#tried to convey fear and disgust.

[tiredsoundsofagnes]

incredible things are happening in this house… thank you @stonedeadforever

[bamfkeeper]

You were taken and Kurt does everything he can to to get you back.

I wanted to write something like this since the post where he sees you get hurt and goes nuts. This is sorta like that but more extreme. A little darker than what I've written before. Please skip this one if the warnings make you uncomfortable. There might be a part two that features more recovery, maybe. Idk yet we will see.

Warnings: Gender neutral mutant!reader, kidnapping, descriptions of injury, creepy soldiers, violence, mutant prejudice (the term 'mutie' is used), mentions/descriptions of physical abuse via soldiers to reader, good ending I promise, unedited (at this point please just expect it lmao I never edit my writing bc I'm lazy).

WC: 3.4k

It happened so fast, a blur of motion and confusion. You barely had time to react before you were snatched from the comforting surroundings of your bedroom and forcefully shoved into a heavily armored vehicle. The interior was cramped, filled to the brim with men in imposing uniforms, their expressions stern and unyielding. You looked up at all of them, your heart pounding in your chest.

Your powers were gone, they had put that damn collar on you, the one designed to nullify your abilities. In that moment, you felt completely and utterly helpless, stripped of your defenses and at the mercy of your captors. They knew it too.

"Poor thing. It doesn't know what to do, does it?" one of them snickered at you, his voice dripping with mockery and malice, making you shiver with a mix of disgust and fear. The man's voice was so vile it made you want to vomit, and the way he looked at you made you feel profoundly uncomfortable. You were helpless, bound on the cold, hard ground of the van, as all of these soldiers kept their disgusting, predatory gazes glued on you, watching you squirm in agony and distress on the floor.

The air was thick with the stench of sweat and metal, amplifying your sense of dread and making your situation feel even more hopeless. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears as you desperately wished for some form of escape, but there was none. The soldiers' laughter and jeers filled the back of the van, and you felt even more distressed.

"You're a cute mutie, you know that? Most of 'em you can tell are filthy things, but you...you're one of the attractive ones, aren't you?" one soldier spoke. His words were condescending and cruel despite what he said. The tone of his voice carried a sharp edge, filled with disdain and mockery. He looked you up and down with a sneer, observing you with distain and annoyance.

His comrades stood by, chuckling and nodding in agreement, their eyes filled with the same mixture of contempt and amusement. His expression growing more malicious with each passing second, his boot lifted and kicked you slightly. "Are you going to speak, or are you mute, just like a dumb animal?" he asked sharply.

You took a sharp inhale, your chest rising and falling quickly as you tried to steady your nerves. The air felt thick, almost suffocating, as you made a conscious effort to avoid interacting with them at all. The last thing you wanted was to provoke them and risk any form of retaliation.

Your throat was dry, and you could feel your heart pounding in your ears as you swallowed thickly. "N-no..." you managed to let out in a quiet, shaky whisper, barely audible but enough to convey your reluctance and fear.

A sharp sting to your cheek as one of them swung their baton across your face, the impact reverberating through your skull. The blow was so hard it jerked your head to the side with brutal force, and your temple slammed painfully into the cold, unforgiving floor of the van. You could feel the rough texture of the metal against your skin, the scent of dirty leather and iron filled your nostrils, adding to the disorienting pain.

He scoffed, the sound filled with disdain, his eyes holding nothing but cruel amusement and a twisted sense of superiority. "Pathetic freak," he spat, the words dripping with contempt and malice.

The ride was unbearably long and dreary, stretching on for what felt like an eternity. You laid on the cold, hard floor of the van silently, trying to block out the incessant comments and remarks they made about you and your appearance. Their voices dripped with eager malice as they spoke about the brazen and disgusting things they wanted to do to you, each word sending a shiver down your spine and making you want to curl up into a tight ball and hide from the world.

After what seemed like endless hours of discomfort, the van finally slowed to a stop. You were roughly dragged out of it, your legs refusing to cooperate after being forced to lay in such an uncomfortable position for so long. The sun had set the world into a foggy darkness, the only lights illuminating the area were from the large bunker that was build into the wall of a large mountain, guarded with armored vehicles and more men in uniforms.

You struggled to regain your bearings as they pulled you forward, your body aching and your mind reeling from the ordeal. They forcefully walked you inside the huge doors that were drawn open, jerking you around with a roughness that made it hard to keep your composure. Their hands grasped you firmly, their hands groping your body as you struggled against their grip, trying desperately to maintain a calm façade.

Your brave face was beginning to falter, and it became increasingly evident that your terror was rapidly growing. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't hide the fact that fear was taking over, creeping into every corner of your mind.

They walked you to a wall of cells, which stretched endlessly in both directions, each one containing a mutant. Some cells already held mutants who were caged and looked absolutely horrible, as if they had been there for a long time. The conditions of the cells varied greatly; some were sterile and clean, while others were more run-down and dilapidated, as if the guards had no fear that the mutant inside would ever escape.

The air was thick with the smell of decay and neglect. Most of the mutants didn't move or look up; they were either lying down or sitting in a posture of utter defeat. Their eyes were vacant, their spirits broken, and it seemed as though hope had long since abandoned them. The overall atmosphere was one of despair and abandonment, a stark reminder of the cruelty inflicted upon them.

"What is this place?" you asked, attempting to sound firm and confident. However, your voice betrayed you, emerging as meek and afraid instead. The man holding you chuckled in amusement at your fear as he opened the heavy, creaking door to your chosen cell.

"Your new home, mutant. Get comfortable," he sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. With a rough shove, he threw you onto the cold, hard ground. The impact knocked the wind out of you as you landed with a thud. The man then unsheathed a gleaming blade, its edge catching the dim light.

He began to cut through the coarse ropes that bound your body, each slice of the blade careless. He didn’t care if he nicked you, and he did a few times. You flinched as the blade cut your skin, the sharp jerks and sawing through the ropes stabbed into you as you let out sharp hisses and pained gasps.

The man continued as if he weren't hurting you, and he scoffed with each noise you made. "If you sat still this wouldn't have happened," he grabbed one of your bleeding arms and he held it up.

"What do you want from me?" Your voice whined out, desperate for answers. None of their uniforms gave their organization away, and you had no idea what they wanted with you. The room was dimly lit, casting eerie shadows on the walls, which only added to the sense of dread you felt. The man just stood up, shrugging nonchalantly as if this entire situation was a routine matter for him.

"Nothing important. Whatever the boss wants," he replied, his voice dripping with apathy. "We do anything to your kind, and no one will come for you. We won't be charged with any crimes, you aren't people. You're nothing to us, and soon we will exterminate your species and we will be the supreme race on the planet again."

His words cut through the air like a knife, making it hard to breathe. You could see the cold determination in his eyes, a reflection of a deeply ingrained hatred. It was clear that they had been planning this for a long time, and you were just another pawn in their grand scheme. The thought of being part of such a ruthless plan made your stomach churn, but there was nothing you could do but listen and hope for a chance to escape.

The days melded together in an indistinguishable blur, and your concept of time dissipated. Every single day, you were visited by the men, who would unceremoniously drag you into a sterile lab filled with cold, clinical instruments.

There, a man wearing white would subject you to various invasive procedures, poking and prodding you with sharp tools that seemed designed to maximize your agony. They took many things from you—blood, tissue samples, and even bone marrow—leaving you feeling increasingly depleted and always somewhat wounded and weak.

Your time in this nightmarish place was exactly what mutantkind was afraid of, what you were afraid of, filled with relentless suffering, and they showed no sign of compassion or concern for the excruciating pain they inflicted upon you.

You were beaten regularly, just like the rest of the mutants being held captive in the facility. Every day, they came to your cell with their batons, mercilessly laying into you until your skin changed colors from the bruises. They were relentless, you were kicked and hit repeatedly, dragged by your hair across the cold, hard floors, thrown against the walls, and tossed around like a ragdoll.

You were barely fed, only given tasteless slop that had the consistency of old paste and looked anywhere from white to grey mush. This so-called "food" was just enough to keep you from starving, but not enough to ever feel full or satisfied. The meals were infrequent and meager, purposefully designed to keep you in a state of constant hunger and weakness.

They wanted to ensure that your body remained perpetually frail, as if the collar around your neck didn't already make you harmless enough for them. This deliberate deprivation was a method of control, a way to break down your spirit and ensure that you remained too weak to resist or fight back.

You were so tired.

The torment seemed endless. You swore that if they didn't need to take samples from your body nearly every day for their experiments, they would have taken pleasure in killing you outright. The relentless abuse was a constant reminder of your helplessness, and the fact that you couldn't fight back killed you inside.

Collared, drugged, and experimented on like some kind of helpless animal, it seemed like there was no end to the torment. They groped and touched you in ways you didn't want, and it was clear they had no regard for your consent or well-being. The very sight of your discomfort brought them pleasure, and they made sure you knew it every step of the way. Their methods were devised and precise; deeply psychological torment designed to break your spirit and make you feel utterly powerless.

As much as you hated it, it worked.

Their methods proved to be highly effective, gradually wearing you down over time. You could feel yourself slowly succumbing to their demands, submitting to what they wanted from you. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism that your brain instinctively resorted to in order to cope with the relentless torture and abuse. After enduring for such a long period, you found that you had no fight left within you, completely drained of the will to resist.

Red alarms blared loudly, their piercing sound cutting through the silence and yanking you from a rare slumber. Startled, you blinked awake, though your vision was slightly corrupted by the bruises and swollen skin, especially around your dominant eye, which throbbed painfully.

Groggily, your head rose from the cold, hard floor, confusion flooding your mind as you tried to process your surroundings. The distant sounds of fighting drifted to your ears from the direction of your cell, adding to the disorientation and making you wonder what the hell was happening beyond the confines of your small, dimly-lit prison.

You felt your body flinch violently as something large and heavy slammed into the room where the cells were located. The sudden noise echoed through the small, confined space, sending a chill down your spine. Instinctively, you crawled into the nearest corner and curled up there, trying to make yourself as small and inconspicuous as possible.

You had learned from experience that the precious visits from the men were less painful if you were already huddled against the wall, minimizing the areas they could hit with their fists or batons. The cold, hard surface of the wall offered a strange sense of comfort, even as fear and uncertainty gnawed at you.

The the heavy, metallic sound of your cell door creaking open, and instinctively, your entire body tensed up, bracing for yet another brutal attack from the armed men who derived joy from taunting and tormenting you. You prepared yourself for the rough hands and the mocking jeers that usually followed. But this time, instead of the expected harsh touches and cruel laughter, you were met with something entirely different—a voice you hadn't expected to hear again.

"Liebe..." the voice whispered weakly, the word hanging in the air like a fragile thread of hope. Puzzled and intrigued, you slowly pulled your head out from its tucked, defensive position and glanced toward the source of the unexpected whisper. The sight that met your eyes made you freeze.

Kurt stood in shock, his eyes glued to your fragile, timid form curled on the floor. The scene overwhelmed him, causing his breath to hitch in his throat. He slowly knelt down, every movement deliberate as if sudden actions might shatter the fragile peace. His hands, steady yet trembling with restrained emotion, gently set his swords on the floor with a quiet clink that echoed in the silence. "Liebe...y/n..." he rasped quietly, his voice a soft whisper, trying his best to sound calm and composed despite the complete internal storm of rage and anguish brewing within him.

His heart ached with as he reached out, his fingers hovering just above your form, not wanting to startle you further. You stared with uncertainty, your body naturally flinching away, so used to a heavy hand and harsh touches that left you in anguish. For some reason, your brain couldn't differentiate between your lover and the men who had been torturing you.

"I-It's me, Kurt..." he said with a pained strain, his voice cracking as if it hurt to speak, "It's okay...I'm here now." He muttered, his hand gently touching your bruised body, his fingers trembling slightly as if afraid to cause you more pain. You made a quiet whine, a soft sound that conveyed both your relief and your lingering fear. Looking at him and realizing that he had come to you, that he was truly here, you felt a wave of emotion wash over you.

He was here, and you were safe.

The room around you seemed to blur as the significance of his presence settled in, the promise of protection and care easing the tension consuming you. A cry escaped your throat and you fell into him, his arms instantly wrapped around your body, his tail following suit. "Shh, sh...Es ist okay, ich bin jetzt hier." he whispered, trying his best to soothe you while your cheeks dampened with tears.

He held you tightly and let you cry, feeling the tremors of your sobs against his chest. He could hear the terror and desperation in your muffled wails, each one a heartbreaking testament to your pain. Your arms and hands gripped him, but your hold was weak, your strength sapped by the inhumane treatment you endured. You were in dire need of medical attention, evident from your pale complexion and labored breathing. Despite this, he didn't want to let go yet; he wanted to keep you in his arms, so afraid to let go and lose you again.

"You're safe now, liebling," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "Oh... I was so scared... so terribly scared I might not reach you in time." His heart ached with the memory of the fear and helplessness he had felt, and he vowed never to let you out of his sight again.

"Let's go...hold on..." he said, gripping you tightly as his tail moved and wrapped securely around his swords. With a swift motion, he teleported you to the jet. The floor beneath you was hard and unyielding, but the environment around you was far more welcoming and comforting than the cold, harsh cell that had been stained with your own blood.

He leaned back to grab something, his arms unwrapping from your body, but your grip grew stronger on him. "No...no, don't go," you were desperate for him, so terrified of his absence, your mind was in pieces, the aftermath of the torture you went through on full display as you became more and more attached to his presence. Needing him like he were the only thing keeping you from drowning in the thrashing waters that plagued your thoughts.

"I'm not going anywhere, schatz... I am just getting a blanket for you," Kurt soothed reassuringly. His tail, nimble and gentle, reached out to grab the blanket so his arms could remain wrapped securely around you, providing a sense of comfort and stability that you desperately needed. He carefully grabbed the soft blanket and draped it over you, making sure you were warm, and continued to hold you close against his body in a protective embrace.

The presence of the other X-Men in the jet went by unnoticed by you, They started up the jet and began the flight back towards the mansion where you could be properly treated. Right now, your only focus was on Kurt, his presence and touch being the only things grounding you in that moment of anxiety.

As you finally began to give in to the much-needed sleep your body was desperate for, your eyes caught a glimpse of the swords Kurt had carried with him into the facility. Their brilliant, silver shine was now dulled with the stains of crimson, splattered and smeared across the once pristine blades, telling a silent tale of what transpired before he found you. You blinked, trying to focus more on them, but his tail pushed them out of view, obscuring the unsettling sight.

Kurt didn't want you to witness the sheer carnage he had wrought, as he was completely blinded by a bitter and relentless rage that consumed him entirely. In his fury, he slaughtered so many men that he lost count, not even realizing the extent of his actions. All he could think about was wanting you back in his arms, where you would be safe and protected from the horrors that had befallen you. His blades were stained with the hateful blood of those men who had caused you so much harm, and he felt a twisted sense of satisfaction, even though deep down he knew it was wrong.

But he didn't care about the morality of his actions, not now at least. Seeing you so badly hurt had ignited a fire within him, a burning guilt that was only somewhat lifted by the vengeance he exacted. His mind was clouded, but in the chaos, all he wanted was get you home safe where you could be treated. None of the other X-Men dared say a word to him about what happened, by the time they arrived to help Kurt had already went through the men with ease, his blind rage driving him to kill to get to you.

He carefully adjusted his hold, making sure that you could lay your head more comfortably against him. He wanted to ensure that you couldn't see the gleaming blades. His expression was a complex mixture of trouble and deep worry, reflecting the weight of the situation and his concern for your well-being. Leaning closer, he whispered softly, "Rest, liebe... we will get you fixed up soon. Just hold on a little longer..."

You couldn't argue with him now. Your body was in need of rest and you finally felt safe enough to fall asleep. It was such a relief to sleep without worrying about someone coming in and hurting you. You closed your eyes as he held you tight, whispering sweet nothings to you as you slowly allowed your body to fall into a deep slumber. All you knew now was that you had a long recovery ahead of you, and he would be by your side the entire time.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight and @/strangergraphics

Tag List: @southside-otaku

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[redtsundere-writes]

Part 1: Ear Cleaning

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst.

Word Count: 1936 words.

A/N: From popular demand, I'll post the fic here too. Enjoy! :3

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Sukuna walked through the corridors illuminated by the dark sun that ruled among the kingdoms. His long, heavy footsteps made the marble floor rumble under his weight. His sharp profile, tattooed shoulders and large body, contrasted by the reddish sky of the cursed land, terrifying any small human who encountered him. He was a king who could control anything thanks to the terror that his large body and absolute power conveyed. He had the power on his hands to kill whatever and whenever he wanted like an omnipotent god, but he liked to watch his rats run from one side to the other to obey his mercy. It amused him to play with his servants to the point of making them cry, tremble or, in extreme cases, commit suicide. He had plenty of servants, so he could afford to kill as many as he wanted. The poor uniformed humans trembled if his dark eyes rested on them. They all tried to dodge him at all costs to avoid performing tasks that involved being near him, especially cleaning his ears. 

Being a monster with senses sharpened to the max, he hated having his ears touched, but it was necessary for him to clean them to have his five senses ready for any battle. He is not someone ticklish, but his ears are the most sensitive part of his entire body. He could clean his own ears himself, but what kind of almighty, omnipotent king would clean his own ears when others could do it?

His eyes navigated through the long and endless corridors of the terrifying castle where he lived with all his subjects. The king's home was a place where darkness, cold, and uncertainty dominated the atmosphere. Even though it was surrounded by luxuries, it felt more like a secret attic than a castle fit for a king. Silver chandeliers, red candles parading on the walls and furniture upholstered with exotic fabrics from around the world decorated each room that was commonly surrounded by portraits made by hundreds of artists who feared for their lives. 

His predatory eyes sought out the first poor servant that crossed his path. He heard the bristles of a broom being scrubbed against the floor. Sukuna spotted a small figure sweeping one of the guest rooms. There you were, humming a song softly from your childhood as you made the broom dance from side to side. You were so focused on your task that you didn't notice the king standing dangerously close to you. As you turned around, you suddenly bumped into his imposing body, giving you a mini heart attack. Dressed in elegant robes, gold rings on each finger and with a wicked grin on his face, he was looking at you as if you were a despicable creature he could get rid of in the blink of an eye. 

You are the youngest and most inexperienced servant in the entire castle. You had not been living there for more than two months, so your direct interactions with the king had been few. Sukuna saw you from head to toe. He remembered you perfectly from the day he met you. Your neatly combed pigtails with two white bows showed off your innocence, the corset accentuated your small waist and the long brown skirt covered your promising legs. He accepted it, you were cute. Other than that, you were a disgusting human like everyone else, but there was something about you that caught his attention. Sukuna didn't know exactly what it was that you had. For the time being, he would continue to treat you as you deserved for being a nasty rat. Immediately, you knelt before your majesty. Your head rested in your hands against the freshly swept floor, your fingers barely touching his feet because of the closeness. 

“Are you having fun?” Sukuna asked, sarcastic. 

“No, my king,” you answered quickly, avoiding making eye contact. 

Sukuna placed one of his bare feet on your back. The oppressive weight crushed you against the cold floor. You prayed inwardly that your bones wouldn't start to creak. You bit your lower lip and closed your eyes tightly to avoid letting out a moan of pain. Having satisfied his need to make the new maid see who her master is, he removed his foot from your agonized back. You took a deep breath to fill your lungs with air again. 

“To my room. Now,” he ordered without deigning to look at you before leaving the room. You remained on the floor, slowly catching your breath. A metal taste touched your tongue. You bit your lower lip so hard that it was bleeding. 

This was the first time he ordered something directly from you. Usually you followed Uraume's general instructions like everyone else. You sat up slowly to regain what little balance you had left. You followed him to his room as he had ordered. Your heart was going to burst out of your chest from how nervous you were. As your small steps echoed like a pleasant trickle in the gloom, the servants came out of their hiding spots to quickly sign you in. They wished you the best of luck and that you would make it out of his room alive. That only put more pressure on you. 

You entered your majesty's luxurious room. Your eyes were fascinated to see so many extravagances in one place. Crystal chandeliers, rugs made of exotic animals and gold decorative pieces. All the furniture was precisely designed to suit his majesty's tastes and everything was neatly arranged. Unlike the rest of the castle, his room was a museum full of expensive artworks that the average person could not even imagine existed. 

The great fearsome monster was reclining on a red satin-covered divan. His eyes were closed, his four arms crossed over his broad chest and his legs barely touched the floor due to his impressive height. You approached him carefully so as not to ruin his peace. Next to the divan was a wooden cabinet with all the necessary tools to groom him thoroughly.

“Clean my ears,” he ordered in a gruff voice, cocking his head over the rest for you to begin immediately. “You better do a good job,” he threatened you. You swallowed dryly because it would be the first time you would touch his majesty and if you did it wrong, the last.

You took out the necessary instruments to carry out the task. You knelt in front of his head. As expected, the king smelled exquisite. It was strong, woody, and addictive. His pink hair was soft to the touch, but you tried to avoid touching it so as not to muss it. You dedicated yourself to cleaning the outside of his ear with a swab, concentrating on the helix and the back of the ear. Your hands were delicate around his sensitive ears and the friction did not bother him because it was minimal and warm. Sukuna's body began to relax as time passed. If he didn’t focus, he could fall asleep. 

Sukuna felt a shiver run down his back as you stuck a small wooden spatula into his ear to remove the excess earwax that prevented him from hearing well. You carefully dug so as not to hurt him. You could feel his discomfort in the way he squeezed his eyelids with each movement you made.

“Let me know if I get too deep, my king,” you said with a shaky voice. 

“Just do your damn job,” he answered grudgingly.

You continued cleaning his ear little by little. The task was not as complicated as you thought, but you could not let your guard down with a king who can decide your fate with a snap of his fingers. After wiping the outside with absorbent cotton, you were finally done with the first ear. Sukuna was falling asleep until you asked him if he could lie down on his opposite side so you could proceed with his other ear. He did so with a grunt of annoyance, as he was very comfortable on that side, while the couch creaked under the weight.

You took a deep breath. All you had to do was repeat what you had already done, and you would finish the task alive. You watched mesmerized as Sukuna's tattooed chest rose and fell from his steady breathing. Sukuna let out a whimper as soon as you stuck the spatula in too far. You already felt your throat being slit for a simple mistake. 

“Be careful! Can’t you do something so simple?” He grumbled. 

You apologized immediately and continued on your task as you lowered your head in fear. “Damn humans,” he thought with a frown. As soon as your magic fingers touched his ear, he got over his anger and returned to the oasis of relaxation where he left off. 

Sukuna let out a yawn as soon as you finished. A proud smile of your own escaped your lips. You had survived your first direct order. You glanced at the time on the large gold clock hanging over the door. It was getting late, and you had to get back to the kitchen soon to help with the dinner preparations. You returned the utensils to their respective places and got up to politely leave the place. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sukuna asked you as he got up from the couch to move to his giant bed. “Massage my head,” he ordered once again. You nodded obediently. 

His majesty's bed was lined with the softest fabrics in the world. The silk pillows were engraved with the flags of the kingdom, the blankets were of pure wool and the mattress appeared to be made of goose feathers. Sukuna's heavy head was on your comfortable lap. Your soft thighs were softer than her own pillows. Your magic fingers massaged his temples in circles. You could hear him purring subtly like a contented kitten, even though he was physically not as cute as one.

Before long, Sukuna was fast asleep. Seeing his eyes closed and his light breathing, you decided to go with the other servants to continue your work. As soon as you got off the bed, he left his heat provider on his side. Before you could continue your way to the exit, you heard that terrible voice behind you.

“Who told you could leave?” You froze in place and turned to face him. His red eyes looked at you with disdain, more on the terrifying side. “Come here,” your heart did a backflip when you heard that command. 

More than an order, it ended up being a warning. He pulled you by the white apron to capture you in his four strong arms. The warmth of his body and yours merged, causing the temperature to rise between you. Your body began to sweat from nerves. You didn't know what his intention was with you. You had never been with a man like this before, let alone a tyrant twice your size. All worry disappeared from your mind as he began to stroke your body slowly, taking care not to scratch you with his long black claws. 

Slowly, you could feel on your back as his majesty fell asleep. Sukuna did not snore as you thought he would. He let out a fainter, quieter sound, it was almost like a kitten with a stuffy nose. His arms around your waist and shoulders, his heavy breathing and comfortable chest encouraged you to fall asleep. “His majesty's orders,” you thought so you wouldn't feel so guilty about falling asleep.

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[gaysindistress]

Imagine Bucky with a partner who isn’t quite….right (pt. 2)

part one

“The Death will mark the end of Angelic peace within and thus will begin the reign of Chaos.”

A prophecy that has haunted me since she uttered the words.

A yellow eyed, wide mouthed demon with razor sharp claws and a sickening sweet voice relied it to me in a dream when i was only a few years old. I’d kept the words to myself in fear that i would be made into an example for consorting with demons. I’d swore to never tell another soul in fear that my life would be made into a mockery and i would wish for death to come. I’d condemned myself to a life of isolation and confinement so that no one would find out what the demon told me.

However promises cannot be kept for long when innocence and manipulation are at play.

I should’ve known that telling that boy would wind up with the town turning against me. He smiled so prettily at me as he took my hand in his and led me away from town. He knew what to say as he stroked my cheek and pushed my hair behind my ear. He guessed my reaction to a perfectly timed kiss to the corner of my lips with the promise of more. He knew how to get me to confess the words carved into my heart by the demon without me even knowing.

As he laid me down in the grass meadow miles behind the church and slid between my legs, he asked me to tell him all of the secrets I’ve never told a soul. His lips blazed a path of holy redemption down my neck and across my chest as Hell touched words spilled from mine. Faintly I could hear the crunching of grass and mutters of angry townsfolk but nothing could tear me away from the false sense of safety he gave me. His warmth left me when my final sin was confessed.

Disgust filled eyes bore down into me.

Sharp nails dug into my jaw bone.

Acidic spit burned my skin as he spewed his God’s teachings and condemned me for my transgressions.

Ancestral screams shredded my soul and throat as I tried to beg him to stop.

No tears found their way down my face, possibly the thing that solidified my fate in these people’s eyes.

For a moment as he pushed away from me as if the mere touch of my skin would soil his purity, I caught a glimpse of her.

Standing in between two pine trees, the creature that was responsible for all of this lurked and did nothing.

Hair wet with a black substance that smelled of all that is foul and vile was piled on top of her head in a haphazard manner. A few clumps of it fell around her face in a way that might’ve been conveyed innocence if it were anyone other than this yellow eyed abomination.

Her smile, lined with rows of dagger like teeth, stretched from cheekbone to cheekbone as she observed the scene before her.

“The Death, my child. The Death is upon us.”

“Chaos. You have to be Chaos,” the pale Asgardian gasped in admiration and astonishment after several moments of contemplation.

The golden haired one I’d come to know as Thor visibly shrunk away from me. Steve shared a look with Anthony. Dr. Banner’s head dropped to his tablet and he began to ferociously type away. Sam pulled a bewildered face and looked to Bucky for clarification but received nothing.

A smile, well a predator’s grin more like it, pulled at my lips. The familiar motion released a burst of vile delight that began to flood my mind.

A sudden rush of such twisted energy at the idea that he knew who I was proved to be more than my resolve could handle in that moment.

My cheeks began to ache in an effort to prevent it from reaching cheekbone to cheekbone. The sickening sensation of sticky mist pricked at my skin. The eye that the boy had cut out blurred for half a second, indicating that the facade of normality there faltered as I regained control of myself.

All of this was well observed by the pale Asgardian as he kept his eyes trained on me and waited for my answer.

“Must I be?” Is what all I could manage in a moment where I knew much else would result in a complete loss of control.

“Hesiod wrote that you were an endless void of nothingness in which the universe sprang from.”

Steve cleared his throat, possibly in hopes to distract everyone from realization of what I truly am. Sam kept quiet with the two scientists muttered amongst themselves about what Loki meant.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Thor’s hand twitch, no doubt willing his prized hammer to his side should he need it.

Bucky, from where he had been reading on the couch, chuckled under his breath and nodded in agreement.

“If only you knew.”

Such simplicity to his words. To his appraisal of both the Asgardian’s knowledge and his understanding of me.

Such simplicity to his underlying notions of me. To his feelings regarding me. To the love that he feels for me.

“And what do you think, Asgardian? Do you believe Hesoid? Am I an endless void of nothingness in which the universe sprang from?” I posed with a twitch of that demonic smile gracing my face.

A cold hand touched my lower back.

My name was called once, twice. Perhaps a third them before I turned to find Bucky at my side. His hand moved from my lower back to grasp my hip and draw in. He pressed a kiss to my ear before whispering, “let’s get you out of here.”

I narrowed my eyes at him in confusion when he pulled away. I went to ask him what he meant but the look of concern in his eyes stopped me short.

I only nodded in agreement and allowed him to bid our joint farewells so I could regain my composure. I cared not for the social rules that I broke as I slipped away and found the stairs where I waited for bucky to join me. Tendrils from the shadows surrounding me stretched and reached out until they could touch me. If you listened carefully, more often than not their nearly silent song could be heard.

“The Death has marked the end of Angelic peace within and thus has begun the reign of Chaos.”

[reunionatdawn]

My Analysis of Sylvain's Promiscuity

(Japanese Translation) Sylvain: So, the persistent stares of women, the appraising looks of noble daughters… I had to smile and accept them. …Because I had the Crest, you see. Byleth: That's not true. Sylvain: It's already too late now, but I understand. …I should have just said one word, "no".

This part of Sylvain's Japanese A-Support with Byleth really stood out to me. He felt like he should have just said "嫌だ" (iya da). It is a rather strong expression that conveys not just a simple "no" or "I don't want to," but also a feeling of being disgusted or significantly displeased by something. Based on the context and his tone of voice here, it strongly implied that he was remembering some specific traumatic memory from his past regarding sexual consent.

(Japanese Translation) Mercedes: And many women have approached you, targeting your Crest. ...I won't ask what happened. But I have a feeling that deep down in your heart, you hate and fear women...

Mercedes could tell that Sylvain didn't just hate women; he was afraid of them. She knew that something traumatic probably happened to him that he didn't want to talk about. I think he was probably taken advantage of at a young age by an older woman who was trying to get pregnant with a Crest baby. She forced herself on him and he didn't feel like he was capable of saying no.

Felix: And you never consider how your actions hurt others…or how you hold them back. Sylvain: That's never my intention. Come on, you know me better than that. I'm not really—Look, if that's the impression I've given you, then I'm sorry.

Sylvain was totally unapologetic about how his womanizing affected Ingrid. And he didn't care about hurting any of the girls he pumped and dumped. But he was very apologetic to Felix for hurting his feelings. The localizers seemed to be aware that there was supposed to be a connection between Sylvain's C-Support with Felix...

Sylvain: You think I'd cheat? On you, baby? Never. Come on, you should know me better than that. You're the only one for me. I swear.

...And his C-Support with Byleth. He apparently expected Felix to know him better than that to think he'd ever really cheat on him, even as he flirted with girls right in front of him. Which is an... unusual way for him to approach their relationship. But survivors of childhood sexual abuse often cope by engaging in sexual promiscuity.

(Japanese Translation) Sylvain: I mean, being dumped or dumping someone, it's a common story, isn't it?

Sylvain tried to downplay it in their B-Support, but he was very hurt after getting dumped by Felix in their C-Support. He was not expecting Felix to apologize to him and truly thought it was over between them. And he seemed to be taking the pain of that breakup out on the village girl he dumped in his C-Support with Byleth.

(Japanese Translation) Sylvain: That girl too, just because there was another woman, there shouldn't be a reason to get that angry.

CSA can distort a person's understanding of love and intimacy. It can create a split between emotional intimacy and physical intimacy, making it difficult for them to experience love and sex as interconnected. Sylvain did not inherently associate sex with love. So, he truly didn't understand why his casual flings would be considered cheating or why it would even make Felix jealous or angry.

(Japanese Translation) Sylvain: Sigh… Seeing the pained expression of a cute girl, it's hard to handle. (Option 1) Byleth: It doesn't look like it. Sylvain: No, no, it's really hard. I'm still pretty depressed about this. (Option 2) Byleth: Really? (Male Byleth) Sylvain: Ah, it really is painful. I feel like I might collapse on my knees any moment now. …Well then, Professor, they say the best way to heal from this kind of love pain is a new love, right? How about going out with me for a bit? Let's go woo some girls together! (Female Byleth) Sylvain: It's obviously hard, isn't it? ...Professor, you can comfort me if you want. Oh, the other day, I got some good tea leaves! How about it, in my room...

Sylvain didn't love any of the girls he slept with. But he was using his hook ups as a way to fill the void of true love and intimacy.

Ingrid: When you were fifteen, you sought—relentlessly, might I add—to involve yourself with Lord Gwendal's daughter.

CSA blurs the survivor's understanding of healthy boundaries. Sylvain did not want to get married. In fact, he said that he would have run away if he had the courage. But he had no say in the matter. Some survivors may develop hypersexual behaviors as a way to regain control over their bodies. It can be a way to exert power in situations where they had previously felt powerless. By being sexually active on their own terms, they might reclaim a sense of agency.

(Japanese Translation) Sylvain: I just picked up that girl from around here. I thought we'd just have some fun and then go our separate ways. But it seems like she ended up getting more attached to me than I expected. Man, what a hassle. Byleth: You're too frivolous. Sylvain: What are you talking about, Professor? This kind of casual fun is the most comfortable for me. …Well, no matter what you think, I have no intention of changing my ways. You see, even though I'm a good-for-nothing, I'm still a noble with a Crest… I try to avoid getting too involved. It only brings trouble. Eventually, I'll be quietly married off to someone suitable, and that'll be the end of it.

Abuse can severely impact a person's self-esteem and sense of self-worth. Some survivors may engage in promiscuous behavior as a way to seek validation or affection. Sylvain believed he was a good-for-nothing and doubted whether he was worthy of love. His sexual conquests were also a way to combat his poor self-esteem.

(Japanese Translation) Sylvain: If by any chance a child without a Crest is born, that generation is just given up on… But generally, the head of the family keeps having children until one with a Crest is born. Then, the child with the Crest becomes the next head and repeats the same thing. You understand? For commoner girls, someone like me is easy prey. Byleth: That's not a nice way to put it... Sylvain: Even if you say that... Should I say that it's a good stepping-stone to becoming a noble?

Survivors may find it hard to believe that others have good intentions, fearing that getting close to someone will lead to betrayal or harm. Sylvain assumed that every girl who showed interest had an ulterior motive. In the English version of his B-Support with Byleth, he lamented how girls viewed him as a trophy and a studhorse.

In Japanese, he was even more cynical. "格好の獲物" (kakkou no emono) literally translates to "prime catch" or "ideal prey." It is often used to describe someone that is seen as an easy or attractive target, whether in a literal hunting sense or in a metaphorical sense, such as someone being an easy victim for exploitation, manipulation, or attack. The phrase can carry a negative connotation, implying that the person is vulnerable or easy to take advantage of.

(English) Sylvain: If I marry a girl and she gives birth to a child with a Crest, that kid might become the next head of House Gautier. (Japanese Translation) Sylvain: If they can have a child with a Crest, that child might become the next head of the family.

The original Japanese version of this sentence didn't mention marriage. Nobility status is granted to any child who bears a Crest, regardless of whether they're a bastard. And so, a commoner woman wouldn't even need to marry Sylvain to benefit from his blood. All she would need to do is sleep with him and become pregnant with a child who bears the Crest of Gautier.

(Japanese Translation) Sylvain: Well, nowadays with our diluted blood, most of what's born are guys like my older brother, though… Crest-bearers have always been both envied and desired by people. I understand the value of my blood, in my own way. …To the point of disgust.

I don't think the girls that Sylvain was hooking up with in his Byleth Supports were using him. They seemed genuinely hurt by his behavior. But it would not be too farfetched to believe that Sylvain had an encounter with a female sexual predator in the past.

(Japanese Translation) Ingrid: …And stop making jokes like that guy did about being fine with dying.

Engaging in promiscuous behavior often involves taking risks. It can even be a form of self-harm like cutting. After making advances on Lord Gwendal's daughter, Sylvain was almost killed by her father. And he not only expected to get stabbed eventually, but he did not care if he did. He just laughed and joked that it would be fine if he died.

(Japanese Translation) Sylvain: It's fine, as long as you're okay… If you're alive, then I…

I'm sure that Sylvain was not really joking here. Engaging in promiscuous behavior is also a way to dissociate from one's emotions. As children, Felix and Sylvain had made a promise that they would always be together until they died together. Sylvain knew he was going to be forced into an arranged marriage after graduation. Apparently, he didn't want to have "the talk" with Felix and deal with a painful breakup. He only allowed himself to engage in casual relationships because he wouldn't feel bad about dumping them later. He was unable to be with the person he really wanted, so he slept around to avoid dealing with his pain.

[shizuturnspages]

How would Diluc react to a darling from a crime family (they ran away when they were a child and despise them and everything they stand for, but are deeply insecure that they might be like them)

Sins of the Past, Shackles of the Present

Synopsis: Diluc knows what it’s like to live in the shadow of a painful legacy, though your past is far darker than his. That shared understanding, combined with his yandere tendencies, makes him even more protective of you—both from others and from yourself. Pairing: Yandere Diluc with a darling from a criminal family

Diluc’s Initial Reaction

❥ When Diluc first learns about your family, he’s shocked, but not disgusted. Instead, he feels a surge of anger—not at you, but at the people who tried to define your life through their sins.

❥ “You’re nothing like them,” he insists, gripping your hands tightly. His voice is low and steady, filled with conviction. “Don’t let their shadows darken your light.”

Protectiveness on Overdrive

❥ Your criminal family becomes an instant enemy in Diluc’s eyes. He sees them as a lingering threat to your safety and happiness, and he won’t rest until they’re no longer a factor in your life.

❥ If your family ever tries to reach out to you, Diluc will intercept their attempts—whether it’s by confiscating letters, cutting off their resources, or making them “disappear” entirely.

❥ “You don’t need them,” he tells you firmly. “You have me now.”

Insecurity and Reassurance

❥ When you express fears that you might share some of your family’s traits, Diluc is quick to shut that idea down.

❥ “You’re nothing like them,” he says, his tone fierce. “Your kindness, your strength—it’s all yours. Nothing they did or stood for could ever change that.”

Emotional Dependency

❥ Diluc uses your insecurities to deepen your bond, becoming the rock you lean on whenever those doubts creep in. He’s always there to reassure you, to remind you that you’re better than the people who raised you.

❥ But over time, his protectiveness becomes suffocating. He doesn’t just want to protect you from your family—he wants to shield you from anything that could remind you of them, even if that means isolating you from the outside world.

Scenario: A Past That Won’t Stay Buried

The Dawn Winery was unusually quiet that evening, save for the crackle of the fireplace. You sat on the sofa, staring into your tea, as Diluc stood nearby, watching you with a concerned expression.

“You’ve been quiet all day,” he said softly, his deep voice breaking the silence. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, gripping the cup tightly in your hands. “They sent a letter.”

His body tensed immediately. “Who?”

“My family,” you whispered. “They found me.”

Diluc’s jaw clenched, his crimson eyes flashing with barely restrained anger. He crossed the room in a few quick strides, kneeling in front of you and taking your hands in his. “What did they want?”

“They said they want me to come back. That they’ve changed. But I know it’s a lie. They just want to use me, like they always did.”

His grip on your hands tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to convey the intensity of his emotions. “You’re not going back,” he said firmly. “You belong here. With me.”

You looked away, your voice trembling. “What if I’m like them, Diluc? What if—what if I can’t escape who I am?”

“No.” His tone was sharp, cutting through your doubts like a blade. He cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You are nothing like them. Do you hear me? Whatever blood runs through your veins, it doesn’t define you. Your actions, your heart—that’s what matters. And I see you for who you truly are.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you leaned into his touch, your resolve wavering. “But what if they don’t stop? What if they come for me?”

A dark look crossed his face, and for a moment, you saw a side of him that he usually kept hidden. “They won’t get the chance,” he said coldly. “I’ll make sure of it.”

You didn’t ask what he meant by that, and he didn’t elaborate. But later that night, as you slept, Diluc was already making preparations. He’d deal with your family himself, quietly and efficiently.

Because no one—not even your own blood—would take you away from him.

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

It's time for today's Merlin au! This time featuring some Mergwenthur (mostly focused on Merthur today though, but I have some more prompts planned for Mergwenthur because I love their dynamic!) and Arthur's emotional trauma from growing up under Uther!

Also, the option that won the poll will be the post after this one!

I just want to say that this au idea is so random that I'm pretty sure it came to me in a fever dream, so bon appétit my friends! :D

In this au, set in season 5, a sorcerer working for Morgana sneaks into the castle and creates three dolls: one of Arthur, one of Gwen, and one of Merlin. We see in the show that puppets and dolls with a likeness to their target can be used in dark rituals, and that's what this sorcerer plans to do.

However, Camelot's guards manage to catch and apprehend the sorcerer (whose powers just mysteriously failed them when the guards attacked, and no one sees Merlin loitering in the servants' hallway nearby) before the sorcerer could bind the doll of Arthur to the king. So, the small dolls of Gwen and Merlin are bound to them, but Arthur's isn't.

After the sorcerer has been locked up, Arthur discovers the dolls in the sorcerer's belongings and has Gaius take a look at them. Gaius tells him that they can go ahead and destroy the doll of Arthur since it isn't bound to anyone, but they'll need to wait to destroy Gwen and Merlin's dolls, since they had already been bound with magic and now any damage done to the dolls would be done to either of them.

Arthur is, rightfully, horrified by this and, as gently as he could, placed the two dolls in a secret compartment hidden in a wall of his room. He locks the two dolls away, feeling relief that no magical harm could come to the two most important people in his life.

Meanwhile, Gaius tells Merlin and Gwen about the dolls and their temporary solution to lock them away. Merlin's kicking himself for not being able to stop the sorcerer sooner, but he soon gets to work helping Gaius look for a spell to break the bond between them and the dolls.

However, as the days go on and no solution comes up, the whole doll situation falls on the backburner as more magical situations happen that demand Gaius and Merlin's immediate attention, leaving the whole doll mess to fall to the wayside. They'd find a solution eventually, they reasoned, and their temporary solution of locking them away had worked perfectly so far, so they should focus on the more pressing matters at hand.

However, Arthur couldn't seem to quite get the dolls out of his head. The cursed objects that could take away the two most important people in his life were just sitting there! Arthur's fears about the dolls ran wild, so Arthur asked Gaius for information on those types of dolls. After all, they could more easily take precautions around the dolls if they knew more about them.

Gaius directs Arthur to a certain book in Geoffrey's library that he knew had several chapters dedicated to the magic dolls and their potential uses. Arthur thanked Gaius and, that night, dedicated himself to reading all about the dolls so he could better protect his loved ones.

Most of what Arthur read disgusted and terrified him, reading about horrifying methods of torture and execution using the dolls, which would transfer every sensation and emotion directed at them onto the person they were bound to. Eventually though, Arthur came to a shorter chapter about the positive uses of the dolls. He read about druids who had taken vows of silence using the dolls to convey their affections for their loved ones, and even powerful sorcerers using similar dolls to comfort their far-away families.

As much as Arthur tried to shove that idea violently from his mind, it became fixed in his thoughts like a fly in a spiderweb. A way for someone else to feel the full depths of his love without having to use words?

Arthur, for all of his faults, knew himself. He knew that he was not the best at conveying his emotions. Words, no matter how long he thought over them, always felt like pale reflections of the enormity of his emotions, especially in regards to his love for Gwen and Merlin. With Gwen, he often stumbled over his words, unsure of how to express the depths of his love for her, even three years into marriage. With Merlin, on the other hand, any of his attempts at affection inevitably devolved into banter and friendly name-calling, never being able to truly tell Merlin how much he meant to Arthur.

Could these dolls be the solution? Could he somehow use them to convey his feelings for his beloved Gwen and Merlin? Arthur found his eyes frequently drifting towards the secret compartment where he knew the dolls lay. Could he...

Eventually, the temptation became so strong that Arthur couldn't resist anymore. Surely, if he was gentle and careful, then everything would be fine, right? Either Merlin and Gwen would be able to feel Arthur love through the little dolls, or nothing would happen and Arthur would go about his day only slightly disappointed.

With his mind made up, Arthur checked the lock on his chamber's door to ensure that he would be alone, and made his way over to the secret compartment in his wall, unlocking it. Sitting inside, exactly where he left them, were the dolls of Merlin and Gwen.

Arthur quickly darted over to his window, where had a clear view of Merlin talking with Gwaine in the courtyard. If anything happened to Merlin because of the doll, he would know right away, and he could reassure himself that this little experiment of his wasn't doing any harm.

They were both small, with his hand being able to cover the entirety of either doll with the exception of its head. As carefully as Arthur could, he pulled each doll out of the wall and set them down gently on his desk, making sure to cushion the back of their heads as he set them down.

It wasn't until Arthur saw staring down at the dolls did he realize that the book never specified exactly how emotions were transferred. Sensations were easy enough, but it never said how to convey emotions themselves.

Well, Arthur reasoned with himself, it couldn't be that difficult. He gently picked up the doll that resembled Merlin (it even had a little jacket and a red scarf on it and everything) and held it in front of him. Arthur took a few moments to contemplate his next move, before landing on an acceptable strategy.

Willfully ignoring the voice in his head (which sounded remarkably similar to his father) that was berating Arthur for seeking comfort from these dolls like a little girl, Arthur brought the Merlin doll close to his chest and held it there, trying his best to simulate a hug. There, that was a good start!

Moving back over to the window, Arthur was relieved to see Merlin unharmed and still speaking with Gwaine with a large smile on his face, not showing any signs of pain or discomfort.

Emboldened and relieved with the knowledge that he wasn't causing any harm, Arthur next had to figure out if he was really sending his feeling through the doll, or if this was just a huge waste of Arthur's time.

Keeping his eyes trained on Merlin, Arthur brought the doll up to his face and pressed a gentle kiss onto its forehead. To his amazement, right as he had kissed the doll, Merlin suddenly stopped speaking looked rather confused, touching a hand to his forehead, as if trying to check to see if anything was there, while a blush rose on his cheeks.

Arthur could feel a huge grin break out on his face. It had worked! Merlin had felt the affection he had shown to the doll!

Arthur, cuddling the Merlin doll: Get cherished idiot! Get absolutely adored!

Merlin, wondering why the hell he feels someone hugging him: Huh, that's weird.

Over the course of the next week, Arthur experimented with different ways to convey his emotions to Gwen and Merlin through the dolls. He found that holding the dolls close and speaking to them, spilling out all of the words that he was so clumsy with when he was with Gwen or Merlin, worked the most effectively. However, just holding, cuddling, or kissing the dolls had much of the same effect.

Arthur could even see the different it made with Gwen and Merlin! Even though Arthur was too embarrassed to tell them about how he had taken to trying to express his feelings through the dolls, he could tell that both of them were happier and more affectionate with him!

Oh, it was all working out perfectly! Arthur could finally honestly express his love to Merlin and Gwen to its fullest extent, and they were happier in return (even if they didn't quite know why)!

And it was all well and good, up until Merlin was injured. Not by the doll, thank god, because Arthur would never forgive himself if something like that happened. No, it was during a routine hunt through the darkling woods, which of course had to be ruined by bandits.

Arthur had thought nothing of it at first, as it was a smaller and untrained group, but horror gripped him near the end of the fight as he turned around to see Merlin, coming out of hiding and totally unaware of the bandit's crossbow aimed at him. Arthur tries shouting for Merlin to move out of the way, but he's too late. Between one heartbeat and the next, there's suddenly a crossbow bolt sticking out of Merlin's back.

Arthur makes quick work of the four bandits standing between him and Merlin, and frantically starts trying to treat and bandage the wound on Merlin's back. The wound is deep, Arthur's panicking, and Merlin's already passed out. Luckily, the knight quickly finished off the rest of the bandits, and they ride as swiftly as they could back to Camelot so Merlin could be treated by Gaius.

Luckily, they were able to get Merlin to Gaius before Merlin lost too much blood or the wound became infected, so Gaius was able to treat Merlin's wound and give him a good prognosis. However, much to everyone's concern, Merlin still hadn't woken up, and Gaius couldn't guarantee when Merlin would wake up or fully recover.

While Gwen stayed by Merlin's side all night, Arthur couldn't bear the sight of Merlin, looking still and broken on a patient's cot. Perhaps that made Arthur weak, but he couldn't ever bear to see his loved ones in pain, knowing that there was nothing he could do to help.

Or... perhaps... there was something he could do to help. Merlin likely couldn't hear what was going on around him, but if he could feel it instead...

Arthur took Merlin's doll from its secret compartment as gently as his desperation would allow. Arthur was pretty sure that there were tears running down his face, but he couldn't bring himself to care about that at the moment.

With trembling hands, Arthur carefully held the doll to his chest, right over his heart. Arthur tries everything he can, from kissing the doll to just speaking to it, telling the little scrap of cloth and magic all of the things he adores about Merlin and how he cannot cope with the thought of losing him.

Everyone is relieved the next day when Merlin wakes up, still weak from his injury, but recovering nonetheless. But man, Merlin had some weird dreams while he was unconscious. He dreamed Arthur was a giant and was hugging him! Merlin tried to play it off for laughs to lighten the mood when Arthur visited him, but Arthur didn't seem to find it nearly as funny as Merlin and Gwen did. Instead, Arthur turned slightly pale at Merlin's words.

After Arthur left, Merlin and Gwen turn to each other and discuss why they think Arthur had reacted like that. They both agree that Arthur had been acting differently lately, but if anything, it was an improvement. Arthur had been more open to both giving and receiving affection with them, and he had been more open with sharing his emotions lately, being overall less of a complete prat.

So, this sudden closed off response was rather suspicious to both of them. After some discussion, they agree to search for an explanation for Arthur's strange shift in behavior. After some snooping around and looking between the gaps on the door to he servant's entrance to Arthur chambers, Merlin and Gwen saw something truly shocking.

Arthur had been removing the dolls that were bound to them to their hiding spot! Did he know how dangerous that was for the both of them! What was he even planning on doing with them?!

Many of their questions were answered, however, when Arthur started pressing kisses to the top of both doll's heads, and both Gwen and Merlin could feel the sensation of the kiss touching their heads. Oh. So that's what the whole doll situation was about, and why both of them were having sudden and unexplainable sensations and bursts of positive emotion.

It made a shocking amount of sense, especially considering how frustrated they knew Arthur could get at his lack of skills in communicating his feelings. Merlin and Gwen turned to each other, and decided to not confront Arthur about this just yet. They could let Arthur have this, and he'd tell them when he was ready.

For now, Arthur would have his peace.

And that's a wrap for this au! Honestly, this au idea was so unique that I don't even know where it came from, but there's a lot of different ways this au could go! One of my favorite ideas is that any injury the person gets is also reflected on the doll, so after Merlin or Gwen goes missing, Arthur obsessively checks the dolls to see if they're unhurt.

Anyways, I've got the au idea that won the poll (an au idea featuring Arthur being an idiot) planned for tomorrow or the next day, so I hope to see you all again soon!

And, as always, thank you for reading though my ramblings! :D

[fillinforlater]

Eleven to One: Needy Bold Confession

Male Reader x Ahn Yujin

Length: 2888 words

Tags: ROUGH SEX, brat taming, nah fuck it, brat breaking, borderline hate sex, cursing, degredation, humiliation, spiting, spanking, slaps, pussy slaps, hardcore sex, mating press, squirting, creampie, tears, queefing, overstimulation, mutual anger, emotional stuff, FUCKED UP kinks mentioned at the end, family issues? ultimate_brat!Yujin / ultimate_brat-breaker!you

TW: ^^ (srsly, read the tags and beware of the end kekw)

Inspiration: the ending has been in planning for months, the rest is literally BFH fueled by Yujin's inability not to look insanely good and fuckable.

Credit: @sooyadelicacies, my beloved co-writer!

(A/N: yo, 100 fics. Thanks for reading!)

"Oh, now you're back."

You haven't even fully entered your apartment yet, but a venomous, annoyed shout already flies your way. You can feel Yujin tremble in rage and disgust—and she is still out of your sight, in another room.

"Yuj—"

"Did you have fun with those Unnies? Did you enjoy breeding them?"

Yujin's voice drips with deadly sarcasm, increasing both in volume and viciousness. You lay down the keys and look through the floor, into the rooms. They're all dark, not a single artificial light turned on. It's quite normal for you to return late, exhausted, either by the stress of work or the constant pounding of pussies. 

Yujin's brattiness increased to a toxic level. It’s probably because of her latest comeback, the hectic promotions and an obvious lack of attention by you. Partially your fault, the breeding had to come first, but you are still the Daddy in this, your house. With deadly coldness you speak into the dark living room:

"How dare you, Yuji—"

"Fine!" she snarls back and you hear the steps of strong leather boots behind you. "If you can hook up all the time with the others, maybe I can find someone else too!"

Eyes wide in disbelief, in unbridled rage, you slowly turn to look at your girlfriend. In the faint light of the moon falling into the apartment, you see the alluring, perfectly sculpted body of Yujin. Her pale skin and a tiny white crop top reflect some of the grayish rays, but the leather jacket on her shoulders and the tiny, miniscule mini skirt fit in perfectly with the darkness. They suck in the light and your gaze, which also shifts to her full thighs and the knees-high boots of a slut that could also kick ass.

Yujin is glaring, not as the usual bratty, Daddy defying girl, no, as a woman determined to convey you had fucked around and now would suffer the consequences, while also looking like temptation personified.

"Ahn Yujin, what the fuck do you think you're doing, wearing, saying? Someone else? 

“You. Fucking. Belong. To. Me." 

You emphasize each word like an arrow fired straight at her. Yujin sways in place for a second. She isn't playing, even your threatening finger, pointed at her face like the barrel of a gun doesn't faze her. She steps to the side, ready to walk past you.

"I can wear what I want," she snarks and places a hand on her hip. "I can wear what I want, I can fuck who I want. And You. Don't. Own. Me."

The two of you lock eyes. Not a word is said, not a single sound made, yet the tension makes it feel like a billion voices burst out in screams of fear, anger, lust. Your fingers ball into a fist.

"Bitch," you grunt through gritted teeth. "You're mine, bitch. Yujin, you will not go out there."

Yujin reaches past you, doorknob firmly in hand, devilish smirk on her features. She applies pressure.

"What if I just do?"

The door swings open, and it swings open faster when you pin Yujin against it. You stare down at her, trapped in between both of your arms on each side of her head. Yujin bites her lip for a second, but then avoids your eyes and tries to break free from your makeshift cage.

"Is that all that you got?"

Dig your fingers into her straight hair and twist, twist, twist with each second she doesn't beg for mercy for her foolish words. Yujin's face contorts in pain, but it does not lead to her breaking, instead she opens her mouth wide to moan impossibly loud. 

"Harder, Daddy!"

"Are you—"

Pull her back into the apartment by her hair and close the door.

"—fucking out of your mind? Moaning in the hallway—you have gone insane!"

"You can't even talk properly," Yujin responds, her attempts at hiding her winces futile. Her knees finally go weak when you pull her hair down. Unfortunately, you lose your grip on the straight darkness and Yujin frees herself with a quick step backwards.

"Seriously, and you want to be my Daddy. I get someone to take me hard—"

Your hand is like the claw of a falcon in dive, grabbing its helpless victim before finishing it off. In this case, Yujin. She struggles to get a breath out as your digits tighten around her throat. Without relent you push her backwards, her fierceness and the grip on her boots no match for your anger. Somewhere in your large living room, she gives up.

"Ple-please, Daddy, ca-can't breathe."

Yujin falls to her knees and you loosen your grip a little. Just as she takes in new oxygen, you make her take a harsh slap to her face. Tears jump into her eyes, the hit has her flashbanged for a moment—a moment which you use to tear open the slutty mini skirt.

"You have been bad." Your voice is deep, booming straight to Yujin's glowing face with its faint imprint of your hand. "Worse than ever before. Take your punishment!"

Rinse and spit down at her. Bangs stick to her forehead as your saliva runs down her fearful face. From her throat, a hand snakes down into her top until you find a nipple. Pinch it, twist it while doing the same to her cheek.

"You want hard?" you ask, your voice indicating that you don't accept any answer, that her response is unwanted. "Then I'll show you hard."

In a terrible shrill sound, Yujin's crop top tears open. The shocked, panicking idol tries to keep herself upright on your legs, but you kick her hands away. The only stability for her are your hands that attack her body and its beautiful, sensitive spots.

Lips, nipples, tits, they all get resounding smacks that color them in a strong red. Yujin screams, whines and finally moans, but the thought of her experiencing pleasure before you enrages you even more. Slap her flushed cheek to send a wave of numbness and paleness over them before red pain follows in the imprint of your merciless fingers.

"D-Daddy, I'm so—"

"Apology declined." Spit at her again. "You don't mean it and you're far from understanding any of this."

Twist both nipples at the same time. Your constant pulls at them might have stretched out Yujin's tits a bit more. At least they look larger. Or is it just that the image of Eunbi with her enormous bosom is still burned into your mind?

Yujin throws her head back. She arches backwards and her leather jacket finally slides down her shoulders. For the first time, you go on eye level with her—just to immediately bite into her shoulder. This time, her loud, screeching voice is stuck in the back of her throat. Will she ever get her mind back after this?

"You are mine, Yujin, you are fucking mine. You are my whore, a stupid one at that. You don't think I know exactly what I did? I fucking bred Hyewon. I'd do it again. I bred Eunbi and I'd do it again. But you, you aren't ready to be bred!" 

Interrupt your rant to give Yujin more slaps across her baffled, horny, pained face.

"You're a brat! You think if I dumped my seed inside you, if I got you pregnant, you would be ready to raise a child? Hyewon, Eunbi, they are ready. You will be fucking bred when I deem it time. You don't make demands, and you don't get someone else's attention. Yujin

"I have marked you!"

"Sorry, D-Daddy, I'm so-sorry."

The first tears start to roll down, straight from Yujin's ducts over her sore cheeks until they touch your fingers at her jaw. Make her stare up through blurry eyes at your almost hateful expression. You might allow yourself to go mad, but you're tapping into feelings you shouldn't. She is still Yujin, still your girlfriend.

"You might be a confident, independent idol," you growl into her ear, forcing her down until she is laying on the floor and you can drag her skirt away from her crotch. "But you are mine, mine alone. Don't ever do this again, because we both know there is no one else for you.

"Just look at how wet you are, you kinky pain slut."

Yujin's skirt rests at her knees, legs stretched out as best as she can. Your hand rubs her crotch, slick with her juices. Her pink panties are soaked, every inch a darker color than when she bought them. Squeeze the fabric in your fist, like you would wring out a sponge, and juice runs through your fingers.

"This is insane, you're such a needy slut."

"I-I missed you, D-Daddy, I need your touch so bad."

"And still you threaten me with finding someone else, someone who could never satisfy you."

"I—ah, Daddy!"

Get rid of the skirt and give her pussy a harsh slap, shutting down her excuses instantly. Your girlfriend starts to twist and turn on the ground, her breath heavy, her tears heavier as they find the floor.

"You need to be punished, Yujin," you bluntly say with new found calmness. "I know I can make you cum with just slaps, but not tonight. Tonight you will beg me to stop, but I'll only stop when I see fit."

Another slap, on her folds, a millimeter away from her clit. Yujin yelps.

"Do you understand, whore?"

"Y-yes, Daddy," Yujin stutters and looks at you with wide, submissive eyes. "I deserve this punishment."

She bites her lips, her eyes squeeze shut. Sensually, you drag your palm gradually over her labia before you take a swing. 

A wet slap when you hit the drenched panties. Yujin buckles her hips towards the punishing hand and hisses. She is keeping her voice, her reaction down... a crucial mistake.

The smacks don't stop coming. Like a merciless bombing you make the covered lips turn a painful red. Yujin breaks, screams, cries, until her voice spills all of her sins before you:

"Daddy! I'm so-sorry! Your bitch, ha-has been re-really desperate, envious—a needy toy that needs your co-cock and cum!"

Push her panties into the twitching hole a bit and urge her to continue.

"I-I love Daddy, I wa-want him first, for me, bu-but—that wo-would not be fa-fair.

"Daddy needs to breed more."

You lean down to the disheveled face and pull away a couple of dark strands that have landed in Yujin's mouth and in her eyes. You stop her murmurs with a peck on her lips, but your sweetness is short lived. Push her legs apart and fish out your cock. Rub it over her clit and interrupt her hearty moans.

"You are right. You said it yourself. My good girl was never against it, but now you decided to react like this? Ts, what a bitch!"

"I'm so-so-sorry, Daddy."

Your cockhead twitches as you push aside the wet fabric and see the sore, burning mess of Yujin's gorgeous folds. Pretend to tease her, then fill her up without warning.

"Daddy! Ah, fuck!"

Press her knees a bit further apart. Her body is ready for the taking, her insides need to get stimulated, but Yujin knows that she can't deal with your length for long. Her orgasm is certain, right around the corner. It's only natural after weeks without your cock.

"Slo-slow, please," she whimpers, fingers searching for a grip on the smooth floor. "Sen-sen-sensit—hng!"

Yujin chokes. No need to squeeze her throat this time, just give her hard thrusts into the desperate pussy. Pain on the outer lips, followed by overstimulation inside are the catalysts for an earthquake in Yujin's body. Random babbles come through drooling lips as you pump into her recklessly.

"I can't believe you came from just this!" you say with fake shock, never stopping to move your hips. Throughout you make sure that your pelvis hits the outside of her pussy, to make her cry some more. 

Yujin is beyond the point of begging, hell, she doesn't even know what to beg for. It's so bad, it's good—painful punishment and absolute, undeserved, sinful bliss every second, every thrust.

Before she loses her sense of when an orgasm starts and another ends, you go slower. Yujin writhes and twitches, the high fading slowly, until you restart it with fingers violently rubbing her clit.

"Daddy-ahh!"

"Cum, baby," you growl, sweat soaking your suit from the inside. "Don't stop cumming."

More and more slickness. Juice coming out as squirt is just lube getting fucked back into her. Yujin's walls ripple, her thighs as well when you press and fold her.

Pin her arms down with yours right above the mess that was her styled hair. Pin her face down on the ground with yours, tongue fucking her numb mouth. Pin her hips down with yours and force another orgasm out of her. 

"Who else can fuck your pink hole until you cum, until it's loose, until it's stuffed?"

"Daddy, only Daddy!"

Strain her muscles more, the mating press now the ultimate position to suck all the energy out of the young brat. The wet slaps of crotch on crotch are now queefs, loud, but not as loud as Yujin's guttural moans. Viciously, you press your palm on her mouth and make her hear the embarrassing, lewd sounds that come from her pussy.

"You dumb slut," you laugh in between heavy breaths, your own strength gradually declining as you near your own orgasm. "Anything you want to say?"

Yujin's eyes are glassy, filled more with lust than life. She sobs into your ear, snort running down her cheeks.

"I wa-want to be-be Daddy's number one.

"In our family. Please, Daddy! I only wan-want this. Please, I beg you!"

"Family?"

You groan out in shock. As you piston your load in massive spurts into Yujin's clenching heat, the craziest thoughts flood your mind. A family, yes, but the most immoral one imaginable.

A mommy in Eunbi, a caring leader. She knows everyone inside out and never hesitates to help. Hyewon is a different type of mommy, the one who'd like to carry a lot of children, who is submissive to the male of the house, but also smart and successful.

Minju is the beautiful, gullible sister. A klutz that everyone loves, someone who could never harm a fly. Last but not least, Yujin, the center piece, the insanely talented bratty girlfriend of yours and "sister" to Minju. 

Yujin's walls get stretched by the abundance of cum you dump inside of her pussy. Your mind stretches too, comes up with even crazier thoughts. What about an ex coming into your family life, a maid to clean your apartment, a pet to play with, a neighbor to distract, or maybe more realatives? People to fill your absurd family—you're starting to lose it. 

Collapse onto your girlfriend, only your elbows saving her from being painfully squashed by your tired, sweaty body. The two of you breathe heavily to find fresh oxygen in this living room now smelling of sex and sex alone. 

"Are you serious about this family?" you ask after a while. Yujin dries off the last remnants of her tears and gives you obedient puppy eyes. You continue. "Like, with Eunbi and Hyewon and Minju—it's crazy. I guess we are used to crazy, but this is taking it to a whole new level."

Yujin hesitates for a second. She reaches for your face and strokes your cheekbone down to your chin with her wet fingers. Her features contort as if she is about to cry again. You try to heal her—she's cried enough tonight—and press your lips on hers. Just a peek, but Yujin sighs in relief, the last remnants of tension leaving her nude body.

"Y-yes, Daddy," Yujin whispers, "I want that. I want to be together with them, and want to be sure that I won't lose them to you and you to them. Nothing should stand in between us, I-I'll be a good girl in the family, I'll do anything for you. Daddy, please, I'm sorry, don't leav—"

Plant another kiss on the girl below you. The tremble in her voice is like a hot bath for your cold heart, like a tea in winter. It's melting you, breaks the shell that you so attentively keep up around her.

Maybe you went too far. Yujin literally looks broken, the character of the girl, no, your girl, in danger of dissolving and disappearing. Swallow your pride, God dammit.

"Yujin, Yujin, I'm at fault here. No matter how much I hated the thought of you going out in that outfit and meeting another guy, I should not have gone this far. After all…

"You're mine, Yujin. My one and only girlfriend. We'll only do and continue pursuing this family if you are okay with it. Don't change, pl-please, but also, never attempt something like this again."

You kiss Yujin's hand gently. This you can do; it's better than saying this damn word starting with 'p' and ending with 'lease'. She smiles, weakly at first, but the longer you keep eye contact, the more of her bright, mesmerizing smile appears. 

She kisses the back of your hand as well, her eyes in clear devotion, her voice honest and strong.

"I'm yours, Daddy."

.

(A/N2: Yujin bruh 😳☠️😳)

[brazenautomaton]

concept that would be better than "instead of fighting off the alien invasion humans ally with aliens to destroy earth fascism":

alien emissaries from beyond the stars come to Earth. immediately alien-worship cults arise. one by one governments of the world fall to them and proclaim that the aliens are our allies and there's nothing to fear. the aliens have released a brainwashing virus that converts humans to be their slaves. human resistance fighters dwindle and are pushed back every day. the resistance all know one of their own who has fallen to the alien brainwashing and tried to get them to accept their new masters, and regard it with utter dread. our perspective character makes his spouse / best friend promise that if he falls and becomes one of them, to kill him.

of course he gets captured and put in a prison camp for alien brainwashing. except that... there's no aliens. and it's like a regular prison POW camp like on normal earth. and his "re-education" is just explaining in an increasingly exasperated tone that no, the aliens are not invading, they can't even live here, they want Venus. We're so unlike them that their view toward us is like how we regard hypothetical plants in the Amazon that could cure cancer: worth keeping around just in case it turns out to be useful, if you destroy it then you might be sorry you did. New installations of alien technology are all built and controlled by humans because why the fuck would they expect us to trust them to put up pylons with tech we don't understand. the aliens have been working on negotiations to create a mutual system that ensures we won't attack each other since they know there's so many humans that as a species we cannot coherently make or keep promises. the crazed cultists at the outset were people who were already fucking wackadoo. there is no brainwashing virus because how the fuck would they know how to make one for a species whose biology is so utterly unlike their own? everyone who was "brainwashed" just had someone actually explain to them what is actually going on and realized they were wrong.

so the central metaphor there is the idea that radicalization is good in itself, the fear and disgust at changing your own views -- especially political ones -- even though presumably if you change your views in the future it's because you have a better reason to believe they are true.

after this we have the perspective character try and figure out "how do I reach the resistance with the message 'no these guys are actually not malevolent, like actually, no really, it is actually not a problem' when anything that could possibly convey that concept is discarded as a lie.

then of course our perspective character is killed by his best friend / spouse who promised to do so if he ever fell to the pro-alien side. the guy pleads that he didn't understand before, it's not what he thought at all, there's no reason to do this, but before he'd said "no matter what happens no matter how much I plead or try to justify it or explain, don't listen, it's not really me," so she shoots him dead.

she has also been "re-educated" to see the truth that the aliens are not that big a deal and everything we were afraid of was made up in our own heads, but she considers keeping promises to be the most important thing. we leave on the question: did she do the right thing?

[thewolffairytaler]

Little sheep - Oneshot | Thomas Hewitt x Female reader

_____________________________

Summary: She has only worked in the slaughter house for a month at least, barely meeting any of the employees unless absolutely necessary. But when she did go down to check in on the workers, she certainly didn't disappoint the tired employees. She simply aided any of them. Even making one butcher feel at least a little bit relieved to be around a kind soul.

Parts: Two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, & eleven.

Thomas Hewitt was an oddball amongst his community, not necessarily because of his height or quiet personality, but because of his face, and also how he tends to carry himself. Thomas can be very scary, especially when he tries to be. That glare of his could make a person instantly regret their word choices.

He stood there in front of his work desk, his back looming over her, half of his face obscured by a leather mask. He has his reasons for being this way. He doesn't talk in view of the fact that his voice would just hurt since the disease had managed to affect his vocal chords too, not just the face. Even if he could speak, he doesn't have much to say. And if he wanted to communicate, it's usually not worth listening to. He's a simple man with simple needs. He just wants to be left alone to do his job in peace. But you... he noticed she wasn't acting like the people of the town, or like anybody he had met so far. She was not like the others who looked at him with fear and disgust. There's something in her eyes, a spark of curiosity that Thomas hasn't seen in a long time, or at all in general. It's almost... intriguing.

"Hmmph." He let out a deep grunt to clear his throat, trying to push away the unfamiliar feelings rising inside him. He wasn't here to make friends or have deep conversations. He was here to work, and that's all there is to it. He began to chop the pig meat once again in a more frustrated way, not quite understanding why she was acting so differently around him so far. The choppings were practically echoing through the empty halls of the butcherhouse. But as he was working, he can't help but glance back at her secretly through the dirty glass windows one more time, wondering what it would be like to have someone see past the monster everyone thinks he was.

She hadn't tried to say anything mean to him. She was just passing by to check every employees work status. If anybody was slacking off or did something incorrectly. She wasn't an inspector, but a mere secretary for the boss. Mostly handling the paperwork and other things that Thomas's boss could care less about performing on.

"Don't mind me Hewitt, I'm just walking by, it's sixteen minutes left until the day ends by the way. Don't strain your hands to much by then."

Thomas paused mid-chop, her words catching him off guard. He turned back around slowly, the mask rustling with the movement. He dosen’t convey anything at first, just stare at her with his piercing gaze, trying to figure out her intentions. She wasn't like the townsfolk, that much is clear. Most people would've scurried away by now, intimidated by his presence. But she doesn't stand her ground either, her voice was steady and calm. Thomas can see the sincerity in her eyes, the lack of malice or judgement. Just a simple statement, a reminder of the time. It's...refreshing.

He did a curt nod, a small gesture of acknowledgement. He dosen’t say thank you, because he dosen’t think he'd ever said those words to a non-family member before. But he appreciates the information nonetheless. Thomas turned back around and continued working, his mind churning with thoughts he'd never had before. Thinking that she was so kind, (Y/n). So kind and understanding for him. And he thinks... he thinks he likes that. He dosen’t feel paranoid over it, she dosen’t make him second guess her intentions.

She simply left him after that, walking to the other stations as she checked on the other male employees. Having this space being dominated by male employees could be annoying at times, especially when these men tend to cat call her every once in a while. While the boss doesn't ever let her forget her gender, and also sometimes look at her in a certain way.

From the corner of Thomas's eye, he watched her walk away, her figure disappearing from his sight as quickly as a serene sheep. He stood there for a moment, lost in thought. Her presence has left him feeling... unsettled. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there's something about her that draws him in, makes him want to know more. Thomas shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He doesn't have time for this. He has a job to do, and he can't afford to let his mind wander like this. He turns back to his work, his hands moving with practised ease as he continues on his tasks. But even as he works, Thomas can't shake the feeling that something has changed. That she has changed something inside him, even if only slightly. He doesn't know what it is or where it will lead, but he knows one thing for sure - he will be seeing you again, little sheep. And he couldn't wait.

Author's note: I wanted to write a oneshot about Thomas for a really long time now, but I wasn't sure what to write that hadn't already been done before. So I decided to write something simple, yet had the potential to have future parts if well received.

[tiedyeflannels]

No Rush

Kim Namjoon x reader

A/N: Yo! Here's a little Namjoon blurb for his birthday AND as a thank you for 100 followers!! It means a lot that you guys like what I write! Anyway, I hope you're okay with bugs... Enjoy!

WC: <1K

Masterlist

“Ah, this is so nice,” you sighed as you stretched your arm over your head. A breeze rustled the midsummer leaves as you and Namjoon walked through a nearby park.

“And you didn’t want to get up,” he teased while letting out a chuckle which made you glare at him.

“You tried waking me up at 7:30! Of course I didn’t want to get up!”

He laughed at your dramatics before taking your hand in his.

“But this is still nice. The cool breeze. The calm, quiet atmosphere. You,” he said, squeezing you hand a bit to convey a bit more emotion in the statement.

You turned toward him just to see him turn his gaze away from you as a light blush started to settle on his cheeks.

“You got embarrassed, didn’t you,” you smiled and teased him, knowing that he usually did when he said something cheesy while trying to be romantic.

You laughed as he turned his head away, basically confirming your question.

You leaned closer and held his bicep in a little hug, “Don’t worry, I thought it was cute. And I agree. It’s nice being here with you, too.”

You settled into relaxed conversation as you continued walking with no real destination in mind, just enjoying the scenery and each other’s company when something caught your eye.

You let go of you hold on Namjoon as you walked a few feet ahead and looked down at the sidewalk, much to his confusion. Sure enough, the thing that caught your eye was laying on the cement by you feet.

A cicada.

You bent down to pick the little creature and brushed your finger against one of its legs to try and wake it up. You smiled once it slowly started to move. Turning it rightside up, you walked back to Namjoon so show him what you found.

“Joonie, look!”

You moved the hand that had the cicada closer to him so he could see, but he moved away with furrowed brows.

“Y/n/n! What the- why are you holding it?!”

You rolled eyes as you brought it closer to you to look at it. “Calm down, it’s just a cicada. It’s not going to kill you.”

Watching it just stand on you hand, you placed it on your shirt since you figured that it just needed to warm up a bit before leaving.

Namjoon looked, almost disgusted, at the cicada just sitting on your shirt making you laugh. “What? Don’t you hold crabs?”

“Yeah, crabs. Not bugs.”

You deadpanned as you started to walk again, “Dude. A cicada’s not going to hurt you. Worst thing that happens is that it makes a little noise.”

Namjoon walked with you, but at a distance that was almost laughable.

“Yeah, but it’s- ugh… a bug. How can you hold it?”

You chuckled as you grabbed the little guy in your hand again once it start moving a bit more.

“When I was younger, a teacher of mine would make us hold any cicada we found on our walks. When we didn’t want to, she would ask us how we would overcome life’s problems if we couldn’t overcome the fear of holding a little bug. So over time, we looked forward to grabbing any cicada we came across.”

Namjoon hummed as he watched the cicada walk around your palm and pondered about what you said.

“Anyway, are you ready,” asked, closing you hand around your little friend.

“For what,” Namjoon asked, confused.

“Watch,” you said as you threw the cicada into the air and watched as it flew away.

“You know… I could learn something from you. Maybe I should start holding them, too,” he suggested, once you both started walking again.

You looked at him and nodded, “Yeah! Plus, it’s a pretty cool skill to have so you can freak out your friends.” 

He laughed, “Yeah. Then, I guess I’ll start trying.”

You smiled.

“Perfect! Then we can start now,” you said as you bent down to pick up another cicada and offered it to him.

It gave him pause before he shook his head, “Nevermind! I’ll try later.”

You threw the cicada into the grass and held his hand, “That’s okay. You can start whenever you like. There’s no rush.”

[redtsundere-writes]

Would you consider continuing sukunaxservant? I’m in love with that au 💗💗💗

🥺👉👈 I beg

Hiya! Since you guys and Wattpad ate up my King!Sukuna x Servant!Reader one-shots, I decided to turn it into a series on Wattpad and AO3!

The first 4 one-shots (Ear Cleaning, Ribs, Blood Bath and Eyes on Me) will be included, but they'll be longer and better. So if you like any of those caught your attention, please check out the full version :) Thank you for the support!

Tyrant's Favorite | Sukuna Ryomen

PICK YOUR FAVORITE!

AO3 or Wattpad?

CHAPTER 1 PREVIEW! ↆ

Sukuna walked through the corridors illuminated by the dark sun that ruled among the kingdoms. His long, heavy footsteps made the marble floor rumble under his weight. His sharp profile, tattooed shoulders and large body, contrasted by the reddish sky of the cursed land, terrifying any small human who encountered him. He was a king who could control anything thanks to the terror that his large body and absolute power conveyed. He had the power on his hands to kill whatever and whenever he wanted like an omnipotent god, but he liked to watch his rats run from one side to the other to obey his mercy. It amused him to play with his servants to the point of making them cry, tremble or, in extreme cases, commit suicide. He had plenty of servants, so he could afford to kill as many as he wanted. The poor uniformed humans trembled if his dark eyes rested on them. They all tried to dodge him at all costs to avoid performing tasks that involved being near him, especially cleaning his ears. 

Being a monster with senses sharpened to the max, he hated having his ears touched, but it was necessary for him to clean them to have his five senses ready for any battle. He is not someone ticklish, but his ears are the most sensitive part of his entire body. He could clean his own ears himself, but what kind of almighty, omnipotent king would clean his own ears when others could do it?

His eyes navigated through the long and endless corridors of the terrifying castle where he lived with all his subjects. The king's home was a place where darkness, cold, and uncertainty dominated the atmosphere. Even though it was surrounded by luxuries, it felt more like a secret attic than a castle fit for a king. Silver chandeliers, red candles parading on the walls and furniture upholstered with exotic fabrics from around the world decorated each room that was commonly surrounded by portraits made by hundreds of artists who feared for their lives. 

His predatory eyes sought out the first poor servant that crossed his path. He heard the bristles of a broom being scrubbed against the floor. Sukuna spotted a small figure sweeping one of the guest rooms. There you were, humming a song softly from your childhood as you made the broom dance from side to side. You were so focused on your task that you didn't notice the king standing dangerously close to you. As you turned around, you suddenly bumped into his imposing body, giving you a mini heart attack. Dressed in elegant robes, gold rings on each finger and with a wicked grin on his face, he was looking at you as if you were a despicable creature he could get rid of in the blink of an eye. 

You are the youngest and most inexperienced servant in the entire castle. You had not been living there for more than two months, so your direct interactions with the king had been few. Sukuna saw you from head to toe. He remembered you perfectly from the day he met you. Your neatly combed pigtails with two white bows showed off your innocence, the corset accentuated your small waist and the long brown skirt covered your promising legs. He accepted it, you were cute. Other than that, you were a disgusting human like everyone else, but there was something about you that caught his attention. Sukuna didn't know exactly what it was that you had. For the time being, he would continue to treat you as you deserved for being a nasty rat. Immediately, you knelt before your majesty. Your head rested in your hands against the freshly swept floor, your fingers barely touching his feet because of the closeness. 

“Are you having fun?” Sukuna asked, sarcastic. 

“No, my king,” you answered quickly, avoiding making eye contact. 

Sukuna placed one of his bare feet on your back. The oppressive weight crushed you against the cold floor. You prayed inwardly that your bones wouldn't start to creak. You bit your lower lip and closed your eyes tightly to avoid letting out a moan of pain. Having satisfied his need to make the new maid see who her master is, he removed his foot from your agonized back. You took a deep breath to fill your lungs with air again. 

“To my room. Now,” he ordered without deigning to look at you before leaving the room. You remained on the floor, slowly catching your breath. A metal taste touched your tongue. You bit your lower lip so hard what it was bleeding.

FULL CHAPTER ON WATTPAD / AO3!

[captainremmington-13]

A Lady Made of Snow

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own The Hunger Games franchise, the images above, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, or any of the characters in this fic other than Bellova and Enolio. I also do not condone the beliefs or actions of Coriolanus or Bellova.

SUMMARY: Knowing that she has to get away in order to remain her true self, Bellova makes a run for it.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: THIS IS A DARK CHAPTER. It contains violence, injury, mentions of death and torture, Coriolanus being scary and evil, swearing

A/n: this was really hard to write idek why💀i know it’s really short but the next chapters are gonna be much longer i promise

“Talk back to me again, and-“

“You’ll kill me, I assume.”

“Precisely. Now shut up and finish getting dressed.”

Bellova pursed her lips, refusing to show any fear, despite the fact that Coriolanus held a knife that he was willing to use at any moment.   He was standing in the doorway of her massive closet, which was now halfway taken over by him. Bellova would’ve screamed at him to leave her alone while she changed, but he had insisted on monitoring her.

“I don’t want you getting the idea that you can escape me, my dear,” he had said tauntingly.

The idea that Coriolanus had seen her undressed several times while she was completely brainwashed made her feel nauseous. But she suppressed the feeling of disgust, and slipped a simple white dress over her head. 

‘I look ridiculous, like a ditzy, naive little girl,’ she thought bitterly, staring at her reflection with contempt.

“Hurry up!” Coriolanus’s harsh tone snapped her out of her trance. Bellova quickly slid on a pair of white ballet flats and scrambled towards her “fiancé”. 

She had to obey him just long enough to find a way to escape.

Coriolanus’s icy eyes raked over her body, making her skin crawl. “Good,” he said, conveying his approval of her appearance. He took her hand forcefully, squeezing it painfully. Bellova kept a blank face, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her reaction.

Coriolanus practically dragged her out of the room. He lead her down the stairs and out the front doors. Bellova saw Enolio give her a sorrowful look, which nearly brought her to tears. But she bit the inside of her cheek and forced them to subside. 

Matching Bellova down the stairs, Coriolanus smirked to himself. Everything would be just fine, he was sure of it. He could fix the mess that had happened, and get his life (and Bellova) back under control.

Then, he felt someone tap him not-so gently on the shoulder.

Coriolanus whipped around, letting go of Bellova’s hand. “What do you want?” he sneered, looking down at Enolio, who didn’t flinch at all for once.

“Sir, there’s something important I need to tell you.”

“Spit it out, then,” Coriolanus barked.

Enolio took a long, deep breath, agitating him further. 

“There’s an emergency in the kitchen, and we need either you or Miss Reginelle to call a doctor to handle it.”

Coriolanus scoffed. “Why can’t you do it? Isn’t that your fucking job?”

Enolio glared at him. “Only the individual who has financial control of the estate has the authority to place the call-“

“Fine!” he snapped, turning his back to the butler. “Bellova, go handle it, and meet me out here-“

He stopped mid-sentence, his words dying in his throat.

Bellova was nowhere to be seen. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bellova was thankful that the sun had not risen completely. It gave her a bit more cover as she raced through the orchard that grew behind her estate. 

She was exhausted, her head throbbing from the blow Coriolanus had hit her with the previous night. She wanted to collapse, but knew that if she stopped moving, Coriolanus would catch up to her. And she simply couldn’t allow that to happen.

She cursed herself for her own stupidity. Why hadn’t she tried running for the gates? Maybe she was afraid the guards wouldn’t let her through, and would turn her over to her “fiancé”. But it seemed like a better option than wandering blindly through the trees, with no end destination in mind.

Finally, her legs gave out. She crumpled to the ground, feeling the dirt cling to the bare skin of her legs. Her head spun, full of adrenaline and terror. What would Coriolanus do to Enolio once he realized he’d distracted him to allow her to escape? Would he have him killed, just like he did to her friends?

Bellova sobbed, much louder than she intended. Maybe she should just let Coriolanus win. That way, nobody else would get hurt.

But giving in would mean she’d live under his rule forever. She would never be allowed to have any autonomy or control. She would just be his puppet, a pretty but harmless shell of a human, who followed him around like a lost puppy. 

No. She couldn’t let that happen. 

The fury blooming in her chest helped her get back on her feet. She would succeed in getting away, or go down fighting.

She heard Coriolanus bellow her name from afar, making her jump. She tripped as she started sprinting again, and kicked off her ballet flats, knowing they were slowing her down. 

Mere moments later, Coriolanus stumbled across the abandoned pair of shoes. He knew he was gaining ground on her, but there was no guarantee that he could catch her before she completely slipped through his fingers. 

“Bellova!” he snarled loudly, expertly concealing the anxiety he was experiencing. He felt like he was back in District 12, desperately chasing after Lucy Gray. 

But this time, he wouldn’t stop pursuing his target.

Finally, he spotted a flash of white ahead of him. 

“Give up, Bellova!” he yelled. “You’re not getting away!”

Really, he was saying this more to reassure himself than to scare her.

He hoped that she was getting tired. He didn’t know how much longer he could go without getting extremely winded.

To his relief, he was soon able to see Bellova’s figure entirely, only a handful of yards in front of him. She glanced behind her and met his gaze for only a split second. He could tell she was afraid, but determined. 

Determined to escape him forever. 

She disappeared from his sight a moment later, but Coriolanus knew he was close to winning their little game of chase.

Bellova was steadily approaching the edge of the orchard. She didn’t know what was beyond that, as she’d never wandered this far into non-city terrain. The muscles in her legs twitched painfully, burning from overuse.

As she made a sharp right turn, a sharp branch sliced open the skin on the sole of her foot. She had to bite down on her lip to refrain from screaming. She could feel the blood gushing from the incision, and tried her best to ignore it. But when she tried taking another step, the pain became too much to bear. She sunk to the ground, putting a hand over the wound to try to stop the bleeding. 

She could hear her pursuer’s footsteps rapidly approaching, and quickly dove behind a nearby tree. 

This action elicited a cruel laugh from Coriolanus.

“Come out of hiding, and I’ll consider making this less painful for you,” he called out, making her shudder. “You know you’ve been beat, why not just surrender now and reap the benefits of a peaceful defeat?”

Bellova hugged her knees to her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible. She had never felt so much like prey, like a helpless rabbit awaiting an inevitable, brutal fate. 

Coriolanus truly was a heartless, relentless monster. 

A cold hand wrapped around her bicep, yanking her out of her hiding place. Bellova closed her eyes, refusing to look at the smug, triumphant look that Coriolanus undoubtedly wore. Her body was so limp that he had to hold her up, like a rag doll made of nothing but fabric and stuffing. 

“You’re pathetic,” Coriolanus said condescendingly, digging his nails into her flesh. She whimpered quietly, only amusing him further. “I bet you’re going to start begging for forgiveness any minute now.”

“Never,” Bellova whispered as defiantly as she could, despite feeling like her entire body had gone numb. 

Coriolanus’s gaze hardened, and his hands moved from her arms to wrap around her neck. Bellova shrieked, clawing at his forearms, which did nothing to deter him.

“There wouldn’t have been any point in begging anyway,” Coriolanus said, his grip around her throat getting tighter by the second.

“I never planned on giving you any mercy.”

Bellova’s vision began to fade, and she felt her conciseness slipping away. She tried to scream, but no sound escaped her lips. 

Coriolanus let go of her throat, smiling cruelly as she crumpled to the ground. 

As her mind faded to nothing, she came to a horrible realization:

He wasn’t going to kill her. That would be mercy, which he was clearly unwilling to give her. 

He was going to keep her alive as long as possible, torturing and altering her mind and body until it was exactly what he wanted. She’d never slip through the invisible cage he’d thrown her into.

She was his, until she took her dying breath.

Unless, of course, he took his first. 

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊

TAGLIST: @daenerysqueenofhearts, @squidscottjeans, @euphemiaamillais, @gracieroxzy, @effectwalker, @vxnilla-hxrddrugs, @mystargirl-interlude, @have-a-nice-day-k, @that-daughter-of-hephaestus

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments! So sorry guys, I changed my mind and added the chase for a bit more tension and action before stuff gets even darker. The next chapter will mostly take place in Dr. Gauls lab…

Also, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

[poisonlove]

Blood and Love | t.c

Tara was aware of the secret that haunted her sister: being related to Billie Loomis.

But she could have never expected to receive a late-night call that would change the course of her life.

I enter the hospital room with my heart racing wildly in my chest. My breath is ragged as I search for Tara's gaze. When her eyes lift and meet mine, I see fear and relief mingling in them.

—T/n—she whispers, her voice like a fragile thread of silver holding together tumultuous emotions.

I approach her bed with determined steps, though my insides are a storm of emotions. I sit beside her, my gaze fixed on her as if I want to shield her from any harm. I gently take her hand, trying to convey a sense of security through the touch.

—Tara, how are you?—I ask with a soft voice laced with concern. Her lips curve into a muted smile, but I still see the shadow of fear in her eyes.

Tara gazes at the hospital ceiling as if seeking comfort in its simple whiteness. —T/n— she begins, her voice trembling, —it was such a strange and terrifying call.— She takes a deep breath before continuing. —The phone rang, and I answered without thinking too much. There was this distorted, almost mechanical voice asking me unsettling things.—

I look at her, my eyes fixed on her, trying to imagine what she must have faced. —What did it ask you?— I inquire cautiously, dreading the answers that might come.

Tara nervously wets her lips. —It asked me how I was... and then it asked about my mother.— Her voice cracks slightly, and I sense her fear through her words. —It said it was watching me and my mother. It was so unsettling, T/n. It made me feel like I was being observed.—

I squeeze her hand with a bit more strength, trying to convey my silent support. —You must have been so scared—I say empathetically, feeling anger course through my veins. I wish I could confront the responsible person with my own hands, but now my role is to be there for Tara.

Tara nods with teary eyes, tears pooling in them. —And then... then the questions got creepier. It asked me what I thought about Steb.— She sighs, and I know it's a delicate topic. —Steb is the movie that... well, it's about everything that happened with my mother. It was a terrible part of my life.—

Her words shake me, but I keep holding her hand to offer my silent support. —Did you answer those questions?— I ask with curiosity and concern. I know it can't have been easy for her to confront these painful memories.

Tara nods, her voice trembling. —Yes, I answered. Then... then it happened. I heard a noise from the front door, and when I turned, he was there... Ghostface.— A tear rolls down her cheek and falls onto the hospital sheet. —He started shouting, saying terrible things. He was so menacing, T/n. He had a knife, and... and he hurt me.—

Anger and disgust well up inside me as I listen. I wish I could erase the horror she went through, make her fear vanish. I squeeze her hand even more, trying to transmit all the affection and support I feel. —We'll get you out of here, Tara. And together, we'll find a way to cope with all of this.—

Tara's tears stream down her face as she looks into my eyes, seeking comfort and security. I hold her hand affectionately, knowing I can't erase the past, but I can be here for her now, in this moment of fear and vulnerability.

The images before my eyes are a mix of pain and helplessness. I look at the oxygen tubes in Tara's nostrils, the bandages on her hand, and the wounds on her legs. Seeing her so vulnerable, so far from the strong girl I knew, tightens my heart.

I can't help but feel a lump in my throat as I watch her. My mind goes to the times we laughed together, the long and deep conversations we shared, and every moment I tried to hide what I felt for her. And now, here, seeing her like this, I feel even worse for never having found the courage to confess my feelings.

I pull the chair as close to her bed as possible, trying to offer some comfort with my proximity. I gently take her non-bandaged hand and give it a light stroke with my thumb. —Tara— I say softly, —I'm so sorry you're going through all of this.—

Her eyes shift to me, and even though they're teary, I still see strength in them. —Thank you, T/n— she murmurs gratefully. —You're here for me... and that means more than you can imagine.—

A sad smile forms on my lips as I try to find the right words. —I'm here because you matter to me, Tara. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now.— My heart beats hard in my chest, but I know now is not the time to confess everything.

I take a deep breath and try to push away the sadness that threatens to overwhelm me. —We're strong together, Tara. We'll face all of this together—My words are a commitment, a way to tell her that she'll never be alone in this fight.

I glance at her wounds again, and anger towards anyone who hurt her burns within me. But now, in this moment, my priority is to be there for her, supporting her and trying to bring some comfort to that pale face marked by fear.

Amber's entrance shatters the bubble of intimacy I tried to create around me and Tara. My gaze shifts towards her as she enters the room, but I can't help but notice the disdainful look she directs at me.

Her cutting words, laced with sarcasm, pierce the air. —Oh, look who's here. The shining knight in armor coming to rescue the damsel in distress— Her voice is a mixture of sarcasm and mockery, and I can feel the irritation she's trying to convey.

I deliberately ignore her, continuing to keep my gaze fixed on Tara. Amber can think whatever she wants, but now isn't the time for her jealousy games or taunts. I have an important person to support and protect.

Amber sits next to Tara and looks at her gently, trying to offer comfort with her gaze. I can see genuine concern in her eyes as she tries to be there for Tara. I nod slightly towards her, appreciating her effort to support my friend in such a difficult moment.

However, the sense of tension doesn't ease with Sam's arrival and the boy by her side. As soon as the boy enters the room, I immediately sense that something is off. His expressions, the way he looks around with a certain detachment... everything seems out of place.

Amber might not have noticed right away, but I can't stop watching this boy. Something about him makes me uneasy, and my attention is divided between him and Tara. I keep lightly holding Tara's hand, a silent sign of support, as I try to better understand who this boy is and what he's doing here.

Emotions swirl within me: concern for Tara, suspicion towards this boy, and a growing determination to protect my friend at all costs. I know this moment could be crucial, and I need to stay vigilant for any signs of threat that might come from him.

Sam approaches Tara with concern. —Tara, how are you? I'm so glad to see you.—

Tara smiles weakly. —I'm trying to be okay, Sam. Thank you for being here.—

Sam gestures towards the boy at her side. —This is Richie, my boyfriend. Richie, this is Tara.—

Richie smiles gently. —Hello, Tara. I'm glad to finally meet you.—

Tara returns the smile. —Hi, Richie. Thank you for coming.—

I take a step back, ready to leave them alone.

Tara urgently grabs my hand, looking at me with teary yet bright eyes. Her grip on my hand makes me pause. I look at Tara, noticing her determined expression. Words aren't needed; I can feel her need for me to stay here with her. With a reassuring smile, I nod slightly, indicating that I'll stay by her side.

—Maybe we should let her rest for a bit— Richie suggests, addressing Sam.

Sam agrees with a nod. —You're right. We'll see you outside, Tara. I'll go talk to Hicks.—

As Sam, Richie and Amber leave the room, I stay by Tara's side.

Tara timidly yawns. —Sorry, I suddenly feel so tired.—

I smile gently. —Don't worry, Tara. Maybe you should close your eyes and rest.—

Tara looks at me with sweet, indecipherable eyes. —T/n, could you... could you get in bed with me? I'd just... like to have someone close while I sleep.—

—Of course, Tara. It'll be my pleasure.—

With gentleness, I shift from the chair to the bed, careful not to disturb the bandages and tubes. I lie down beside Tara, keeping one arm under the pillow to prop myself up slightly. —Is this okay?—I ask, looking at her with concern.

Tara nods with a shy smile. —Yes, perfect. Thank you, T/n.—

Carefully, I wrap my arm around Tara, pulling her gently closer to me. We embrace tenderly, and the warmth of her body is reassuring. —Rest, Tara. I'll be here as long as you want.—

Tara closes her eyes slowly, relaxing into the embrace. —Thank you, T/n. You're truly amazing.—

—And you're an extraordinary person, Tara. Goodnight— I whisper.

As the embrace grows more intimate, tranquility fills the room. Tara can finally close her eyes and find some rest, knowing that T/n is there with her. Her breath grows calmer, and sleep gently envelops her as T/n remains by her side, protective and loving.

(...)

From the initial attack to the current situation, many weeks have passed, and things have changed drastically. The sense of normalcy has been disrupted, and trust among us has been shaken. It's hard to believe that the people I've known for so long could harbor such dark secrets.

Relationships have shifted, and every look, every word seems to be under a magnifying glass. Mindy, with her keen horror enthusiast spirit, has only fueled the existing suspicions. Whenever someone seems to step out of line, her playful voice becomes an eerie reminder of the truth lurking beneath the surface.

And then there was that conversation where she excluded Liv from suspicion. Her playful tone only heightened the tension. But in the end, every laugh was accompanied by a shade of doubt. All of us are trying to decipher the puzzle, but the pieces seem to keep changing shape.

I find myself in a situation where I need to keep an eye out for anyone who might be hiding something. The friendship we had shared has become fragile, and there's a sense of isolation I can't ignore. I wish things could go back to how they were before, but I know that reality is much more complex now.

I find myself wandering amidst doubts and uncertainties, trying to balance my fear with the need to uncover the truth. Trust has been compromised, but I hope we can find a way to overcome this situation together. Amidst suspicions and tensions, there's still a part of me clinging to the idea of restoring normalcy among us, even though the future seems dark and unpredictable.

The tension seemed to increase with each passing day, and the sense of paranoia was taking over everything. Sam, in particular, seemed more paranoid than I had ever seen her. I was deeply concerned for her, but I understood that the environment we were involved in could make even the closest people doubt.

The arrival of the old survivors of Steb in the town of Woodsboro had triggered a series of even more bewildering events. The shadow of the past seemed to envelop everything, and there was an unsettling feeling in the air. Fear was growing as we tried to figure out if this was just a coincidence or if there was a deeper connection to what we were facing.

Wed, who had feelings for Tara, was one of the initial suspects. However, fate seemed to have other plans for him. The arrival of Ghostface had led to a tragic ending for Wed and his mother, Sheriff Judy Hicks. The news of their deaths had hit all of us, and the sense of threat was reaching new levels.

My mind was a mix of worry, anger, and confusion. As I tried to navigate through suspicions, new clues, and old ghosts, I knew we had to find a way to cope with all of this together. The truth was still buried beneath a layer of secrets and lies, but we had to stay united and determined to uncover what was really happening in Woodsboro.

As I stood at the crime scene with Sam, something in the context seemed off. Observing the evidence, the atmosphere was growing even more eerie, as if there was something escaping our notice. A sense of concern grew within me, and thoughts of Tara only intensified it.

That's when I felt a shiver down my spine, like an alarm indicating that something was wrong with Tara. My eyes landed on Riley, the cop, who was approaching. Without a second thought, panic gripped me, and I ran towards him, my eyes wide with fear.

—Riley!— I called, my voice filled with anxiety. —You have to help us, you have to come to the hospital with us. Tara is in danger, I feel that something's wrong.—

Sam joined me shortly after, and together we appealed to Riley. We asked for his help sincerely, begging him to come to the hospital with us. His decision seemed to come without hesitation, agreeing to accompany us without asking questions.

Without wasting time, we headed to the hospital with Riley by our side. The run seemed endless as anxiety grew within me. Tara needed us, and I knew I couldn't allow anything to happen to her. As the tension in the air grew denser, I knew we were doing everything we could to face this challenge together, hoping to protect Tara from whatever threat surrounded her.

As we were on our way in the police car, my phone suddenly rang. My anxiety reached its peak as I checked the caller ID, and my heart filled with relief when I saw Tara's name on the screen. With a trembling breath, I quickly answered.

—Tara?— I called out, trying to keep calm despite my heart still racing. Then I heard her voice, fragmented by sobs and tears. —T/n... help— she said, and her fragile voice broke my heart.

—Tara, I'm here— I responded with a gentle and concerned voice. —We're on our way to the hospital. Stay strong.— As I continued to talk to her, my mind was filled with anguish and determination. I needed to get to her, I needed to protect her from whatever was threatening her.

And then, as Tara's words continued to flow between tears and sobs, she revealed something that left me speechless.

—I don't want to die—she whispered, and the intensity of her emotions hit me like a punch in the gut. —And especially not without ever telling you how... how much I've been in love with you for so long.—

Her words resonated within me, and the world seemed to pause for a moment. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, but the sound of her broken voice was real and sincere. My heart was filled with conflicting emotions: concern for Tara, anger towards whoever hurt her, and surprise in the face of her revelations.

I apologize for the confusion. In this situation, with Ghostface present next to Tara, the idea of diverting Ghostface's attention was even more critical.

—Tara— I said firmly, —try to keep Ghostface engaged. Ask him questions, make him lose time.—

The anxiety I felt was growing even more, but I knew this was the only possible option. Tara had to do her best to keep Ghostface focused on her and out of suspecting that we were coming to save her. Our priority was to protect her, and every second counted in this critical situation. As the car headed towards the hospital, I knew we were facing a challenge that required calmness, courage, and collaboration.

—I'm coming to you, Tara— I reassured her, trying to convey all my determination and affection through my words.

—I won't let anything happen to you. And as for what you said... we can talk about it when I'm there. For now, hang in there.—

The car continued to rush towards the hospital, and Tara's words stayed with me, a fragile thread of connection between us growing amidst all this confusion and fear. We had to face this situation together, protect the truth, and above all, protect each other.

As we stepped into the elevator, the tension in the air was palpable. Sam received a call from Tara, and our hearts skipped a beat as we heard Ghostface's distorted voice on the other end of the line. His words, "Tara or her boyfriend," echoed in our ears like a dark threat. Anxiety mingled with anger as we listened to those sinister words.

I saw Sam frantically press the button for Tara's floor, her face expressing determination and a sort of challenge towards Ghostface. When I heard his taunting grin and her bold response, I couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for her strength. It was clear she was trying to buy time, to keep Ghostface at bay as much as possible.

—Maybe I'm wasting your time, asshole— Sam said firmly, openly defying Ghostface.

The elevator doors opened in a moment of palpable tension. The cop, Riley, had managed to intervene, firing towards Ghostface. The echo of the gunshot filled the air, as fear and adrenaline seemed to mix in a whirlwind of emotions. The bullet missed the target, but its effect was tangible: Ghostface moved away from Tara, momentarily distracted by the sudden threat.

Without hesitation, Sam and I rushed towards Tara. The adrenaline coursing through our veins fueled every step we took. In an instinctive move, I lifted Tara in my arms as if she were a bride, holding her gently yet firmly. The sensation of her fragile body in my arms made me feel a mix of protectiveness and urgency. We needed to get to the elevator, away from Ghostface and any danger threatening us.

Richie, who had been assisted by Riley, joined us as we headed towards the elevator. The cop ensured that the situation was under control, allowing us to focus on Tara. The path to the elevator seemed endless, but each step took us further away from the threat.

Tara clung to me in the embrace, and I felt her ragged breath against me. The warmth of her body against mine reassured me that she was safe, that we were finally moving towards a place where she could receive proper care.

The sensation of her embrace strengthened my commitment to keeping her safe, to doing everything in my power to make her feel protected.

Finally, we reached the elevator, and the doors opened for us. As the elevator closed, I noticed that Riley wasn't entering with us. I barely heard his words— "the head"—a warning that seemed to escape his lips in a breath. His next move was clear: he loaded his weapon and headed towards Ghostface, ready to confront the threat directly.

The emotions that swept through my body at that moment were a mix of apprehension and admiration. Riley was risking his life to face the danger and protect us. His determination struck me deeply, and I felt a knot of gratitude tighten in my throat. We were all united in this challenge, each with our role to play in ensuring our safety.

As the elevator continued to descend, I knew that Tara's fate, all of our fates, hung by a thread. But we were determined to do everything in our power to come out of it, to defeat Ghostface and shed light on all this darkness. Holding Tara even tighter, I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to gather courage and hope as we headed into the unknown.

Sitting in Tara's hospital room, Sam and I found ourselves in a quiet corner. I looked at Tara with concern and said firmly—Tara, I know you want to get out of here as soon as possible, but you have to consider your safety. Running away might be the best solution right now.—

Tara looked at Sam and then at me, anxiety evident in her eyes. —I know I just want to forget all this— she said with a trembling voice, —but it seems so risky to stay here. What if Ghostface finds us again?—

—I understand— Sam responded—but maybe we should consider the possibility of leaving the town for a while. We could go somewhere where Ghostface won't easily find us.—

Just as we were about to leave the facility, we encountered Sidney Prescott and Gale, two survivors of experiences similar to ours.

Sidney followed Sam with concern.

—Running away might not be the solution. I've learned that Ghostface will always come back unless we confront him once and for all.—

—Are you asking us to help you kill him? Are you crazy?— Sam asked, confused.

—Hey, be careful how you talk, young lady. She's the original, you know? The first survivor of Ghostface...— Gale said, joining her friend.

The car with Richie at the wheel arrives. —Um... hi, I'm Richie... we've met before...— he closes his eyes and sighs. —Sam, T/n, get in... we're leaving.–

I looked at Tara with shining eyes and sighed as I opened the car door, sitting down beside her. —I'm sorry, but we have to leave town... it's for Tara's safety—Sam said, and then got into the car.

During the journey, I felt Tara's proximity. Every brush of her fingers against mine sent a shiver along my skin, and when I glanced at her, I noticed her shy and uncertain expression. Her gaze seemed to hold a world of unspoken thoughts.

My heart beat faster, knowing there was something she wanted to share with me. I accepted her touch, trying to convey reassurance through that contact. —Tara—I said gently, —if there's something you want to say, you can. We're here together.—

Her shyness was palpable, but she finally found the courage to speak. —I told you on the phone that I didn't want to die without telling you... without telling you that I've had feelings for you for a long time.— Her voice was barely a whisper, but her words resonated in my heart like a sweet and intense melody.

I kept my gaze on her, trying to communicate that I was listening carefully and that her words mattered to me. I felt a delicate smile form on my lips. —Tara—I replied, —you don't know how grateful I am to hear these words from you. I too... have had feelings for you for a long time.—

Our gazes met in a moment of deep connection. It was a secret we had kept hidden for too long, and now that we were facing this threat together, it seemed like the right time to confront our feelings as well. I felt that our bond was further strengthening in that moment, and I knew that no matter what the future held, we would face it all together.

I felt the gentle touch of Tara's bandaged hand on my cheek. It was such a sweet and intimate gesture that seemed to envelop us in a protective bubble, isolating us from the outside world. Despite her wounds, Tara still found the strength to seek my touch, to share that moment of intimacy.

I felt overwhelmed by emotions, by thoughts that I had kept hidden for so long. It was incredible how everything was coming together in that moment: the danger we were facing, the feelings we were revealing, and the sense of unity that was binding us even more.

Despite our intense private moment, I knew that Richie and Sam were there, curious eyes watching through the rearview mirror. I decided to ignore those glances and focus solely on Tara. Our connection was what mattered, and nothing could tarnish that shared intimacy.

I felt my heart beat with a certain urgency as I continued driving along the road. Every now and then, a small smile appeared on my lips, a reflection of the happiness and gratitude I was feeling in that moment. I couldn't predict what lay ahead in the future, but I knew that regardless of everything, we would face every challenge together, our bond growing stronger and our hearts open to whatever the future would bring.

Tara's smile was like a sweet melody, a prelude to what was about to happen. As she leaned in closer to me, I felt my heart beat with a mixture of excitement and tenderness. Her lips met mine in a sweet and deep kiss, and it seemed like the world around us dissolved, leaving just the two of us.

It was a kiss filled with emotions and meaning, a way to express everything we were experiencing in that moment. It was as if our feelings were being transmitted through that intimate contact, saying things that words alone couldn't convey. Her lips were warm and soft against mine, and I surrendered to that moment of sweetness.

During the kiss, I felt Tara shifting, as if she was trying to find a more comfortable position. It was then that I realized she was freeing herself from the seatbelt. I saw her straddle my lap, and I smiled against her lips. It was a bold and intimate gesture, but I felt that our bond made it perfectly natural.

We continued to kiss, our contact growing more intense and the world around us fading even more. We were united in that moment, connected by deep feelings and a bond that seemed to transcend time and space. Nothing else mattered except the two of us and the kiss we shared, a kiss that seemed to encapsulate everything we felt for each other. Richie's sudden cough interrupted our kiss, causing us to break apart with a mixture of embarrassment and smiles. Tara's cheeks were flushed, and her lips slightly swollen from the passionate kiss. We locked eyes, her gaze bright and full of emotion, and I felt my heart beat with uncontainable joy.

—Sorry— Richie said with a small embarrassed smile —but it seemed like you were so focused that I could have driven for miles without you noticing anything.—

Tara and I exchanged a knowing look and then burst into laughter together. It was true, we had become so lost in our own world that everything else seemed to fade away. Now, with our cheeks warm from embarrassment and our hearts still racing, we realized the absurdity of the situation.

—That was a bit embarrassing, wasn't it?— I said with a playful smile, turning to Tara.

Her lips curved into a shy smile as she nodded. —Yes, but it was also... nice.—

I felt a wave of affection for her as I knew that we had shared such an intimate moment together.

—Where's my inhaler?— Tara's worried voice filled the car as she began frantically searching her bag. I could feel the tension growing in the air as she looked anxiously inside her bag, hoping to find her precious inhaler. It was clear that she was realizing that her inhaler wasn't with her, and her agitation was palpable.

Sam turned slightly in her seat, looking at Tara with empathy. —Maybe you left it at the hospital by accident?— she suggested, trying to find a rational explanation.

Tara shook her head, continuing to search. —No, I'm sure I put it in my bag before leaving the hospital— she said with an anxious voice.

I turned to her, trying to convey a sense of calm. —Maybe it slipped between the seats?— I suggested, thinking of every possibility.

Tara leaned down to look under her seat, but she didn't seem to find anything. Her expression was a mix of frustration and concern. —I can't believe I forgot my inhaler— she said with a sigh.

—Take a deep breath— I said, trying to reassure her.

Tara suddenly brightened as she remembered something. —Wait, I have a spare inhaler at Amber's house!— she exclaimed with a hopeful expression.

The news shed light on the situation, and a sigh of relief spread through the car. Sam and I exchanged a reassuring look, reassured by the fact that there was a solution available. —Seriously?— I asked, seeking confirmation.

Tara nodded with a smile. —Yes, I remember leaving it there a while ago— she said. —It's been a bit chaotic, and I didn't think I'd need it out here.—

—That's good news then— Sam commented, visibly relieved.

—Absolutely— I agreed, gently taking Tara's hand and giving them both a reassuring smile. —Let's go to Amber's and get your spare inhaler. We don't want you to have any issues because of this situation.—

Tara nodded, visibly grateful for our support. The road ahead of us seemed less complicated now that we had a solution. Tara's safety and comfort were our priority, and we knew we would do everything in our power to ensure she was safe and well. With a lighter heart, we continued our journey to Amber's house, ready to face whatever challenges awaited us.

***

As soon as we entered Amber's house, we were greeted by a whirlwind of sounds and movements. Music blared loudly, while people laughed and danced. It was clear that a party was in full swing in honor of Wes, which seemed to add another layer of complexity to the already tense situation. As we moved through the crowd, I kept an eye on Tara, making sure she was okay amidst all the chaos.

All around us, people seemed oblivious to the tensions and worries that were happening in our lives. It was strange to see the normalcy of a party amidst all this, but somehow, it also helped to take our minds off the difficulties we were facing.

Richie spoke up, grabbing the attention of Sam and Tara. His voice cut through the music and the party noise. —A bit of attention, please— he said seriously. —Sam and Tara have been attacked twice by the killer. I think it's best that everyone goes home for your safety.—

There were various murmurs of disapproval, but they obeyed the request and started leaving the house, leaving only Tara's friends and Richie behind.

Tara looked at me with a small smile before turning to Amber. —I'm going to get my spare inhaler—she said. Amber nodded. —I'll come with you— she offered, walking alongside her toward the stairs.

I found myself walking down a corridor, seeking some space and tranquility. As I walked, I noticed Mindy in a rather interesting situation: she was kissing a girl on a couch.

Their intimacy seemed to contrast with the overall situation, but I knew that everyone was seeking a small escape from reality in different ways. The situation took a turn when Richie intervened, asking the girl to leave. It was clear that Richie was concerned about everyone's safety, and his reaction was understandable given the circumstances.

—Um, can someone accompany me to the basement?— Richie timidly asked, gripping the doorknob.

I shook my head, and Mindy smiled nervously. —You tried, handsome, but I'm not going down there—Mindy smiled, and Richie chuckled weakly. —You're right... you know, with the Ghostface situation...— he murmured before opening the door and descending the stairs.

I sat down next to Mindy, trying to create a small moment of calm and tranquility amidst all the tension. Our gaze landed on the screen, where "Steb," the movie he was playing, was showing. Mindy seemed to be enjoying making fun of the characters' choices and naivety, perhaps seeking a temporary escape from the troubled reality surrounding us.

Watching the movie together, I could almost forget for a moment the worries we were facing. It was as if we had entered a different world, far from the horrors we had experienced and the complex interpersonal dynamics emerging. The sound of laughter and the flicker of the screen seemed like an anchor of normalcy in a time when everything seemed topsy-turvy.

Mindy seemed to enjoy the playful aspect of the film, laughing heartily at some situations and character choices. Her laughter was a small glimmer of lightness in an otherwise tense situation. Observing Mindy, I realized how important it was to find ways to lighten the weight of the emotions we were dealing with.

The scene suddenly turned into overwhelming chaos when Mindy turned and found herself face-to-face with Ghostface, poised to strike. Without thinking twice, I instinctively moved between Mindy and the killer, taking a stab to the shoulder that made me emit a groan of pain. Confusion and fear gripped the room.

Mindy and Sam rushed toward me with concern, trying to calm me down and assess the severity of the wound. Blood was flowing from my shoulder, and the sensation of pain spread throughout my body.

Tara and Amber joined the scene, with Tara struggling on crutches due to her injuries. Her eyes expressed concern as she approached me, trying to understand how badly hurt I was.

Amber, on the other hand, observed the scene with curiosity and suspicion. —I don't know what you were all doing, but I was with Tara— she said agitatedly.

Amidst all this, Richie made his sudden entrance. —Where the hell were you?— Sam asked him agitatedly, looking at him with panic. —I was getting a beer! But no one wanted to come with me— he muttered agitatedly.

The situation became even more tumultuous when Liv entered the room again, this time crying out of stress and fear. Her hands were stained with blood, an image that struck all of us with a sense of terror and unease. It was evident that the situation was spiraling out of control, and danger seemed to be surrounding us from all sides.

—Stay back!—Amber whispered, and Liv continued to cry. —I found Chad— she said amidst tears.

—Chad?—Sam asked timidly.

—You're a damn liar!—Amber said with disgust.

—No!—Liv denied, shaking her head.

—You're the killer!— Richie said.

—No, it's not me...— Liv mumbled in panic.

—Liv, stop— Amber said, extending her hands toward Liv.

—Liv, stop!— Amber repeated impatiently.

—Fuck you, Amber. I'm not the damn killer—Liv muttered, emphasizing each word.

My eyes landed on Amber's hand, disappearing behind her, retrieving something. —I know— Amber replied, and my eyes widened when I saw Tara's best friend place a bullet in the middle of Liv's forehead.

—Welcome to Act Three— Amber said, pointing the gun at me.

Mindy, who was close by, struck Amber's arm, deflecting the shot.

The shoulder wound was painful, but the adrenaline pumping through my veins gave me the strength to scoop Tara up and seek shelter. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Sam and Richie heading toward the basement, while Mindy seemed to be busy distracting Amber. It was an atmosphere of chaos and panic, but I had to focus on keeping Tara safe and addressing the situation.

With quick and silent steps, I climbed the stairs to the upper floor, carrying Tara with me. We found refuge in a room, and without hesitation, we squeezed ourselves into a relatively small closet. As my heart raced, I placed a hand over Tara's mouth to quiet her and urged her to slow her breath. The silence in that cramped space was stifling, but I knew it was necessary to avoid attracting the killer's attention.

I felt Tara's rapid heartbeat against my hand, and her eyes were filled with fear.

—Tara, I know you want me to stay here with you, but I need to go down and try to resolve the situation outside.—

Tara shook her head. —No, T/n, I can't let you go. I'm afraid you'll get hurt, that you might end up like Wes.—

I gently held her face in my hands. —Tara, I promise I'll be careful. I don't want to put myself in danger, but I also have a duty to help others. We need to find a solution to this situation.—

Tara squinted her eyes slightly. —I don't care about the others right now, I only care about you. I don't want to lose you.—

I held her hand and looked into her eyes. —Tara, I understand how worried you are, but I can't let anyone get hurt. I'll try to come back to you as soon as I can. You have to promise me that you'll stay safe here.—

—I can't promise that if I don't know what will happen. T/n, I don't know what I would do if something happened to you—Tara said with a trembling voice.

—Listen, I know it's difficult, but I have faith in you. If something goes wrong, try to find a safe place to hide. And when I come back, we'll be together again. Don't let fear make you take irrational decisions.—

Our gaze locked, and in the silence filled with emotions, Tara leaned closer to me. Our breaths mingled, and I felt her gentle touch on my cheek as she drew closer. Her kiss was intense, as if she wanted to convey everything she was feeling at that moment.

I felt every part of me respond to that needy and meaningful kiss. It was as if we wanted to share everything we felt for each other, in case we didn't have another chance. Our lips moved with passion and tenderness, and as we parted, I could read everything in her glistening eyes.

—Come back to me— she whispered, and I could hear the concern and longing in her voice.

—I promise I'll be back— I replied, trying to convey all the determination and affection I felt.

We exchanged an intense and meaningful gaze before I slowly pulled away to descend the stairs. I had a mission to complete, but the thought of Tara and her warm embrace would accompany me in every step I took.

I hurriedly descended the stairs.

The scene in front of me was unfolding incredibly fast and violent. Confusion mixed with horror as Sam pointed the gun at Amber, Sydney urged her to shoot, and Richie approached with determined steps.

My heart was racing as I tried to comprehend what was happening.

—Thank God you're okay— Richie's words resonated in the room, and I felt myself freeze. With wide eyes, I helplessly witnessed the horrifying scene: the knife lodged in Sam's side, Richie embracing her, making the situation even more dreadful. —Because I wanted it to be me to kill you—Sam whispered almost breathlessly.

Richie's gaze shifted to me.

—Don't move, T/A— I remained frozen in place as I saw him aiming the gun at me.

Sydney stared at me in panic.

Richie handed the gun to Amber, causing her to point it at Sydney's temple. —Come here if you don't want me to kill Tara— Amber whispered seriously.

Reluctantly, I approached.

Amber struck me in the face with the gun's butt, causing a cut on my eyebrow.

—I can't believe it worked...— Richie said, smiling, revealing the inhaler that Tara had lost. —I know... it's a pity it's me— Richie said with gleaming eyes, tossing the inhaler to the ground. —But it was the best thing for the movie— he added, using a voice distorter.

—This isn't a damn movie— Sam muttered through clenched teeth. —I know... but it will be— Richie said, smiling.

—Right, Amber?— Sam's ex-boyfriend asked playfully.

—Absolutely, darling. Third-act bloodbath. Done—Amber said, smiling, pressing the gun against Sydney's temple. —Killers revealed. Done— Amber murmured next, looking at me with gleaming eyes.

Pouting, the girl aimed the gun at my legs and shot me.

The pain hit me suddenly, like a lightning bolt tearing through my body. My legs gave way beneath me, and I fell to the ground, feeling the sharp, throbbing burn radiating through me. The entire world seemed to slow down, and my breath became labored as I tried to grapple with that excruciating sensation.

My hands clenched around my legs, searching for any point of support. Tears welled up in my eyes from the pain and surprise. I couldn't believe what was happening. I looked at Amber, trying to fathom the reason behind that violent and senseless act.

—Why?— I managed to whisper, my voice cracking from pain and confusion. My mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions: anger, fear, betrayal. I couldn't fathom how anyone could inflict such pain on another human being.

I hoped someone would intervene, put an end to this madness. As the agony consumed me, my gaze met Sydney's. I pleaded for help with my eyes, imploring someone to halt everything before irreparable harm was done.

—Let's take them to the kitchen— Amber murmured, ignoring my question. I struggled to stand and followed them, blinded by pain.

—Someone needs to save the franchise— Richie exclaimed with enthusiasm. —No one's made a Steb film after the first— Richie pushed Sam. —No one at all— he affirmed, giving me a kick.

I gritted my teeth and tried to hold back tears.

Amber jumped up and down excitedly. —Darling, could you fetch Gale?—Richie asked kindly, pointing the gun at Sam. —I'm going!— the psychopath muttered enthusiastically.

Sam tried to escape, but Richie stopped her.

—Sydney Prescott...— Richie murmured with a smile on his lips. —You know... I'm a big admirer of yours— he timidly exclaimed.

—Screw you, psycho— Sydney retorted venomously.

—Did you watch the latest Steb?— Richie asked, tilting his head. —I don't like horror movies— Sydney replied.

—Well, anyway, it was awful... Is it possible they don't take us seriously because we're enthusiasts? Is it possible they won't listen to us?— Richie said angrily. —So we decided to lend a hand... you know... a real Steb is based on real events— he added, pointing the gun at Sam.

Amber arrived with Gale and had her sit on a chair.

—Did you do all this to make me the hero of your stupid movie?— Sam asked disgustedly.

—Darling... you're not the hero... you're the villain— Richie said playfully.

—The daughter of Billy Loomis, haunted by eerie visions of her killer father— Richie murmurs, placing the tip of the gun against Sam's throat. —Sydney Prescott killed your father... you... did all of this to bring her back to Woodsboro—Richie smiles at Sam.

—Do you know what the main problem with Steb films is?— Amber says innocently, playing with the gun.

—That there's no Michael Myers or Jason Voorhees— Amber moves the gun along Sydney's face. —No recurring villain in all the movies— she states with a smile.

—But the illegitimate daughter of the original villain? Now that's one damn good villain—she whispers with a chuckle.

—How do you know?—Sam asked.

—Darling... this is a small town, and your mother is a drunk— Amber said, amused.

—I met Richie on Steb forums... I immediately realized we think alike... I had this obsession when my parents bought this house— Amber said.

—Wasn't it difficult to find you in Modesto— Richie sneered. —Sleeping with you wasn't hard either— he muttered weakly.

—Fuck you!— Sam exclaimed angrily. —So you're just quoting the original— Richie said with amusement.

—We didn't only need you, Sam... but we had to bring back the main Steb characters— Amber said.

My eyes shifted to the knife on the table.

—You can't have Halloween without a Jamie Lee!—Amber said excitedly.

—That's why we had to kill Riley— Richie said, —for once we enthusiasts will win.— Richie approaches Sydney. —And I'm sorry, Sid. But you'll have to die... we can't let you survive anymore... it would be ridiculous— Richie muttered.

— Amber, go get Tara from the closet. We need to set up the bodies— Richie said with a smile.

Amber hesitated in place.

—Did you put her in the closet?— she timidly asked, and Richie gave her a furious look. —No, you were supposed to! Damn it! Go find her!—the guy said, clearly angry.

The phone began to ring.

—It's for you— I said with a half-smile on my lips. —Yes... as if Tara's limp was the problem— Richie said, amused.

—Amber, look for her everywhere! She couldn't have gone far!— Richie yelled, pointing the gun at Sam.

—I can't find her!— Amber's screams echoed in the distance.

Sounds of struggle in the distance distracted Richie. After Sam tackled him to the ground and attempted to disarm him, she finally managed to take the gun from him and escape to another room, taking one of the two Ghostfaces with her.

Meanwhile, Gale and Sydney confronted Amber, given my inability to walk. Despite their hostile and dangerous opponent, Gale and Sydney embarked on confronting Amber and trying to control the situation. With a seemingly inexplicable force of will, I managed to lift myself off the ground despite the searing pain. I grabbed a bottle of hand sanitizer and, without wasting time, hurled it at Amber with all the remaining energy I had. The liquid hit her body, and I heard her scream in pain as she recoiled, temporarily defeated. Gale and Sydney seized the opportunity, stepping in with determination to fight her. At that moment, I realized that my determination was becoming a crucial factor in this battle against Amber.

—I didn't do anything! It was his idea!—Amber exclaimed in panic after being cornered.

—You killed Riley, my friend—Gale said, aiming the gun at Amber.

—And he cried like a child— Amber said with a smile, provoking Gale's anger.

The fight continued, and after being cornered once again, Gale decided not to fall for it and shot at Amber. The girl fell against the kitchen and caught fire.

Sydney put an arm around my waist and led me out, seeing that Sam had killed Richie in the meantime.

Still in shock from the unexpected turn of events, a piercing scream echoed from the kitchen. I turned around in panic and saw Amber, half-burned, advancing towards me with a knife in hand. Everything seemed to be heading for the worst, but a sudden gunshot rang through the air, and Amber fell to the ground, motionless.

—Don't touch my girlfriend, you bitch— Tara said breathlessly, gripping the gun tightly.

Comments please

[taeswolfie]

𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝑭𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 : 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆

☽︎𝑷𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝑴𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚☾︎

Ch.02 - Ch.04

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x fem!Reader

Word count: 4.4k

Y/n lays asleep in her bed, hair splayed across her pillow and lips slightly parted as slow and steady breaths move her chest. Her sleep is peaceful until a distant howl is heard. Her brows furrow and her breathing picks up a bit as she starts to shift in her sleep. Her hands clench and her legs move, her sheets quickly becoming wrapped around them as her head moves to the side. Another howl rips through the air. Her skin is coated with a thin layer of sweat as she starts to pant, her face conveying the fear from her dream.

Screams.

The color yellow.

Bloody claws.

Red eyes.

She sits bolt upright with a gasp, her eyes wide and glowing their violet hue, hands grasping at her chest. She looks down and holds her hands in front of her face. When she sees they're clean she sighs in relief. She rakes a hand through her hair as she takes deep breaths to calm herself. In through the nose, out through the mouth. As she calms down her irises dim to their normal e/c hue. The details from her dream instantly start slipping from her mind and she can't remember anything that happened. All she remembers is the fear when she saw them. The red eyes. They were angry, power hungry, a fire of rage flickering within their depths. She had a feeling she wouldn't be getting back to sleep tonight so she grabbed a blanket and went to the living room to watch TV until it was time for her to get ready for school.

...

"So you killed her?" Stiles asks as he opens the school door, letting Y/n and Scott through before following himself. Scott had been telling them about his nightmare where he wolfed out and killed Allison on a school bus.

"I don't know." Scott shrugged. "I just woke up. And I was sweating like crazy, and I couldn't breathe. I've never had a dream where I woke up like that before."

"Really? I have. Usually ends a little differently."

"TMI, Stiles." Y/n gave him a slightly disgusted look, but still chuckled at his blunt delivery.

"A) I meant I've never had a dream that felt that real, and B) never give me that much detail about you in bed again." Scott continued.

"Noted." Stiles nodded. "Let me take a guess here."

"No, I know, you think it has something to do with me going out with Allison tomorrow, like I'm gonna lose control and rip her throat out."

"No, of course not." Scott looked at Stiles for a moment before he caved. "Yeah, that's totally it. Hey, come on, it's gonna be fine, all right?"

"You know, dreams have a way of showing us our own stresses and desires. We process things through our dreams. That particular one could be your own worries and fears about hurting her." Y/n shared.

"Personally I think you're handling this pretty freakin' amazingly." Stiles complimented. "You know, it's not like there's a Lycanthropy for Beginners class you can take."

"Yeah, not a class, but maybe a teacher." Scott hinted.

"Who, Derek?" Stiles smacks the back of Scott's head and Y/n promptly returned the gesture to Stiles. He looked at her in offense, rubbing the back of his head.

"Don't hit him. He has a point." She scolded.

"You forgetting the part where we got him tossed in jail?"

"Yeah, I know, but chasing her, dragging her to the back of the bus, it felt so real." Scott said.

"How real?" Y/n asked.

"Like it actually happened." The boys open each door and Y/n trails behind Stiles as they walk out only to take a few steps and pause at the sight of a bloody and damaged school bus.

"I think it did." Scott looked at Stiles shocked.

"She's fine, Scott." Y/n assured as she and Stiles followed the now panicked boy.

"She's not answering my texts, Y/n." He fretted.

"It could just be a coincidence, all right?" Stiles tried to reassure.

"A seriously amazing coincidence. Just help me find her, okay?" Scott frantically looked front and back for any sign of Allison. "Do you see her?"

"No."

Y/n could hear his rapidly increasing heartbeat. "Scott, you need to calm down. Allison is just fine." Her words fell on deaf ears as he anxiously raked a hand through his hair and turned a corner. Y/n and Stiles fell back when he leaned against a locker. He gripped it as he breathed harshly before yelling out and punching the locker so hard the door dented and swung crookedly on one hinge. Stiles went to go to him but Y/n stopped him. "Just wait. I've got a good feeling."

"How can you have a good feeling about that?" He flailed an arm loosely in Scott's direction.

She turned to look at him. "Just trust me." He looked between her eyes, his own showing hesitation, before he nodded. They watched as Scott backed away from the locker and into the adjacent hall where he bumped right into Allison, accidentally making her drop her books. Allison smiled and said something they couldn't hear and Y/n could practically see the relief on Scott when he realized it was her. "See? I told you." Y/n smiled at Stiles in triumph and he just huffed a laugh at her. Everyone's attention was then drawn to the PA system as an announcement was made.

"Attention, students, this is your principal. I know you're all wondering about the incident that occurred last night to one of our buses. While the police work to determine what happened, classes will proceed as scheduled."

There's a collective groan from the students and Y/n chuckles at their reactions. "Come on, let's get to class." Y/n grabbed Stiles hand and led them down the hall.

In Chemistry, Mr. Harris writes on the chalkboard. Y/n sits in the farthest back corner away from the teacher due to the fact that she wasn't a big fan of him and sitting there, there was less chance of her being called, him being a douche, and her responding in kind resulting in detention. No matter how much she tried to hold her tongue something in her blood made her snark back at him.

"Maybe it was my blood on the door." Y/n's writing pauses as she hears Scott quietly talk to Stiles who was sitting right behind him.

"Could have been animal blood. You know, maybe you caught a rabbit or something." Stiles speculated.

"And did what?"

"Ate it."

"Raw?"

"No, you stopped to bake it in a little werewolf oven. I don't know, you're the one who can't remember anything."

"Mr. Stilinski, if that's your idea of a hushed whisper, you might want to pull the headphones out every once in a while." Mr. Harris said snidely. Y/n had to clench her teeth and close her eyes at the ass of a teacher. "I think you and Mr. McCall would benefit from a little distance, yes?"

"No." Stiles denied but his mind was set. Mr. Harris gestured to different seats farther apart and the boys obliged.

"Let me know if the separation anxiety gets to be too much." Stiles scoffs a laugh and settles in the empty space next to Y/n.

"You guys need to learn how to whisper better." Y/n actually whispered with a teasing smile. Stiles nudged her with a small smile and she quietly snickered until a gasp rang through the room.

"Hey, I think they found something." A girl jumped from her seat and everyone followed her to the window to see a group of EMT's wheeling an injured man on a gurney to an ambulance.

"That's not a rabbit." Scott pointed out. The man sat up and screamed, making everyone in the class jump back and scream. Scott backed up more than others in shock.

"Hey, this is good, right?" Y/n asked when she noticed Scott and followed him, Stiles coming a moment later.

"Yeah," Stiles agreed, "this is good. He got up, he's not dead. Dead guys can't do that."

"Guys..." Scott called. "I did that."

...

The trio grabs their lunch in the cafeteria and goes to an empty table. "But dreams aren't memories." Stiles said.

"Some people dream about their memories." Y/n pointed out.

"Then it wasn't a dream." Scott reasoned as they sat down. "Something happened last night. And I can't remember what."

"What makes you so sure that Derek even has all the answers?" Stiles asked.

"Because during the full moon he wasn't changed. Ask Y/n, she saw him." Stiles looked at the girl who shrugged and nodded. "He was in total control while I was running around in the middle of the night attacking some totally innocent guy."

"You don't know that." Y/n denied.

"I don't not know it. I can't go out with Allison. I have to cancel."

"No, you're not canceling, all right?"

"You can't just cancel your entire life." Stiles agreed. "We'll figure it out."

"Figure what out?" Lydia's voice appeared with her sitting her tray down next to Scott and across from Y/n.

Stiles practically choked on a laugh and Scott was caught off guard at the sudden appearance so Y/n rolled her eyes and spoke up. "Just homework." Y/n smiled at her friend.

"Yeah." Stiles agreed and then whispered to his friends. "Why is she sitting with us?" Scott gave him a look that said he didn't know while Danny sat next to Y/n, Allison sat next to Scott, and another boy and girl took the empty spots on either end of the table.

"Hey, Danny boy."

"Hi, Y/n." He smiled in greeting. While Y/n didn't get along with Jackson, his friend Danny wasn't so bad.

"Get up." Jackson ordered the boy sitting at the end next to Lydia and Danny.

"How come you never ask Danny to get up?" The boy complained.

"Because I don't stare at his girlfriend's coin slot." Danny sassed back. Jackson practically shoved the boy off the chair and sat down himself. Y/n grimaced at the new addition to the table. "So I hear they're saying it's some type of animal attack. Probably a cougar."

"I heard mountain lion." Jackson said.

"A cougar is a mountain lion." Lydia smartly corrected. Jackson gave her a weird look and she smoothly backpedaled into an unsure look. "Isn't it?" Y/n raised her brow at Lydia's act, shaking her head with a small huffed laugh.

"Who cares? The guy's probably some homeless tweaker who's gonna die anyway."

"Literally no one asked for your thoughts on that, Jack-ass." Y/n glared at Jackson who returned the gesture, but before he could retort Stiles piped up.

"Actually, I just found out who it is. Check it out." He held out his phone so everyone could see the news report being played.

"The Sheriff's department won't speculate on details of the incident but confirmed the victim, Garrison Meyers, did survive the attack. Meyers was taken to a local hospital where he remains in critical condition."

"I know this guy." Scott realized.

"You do?" Allison asked.

"Yeah, when I used to take the bus, back when I lived with my dad. He was the driver." Scott, Stiles and Y/n were slightly stunned by this revelation but it didn't really mean much to anyone else.

"Can we talk about something slightly more fun, please?" Lydia asked. "Like, oh, where are we going tomorrow night?" Allison looked at Lydia, chewing her food in a surprised manner. "You said you and Scott were hanging out tomorrow night, right?"

Scott looked at Allison and she swallowed. "Um, we were thinking of what we were gonna do."

"Well, I am not sitting at home again watching lacrosse videos, so if the four of us are hanging out, we are doing something fun. Y/n, are you coming?"

The h/c raised her brows at Lydia. "Uh, no, I'm not. There'll be enough estrogen with you, Allison, and Jackson there so I'm good." Lydia playfully glared at her while Jackson rolled his eyes.

"Hanging out?" Scott questioned and Allison looked like a fish out of water. "Like, the four of us?" Stiles put a hand over his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut to block out the horror going on. Scott looked at Allison again. "Do you wanna hang out, like us and them?"

"Yeah, I guess. Sounds fun." Y/n watched this exchange in utter amusement, sipping on her drink to hide her grin.

"You know what else sounds fun?" Jackson asked and picked up a fork. "Stabbing myself in the face with this fork." Stiles rolled his eyes as he drank some of his water.

"That does sound fun! Let me do the honors for you." Y/n brandished her own fork with a sickly sweet smile.

Lydia reached over and snatched both of their utensils. Then she gasped. "How 'bout bowling? You love to bowl." Lydia looked at Jackson. Stiles munched on a fry and desperately tried to signal to Scott with his eyes to get out of this situation.

"Yeah, with actual competition."

"How do you know we're not actual competition?" Allison challenged. "You can bowl, right?" She asked Scott.

"Sort of." He replied not-so convincingly.

"Is it sort of, or yes?" Jackson dogged down Scott.

"Yes." This time Scott sounded more sure. "In fact, I'm a great bowler."

"You're a terrible bowler." Y/n laughed as she and Stiles followed Scott through the halls.

"I know! I'm such an idiot."

"God, it was like watching a car wreck." Stiles observed. "I mean, first it turned into the whole group date thing. And then out of nowhere comes that phrase." Stiles gripped his head in remorse at the dreaded phrase.

"Hang out."

"You don't hang out with hot girls, okay? It's like death."

"You guys hang out with me. Am I not as pretty as Allison?"

"No." She raised a brow at Stiles like you really just, and he quickly backpedaled. "That- that's not what I mean. It's different with you."

"How?"

"It just is." She scoffed and rolled her eyes, picking up her pace because now she has to go to the Clinic with Scott today because Stiles kept her from it the other day.

Stiles turned back to Scott. "But once it's hanging out, you might as well be her gay best friend. You and Danny can start hanging out."

"How is this happening? I either killed a guy or I didn't."

"I don't think Danny likes me very much." The two boys now having very different conversations.

"I ask Allison on a date, and now we're hanging out."

"Am I not attractive to gay guys?"

"I make first line, and the Team Captain wants to destroy me, and now-" Scott looks at the time on his phone, "now I'm gonna be late for work." Scott caught up with Y/n as they left the school.

"Wait, Scott, you didn't- am I attractive to gay guy-" he tried yelling out but stopped himself, "you didn't answer my question." He muttered and walked the other way.

...

"Don't worry, Scott. It's just a couple minutes." Y/n assured as she and Scott dismounted their bikes outside the Animal Clinic. Scott rushed in while Y/n went at a normal pace.

"Sorry. Sorry." She heard Scott say once he got to the back room.

"You're all of two minutes late." Alan said.

"Told you." Y/n smiled once she also got into the back room.

"I just don't want you to think I'm slacking." Scott explained.

"Scott, I guarantee you, you're one of the least slacking kids in this town." Scott smiled.

"I hope I'm one of the others?" Y/n looked at Alan.

"Of course. When you actually make it in, that is." He joked.

"I said I was sorry for the other day! I can't help Stiles dragging me this way and that." Y/n helped move a box around and Scott smiled at the exchange, but it faded when he saw the Sheriff at the door. He became anxious until the door opened and he saw one of the K-9 police dogs with him. Y/n looked over at the noise and instantly went into doggy voice mode. "Hi there, buddy. Are you ready to get your stitches out? Huh?" She kneeled down to the German Shepherd and petted his fur. "Hiya, Sheriff." Her voice was normal when talking to the humans.

"Hi, Y/n. Hey there, Scott. You staying out of trouble?"

"Yeah." Scott said simply. Alan helped Y/n lift the dog onto the exam table. He whimpers as his bandaged front leg is moved but settles down onto the metal surface.

"Oh, you're such a trooper." Y/n cooed and stroked the dog's fur to calm him more.

"Hey, listen, while I'm here, you mind taking a look at those pictures I was telling you about? Sacramento still can't determine an animal." Noah handed an evidence envelope to Alan.

"I'm not exactly an expert." Alan pulled out the photos and looked at them. "This is the guy who was attacked in the bus?" Scott's head picked up at this and Y/n glanced at him.

"Yeah. And we found wolf hairs on Laura Hale's body."

"A wolf?" Scott asked. "I mean, I think I read somewhere that wolves haven't been in California for, like, 60 years."

"True enough, but wolves are highly migratory. They could have wandered in from another state driven by impulse or strong enough memory."

"Wolves have memories?"

"Long-term ones, yeah." Y/n informed.

"If associated with a primal drive." Alan added. "See this one here?" Alan showed a picture to Noah.

"Yeah."

"Those are claw marks. A wolf would have gone for the throat or the spinal cord with it's teeth." He curled his fingers in front of his neck for demonstration.

"So what do you think, it's a mountain lion?"

"I don't know. A wolf could chase down it's prey, hobbling it by tearing at the ankles. And then the throat."

...

In the evening it was only Y/n and Alan left in the Clinic. They had finished closing up and they now stood in the back room, Y/n had just told Alan about Scott's 'dream'. "And the weirdest part is I had a dream too. I can't remember what it was but I remember red eyes. And I think I heard howling, but I'm not sure."

"You think it was the Alpha that attacked that man?" Alan asked.

"Yes. Scott isn't like that, he wouldn't attack someone like that. But the Alpha... I feel like he definitely would. And the eyes... It's not a coincidence."

"He must have at least been there to have a dream or memory like that."

"He can't remember. If I wasn't hiding I could try and help him remember but..." Her brows furrow and she frowns.

"It's okay. You're not ready to share who you are and that's perfectly understandable considering your past."

Before she can respond she gets a message from Stiles saying that he was picking her up with Scott. "Looks like I'm going out." She sighs as she puts her phone away and gathers her things.

"I know you're capable, but just be careful, all right?"

She gave him a smile. "Always." She gives him a hug before they part ways, him going home and her waiting for Stiles. Once they arrive she hops in the back and they fill her in on where they're going. Derek had told Scott to go back to the bus and let his senses remember for him.

Stiles pulls up near the closed fence of the school. The three get out, Y/n leaning against the front of the Jeep while the boys walk off. "Hey, no, just me." Scott said to Stiles. "Someone needs to keep watch."

"Y/n's doing that."

"Stiles."

"How come I'm always the guy keeping watch?"

"Because there's only three of us and the more eyes watching out, the better."

"Okay, why's it starting to feel like you're Batman and I'm Robin? I don't want to be Robin all the time."

"Nobody's Batman and Robin any of the time."

"Not even some of the time?"

"Just stay here."

"Oh, my God!" Stiles groaned and trudged back to the Jeep. He gets into the driver's side and she gets back into the back.

"What's wrong, Stilinski? You don't like keeping an eye out with me?"

"No, I just don't want to be on the side lines." He pouted.

"You're not. This is just... This is something he needs to do alone. He needs to be absolutely focused on his senses so he can remember." They lapse into silence for a while, watching Scott's figure inside the bus as a light rain started. She glances over at Stiles after a minute and noticed he was still pouting. "Don't pout." She chucked him under the chin. "You're too cute to pout." She smiled and winked. His eyes slightly widened at her actions, and before he can even think of responding lights caught their attention, drawing their eyes away from each other and towards the bus. "Crap." She reached over and started honking to get Scott's attention.

Scott scrambled out of the bus and clambered on top of a red car, somersaulting over the fence. "Come on, come on." Stiles urged as Scott hurried into the Jeep.

"Go! Go! Go! Go!" He yelled and Stiles peeled away from the school.

"Did it work? Did you remember?" Stiles asked frantically.

"Yeah, I was there last night. And the blood- a lot of it was mine."

"So you did attack him?"

"No. I saw glowing eyes in the bus, but they weren't mine. It was Derek."

Y/n perked up at this. "What color were the eyes?"

"Why does that matter?"

"What about the driver?" Stiles cut in.

"I think I was actually trying to protect him."

"Why would Derek help you remember that he attacked the driver?" Y/n tried to reason.

Scott sighed. "That's what I don't get."

"It's got to be a pack thing." Stiles theorized.

"What do you mean?"

"Like an initiation. You do the kill together."

"Because ripping someone's throat out is a real bonding experience?"

"Could be, who knows? But the point is you didn't do it, which means you're not a killer!" Y/n gave him a smile.

"And it also means that-" Scott cut Stiles off.

"I can go out with Allison." Scott smiles with relief.

"I was gonna say it means you won't kill us." Stiles gestured to himself and Y/n.

"Oh, yeah. That too."

...

Y/n sits in the corner of her room, the corner she has dedicated purely to art. Not many people would guess but Y/n loves to paint. Granted she doesn't do it that often but when she does it's either because she had muse to or because she just needs to get her thoughts and feelings out and a great way to do that is through art. When she's in these moods it usually takes a lot to drag her away from her easel.

With everything going on lately she definitely needed a night to use her favorite outlet. She set up a large-ish canvas, about 18" by 26", on her easel and set her paints on a black card table, speckled with paint from previous works. She has a tall Mason jar filled with water and paper towels to dry and clean her brushes. She ties her hair up, rolls up her sleeves, turns up her music, and gets to work. She goes into a type of trance, the kind where you're so focused on what you're doing the outside world is faded and you don't even really notice what you're doing either. She lays a foundation of black, scarring the inky surface with angry reds and blazing oranges. She pours everything she's been feeling lately into this piece. Her frustrations, her fears, her worries, her nightmares. Everything.

She finally takes a break after a while when her phone starts to ring. She glanced at it and saw it was Lydia. She sighs and puts the brush into the cloudy water, turning down the music before answering. "Hey, Lydie."

"Hey, N/n."

"What's up?" She sat on her bed.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just with Allison getting ready to go out. Are you sure you don't want to come? It'll be fuuun." She added in a sing-song voice.

"I'm sure it will, but as much as I love being a pain in Jackson's ass, I don't really feel like being the fifth wheel tonight."

"Aw, boo." Y/n could practically see Lydia's playful pout now and smiled. "Alright, well if I can't convince you I'll let you go to do whatever weird things you like to do."

"Why, how gracious of you!"

Lydia sighed. "I know. You're so lucky to have me as a friend."

The two laughed. "I sure am. Bye, Lydia. Say hi to Allison for me."

"Will do. Toodles." Y/n laughed to herself again as she hung up with the red head. She set her phone aside and turned her music back up to finish her painting. It would be another few hours before she decided she was done. She put the brush in the jar and stepped back to really see what she had painted.

A black sky was dotted with glowing embers that rose from a raging fire that was taller than a man. A pile of wood was set ablaze and in the middle a woman was tied to a stake. Face tilted to the sky, hair flying upwards from the heat of the flames and slightly obscuring her features. Her eyes are specks of amethyst in the ruby inferno. Her flowing white dress is billowing and charred at the ends. Behind the fire, barely hidden by the flames, are a pair of red eyes, glinting sinisterly in the firelight. The edges of everything were a bit blurred, giving the whole picture a dreamy haze.

She jumped slightly when her phone went off, but this time it was a text from Stiles.

The bus driver succumbed to his injuries.

She frowned at the news and glanced back at the painting, the scarlet orbs holding an extra layer of blood in their depths.

Ch.04

[hufflepuffronstan]

Lucky

#5 - Hate, for @hinnymicrofic

They were lying on Ginny’s bed on a summer night, a couple of months after the first anniversary of the war. The whole house was quiet apart for the sound of the wind coming through the open window.

She rested her head on Harry’s chest listening to his heartbeat, her hand absently stroking his chest. 

A part of her felt selfish for not feeling awful for being able to lie together like this, for feeling relieved and comforted in his arms after so many people lost their lives, including her own dear brother.

She looked at Harry to see him looking up, unblinking, a myriad of thoughts passing through his eyes. 

“I thought of you.”

He had a hand wrapped around her and the other gently stroked her back.

“What?”

“Right before I faced the spell.” 

Ginny felt her breath catch. 

“I knew it was going to be the end, that there was no coming back. I knew there was nothing else I could do and right before the spell hit me, your face was the on my mind.”

He sounded almost detached, as if he was telling the story of a fictional character in a dystopian world. But there was a minute tremor in his voice that had she didn’t know him wouldn’t notice. But there had been so many conversations and she knew him and his mannerisms.

She wrapped her arms around him tightly as tears flowed down her eyes.

“And when I was given a choice to stay, I chose to stay because of you. I didn’t want to leave you behind again. I left you once and I didn’t want to leave you again. Finally, there seemed to be a tiny sliver of hope that if —” he tightened his hold around her, “if I came back maybe I could make things right and maybe, if I was lucky, I could have a life with you.”

A million emotions coursed through her mind.  She wanted to speak and comfort him, reassure him and tell him that she loved him, but her throat was tight and all she could do was hug him tighter as she tried to gain control.

She felt sad for the boy whose childhood was wrecked. 

She felt intense hatred and disgust towards the people who puppeteered his entire life, exploiting every bit of pureness and kindness of his soul. 

She felt fear for the boy who walked away, silently watching the faces of the people he loved, to face death alone. 

She felt admiration and awe for the boy who fought for everyone brave, loyal and unquestioning selfless.

And right now, most importantly, she felt immense gratitude for having him by her side. 

No, she wanted to be by his side. 

She wanted to be by his side so that she could spend her life trying to show at least a fraction of love he showed her.

She didn't know how long they lied silently in each other’s arms. 

When she finally calmed down, she leaned over and kissed him on the lips, softly. She hoped that her lips would convey the emotions where words failed her. 

She sat up, feeling a single kiss inadequate, and started peppering his face with kisses. She kissed his temple and then his cheeks then his nose, his eyes, his neck, fervently whispering words of love.

Harry sensing the need for her, grabbed her face and crashed their lips together. Their lips tangled together passionately, their emotions driving them together on a high like fuel on fire.

After what felt like several lifetimes, they broke apart, breathing heavily.

Ginny stared into his eyes and whispered, “I love you, Harry. So, so, so much!” She pecked his lips. “And you’re wrong.” Harry let out a watery chuckle. “You’re not the lucky one. I am the lucky one. I’m lucky that you chose to come back, that you love me and I’m so grateful that you’re here because I can’t imagine a life without you.”

“I love you too, Gin!”

Note:-

I’m sorry for the angst. Promise I’ll try to write a fluff next.