He glances back at Bill who watches with a grin, enjoying every minute of this dilemma.

"Follow me." Arthur takes his horse's reins again, leading it to pasture with the others. Upon turning around, the boy had remained where he stood.

"C'mere, kid!"

The kid didn't respond.

Arthur put his hands on his hips, then sighs once again. He walks over, picking up the child with one arm. The kid is horizontal through his arm, holding him against his hip. "Abigail!"

"What is it-" Abigail pauses, looking at Arthur. "My," she smiles as the boy is put to his feet, huddling close to Arthur's legs shyly. Abigail bends to his level with a gentle smile, "what's your name, darlin'?"

His puppy-dog eyes look up to Arthur as if to ask permission to speak, then to Abigail. "James," he whispers.

"James?" Abigail reiterates. "That's a nice name. I'm Abigail, and this here is Jack," she gestures to her son, and he waves. "Where did you come from? Don't you have parents?"

James shakes his head, inching closer to Arthur.

Abigail stands, giving Arthur a look. She begins to speak, until Hosea greets the two.

"Well, what do we have here?" The huckster chuckles, kneeling to the boy. "Where'd you find him, Arthur?"

"He found me, more or less," Arthur grumbles. "He was caught takin' bread from the stands in the general store in Valentine. Some feller tried to give him a hard time, so I defended him and I thought I dropped him off at the Sheriff's Office. I guess he followed me here. Didn't even notice."

"Quiet thing he is, isn't he?" Hosea gives James a warm smile. "Have you eaten, son?"

"No sir," James replies meekly, "I haven't."

"Arthur, would you show him to Mr. Pearson for a nice supper? Mrs. Grimshaw-"

"I'm already working on it!" Susan replies hastily, adding an extra blanket to Arthur's tent.

"Hosea, I don't-"

"You can't just take him back, Arthur." Hosea replies quietly, "he followed you here, almost like a lost puppy, and like a puppy, he's gonna be your responsibility, lest the ladies get to him first. He's a handsome young man."

Arthur mumbles under his breath, knowing Hosea was right. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he left James alone. In a few ways, James reminded him of his own son, Issac. Maybe, he felt, maybe this could make things right. Maybe this could fill that aching, emptiness and loneliness he's felt for so long. The only downside is that he has another thing to worry about, another, innocent child to shield from the horrors of his life. It's almost, in a way, cruel to keep him around. He deserves better. He doesn't need this life, but what was Arthur to do? Parent the boy, he guesses. Not that he's much of a father in the first place.

Over the next few minutes, the gang meets and greets the new kid. He sits at the card table, eating sheepishly as everyone takes their turns asking him questions, not that he had many answers.

"Give the boy some space!" Dutch commands, tapping the ashes off of his cigar. "Arthur, may I speak with you for a moment? Just a moment."

"Sure," Arthur complies, "I'll be right back, okay?"

He follows Dutch to his tent, where Dutch promptly turns to him, taking a drag off his cigar. "You didn't kidnap nobody's son, didya?"

Arthur squints. "Wh-no! What kinda question is that, Dutch?"

Dutch chuckles, patting Arthur's shoulder, then wiping his hand on Arthur's jacket once he realized that his hand had touched mud, "just makin' sure." He begins to lead Arthur, walking with him. "You couldn't find his folks nowhere?"

"The boy was stealin' bread, Dutch. I think it's safe to say that he has no folks," Arthur replies, thumbing his belt.

"He reminds me a lot of you when you were a boy," Dutch smiles, "he was quiet like you were, too. That is until I broke you outta your shell. I think it'll be good for you take after Hosea and I and teach the boy what he needs to know to survive."

Arthur shrugs. "I was plannin' on it. I'm just worried that....I don't know....maybe I'm not cut out for this."

"Sure ya are!" Dutch turns to Arthur, halting their walk. "It'll be good for you to have somethin' to do other than draw in that journal all day."

Arthur shakes his head, and Dutch winks, putting his cigar back between his lips.

Arthur meets back with the boy, where Charles had taken his spot. Beside Charles was Javier and Sean.

"You sure this lad ain't yours, Arthur?" Sean laughs. "Looks a helluva lot like ya!"

Arthur doesn't bother, and sits down across from Charles beside James. He seemed a little more open. He assumed it was from Charles' calming demeanor....or Sean's hyperactive one.

"He's a smart kid, Arthur. Very headstrong." Charles adds in. "He says he wants to be a hunter when he grows up. You and I should take him hunting sometime to start him off."

"You ever hunted before, James?" Arthur asks, not sure how to level his voice to keep from starling the child.

"Once, with my Pa." James moves his spoon throughout his stew absentmindedly. "Pa left when Mama got sick, and one day she went to sleep and wouldn't wake up. After she went to heaven, I've been alone, kinda."

Arthur, Sean, Javier and Charles exchange glances, feeling a variation of that pain.

"Well, you've got all the Aunts and Uncles you could ever want!" Javier grins, "you've got food, a place to sleep, and all the protection you'll ever need."

"And maybe tomorrow mornin' I could take you to Saint Denis and get ya somethin' real nice to wear, to getcha outta those old clothes."

James finally begins to smile. It adds so much to his fair complexion. "Is it pretty, Saint Denis? Just like on the postcards?"

"Just like on the postcards! Maybe even prettier." Arthur smiles, too. A rare smile hardly shown to the world. It was genuine.

"You've got a real hardworkin' Pa now, lad!" Sean smirks as Arthur eyes him. "This man is as stubborn as a bull, but make no mistake, he'll getcha anything ye ask for as long as ya can get passed that rough outer layer a'his."

"I think he's really nice," James looks down to his food, then back up to Arthur. "Scary at first, but he saved me! So that makes him my Guardian Angel, just like Mama used to say."

Arthur felt a sort of relief. This responsibility was immense, but he couldn't help himself. He was already starting to get attached to the child.

"Why don't you go with Uncle Charles and meet everyone else, huh? I should probably get cleaned up. I'm still covered in mud." Arthur remains in his seat as James follows his new Uncles, sightseeing throughout the camp. Maybe this is his second chance to actually be a father. Sure, he was afraid. He was afraid for what was to come. He was afraid that he might not be the father he hopes he is. He sure as hell won't turn out like John, that's for sure.

[fanwarriorfictions]

One-

A Stranger Things 2 Fanfic

Chapter Four- Part Three

   When Phina had gotten home from Steve's house, it was 10 o'clock. And her mother had been waiting for her.

   As soon as the door to the garage had closed behind her, Karen's voice rang out, "where have you been?"

   On the way home, Phina had thought of the perfect lie, and she didn't even look at her mother to deliver it, "Lisle's. We have a chemistry project due tomorrow and we lost track of time."

   "No you weren't," Karen snapped, "I called Lisle, she doesn't even have chemistry this semester. How many times have you used that lie, ten, fifteen? Well I'm done letting it slide, where we're you?"

   "Nowhere important," she replied.

   "Look at me Seraphina," Karen snapped again, "do I look like I'm in the mood for this?"

   Phina's head snapped towards her mothers, "and do I look to be in the mood for this!"

   Karen instantly saw the redness to her daughters eyes, the puffiness. Her daughter had been crying, a lot. Karen was in shock, Phina hardly ever cried, ever. The last time she did, was when they thought Will Byers had died.

   "Phina? What happened, are you hurt?" Karen's anger had dissipated as she hurried over to check her daughter for injuries. "Did you crash your bike? What.."

   "I'm fine mom!" Phina pushes her mothers hands off her. "I just want to go to bed."

   The tone of her voice told Karen that she wouldn't get any answers from Phina tonight, but she knew her daughter well, when she was ready, she would.

   "Ok sweety," Karen sighed, "please come get me as soon as you're ready to talk."

   Phina gave her mom a halfhearted smile as she made her way to the stairs. The weight of the day pressed down on her, so heavy that she almost crumbled beneath the pressure. She almost didn't make it to her door.

   Phina pushed open the door and stopped. Like her mother had been waiting for her down stairs, Mike was waiting for her on her bed.

   "Where have you been," he asks, sounding exactly like their mother.

   "What are you doing up? You should be in bed, you have school tomorrow," she says.

   "So do you," he fires back, "you ran away earlier."

   "Yes."

   He gives her a look, "why? Where did you go?"

   Phina sighs, this is a conversation she wanted to avoid more than the one with her mother. She takes off her shoes and her jacket, taking her sweet time before she has to answer. Mike moves over so she can sit down next to him, turning her body to face him. They watch each other in silence, both of them waiting for the other to speak.

   "I was scared," she finally whispers.

   The look Mike gives her is one of confusion, "why?"

   And the one she gives him is sad, "because I saw the way you all looked at me. Because I looked in each one of your eyes and saw fear, of me. Because I saw what I did. I could have hurt you Mike, I could have hurt all of you. I don't know if I could live with myself if I had."

   Mike's shook his head, "you would never hurt me."

   "Not on purpose," Phina argues, "never on purpose. I lost control Mike. Everyday I find my powers becoming more and more unchecked, and I'm terrified."

   "Stop it," Mike chides her, "if you're scared of yourself, how are you supposed to learn to control it. You can't push it away, that'll just make it worse."

   Phina let her head fall, "what if I can't control it?"

   "You will," Mike argues, "because you are my sister and you never give up, ever. You are the most strong willed person I have ever met and you'll find a way, I know it."

   Phina smiles, "glad to know someone believes in me."

   He smiles back, "of course I do. You're my superhero."

   "And you're mine."

-

   "Phina? Have you seen your brother..."

   Karen opened the door to find her two kids fast asleep. Mike was cuddled into Phina's side, her arms wrapped around him. They had fallen asleep last night before either could think of getting Mike to his own room.

   Karen smiled at the two, who looked peaceful in sleep. She walked over to the bed and gently started to shake Phina awake.

   "Time to get up hun," she said warmly.

   Phina's eyes slowly blinked open, taking in the blurry image of her mother, "hmmm."

   "Good morning," Karen chuckled.

   "Mornin'," Phina mumbled, poking her brother's side.

   He grumbled something inaudibly and turned over to the other side of the bed, out of Phina's arms.

   "If I have to wake up, so do you," Phina chuckles.

   "Not necessarily," Mike mumbled.

   Karen smiled at the two of them, "well breakfast is almost ready."

   Mike turned his head slightly, "breakfast?"

-

   "Do you like those grapes Holly," Mike asks.

   Phina and Mike had both gotten ready quickly after their mom had mentioned breakfast. Phina hadn't eaten since yesterday at lunch, so she was starving, and toast with strawberry jam never sounded better.

   Phina was making her toast now, probably a bit more than necessary but, whatever.

   "Hey mom," Nancy said as she stood up, "I was thinking about staying the night at Stacy's tonight? We were gonna have a girls night."

   Nancy came up behind Phina and stole a piece of toast from her.

   "Hey!"

   "Romantic comedies, do our nails, gossip," Nancy carried on with a little smirk at Phina.

   "Make your own Nance," Phina grumbled halfheartedly.

   "Sure! That sounds fun," Karen said, ignoring Phina.

   Nancy sat down in her spot next to Holly, "toast?"

   Phina whirled around, she was giving Holly the toast she stole from Phina, "really?"

   "You made four pieces of toast," Nancy laughs, "you'll live."

   "You don't know that," Phina jokes, "I could die."

   "Sure."

-

   To say Steve Harrington wasn't focused today was an understatement. He'd been known to the school as King Steve, star basketball player, a womanizer. Well, things changed. And the jean everything wearing, mullet having Billy Hargrove was here to ruin his reputation.

   Steve could vaguely hear the coach yelling but, he wasn't focused on that. He was focused on Hargrove, who had been making a fool out of Steve's team.

   Billy laughs as he gets the ball, again, "all right! All right, all right! King Steve! King Steve everyone, I like it, playing tough today."

   Steve was getting annoyed very quickly, "Jesus! Do you ever stop talking man? Come on!"

   Billy lazily dribbles with one hand, laughing again, "what? You afraid the coach is gonna bench ya now that I'm here? Huh?"

   He suddenly moves forward quickly, not giving Steve any time to prepare. Billy shoulder checks Steve as he runs past him to score. Steve grunts and falls backwards, definitely not the first time he'd been knocked down today.

   A hand reached down in front of him, Billy's. Steve warily grabs it, bad idea. Billy pulls Steve halfway up to him.

   "You were moving your feet," he says, "plant them next time, draw a charge."

   Billy pushes Steve back down roughly, walking over him to get back into the game. Steve couldn't tell if the advice was somewhat friendly, or threatening.

-

   Steve let the lukewarm water run over his face, trying to somewhat come off the adrenaline from the game.

   "Don't sweat it Harrington," Billy said from his right.

   Steve's annoyance shot through the roof just at his voice. The prick had been showing him up in every way since he got here.

   "Today's just not your day man," he continued.

    "Yeah. Not your week," Tommy butts in, "you and the princess break up for one day, she's already running off with the freaks brother."

Steve gave Tommy an annoyed look.

"Oh shit, you don't know," Tommy chuckles, "Jonathan and the princess skipped yesterday. Still haven't shown. But that must just be a coincidence, right?"

Tommy smirks, "I'm mean, you don't seem to be to beaten up about it, considering Carol saw the Freak of Hawkins leaving your house last night. Switching Wheelers, huh? Classy."

Tommy laughs loudly, annoyingly, as he leaves the showers. Steve glares at him as he goes, starting to shampoo his hair

"Don't take it to hard man," Billy interjects, "a pretty boy like you gots nothing to worry about. Plenty of bitches in the sea."

Billy slowly turns off Steve's shower, "am I right?"

He claps Steve on the shoulder, turning to leave the showers as well, "that Phina chick? That's a real nice catch right there, sad I didn't make it first."

Steve's anger flares at the comment. He harshly turns the water back on, his hand stingy when it makes contact with the metal nob.

-

Phina walked briskly to her bike after school, wanting to escape the place as quickly as she possibly could. All day she had been hearing little comments about her. She was used to this type of stuff, and had dealt with no shortage of rumors in the past, but this, this was different. People had been making comments about her, and Steve. Someone must have seen her at his house last night, and assumed the worst.

She had also heard little comments about Jon and Nancy, who had not been at school at all today and has apparently skipped yesterday as well. Again, the worst had been assumed. This is why Phina hated this place, because everything you said or did was turned against you.

Phina got to her bike and was out of there in less than five seconds. She flew past people who stared and whispered to each other. The lies that spread between them like wildfire gripped at her, trying to bring her down. She drove to the only place that didn't have the pressure of judgement, where she was happy, the forests.

She went out far, parking her bike behind a few trees so any cars that passed wouldn't see it. Then, she went farther. Walking at least a mile into the trees. With her connection to the forest, she would never get lost, for the trees whispered directions to her.

The stress that plagued her lifted with each step farther.

That is, until she felt it. The sickness that infected the earth around her. It was like she had entered a quarantine zone, the sickness abruptly starting.

Phina turned her confused gaze to the trees, which were turning a strange gray color, some sort of weird liquid seeping from them. She took a step towards the nearest tree, her hand reached out to touch it. It was a gooy substance that made her face scrunch in disgust.

The color, the goo, it was all to familiar. All to like the upside down. It was happening again.

"Shit."

-

   The sun had faded awhile ago, leaving Phina in the dark. She had followed the path of the disease, which lead back towards town, but not quite. She had left the forest and was now in the farm areas outside of Hawkins. An entire patch of pumpkins had been destroyed by this disease.

   She carefully placed her steps as she walked through the field. The rotten pumpkins were full of that goo and she did not want to get that all over her.

   The sound of an engine in the distance simultaneously drew her in and made her aware that she was trespassing. She drew closer to the noise and a sigh of relief shot through her, it was Hopper.

   In front of the car, was a very large hole, which had dirt flying out of it in small increments of time.

   "Hopper," she asks as she gets closer to the hole, seeing him digging.

   He whirls around, "Phina? What the hell are you doing here?"

   "I could ask you the same thing," she pointed out, "what are you doing?"

   He sighs, "investigating."

   "Does it have something to do with why all my trees are dying," she asks, gesturing around.

   "Possibly," he answers, throwing another shovelful of dirt out of the hole.

   "Why are you digging a hole Hop," she asks.

   He sighs, she wasn't gonna leave without the answers she wanted, "because of Will."

   Phina's heart stops, "is he ok?"

   "He's fine, for the most part," Hopper sighs again, this time, more defeated, "whatever happened to you two yesterday has caused him to, act different. He's been drawing non-stop. I've got a theory, and unless you're gonna pick up a shovel and help you can go on home and wait for me to prove it or not."

   Hopper goes to dig again when he sees it, the goo. He shovels out a little bit of it, looking at it with strange curiosity.

   "What the hell?"

   Phina slowly climbs into the hole, to get a closer look. It seemed like there was a thick layer of this stuff, almost like how a portal to the upside down looked like before it opened. Hopper digs at it again, yelling a little bit as if it'd make him stronger. The small hole opens, some dirt falling through it which meant that there was an opening below it.

   Hopper hits it again and again to make the hole bigger. He looks up at Phina who has curiosity written all over her face.

   "Stay here," he says.

   "No chance in hell," she snaps.

   He'd fought her on a subject like this before, he knew he'd lose, "fine. Wait for me to yell before following."

   He sat down on the ground and slowly went through the hole. Phina looked on worriedly, what was down there. Hopper fell all the way through, giving Phina a heart attack before he yelled for her to go down. Phina lowers into the hole, Hopper helping her down. When she hits the ground, he takes out his flash light and they look all around them.

   "Holy shit," Phina whispers.

-2328 words-

Did y'all like that little Steve pov, good way to introduce the rumors about Steve and Phina, which will have a roll later on.

-Morgan

[fanwarriorfictions]

One-

A Stranger Things 2 Fanfic

Chapter One: MADMAX

A year had passed. Just a year since Will had gone missing, since the crazy adventure that had followed, since they had fought for their lives, since El had came and gone from their lives. Phina found that there was not one night she did not think of what had happened, not one night were she didn't wake in a cold sweat from the nightmares that plagued her, not one night she did not miss El. El was Phina's sister, not by blood, but by shared pasts, shared trauma. They had both endured Hawkins Lab, and Doctor Brenner, Papa.

Another thing Phina thought about frequently. Papa. When she had seen Brenner, laying on the floor, dying, her memories had flooded back into her mind, the damn built by her trauma no longer holding them back. She remembered every little detail, the experiments, the isolation chamber, her powers. Phina had been well aware of her gift of fire, it showed itself easily due to her temper. Her other affinities, were not as easy to access, but they were all the more powerful.

   With air, she could create winds stronger than a category five hurricane. They were strong enough to shred through anything in its path. With it, she could lift things, almost like El could, but different. She could create a ball of wind to surround the object and move it wherever she wished. Just before she had escaped Hawkins Lab, they had been trying to get her to use that power on herself, to lift herself, to fly.

   Her water was a little like her fire, more brute in attacks, but it was more controllable. Phina could form the water into whatever she wished, anything from small creatures like butterflies to her favorite, wolves. She created the wolves and they almost became alive, attacking where she wanted them to, but killing in their own ways, usually by drowning a victim. With water, also came ice, she could freeze the wolves and they could use their teeth to bite.

Then she had earth, her strongest affinity. Earth was so much more than plants and dirt, it was life. The plants and trees were alive, they had a consciousness, they saw Phina as one of them. She could control them, yes, but most of the time, she didn't have to. They protected her, they strenghtened her, they were a part of her. When she had explained this to the boys, Dustin had taken to calling her Mother Nature, and she guessed he wasn't really wrong. She was nature itself, anything related to it was at her command. And she was at their command.

   A year, so much can happen in a year, and so much did. Everyone had slowly healed, together, but the scars still remained. Phina grew stronger, but so did her shadows. Shadows plagued her, and every shadow she saw brought her back to the drawing. The one she drew last Christmas. It still rested in the first page of her sketchbook, where she would stare at it for hours. Nothing had happened, not yet, but it lingered in her mind, always reminding her that anything could happen at any moment. The paranoia arose in her from time to time, never truly gone, festering like an infected wound.

   Like right now, the moments when she was alone, when she had nothing to keep her mind at bay. Phina lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. With one hand, she gripped the blanket of her bed, tethering her to reality, and the other grabbed her necklace, reminding herself of her power. The little flame never left her neck, and it had become a life line to her, grabbing it whenever she felt uneasy. It brought her comfort, yet it also brought a face. Steve Harrington had given her the necklace last year, as a thank you.

   Another development over the year, Phina had found it harder and harder to hate him. Once he stopped hanging out with Carol and Tommy, he had become a lot nicer. He had even started to stand up for her against them almost every morning, and she had Nancy to thank for that. Nancy had changed him, for the better. Nancy and Steve were still going strong, and he grew better as a person every single day. It was a good thing, so why did Phina feel so bad whenever she saw them together. She was happy for her sister, and even for Steve, but, something was just wrong. Phina tried to say it was because of Jonathan, that him and Nancy had developed something together, and they did, there was no ignoring that, but she knew there was more to it. She just didn't want to face it head on.

   Phina hears yelling coming from Nancy's room, she was yelling at Mike. Arcade night, Phina chuckles, sitting up right waiting for Mike. On cue, her door was then thrown open as Mike rushes in, causing Phina to laugh even more.

   "Quarters are in the brown bag on the desk," Phina tells him without a moments hesitation, "share with Dustin, there is ten dollars worth for each of you, and a little extra if Lucas or Will need it."

   "Have I ever told you that you're the best sister in the world," Mike asks, breathing heavily.

   "You don't have to, I already know I am," she jokes, "now you better get goin' before Nancy catches you."

   "Mike!"

   He rushes out of the room with a quick goodbye, narrowly escaping Nancy as she was about to turn into Phina's room. She chases after him again, yelling at him as she goes.

   Phina shakes her head as she stands up to close her door. Those two will never stop will they, she chuckles. I hope they never do.

   As she walks back to her bed, she looks at a vase of flowers on her desk, roses from Jonathan on her 17th birthday in June. They were wilting. She smiles at them, lifting her hand to touch the closest one, they all regained their life, the soft petals kissing her skin as she filled the vase with water seemingly from nowhere. Life begins again.

-

   School? Dreadful. Her senior year? Even worse. Phina was taking her sweet time to get to school, taking the longest route she could. They were only a few weeks into the semester, and she was already about to pull her hair out. Being surrounded by carbon copies of Carol and Tommy, not to mention the stress of college and what she wanted to do with her life, she'd rather face the Demogorgan again than this.

   The road she was on was usually empty this early in the morning, giving her the freedom of how fast she went. So she took her sweet time, cruising along slowly, feeling the wind wrap around her like an embrace, and admiring the nature that surrounds her. The sounds, smells, all of it, calming her. That is, until the sound of an engine broke it. The car, a Camaro, flew past her, way to close. She swerves towards the side of the road to keep from getting hit by the asshole driver, which leads her towards the trees. She stops just in time not to hit one.

   The car was long gone already, due to the outrageous speed it had been going. Phina was breathing heavily, her adrenaline running high. That asshole could have killed me, her temper flared. Along with it, came a ball of fire that formed around her clenching fist. She shakes off the fire, willing herself to breath a little. It didn't calm her down, but it did help her focus. Oh this was going to be a bad day.

-

   Phina flies into the parking lot, going towards her usual spot to find a car already in it, the Camaro. Now she was livid. They had just parked, blasting Rock You Like a Hurricane. The drivers side door swings open, one jean clad leg coming out of it. Then comes the completely jean clad boy as well. On the other side, a younger girl gets out, taking her long board and leaving quickly.

   The boy looks around the parking lot for a moment and starts to walk towards the school, throwing a cigarette down as he goes. Phina glares at him, her temper rising again. She parks her bike in the space right next to his throwing down her stand. She stands up off the bike and storms towards mullet head.

   In Steve's car, Nancy and Steve watch her. Steve noticed instantly how mad she was when she parked, and all that anger was turned on the new kid.

   "This is not good," Steve says, jumping out of the car, "not good at all."

   "Hey asshole," Phina calls out to mullet head.

   He turns around, almost as if it was actually his name, "yes?"

   The pure arrogance in his voice stokes her rage, "I don't know if you noticed, but you ran me off the road earlier."

   "Was that you? Oh, well, I'm sorry Red," he smirks, his eyes trailing over her.

   "Don't call me that, and keep your eyes up here," she growls, "you could have killed me."

   "That would've been a real shame, to loose such a beauty as yourself," he shakes his head, his eyes still not meeting hers.

   "I'm flattered," she bites out.

   He smirks, "you should be."

   She snarls at him, "I oughta punch you in the mouth right here and now."

   "You wouldn't." His smirk grows wider. "Not with those delicate little hands."

   "You're new here, you don't know me," she snaps at him, taking a large step closer to him, "you don't know what I can do, and you don't want to find out."

   "What if I do, Red."

   The suductive undertone was maddening, "listen here asshole, don't call me Red, and if you even look at me wrong, your gonna find out what these delicate little hands really do, got it?"

   Phina smiles venomously at him, quickly going back to her harsh glare. She shoulder checks him as she walks towards the school. He is harshly turned around, forced to watch her go, he didn't mind at all.

   Steve, who had watched the whole thing, felt his blood boil as this new kid looked Phina up and down. He was about to go give this kid a piece of his mind when Nancy laid her hand on his arm.

   "Come on, where gonna be late for first period," Nancy says, watching the new kid and her sister.

   "Yeah, lets go," Steve nods, hesitantly.

-1777 words-

Ohhhhh, Phina is angry. So this marks the beginning of Season Two! Hope y'all are ready for this.

-Morgan