#two knives and are all pointing at each other's throats. and a girl who i think was kidnapped with me or smth made a speech

[kaciebello]

Sibling rivals, sibling allies

Masterlist

Nico Di Angelo x Hades! reader (platonic) Summary: Nico was aware his sibling loved him, to the point that lectures were inevitable. Warning: Angst, Siblings written by an only child, no use of y/n Author note: English is not my first language so I am sorry for any mistakes beforehand. I am not very good at angst so I hope I did this some justice. I also tried to make it gender-neutral as the request did not specify, however, this is my first time writing like that so I am sorry if I missed anything. All right to the artist of the fanart, I could not find them, but if you do, let me know and I will tag them.  Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ) request: Yes word count: 1,3k Song: Lean on - Major Lazer ( ft. MØ, DJ Snake )

 Sibling rivalry was something everyone expected when having more than one child. And who especially expected it were the Greek gods. They even encouraged it. Sadly, for Hades, his children got along and refused to fight each other.

Usually, Nico would play mythomagic with them or just lazily exist in the camp. Only a few people would talk to him. But he is used to it now. That's why he was confused when they ran into the Hades cabin and suggested training with said two. He agreed nonetheless, not wanting to disappoint his last older sibling, and he also thought Percy was okay-ish.

That is why he was standing in the area, watching them absolutely beat Percy's ass. Annabeth was standing beside him but did not look very happy about what was happening. He can't blame her, he would not be either if the roles were reversed. Also, the Hades children weren't really known for their good temper, so it made sense.

So when Percy tapped out, he wasn't surprised. However, the girl next to him made her way to help her friend up.

“Close your mouth, flies gonna take it as an invite.” They said, slightly tapping his chin to close it. Nico glared at them but did not argue. they were covered in sweat and breathing heavily. Nico was sure it was from the sun, not the fight, as he dubs Percy would give it much. If anything they more likely only tickled each other with swords. Although he was warned, that activity can cause accidental stab wounds and immediate visit to the infirmary.

The other two campers joined them. Percy bleeding from his scratches and Annabeth frowns on her face. He knew it was his turn now. That's what they agreed on. He did not think putting him, a child of one of the 3, against Annabeth was fair. Granted, were it a few months back when he thought he had a crush on her, before releasing he had a crush on Percy, it would have been harder to fight her.

“Come on whip, it's our turn.” Says Annabeth and gestures her knives at him. Nico can only tighten his hold on the sword he was holding. He takes a few steps to face her.

“Annabeth.” Sounds behind him warningly. The girl in question just huffs before charging at him. He moved out of the way, but it was like she already knew his steps before him and stuck him in the leg.

He winced but kept on his feet. She charges again, but this time he manages to avoid and block her from sighting him. Annabeth did not like that. Not only she was a fast thinker, but Nico would also forget she had been trained by Luke, one of the best swordsmen in the last couple of hundred years. Annabeth strikes again and Nico has no time to even register what is going on. She slashes his Achilles. Nico yelps and falls, having no strength to put weight on his leg. Annabeth manages to get hold of his sword. She was not standing above him with the tip of his sword at his throat.

“Get up,” she says with a sinister smile. He won't admit it but he was scared for a moment. That was before Annabeth got slammed by his sibling and rolled away. Percy yelped in surprise and went to help Annabeth while the siblings helped each other. 

“What the fuck was that for?” Argued Annabeth once she regained her composure.

“You immobilized him! What the fuck do you mean get up!” His sibling yelled still kneeling next to him. Nico has sat up now, trying to move his leg but when pain shot up he decided against it.

“Monsters are not gonna hold back just because he can't stand!” Annabeth was now making her way to them. Percy was trying to stop her but was very unsuccessful.

“Monster my ass Annabeth. You knew very well what-” A roar cuts her off. All of them freeze in their spots. A rustling in the trees got their attention. A distant yell is what got them moving. Nico felt four arms lifting him.

His sibling and Annabeth were trying their best to get his limping ass away from whatever there was. Percy was surveying the area when he saw it.

“Fuck.” Was all that left him. there stood, an automatic bull, as big as the house. All of their eyes widened as they tried to hurry up. unfortunately, the bull has seen them and charged at them. Nico could feel his weight bearing but only on Annabeth as his sibling went to aid Percy in trying to distract the beast. He wanted to stop them, but he was no use at the moment.

Annabeth stops and props Nico on a tree.

“What are you doing?” He hisses and she just rolls her eyes.

“I'm going to help them.” She says making sure Nico is comfortable.

“You can't leave me here.” Nico could see that she took that as a challenge. before she could leave him however they both heard Percy yell. turning their attention to him they can see a giant boulder heading their way. Nico makes eye contact with his sibling before he feels something tackling him on the ground.

“NICO” Was all he heard before the world became black.

 When Nico came to his senses, he thought that perhaps, Dad pulled him aside, that maybe travelledow travelled. And Brehabs a small hope of seeing Bianca was there. However, when he heard his sibling absolutely destroying their vocal cords from the yelling, he knew he was mistaken.

Opening his eyes, above him stood a well-known Apollo kid, his name was Will or something like that. The light from his hands makes Nico turn his face away and to the side. Only to be faced with a comic view. Annabeth sitting on a bed having her hand looked after by a different Apollo kid. Percy is next to her, holding her other hand. And his sibling, going off on both of them, mostly Annabeth by the looks of it.  Annabeth's head was hung low, it was apparent that she got an earful from Percy beforehand.

Nico is enjoying the situation. Not only is he not getting reprimanded, but he is also getting taken care of by a cute guy. His freedom is shored, however, as Percy nudges the other Hades kid and points to him.

His sibling turns to him at lightning speed, when they see he's awake, they rush to him kneeling by the bed. He can see they are worried even when all of them are out of immediate danger. When they saw he was okay they jumped in for a hug. Will jumped back startled and Nico could only groan in pain. Letting him go just as quickly as they hugged him

“Sorry, I just. I just thought I would have to bargain with Dad.” They say with a smile on their face. Although tears were streaming down their faces making them look a little bit hysterical.

Nico smiled at them.

“I'm fine, I did not even see Dad.” He says, trying to reassure them that he in fact did not die and came back. They just chuckled and nodded.

They all sat in silence for a few minutes before Annabeth with Percy walked up to his bed.

“I'm sorry.” She says. Nico expected her to continue but she didn't. So Nico just nodded, taking in that they were all still startled by what happened.

Next to him, his sibling stood up. It was like a switch turned in in them. Manually they made both Percy and Annabeth sit down at the end of his bed. They took a deep breath before starting.

“I am lost for words!...”

And despite being lost for words, they continue to yell at them for the next 45 minutes. Nico would not want it any other way.

Tag: thefallensacrifice

[odiesdayoff]

Boss's Orders

pair: Jackson Rippner x fem!reader

summary: Jackson Rippner was hired to keep you alive, no matter the cost.

warnings/tags: suicide attempt; insensitive conversations about mental health/suicide; implied age gap; smut; choking; showering together; Jackson and reader dislike each other; Jackson loves Lisa

also on AO3 <3

If you're struggling and happen to see this note: you're not alone and it will get better <3

The hotline that I found in the U.S. is 988.

It was undeniably cliche, you were well aware of that. Standing on a ledge on a Saturday night in the so-called prime of your life. It wasn’t your fault that the classic techniques worked so well. All you needed was an easy out and as you peered down at the concrete only a few stories below, it was the right choice.

The wind was unforgiving, nearly pushing you off before you had fully decided. The people down below looked like ants. You almost felt sorry for them for having to witness your body hitting the pavement. It had to be done.

So caught up in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the creaking of the door to the stairwell and footsteps made by well-polished shoes. The man made his presence known by clearing his throat. You turned to face him, though the tips of your sneakers remained off of the ledge. “If you’re waiting for some speech about how your life is worth it, don’t bother. Get off the fucking ledge.”

His lack of sensitivity or empathy whatsoever caught you off guard. He curled his index finger for you to come closer as if you were a child…or a dog. “And if I don’t?”

He sighed. Was this too much of an inconvenience for him? “I don’t get paid, which will piss me off. Now, get down.” He pointed to the ground in front of him. Did he really think he could just command you like that?

Ignoring him, you looked at the sidewalk again. Once you stepped off, there was nothing he could do. You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and took a step forward. You expected to fall, but the feeling never came. The man grabbed hold of your arm and roughly yanked you back on the rooftop. He allowed you to gently fall to the ground before letting you go.

He looked down at you, rolling up his sleeves. “You really can’t listen, can you? What happened? You didn’t get the concert tickets you wanted? Your crush doesn't like you back?” He feigned pity. The condescending questions felt rhetorical until he kicked your side and raised his brows, waiting for an answer.

“I’m depressed.” You coughed out. It wasn’t the entire truth, but it was the primary reason. The lack of control in your life just fed into your depression in a vicious cycle.

He laughed. “Depressed? Oh, please. What do you have to be depressed about?”

You knit your brows, looking up at him and deciding to ignore the question. “Why do they even care? And who are you?” The wind against your skin was almost taunting you. If things went right, you’d be in whatever afterlife existed. Yet, you were stuck here. With this guy.

He sighed. “Name’s Jackson. You’re the only heir to the throne and your family wants to protect their legacy. I thought I’d be hunting down terrorists, but I’m just babysitting a stupid girl who doesn’t know how good she’s got it.” He didn’t know you, or anything for that matter. The last thing you wanted was to live the life that your parents planned out for you. “And don’t think anything is off the table in regards to keeping you in line.”

The two of you walked through the roof door and down the stairs to your apartment. None of your protests were even acknowledged as he went straight into your kitchen and took out the knives, from steak to butter. Next were forks, scissors, box cutters, even your can opener. “That’s a bit much. Do you really think I’d kill myself with a potato peeler?” You watched as anything that could be labeled as sharp got swept into a box.

He continued to raid the cabinets. “People get creative.” You weren’t that determined to end your life, not yet, at least. The utensils clanked inside of the trashcan, it was surprising the bag was intact.

You knew that stopping him wasn’t an option, as if you had a fraction of his strength. It was time to go back to your usual coping mechanism: distracting yourself with meaningless games. Fortnite, to be more specific. The game launched and you slumped on your couch with the controller resting in your hands.

“What the hell are you doing?” He abandoned his excavation to glance at the screen. You eliminated a player, choosing to ignore the judgemental question. “That’s not even how a sniper works.”

“Like you’d know.” It was a game where eating fish gave you shield powers and anthropomorphic bananas used guns, who cared if the mechanics weren’t accurate to whatever terrorist weaponry that he was used to? You eliminated another player.

“You couldn’t even begin to imagine the things I’ve done.” Too busy listening to his constant comments, your focus wasn’t directed towards the game. Another player shot you down, losing at 38th place. They began to emote.

You sighed and set the controller down. “I’m taking a shower.” The one thing he couldn’t follow you into was the bathroom, at least, you hoped. He didn’t seem to care that much about your feelings, but seeing you naked might just cross a line.

“Fine.” He crossed his arms and watched as you made your way down the hallway and into the bathroom. You looked in the mirror, seeing your broken reflection. This was the closest you had ever truly gotten to committing the act to end your life and here you were, still here, still breathing. A shower could help. 

You turned on the water and the white noise of it hitting the tub was oddly calming. It drowned out all of the noise in your head. That’s when it hit you. The window was right there. If you left the shower running, Jackson would be none the wiser about your escape. Maybe you wouldn’t go and try to die again, at this point, anything was better than being stuck with him. Who knows what he was capable of?

The window popped open easily and you fiddled with the screen. How is it possible that it barely kept bugs out, but was so difficult for you to remove? It was baffling. 

The screen relented and you gently placed it on the ground. You only wished you had your phone with you or something other than the clothes on your back. The toilet paper holder wasn’t exactly the best method to hoist yourself through the window, though. Your shoe slipped on the roll and you had to hold onto the windowsill for dear life.

Steadying your breathing, you tried again and landed on the fire escape right below the window. You caught your breath and turned toward the stairs, only to make eye contact with Jackson with his arms crossed. “Think I’m an idiot? Turn around.” He took your shoulders and ushered you back through the bathroom window. 

He closed the window and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. One clasped around your wrist and the other on his. “Clearly, I can’t trust you enough to take a shower on your own, so I guess this will have to suffice until I escape-proof this place.”

You scowled at him, almost like a little kid who got put in time-out. “I still need to shower.”

“I’ll stand on the other side of the curtain. For modesty, I’m not a total creep.” It seemed that he had this all planned out, unfortunately for you. You reached into the shower, still running (wasted so much water and didn’t even get an escape out of it), to check the temperature. It was hot enough.

You unzipped your jeans, then looked at Jackson again. “Can you at least turn around?” He turned as much as he could, keeping his connected wrist behind his back. Your shirt and bra now hung on the handcuffed wrist, unable to get it fully off without taking the cuff off. “Um, my shirt is stuck.”

He turned around and you shot your arm up to cover your breasts. Without a word, he pulled a pocket knife out and cut through the fabric. Those were expensive, but he wouldn’t care. Now fully undressed, you took a step in the shower and slightly pulled Jackson closer to the curtain. He had pulled the sleeve of his jacket up, but the edges were still catching the stream of the faucet.

The hot water felt cathartic against your skin. You reached for your shampoo with your free hand and began to lather it into your hair. It had been a long while since you had showered, even if the idea to take one was technically a lie. Any time you tried to use the other hand, you were met with a tug of resistance from Jackson.

You tried to go on, washing the shampoo out of your hair and reaching for the conditioner bottle. You unusually used your left hand, but that one was still chained to the hitman and you nearly slipped and fell. “This isn’t working!”

“Water feels fine to me.” He was smug. Of course, he knew what you were talking about but had to make it difficult for you. You pulled the curtain back to look at him, holding it in front of your body.

“Either you unhook me or you get in here so I can actually do what I need to do.” You dramatically shut the curtain. Both options sounded bad in reality. You let the water hit you while you tried to calm yourself down.

About a minute later, Jackson pulled the curtain back and stepped in beside you. He was fully naked. A part of you wondered if he would get in with the full suit, but he seemed to be full of surprises. “Finish your damn shower.”

It was a little bit easier to reach for things and actually wash your hair, but the anxiety that he was staring directly at you was enough to make you extremely uneasy. You reached around him to grab the bar of soap and a washcloth, trying your best not to make any contact with any part of him other than his wrist.

Through it all, he just stood there. He wasn’t even in the actual shower, just getting slightly damp from being so close to it. You had never encountered such a strange man in your life.

“I’m done.” The shower almost immediately turned off. You opened the curtain and wrapped a towel around yourself. He still stood there, water dripping from the tips of his hair. “I’ll get you a towel, I guess.” You stepped out of the shower and knelt to get a towel from the lower cabinet.”

You should’ve stood up before you turned around. You were at eye-level with his dick. It looked pretty big, but it was completely soft. How could he have been naked in a shower with a woman and feel nothing? He must’ve been gay. Or asexual. Not like you could actually ask him that.

He took the towel out of your hands and wrapped it around his waist. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. You’re not my type.”

“What’s your type?” You tugged your wrist and he reluctantly followed you into your bedroom to find clothes to change into.

Once again, as if he hadn’t just watched you shower, he faced away from you. “If I wanted to feel like I’m fucking a Make-A-Wish kid whose only wish was to get dicked down, then you’d be right up my alley. I go for real women.”

Asshole.

Over the course of the next two weeks, that became your life. You couldn’t do anything without him breathing down your neck, no matter how many times you tried to show him that you could behave without the restraints. The only times that you were allowed to be alone were when you were using the bathroom (he’d attach the cuff to the cabinet door handle) and when you were in bed (cuffed to the headboard).

You stirred awake in the middle of the night, feeling the bed shake. For a second, you thought that there was some kind of earthquake. That is, until you heard soft moaning and heavy breathing.

As quietly as possible, you turned to see if the sounds matched what you were imagining. Jackson was sitting on the other side of the bed, feet on the ground, tugging at his cock with one hand and holding a photo in the other. He had no shirt on, allowing you to see the various scars and healed gunshot wounds that littered his skin. “What are you doing?”

“Take a wild guess.” His voice was a bit strained, not even breaking his concentration. He held the photo tighter.

Your eyes narrowed, and then you reached out and snatched the photo from his hand. It was a woman. She had curled auburn hair and gorgeous hazel eyes. “Who’s this? Your girlfriend?”

He grimaced. “No.”

“She’s clearly someone important if you keep a photo of her in your wallet and you jerk off to it.” Jackson tried to take the photo from you, but you pulled away. This wasn’t something you were going to back off of.

“She’s why I got stuck babysitting you instead of doing actual meaningful jobs.” He tucked his dick into his sweatpants, though there was still a noticeable tent, and faced you. “Last year, I had to convince her to change the hotel room of a politician my client wanted dead. I had to do it during a red-eye flight from Dallas to Miami. Obviously, I failed.” Taking advantage of your shock, he took the photo back.

“What if you…pretended that I was her?” You finally sat up and leaned against the headboard. He looked you up and down, his mind a bit clouded from the sheer amount of arousal still coursing through his veins. 

He gripped the photo harder, sighing. “Don’t expect me to be gentle.” 

At this point, you had to take what you could get. You shifted out of your sleep shorts and panties. Jackson wasted no time in straddling your legs and lining himself with your entrance.

It’s not that you were not aroused , but you wouldn’t say that you were. Only not entirely ready to take him just yet. You felt the stretch of his cock inside of you, straining your muscles before you could mentally prepare yourself. 

His lack of empathy showed further, taking no time to slam himself inside of you and almost jackhammer himself into completion. You whined and reached out to push against his chest. He gripped your wrist. “Shut the fuck up. You’re ruining this for me.”

His eyes were squeezed shut, face scrunching up with his own imagination taking over the situation. “Lisa…” You felt his hand press on your neck, but you knew not to protest. “You can’t escape me, Lis. You knew I’d come back for you. The only way you’re getting rid of me is with a bullet in my forehead.”

The more he spoke, the harder he fucked into you. “Wanted to take you back to your hotel, book the nicest suite, and stuff every hole of yours with my cum all night long.”

His thrusts became sloppier and you could have sworn that your face was turning purple with the amount of pressure on your windpipe. “Lisa.” He repeated her name as he came and pushed his cum deeper into you.

Once he released your neck, the first breath was almost as good as if you had actually come. He scowled down at you when he opened his eyes again. “Oh, right. You’re still here.”

[jackietaylorsversion]

Soulmates.

I was in a discord server earlier, and we got to talking about the Yellowjackets as soulmates, and I thought I'd share those thoughts here, just a nice little put together catalogue of all those thoughts put together. I might add to this, too, as more pairings and relationships come to me.

For the record, I want to point out that I think that all of these characters are soulmates, far beyond ship dynamics, far beyond romance. What makes up the insides of one makes up the insides of the others because they are all the same: teenage girls trapped in either growing or decaying bodies. Their souls are all mated to the others in some way or another.

Tai and Van are a pair. Two separate souls that are a part of a matched set, like socks. They can be worn mismatched, certainly, but they really are at their best together. Tai gives Van a purpose. Van calms Tai's "demons." They can exist without each other, live without each other, love without each other, but they just are at their best together.

Lottie and Nat are that sort of star-crossed soulmates, doomed soulmates. There's a red string of fate but its severed somewhere in the middle. They can be good for each other, laugh and smile and hold each other close. They can be the worst of each other, holding knives to each other's throats, laughing in the face of it. They're the epitome of a missed chance. What kind of missed chance? That's up for you to decide.

Misty and Nat are the kind of soulmates that don't seem like they'd match, but they work so good together. The believer and the skeptic (though who is who changes with the circumstance, the belief, the skepticism). Orange and blue. Salt and sweet. Chaotic good and lawful evil. They're diametrically opposed but in a way that makes sense, in a way that works together. They each feed off of what makes the other their opposite. One is running, the other is chasing. Of course one would die at the hand of the other.

Lottie and Laura Lee are the kind of soulmates where each thinks they are the worshipper while the other is the god. A prophet, a believer, a worship under the sun. Souls that just burn brighter around each other (and that pun was unintentional the first time but very intentional with the emphasis). Both want to help the other. Both want to hold the other. They are belief without boundaries personified. Each is Icarus. Each is the sun.

Tai and Shauna are soulmates in a way that recognizes "That is my person." Two people that have so much in common, who understand each other, who both recognize the want in the other. They have an understanding and a care for each other that's fierce. I see you, you see me, ad it might not be pretty, but we will be honest with each other. Especially as the two of them have aged; time has not erased their understanding of one another.

Jackie and Nat are soulmates in a way that isn't explored a lot in the show but has been discussed, from what I've seen, really well. Foils. Two sides of the same coin. Opposites. Rich girl, poor girl. Prude, slut. There are certain stereotypes around both of them that, from a glance, seem to play out. One only needs to look deeper to really see it. Unfortunately, from the show, we never really see the two of them see past their expectations of each other.

Jackie and Shauna. Two heads, one heart. I don't know where you end and I begin and all that. We've been there, we've done that. We know it by heart. They're not a pair because a pair implies separation, and there is none. You can cut out your heart, and you can even replace it, but it's never the same. They're two shattered halves of the same fucked up whole. When one piece is gone, the hole cannot be filled properly ever again. There are some species of worms that, when worm cut in half, can keep living as two separate entities. That does not negate the fact that it was once one whole creature. They're unhealthy together. They're unnatural apart. One did not live long enough to remedy either of these facts.

(If Jackie's heart was still beating, I know it would beat in time with Shauna's. I hope Shauna ate it to feel it beat with hers one last time.)

[willsdreamgirl]

off to the races — tommy shelby x reader ⋆｡˚

tommy x fem!reader

tommy and you are in rival gangs, and the peaky blinders interfere in your business. will you be able to let it rest? or will you give tommy the opportunity to realise his feelings for you through your conflicts with each other?

cw: mentions of guns, knives, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, smut if you squint, arthur is an ass

a/n: you guys loved the first tommy fic i wrote, so here’s another one!! couldn’t do too much hardcore enemies to lovers bc i’m a big ol softie. anywho, don’t be a ghost reader and enjoy!! 💌

word count: 3.2k

“fuckin’ peaky scum.” “what’s up, johnny?” you asked quizzically. “what’s up? what’s fucking UP? look at this shit.” you leaned over his shoulder to find your crates of whiskey disguised as hardware empty. you sighed knowingly. “can’t even enter bloody small heath without having our shit raided.” “tell me about it.” johnny laughed humourlessly.

you sat in your office, making sure the books were in order. you listened to the silent ticking of the clock. but your peace didn’t last long. “they did it again, eh?!” an angry max entered your office. you took your glasses off and put down your pen. “maximillian, if you must enter my office, do not enter it screaming maybe?” your words fell on deaf ears, max already seemed blinded by rage. “honest to god, i’ll cut every single one of those bastards!” he yelled yet again. you stood up from your chair, clearing your throat. “no need for that, max boy.” “what? what the fuck do you mea-” “i’ve arranged a meeting with the big man.” “who? tommy fuckin’ shelby?” you threw on your coat and made your way to the exit. “yes max, tommy fuckin’ shelby.”

tommy shelby was, at this point, the most powerful man in all of small heath. every government official was on his payroll and he practically had the coppers eating out of his hand. after the sabini incident, rarely anyone decided to fuck with the peaky blinders. you’d known tommy in school, you were even friends with him, but that was before your parents decided small heath was no place for a growing lady and decided to move far away from small heath, far away from tommy. but they underestimated how much spending time with tommy’s family had affected you. your parents were good people, you knew that. tommy’s family got involved in all sorts of illegal shit but made tenfold the money yours made. eventually, you realized that the shelby way was the only way you could create wealth in dirty, old birmingham. no one takes a 13 year old girl seriously when she says she wants to start a gang. so you had to start taking extreme measures. stealing, lying and gambling, to name a few. but your weakness was also your strength. you were a woman. and men underestimated women. no one ever believed you to be a threat, so they let down their guards around you. (it usually only took a glass or two of whiskey anyway) when they were vulnerable, that’s when you struck. over time, you became feared in your city, the girl who fools the men. and here you were 12 years later, your gang, the bishop ryders, being the peaky blinders’ rival gang. now, you were open to forming an alliance with them, reminiscing your time with the shelby family, but you learnt fairly quickly that the tommy you knew before the war was not the tommy that you came to know after. he was bitter, and vengeful, and after an explosion at one of your warehouses where four of your men had died, the bishop ryders and peaky blinders became sworn enemies.

you entered small heath, coppers surrounding the car. you muttered under your breath, “must’ve recognized the damn license plate.” you stepped out of the car. “mornin’ coppers, what can i do for you today?” you said, a fake smile plastered across your face. one of them stepped close enough to you that you could smell his breath. they were trying to intimidate you, of course. “who the fuck are you here to see, eh? such a pretty lady shouldn’t be in these parts of birmingham.” he spoke, a disgustingly devilish glint in his eyes. you spat on the ground next to him and knee’d him in the crotch and you yelled. “i’m here to see your king, now FUCK OFF.” the coppers seemed to back away, the guy you kicked now crouched down in the middle of the road. you got back in your car and resumed driving.

you saw a building with a big sign on it. ‘shelby company limited’, it read. tommy was becoming a pompous arse, you thought. you walked in and took a moment to look around. they had definitely upgraded since the last time you were here. the woman at the desk spoke to you. “oi, do you have an appointment?” you scoffed, a secretary, how… civilized. “who might you be?” “i’m lizzie, mr. shelby’s secretary.” she spoke, proudly. you gasped in faux amusement. “oh! so can you tell your precious mr. shelby that y/n’s here to see him?” she rolled her eyes at your sarcasm. “can’t let random fucking people in without appointments. besides, he’s not here anyway.”

after a little probing, you found out that tommy was in his new mansion, grieving over the death of his wife. when did he get married? you went over to his house, pushing aside butlers and maids to get to his office. you scoffed, for what seemed like the hundredth time today, he really was the king of small heath, eh? you walked in, the sound of your hand on the wood echoing in the big office. he motioned for you to leave without even looking up. “fuck off.” he muttered in that deep voice of his. you cleared your throat so he’d look up. his hand stopped writing for a moment, but resumed writing when he didn’t get a reply from you. you sighed, realising you’d have to vocalize yourself. you took big, exaggerated steps towards his desk. “tommy bloody shelby, sulking in his big house bought with his huge stack of cash. never thought i’d see the day.” you said mockingly. he sighed when he recognized the voice. he looked up, setting the pen down. he spoke, resting his elbows on his desk. “what the fuck do you want?” you could taste the venom in his voice. you laughed dryly. “i should be the one asking you that.” tommy’s eyebrows furrowed. “what are you fucking talking about?” you took a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. the bloody nerve of this man. “don’t fucking play stupid with me, tommy. you don’t think i see how your men are raiding my whiskey crates every fucking day?” he looked ever more confused but spoke slowly, almost cautiously. “what do you mean ‘my men’?” “i mean your bloody men, tommy! fucking peaky blinders!” “my men did no such thing, i assure you. they only do what i order them to. and i have no reason to search or raid your crates.” you scoffed at him and mimicked the way his elbows were on the desk. “now, either you’re not very good at giving orders, or you don’t know what the fuck’s going on within your own organisation. whatever the fuck it is, you better fix it, and you better fix it fast tommy.” he looked at you in disbelief. “tommy shelby doesn’t take orders from anyone, especially not from a rival gang.” “i didn’t think tommy shelby sulked over a girl either, but here we are, eh? now pour me a fucking whiskey.” he got up, and poured you a glass. he looked down into your eyes as your hands brushed when he handed you the glass.

he downed the whiskey in one sip and immediately phoned the small heath shelby co. ltd. office. michael picked up the phone. “hello, tommy?” “tell polly, arthur and john bring their arses here in the next hour. family meeting.” 20 minutes later, the entire shelby family had assembled in tommy’s office. arthur was the first to speak. “what the fuck’s she doing here?” he motioned at you. “i have unnecessary business to deal with because of you fucks.” john stepped closer to you, sizing you up. “you don’t scare me, shelby. fuck off.” he looked at tommy in disbelief. “get off her, john.” tommy replied. “right, so one of you gave our men the order to raid every bishop ryder crate that comes into town. it sure as fuck wasn’t me, so who was it?” everyone looked at each other in confusion, except john and arthur. “you two. you did it, eh?” you looked at them. “we’re not tommy’s fucking guard dogs! we’re equal shareholders of the bloody company and we will do whatever the fuck we see fit!” john yelled. tommy slammed his fist on the table. “god fucking damn it! legitimate business is priority! when i say something there’s a fucking reason! when i tell you to do something, you fucking do it!” even though you’d known tommy for years, this rage was unfamiliar to you. you spoke assertively. “i have no idea how i got roped into this family drama, but it’s affecting my business. i will not have you fucking cunts pull this shit again. you try and i will cut each and every one of you.” you gave tommy a look that told him you meant every word of what you said, and with that, you left.

the next day, you were in your office, going over important paperwork. that’s when you heard commotion outside. you heard fighting, and then you heard a voice. arthur bloody shelby. he stormed in your office, going around your desk. you stood up. “what the fuck do you want, arthur?” he put his hand around your throat and slammed you against the wall. you had a tight grip around his wrist, trying to push him away. you struggled to speak. “insult the peaky blinders one more time and i’ll fucking kill ya.” when you looked in his eyes, you didn’t see arthur. you saw someone completely different. you reached into your coat pocket to pull out a gun, but arthur already had one next to your head. he pulled the trigger, the bullet grazing your ear and embedding itself into the wall. “next time, it’ll be your head, not the wall.” some of your security heard your conflict with arthur and barged into the office and pulled guns on him. arthur, in his rage, shot two of your men on sight. arthur let you go, and stormed out of your office. you’d had enough. enough disrespect. as if it wasn’t hard being a woman and running a gang in birmingham.

you went to speak to tommy. he was in his office this time, and you walked in to find lizzie typing something. “where is he?” you asked frantically. “not you again. like i said, you need to make an appointme-” “where. the FUCK IS TOMMY?” you yelled in her face. she looked at you for a moment, then spoke. “mr. shelby’s in the middle of a meeting.” “fuck his damn meeting.” you barged into his office, to find some copper sitting in front of him. you snapped your fingers to get his attention, even though you already had it. “we. need. to. talk.” is all you said. “get out.” he spoke, and you crossed your arms. the copper sitting in front of him looked at you, waiting for you to leave. “i was talking to you, dimwit. leave.” he said, pointing to the copper this time. he nodded and left quickly. “what brings you here, mis-” “your rabid dog of a brother shot at me yesterday and killed two of my men, in my office, in front of me.” you spoke, oddly calm. “what.” tommy was truly at a loss for words. “yeah. anyway, you’ll be at the epsom derby this year right? i’m gonna kill you tommy. it’ll be fun.” you said, laughing sarcastically. before he had a a chance to respond, you left his office. tommy was infuriated. not only had he lost his wife, he had gained a new enemy who now wanted to kill him, and his brothers couldn’t step up and do tommy’s job for two fucking days.

epsom rolled around, and you gathered all your men, and other men you borrowed from allies. you knew small heath men, so, you knew tommy’s men. you knew their vices: whores, whiskey and cocaine. you brought prostitutes with you, who had several bottles of alcohol and vials of ‘the snow’ on them, and had your men stationed everywhere. the plan was, distract tommy’s men, get him alone with you, and kill him.

as soon as the race started, you saw your plan unfold. all of tommy’s men were either fighting with yours, drunk and high in a corner somewhere or fucking a whore. you scoffed as you remembered aunt pol’s words. men and their cocks never cease to amaze me. truth be told, you missed that family. you missed going with the shelby brothers to steal whiskey from a pub as kids, and you missed aunt pol yelling at the boys, telling you how they were bad influences. and you missed tommy. your tommy. the tommy that would sit with you, talk to you for hours, the one you could laugh with endlessly. and here you were, plotting to kill him. how did it all get so fucked up?

while your men were distracted, you hunted tommy down. he was in the stables, alone, where they kept the racehorses. he turned around as he heard the familiar sound of a cocking gun. he raised his hands. “i’m unarmed.” you walked closer to him, gun still pointing to his forehead. “you and your stupid fucking gang have been doing so much damage to everything i’ve built all along. you got handed this tommy, you don’t know what it’s fucking like to build this from the ground up with your own hands.” you said, your hand on his shoulder. “someone has to pay, eh?” he said, take the hint and getting on his knees. you walked around him so that his back was facing you. you inhaled deeply. “ready?” you said. “give a man one last smoke?” he asked. “fine.” you turned around as he lit a cigarette. “this is the end of the line, eh? i was in this same position a year ago, maybe this is how it’s meant to be. tell arthur and john to stop fucking shit up, tell pol to take care of the boys, tell ada i love her and karl, and y/n? check in on charlie every once in a while? i don’t want him to feel like a lonely orphan, alright?” tommy spoke sombrely. you felt memories rushing back, memories of you and the boys playing with guns, getting drunk. you took a deep breath as you held back tears. tommy smiled when he felt the cold metal hit the back of his head. “don’t go soft on me now, love?” he spoke, you could hear the smile in his voice. your hand trembled as you put your finger on the trigger.

you pulled the trigger, and the bullet hit a hay bale somewhere in the corner. tommy exhaled and opened his eyes slowly. you kicked the back of his shoe, your voice wavering. “get the fuck up.” he stood up, turning around to face you. you hugged him tightly. “can’t bring myself to kill you.” you spoke, your head buried in the crook of his neck. “shh, i know sweetheart. i know.” you two always had an inextricable bond, and without either of you saying anything, both of you understood what the other felt. tommy cupped your cheek with his hand. you felt tears rolling down your cheek, tommy wiping them away. you leaned into his touch. “i fucking hate you, tommy.” he looked at you with adoration. “i love you too, y/n. it’s always been you.”

*a year later*

tommy carried you to your shared bed. you gasped as you felt him leaving kisses down your neck. “tommy-” “welcome to the family, mrs. shelby.” he said, smiling when he heard you giggle. “tonight’s gonna be a long night, eh?” he said, smirking. you smirked back. “oh, i’m counting on it.” you heard abrupt knocking, and then finn’s voice. “uh, tommy? i’m sorry- but um, it’s the russians?” you both looked at each other and instantly got out of bed. he groaned as he put his pants on and wore his gun holster under his blazer. “can’t catch a fucking break. not even on my bloody wedding night.” you rolled your eyes at him, as you wore your own holster, loading your gun and cocking it. “who told you to do business with the fucking russians?” he walked over and kissed you passionately, your tongues fighting for dominance. eventually, you pulled away for air, both panting, his forehead resting against yours. he looked you in the eye. “ready?” “always.”

“welcome to the family, mrs. shelby.”

[amorhedera6]

this is so self indulgent but fuck it. nerdy prudes hunger games au. except they’re all victors and meet in the capitol bc i love angst but not that much.

tws for violence death and child murder, all the expected hunger games tws

it’s long as hell so under the cut!

stephanie lauter is the daughter of a victor from district 7. her father holds the record for victor with the most kills and he takes great pride in it. he was elected mayor by snow and she doesn’t want to know what he did to get it. she’s not blind, she knows exactly how corrupt her father is. he wants her to volunteer and follow in his lead, but she refuses. when she’s 14, her name is pulled. she doubts it’s an accident. she plays up her legacy in the interviews bc its a good story, hopes her father will get her sponsors for following the story he wants. she partners up with the two district 11 tributes who have strong training scores and manages to play up the “i’m not as strong as my father im going to die” that she feels deep down. she has them protecting her for a while and does get close to them for a little while. when she can’t fall asleep, she hears them discussing plans to kill her soon so they can make it to the end together, and she steals their axe and kills them in their sleep the next night. she follows the careers around in the trees and sabatoges them slowly, turning them against each other. when there are three left, she kills the one closest to the leader with her axe, and the leader blames the other. the two tear each other apart, and she is the victor of the 69th hunger games.

ruth flemming is 15 when her younger sister is reaped. she’s only just turned 12, and she has no chance of living. ruth volunteered to keep her sister safe, not because she thought she’d win. it’s not the first time someone volunteered for a family member, nor will it be the last, but it makes her stand out. she plays it up, the poor little district 5 girl who took her sisters place for her safety, but will not win, cries in her interview. she plays dumb in the training sessions and gets a low score, but grabs a pack of throwing knives on her way out of the cornucopia. she hides in the forest and eats plants. she is easily forgotten, and gets only a few sponsors who pity her. she doesn’t really get anything of use though, she ends up sneaking back to the cornucopia to steal food and meets a tribute for 4, much bigger than her, definitely will overpower her, and she throws a knife in his throat. takes it out, gets her food, and grins maliciously at the sky. after that, she gets more sponsors, more knives, some food. bread from her district. she waits out her time hiding in the forest, occasionally picking off tributes as she comes across them alone. she ended up killing six people before the careers thought they were the last ones left and turned on each other. when the cannons started going off for them, ruth watched from a safe vantage point until only one was left, then threw a knife into the back of his head. she was the victor of the 70th hunger games.

stephanie spends her first games as a mentor with her eye on the innocent girl from 5. the two tributes from her district have no promise, and neither does the girl from five. but steph can’t shake the feeling that she got watching ruth volunteer. she knows from the start who’s going to win. at the end of ruth’s victory tour, stephanie pulls ruth aside, compliments her game, and helps her find a quiet place to breathe. they talk and quickly become friends. steph promises to help ruth get through her first mentoring season.

richie lipschitz was reaped at the age of 15 from district 11. he had absolutely no faith in himself, nor did anyone else. his brother sobbed in his arms at their goodbye, his parents, his uncle paul, they all thought it was goodbye forever and richie did too. he considered himself as good as dead the second his name was pulled. he’s half-deaf, has chronic pain, and does not have it within him to kill. his main hope is just that he gets killed quickly so it doesn’t hurt too much. he doesn’t want his family to watch him be tortured or something. in the first ten seconds, a career slices his leg open and leaves him out to bleed. he collapses and plays dead, and they assume he is. he drags himself off to a cave to die slowly, but he doesn’t. he even gets food from sponsors, he truly has no idea how it happened. apparently his utterly defeated interview made some people pity him enough to send him some food and water. he rations it out and watches the faces projected against the sky every night. the careers survive to the end, and like always, start to tear each other apart. only one boy is left, a guy from 2, who starts to go mad that he already won and hes still in the arena. he’s there’s rain, and he’s flooded out of his cave, it was only a matter of time, and is forced to come face to face with the guy who tried to kill him in the first place. the guy comes at richie with such force and aggression, his knife raised, richie closes his eyes and prepares himself for death, but the fucking idiot trips over a rock and falls, the knife landing at richie’s feet. richie picks it up, the career curses and comes chasing after him. richie, just a few moments to think, remembers the girl who won last years games with her throwing knives. he never had great aim, so when richie aimed for the guys face, the knife stuck him in the heart. he was the winner of the 71st games, and he was given a prosthetic leg to replace the deeply infected wound he had.

over the course of richie’s games, steph and ruth would watch together. as younger victors, there were other people who kept track of some sponsors and things, while they mostly prepped them during the before. the most recent victors help with game strategy. ruth sobbed when her tributes were killed, and steph just finished her drink with a grimace when hers did. once every seven hours or so, the cameras would cut to the injured boy from 11, hiding in a cave, just to remind everyone he was still alive. steph sees the wounded animal look in his eye and doesn’t think he’ll make it past the next day. but he keeps on surviving, until suddenly there are people all over the capital rooting for the injured underdog. ruth wants him to win because he seems so good, compared to the bloodthirsty careers. at the end of his victory tour, the two commandeer him from his party and show him their hangout spot when they’re back in the capitol. by the time the 72nd games start, steph and ruth both learned sign language to communicate with him more fluidly.

peter spankoffski is not the first of his family to be taken into the games. he lost his older brother to them almost ten years ago, and being only 15 he doesn’t remember him much. but he wants to honor him and he wants to do that by not dying in the games. district 9 hasn’t had a victor in a little while, so his strategy maker was the same one who had sent his brother to die. he encourages peter to play up the dead brother aspect, and peter wants to punch him badly, but he’s sure he’d just break his hand. he works in nets and edible plants, concealing yourself, anything that will help him survive the longest. he has no illusions of winning, doesn’t even bother with weapons. he made friends with a boy from district 3 named travis coulson, and the two establish an alliance once inside the arena. they work together, peter getting them food and stealth, while travis kills anyone who threatens them. travis has a high kill count, as he eventually takes down the careers and makes them the final two. peter is excited until he realizes what it means, until travis gives him a big broad smile and turns his spear to peter. he tells peter that he has more to live for, travis has no one at home and no life to return to, begs peter to kill him. peter cries as he does so, and he cries all through his interview as the victor of 72nd games.

the trio of victors have the same hard time as usual. steph drinks a lot during, ruth cries and bites her nails and throws things. it’s richie’s first time as a mentor, he watches with baited breath and solemn silence. it’s hard for them, but they’re together. when the games end, ruth makes a joke asking steph if she’s adopting this one too, and they laugh, but they all know they totally are. when peter arrives in the capitol, they hardly let him get though his first round of hellos before they’re dragging him off to their shared space. he cries to them about how horrible he feels, the blood he feels stuck to his hands, and they comfort him as best they can as teenagers who went through the same thing and have not at all healed. it’s a hard bond to break.

grace chasity is reaped at the age of 14 from district 5. ruth is her mentor, and writes her off quickly because everyone in district 5 knows grace chasity. she’s the daughter of the head peacekeeper, a goody goody, never breaks a rule, strictly does what her parents say. she’s a nerdy prude, to be frank. but she gets a pretty good training score, and starts to get this look in her eye. the same spark steph saw in ruth. when she gets in the arena, she manages to join in with the career pack and lets them protect her for a few days. they treat her like a pet, a cute thing they let follow them around, since they don’t think she’s a threat at all. she waits a few days, there’s about 10 tributes left other than her, and then she picks up a sword from the pile of weapons the careers have accumulated, and goes fucking apeshit. she kills all ten of them and it’s bloody. she comes out of nowhere and surprises everyone. it wasn’t even like she played up the innocent girl act like ruth did, she just was that girl until she wasn’t anymore.

it’s a bad games to be a mentor. they try, as a rule, not to hold it against each other if the new victors killed their tributes, but grace is purposefully violent and seems to enjoy it more than the usual careers, who are proud of their survival ability. after peters first tribute is killed in he bloodbath, and the second is taken by the careers not so long after, he tries to watch with the others and be supportive of them, but once grace starts, he can’t. ruth is excited one of her tributes won, but she’s also extremely worried for grace mentally. she still cries watching all the gory details, but she at least didn’t lose two people from home. steph worries she’s becoming too desensitized to the games, since she mainly drinks and thinks about grace’s incredible strategy. richie watches silently, just like last year, and then when it’s over has a total meltdown. peter and steph try and help calm him down, and ruth cries. it’s hard for everyone. it’s not always that bloody.

grace’s victory tour is a whirlwind. she’s a good victor for the capitol, but her tour through the districts is hard. ruth has to go with her all the way, seeing the faces of the parents of the children grace killed, seeing their anger and sadness. she helps grace through her night terrors and terrible guilt. grace keeps talking about how she was a different person in the arena, how something took over her, how god spared her but at what cost. ruth just tells her that no victor has clean hands, it’s impossible to, and she’ll find people who understand. it’s no surprise when, at the capitol party, steph materializes at grace’s elbow opposite ruth and just tilts her head towards the exit.

grace has a hollow look in her eyes that steph recognizes across the room. it’s the face of someone who doesn’t understand what happened in the arena, how it got this far. steph sees it in the mirror. she’s talking to pete at the bar when she catches her face, puts her drink down and tells pete to find richie and meet them at their spot. he falters but does , cautious about grace because of how violent she was, but trusting steph’s judgement.

they all meet in a secluded room in the capitol’s party hall, the place steph has claimed as Their spot. peter and richie have accumulated some drinks for the night, because when you’ve survived a child murder game, no one really gives a shit if you’re below the drinking age. steph and ruth bring grace in and she sits silently.

she tells them that what happened in the arena wasn’t her. they know. they understand. they’re one of a select group that do. but now they have each other.

they have each other through the war. they have each other in the aftermath. they have each other for the rest of their peaceful lives.

[euphoricdreamsidreamabout]

Just a memory (Mob!Tom holland X reader)

Warnings: fluff,angst

--

The red wine splashed around in the glass. Above, the intricacies of the jewels and gems in the chandelier reflecting the light was blinding.He could hear the chatter around him but couldn’t seem to understand, he didn’t want to understand.

Harrison’s POV:

I saw as the red haired girl in front of me talk and laugh with the others in the room. Jane, my best friend since high school. ( Other than Tom of course). I always liked how she got along with everyone.An extrovert yet called herself the opposite just because she couldn’t confess what she felt, to the girls she liked.

“So everyone in this room has a liking towards girls?” She asked teasingly.

“Yeah shocking since you and Harry have the same type” I replied.

“Yeah well what about you, Tom? Who’s your type ?” she asked teasingly.

“Does anybody want any beer?” Tom pointed towards all of us, changing the subject, nervously looking around the room.

“Yeah I’ll take one, mate” Harry replied sensing the need to get out of this room in Tom’s eyes.

Tom went to the bar near his kitchen.

“So what’s up with him?” she asked “is he always this weird?”

“No he just needs a breather. It’s just something that happened with his partner in the past”.

“You mean the big bad cold wolf felt butterflies once ?” She pouted mockingly but I guess after looking at my eyes she understood not to joke about it and tread on dangerous waters. “I’m sorry …..” she looked at the ground.

“You have nothing to be sorry for…. Everyone is shocked when they hear his story” I said reassuring her.

“Why, what happened?” “Well once umm the Y/L/N mob and the holland mob needed to work together to bring down The Black Knives who’s leader was David Smith, Tom’s no. 1 enemy since first grade” I chuckled. “Tom and Y/N ;leader of the Y/L/N mob , were enemies once. Yet while Y/N was living here, through all the planning, the fighting, the galas, the undercover missions, the patching each other up ,they fell in love. Madly.” I smiled fondly.

“I mean I could understand why he fell in love with her, she was beautiful, a sight to see, was witty and clearly was the most smart and badass one out of all of us. Though , Tom once told me that he loved her for all of that but especially for the silliness of a child inside her.” Harry said while swirling his whiskey in the glass.

“finally after two years he proposed to her and she obviously agreed”Harrison grinned.

“But this all happened in the past , what happened to her? Where is she now?”Jane asked, mined filled with curiosity.

Tom’s Pov:

He could hear every single thing they said. Tears pooled in his eyes while his jaw clenched with anger.How were they talking about her so nonchalantly. He wished he had the power to do so.

Completely abandoning Harry’s beer he took a bottle and went outside.

The amber liquid left an intense burning in his throat. She would have prevented him from drinking the whole bottle. Her hands would have folded in front of her chest and scolded him .But he wouldn’t have listened, too distracted by her cute angry expression. Words would have flown out of her pretty lips. The lips he wanted to kiss so badly again but couldn’t .

He remembered her oh so beautiful smile. All of her witty comebacks when they still hated each other. Remembered the tears that slid on her cheeks and a mix of happiness and sadness in her eyes while she told him that there was a small being inside of her ,not knowing she was taking her last breath.

He smashed the bottle against the wall. The breeze ruffled his hair and he shivered under the touch of the necklace going through a ring. Her ring . He still remembered that day like yesterday.

Tom couldn’t believe his eyes. He swears he is seeing an angel walking down the aisle wearing a white gown and a beautiful smile right now. Tears were pooling in his eyes, the first time the mobster cried in front of so many people. He smiled back at her and said ‘I love you’ silently. She responded with the same.

Suddenly a bullet flew through the air piercing the joy in the air with dread. He saw people rush and scream . He looks into Y/N’s eyes and saw panic . Her eyes drifted downwards towards her abdomen. He followed her gaze.

Oh god please fucking no.

He ran towards her and caught her. “Oh love you’re fine completely fine SOMBODY HELP!!!”he panicked.

"Tom it's okay I'm fine" Tom knew this wasnt true she was scared too . He knew her better than she did herself.

"Y/N help is on the way please don't close your eyes, please love your the only thing i have left" Tom cried.

You smiled up at him and led his hand to your stomach "I'm sorry i couldn't take care of the little one. "

"You're pregnant?" Tom asked happy yet devastated.

"Yeah I'm sorry Tom"

"No there is nothing to be sorry of remember you wanted to make a nursery when we dreamed of having a baby, well we have an empty room we could make it there. And we also have to go baby shopping" Tom rambled on.

"Tom stop! I love you " You said and kissed him deeply with as much force you had left"I am madly in love with you Thomas Stanley Holland and please do not keep waiting for me. Live your life and fall in love and have kids . Ok? This is my order and last wish" You said smiling.

"I love you too Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N so much " Tom kissed your forehead.

Soon your eyes started closing and you took your last breath thinking about Tom

"Im sorry love" Tom sobbed into your chest. He caught a glimpse of David Smith and swore to make him suffer

That Tom did and killed him but it's didn't give him the satisfaction he thought it would. But he knew that it was time to move on . Yet one part of him will always be grateful to fate for making him meet the love of his life.

[fandomscraziness22]

begonia and edelweiss for kaz/inej!

the way you chose the perfect prompts for these two without even really knowing them!!! impressive! (I changed them up just a tad to fit the idea lol)

begonia (beware) — “just be careful, okay?”

edelweiss (courage, devotion) — “touch them again and i promise, it will be the last thing you ever do.”

Inej has only worked for Kaz Brekker for two months now and has gone on many a job for him in those two months. However, this is the first time she has felt real fear about her situation.

She’s been disarmed thoroughly, the Razorgulls finding the few knives she has on her person with ease. The two bruisers are dragging her towards the meet she knows Kaz is scheduled to be at with their gang; another territory dispute, no doubt. Inej is still getting used to the constant turf wars between the many gangs of Ketterdam, though she knows each one is of vital importance to said gangs.

Inej was supposed to scope out the meeting point beforehand and report back to Kaz, but she hadn’t quite been stealthy enough for the Razorgulls’ new sharpshooter who apparently also had sharp eyes. He had cornered her because Inej had forgotten about the burned-down building along her escape route. It’s just one of many reasons she’s worried about being pushed to this meeting; Kaz won’t be happy she was caught and she is terrified of disappointing him. She’s heard the rumors, seen firsthand what Kaz does to people who aren’t up to snuff.

She doesn’t want that to happen to her.

The Razorgulls finally reach the meeting point, where negotiations are already under way. They shove her to the front of the line as they crow, “Look here, Ajax. We caught ourselves a wayward Dreg.”

Inej straightens, willing herself to not cower as she searches Kaz’s face. He’s as tense as ever, though she sees a flicker of what might be fear cross his face. It surprises her; she didn’t think Kaz Brekker could get scared. 

“Unhand my Wraith,” he rasps.

Ajax clucks his tongue (a dangerous action, Inej thinks) and jabs a finger at Inej. “I sense the terms of engagement have changed, Mr. Brekker. I would like that second harbor space along with those four blocks to the north in exchange for your girl.”

Kaz doesn’t laugh, doesn’t smile, doesn’t say anything. The silence is unnerving to everyone, including Inej. The Dregs are outnumbered here, and she’s weaponless.

Ajax is twitchy, and after a moment, he unsheaths a knife and holds it to Inej’s throat as he says, “I won’t ask again, Brekker. My space for the girl’s life.” Inej’s breath catches, though her eyes don’t leave Kaz.

He stiffens, knuckles tightening on his can. “Touch her again and I promise, it will be the last thing you ever do.” 

Ajax laughs, his grip on Inej and the knife firm. “Like I believe that.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, a shot rings out. The pressure on Inej’s neck lessens, and she’s able to flinch away from the man as he falls to the ground, blood spilling from the back of his head. She slips away from the Gulls and rejoins the Dregs as Kaz says, “Now. Where were we, again?”

~~~

Inej stays a step behind him, wary of the wrath in his eyes as the Crow Club almost swallows them. “Kaz, I’m sorry,” she says softly.

“I don’t want your apologies,” he spits, cane clicking up the stairs to his room. Inej follows, though all common sense tells her to run from this dangerous man.

But something makes her stay. They’re still in public, with listening ears everywhere and other Dregs who will continue the rumors. Maybe the dressing-down Kaz gives her will be less intense when he’s in his own office.

No other words pass between them as Kaz opens his door and throws off his coat. He leaves the door open, an invitation that she accepts with silent grace.

“We need to get you better self defense skills,” he says as he pulls off his gloves to wash the blood from his arm. “I know you can throw a punch, but you’re normally light on your feet. You need to learn to use that, not just as an escape, but to manipulate the situation at hand.”

Kaz doesn’t look at her, but Inej can see the small glimpse of forgiveness in the offer. He’s disappointed, yes, but he isn’t flaying her alive or sending her back to the Menagerie, so she’ll take it as a win.

“Train with Anika—she’s good and she won’t go easy on you.” Finally, Kaz turns around, gloves back in place. They lock eyes, and a shared understanding passes between them. Inej isn’t sure how they have connected so deeply in such a short amount of time, but she can read his intentions just as clearly as if he’d spoken them. Kaz wants her here; wants her to get better so she can be stronger. He isn’t afraid of her or her skills, and he wants her to cultivate them even more. 

In return, she tells him that she won’t get caught next time, that she’s glad to have a second chance; she won’t give up on him either.

“Be more careful next time, Wraith. I can’t go getting into brawls every time my best spider gets trapped under a glass.”

Inej smiles. “Won’t be a problem, Kaz.” Then she blinks and says, “Though, I will need a new set of knives. Bigger ones, preferably.”

Kaz rolls his eyes, and Inej knows that while Ketterdam may be a mess of a city, all is right with the world in this little room. 

send me a flower prompt!

[thepixelelf]

golcha apocalypse au except it's the weird-ass dream I just had

(if you don't like reading about death (I mean it was a dream but still) don't read the tags)

[sporadic-gremlin]

How about Dimitrescu sisters bothering chef reader?

I love your works btw

<3

I didn’t even realize this was sent in and thank you for reading.

The vein on your forehead bulged as the smell of blood and raw meat flooded your senses. It wasn’t what you were preparing that was driving you insane—it was the three girls behind you acting like children. The clanking of metal made you lose focus and when you looked over to where your knives should be, they were gone. Your heart dropped to your ass; you just got those knives.

“Put. Those. Down.” You growl, slamming the knife that was in your hand on the counter and splashing blood all over your apron. “The two of you—” you point towards Cassandra and Daniela who were looking at you with wide eyes, “—know better than to play with my knives. Especially you Cassandra. And Bela—” the blonde puts her book down and smiles brightly at you, “—why don’t you do your job as the eldest.”

She laughs and swarms in front of you. “Because I love seeing you go red with anger~ Mother doesn’t allow us to play with the maids and you aren’t a maid, dearest Y/n.”

“And you’re more fun than the maids!” Daniela quipped.

Under any other circumstance, this would’ve warmed your dead heart but when your pride and joy was on the line, it only served as fuel towards your ever growing headache. With a curl of your lips, you snatch the knives from Cassandra and Daniela with a dark glare. Cassandra simply smirked at you while Daniela was already moving towards whatever you were preparing.

“I think you enjoy when we bother you, Y/n,” Cassandra said, moving closer towards you so she could take a lick of the blood that managed to get on your face. You moved back with a disgusted grimace. “Your heartbeat slows and you always seem to be happier at the end of the day.”

Bela hummed from behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist. “Of course they do. The maids fear them just as much as they fear us.” Bela plants a soft kiss on your cheek which is nice and all but Daniela is currently eating the lunch for today.

You break out of the sandwich they had you in, slapped the meat from Daniela’s hand while also trying not to frown at her adorable pout, then pointed towards the door. “Until I am finished with lunch, the three of you are hereby banned from the kitchen until I say so. Out!”

Three pairs of eyes looked at you, then to each other, and back to you before laughter filled the room. It made you clench your jaw—they didn’t take you seriously at all.

“That was very cute of you, Y/n, but don’t forget who permits your existence in this castle,” Cassandra growls, pressing her sickle to your throat.

You scoff and brush the weapon away, “Well until Bela takes over as the head of the Dimitrescu household, it’s your mother that ‘permits my existence’ and I’m sure she wouldn’t take kindly to her daughters pestering me.”

Cassandra opens her mouth but is cut off but the matriarch of the house. “Girls!”

With a sickeningly sweet smile, you point towards the door and mouth: Out.

[thedelusionreaderbitch]

Inej Ghafa x fem! Reader - Bliss less Sky

A/n: Inej has like no fics for her, honestly I love Inej and I've played with this idea for a while and it's taken me a while to get it right because I didn't want to over do it, but I didn't want to under do it either. I hope it meets everyone's expectations!

Summary: It was getting harder for Inej to pull away from the darkness and the crows start to realize but it's too late. Or is it?

Warnings: normal canon violence, people being lost, death, I think that's it? You have been warned!

Pronouns used: you/your but reader is mentioned to be girl

Pairings: (romantic) Inej x reader, (platonic) the crows x reader

The girl who disappeared into the night was starting to stay with the shadows. For Inej there was always a temptation to stay in the twilight, it was different from a shadow summoner. A shadow summoner summoned the darkness to them and controlled it to their will, for the Wraith she became the darkness.

Whether it be night or day Inej Ghafa played her disappearing act to a point, and it was getting harder and harder to pull away from the shadows. Why did she need to stay with the others, when she held so much power in the back?

You started to realize that Inej wasn't acting like herself as much anymore. At first it started with the little things; like she stopped praying as much, or she didn't whisper the names of her knives. Then Inej stopped coming back from the umbrage nearly always staying out of everyone's view. After that she just started to disappear from everything in general, then she become more careless about the lives of others on jobs. Not necessarily the crows, but the lives of the people who were affected because of their jobs, she didn't hesitant to kill anyone even if it wasn't necessary to kill - when Kaz wouldn't even bother to kill them.

It was starting to become concerning and a problem because everyone's friend (and your girlfriend) was disappearing from everyone's sights, but nobody could do anything about it because she could just disappear after all.

There needed to be some sort of intervention, but even that would be hard to organize, you also had a feeling that the only one who might be able to talk some sense into her might be you.

But you didn't tell anyone that, when the time came and that's what happened then that's what'll happen. You can't change what's to come, you can only hope that Kaz doesn't kick you out of the dregs completely for 'distracting' his wraith. Jokes on Kaz, she wasn't his, she wasn't anyone's but she was certainly your Inej.

Yet none of you ever got to do that intervention because one time on a job everyone had realized that it had been too late.

Inej had a knife placed up against the throat of a child in front of the mother who was shaking with tears brimming her eyes with the father already killed in front of the two of them.

The mother had owned the dregs some valuable information but she would not speak. The Crows had tried everything but she stayed strong as she grew up in the barrel herself. In the words of the woman; "My family and me are better off dead then if I told you!"

That was her mistake.

When nothing seemed to be working the Wraith had slinked up the stairs of the home grabbing onto the husband and the child and bringing them down stairs. After the woman still didn't talk Inej had simply killed the man and put her knife up to the throat of the child as if it was the easiest thing she had done in her life.

Your lovely Inej, the one who one day brought you flower crowns bashful because in hindsight it was a bit childish. However you had lifted the crowns and placed them on each of your heads. The same Inej had kissed your lips and cradled you as you cried. The one who saved a little girl when she should have just walked away. The dreg who wouldn't yell when the homphobes would tell you everything about the two of you was wrong. Instead she would find out their darkest secret and make their lives absolutely miserable. The girl who would laugh softly and quietly at all your jokes and save you from the tiniest of falls.

This was her in front of you, yet simultaneously she wasn't. It was like Ketterdam had been eating at her soul for far too long, yet you could still see the real shards of Inej scattered. She was broken glass, sharp yet delicate. If she were to break anymore she would truely be gone. You couldn't let that happen, you had to at least try to bring her to sense because you would never be able to live with yourself if you did.

How had anyone of you not seen the signs? How could have you been so blind? In that moment though it didn't matter, all that mattered was Inej and torturing yourself with the 'what if's?' wasn't going to help. You did not want another 'what if?' to come out of today.

The other crows at Inej to stop; "This isn't you!" But she didn't listen, it was almost as if she were deaf to everything expect for the woman. Her eyes were trained on the mother who's face was crumbling yet her resolve was not, she was someone from the barrel, born and breed. When the only thing you've ever known is survival at all costs old habits bite back the hardest.

The woman shook her head a clear indicator that she wasn't going to give anything and The Wraith goes to kill-

"You are Inej." You whisper as you step forward and place your hand on her hand that holds the dagger. Sankta Anastasia to be precise.

"Not The Wraith." You say a little louder this time to make sure that your point gets across.

Inej's face that was before devoted of any emotion was now scrounged up as she gritted her teeth and put more pressure onto the young child's throat and a trail of crimson came in it's wake as the child whimpered. Yet she did not kill them.

Your hand gripped tighter with the one that held the weapon and you only looked at her blocking out everyone else. The crows be damned if you had to reveal your relationship to save your girlfriend from herself then so be it.

"On of my favorite things about you Inej is the way you treat others, the respect you have for them."

You take a step closer daring her to look away Inej tries to but she can't.

"Come back to us Nej, come back to me. Come back home, you don't need to stay on the shadows. The darkness will only welcome you as long as you purge your soul."

"I-" Her eyes are brimming with tears while they swam with intensity.

"This city eats people from the inside out but I still see you in there, let her come through, you don't need to hide. Don't let this city take another thing away from us girls, don't let it take your heart Inej because it's good." Your voice cracks with emotion. "You're good Inej, you're oh, so good."

Sankta Anastasia clattered to the ground and the child quickly scrambled away from Inej as she herself fell forward into your arms. Sobs erupted from the girl as she gripped onto to you tight as you held her close. You had just got her back from her personal purgatory you weren't going to let go.

"Nej, it's okay, it's going to be okay."

"But I-"

You lift her chin up so her gaze connected with yours. "We all get lost sometimes what is important is that we find our way back."

You look around at all the shocked gaze's of the crows and the slight incline of the head the mother gave to you in thanks. You didn't do it for her and her child, you did it for Inej.

Inej your flower crown queen, who could disappear in second with a hurt of gold and the will to survive.

Morality is always a question that could alter anyone's perspective of them, sometimes even the strongest of people loose their way, what matters is that we're here for them when they do.

Words 1313

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Grishaverse taglist: @kaqua @rika90 @thefandomplace @musical-theatre-obsessed-dumbass @gallysonegoodlung @navs-bhat @sumsebien @dontjudgeabookbythecover @brekker-zenik @alohastitch0626 @brekkers-desigirl @emmsamultifan06

(If you would like to be added then just comment or send me an ask!)

Happy pride month!

[wri0thesley]

thank you for infecting me with total naoya brain rot, nat. can i request a breeding kink scenario with him and curvy, thick reader that he thinks looks perfect for bearing him an heir 👀 feel free to make him as nasty as you want, i love to read about this absolute trash fire of a man

Covet - Naoya x Fem!Reader (3.6k)

Naoya wants something from you - you see a chance to get something you want too.

warnings: afab reader, fem pronouns. breeding. power imbalance (reader is a maid at the zen’in estate). talk of pregnancy, knives, misogyny, fingering, coming inside/creampies. the mandatory warning that this fic is about naoya.

You are fairly certain that Naoya Zenin does not know whether you exist. If he has ever noticed you attending to your duties, so much lower and less important than he, he probably doesn’t like you.

At least, you did not think he liked you before this moment. Even now, with his hands on your hips and your body pressed flush against the wall outside his chambers, you’re not certain – there’s a weight to the way he’s holding you, a twist to his lips that you can see from where your cheek has met cool wallpaper. He looks like he’s considering you; sizing you up.

Your cheeks burn as he sizes up your lower half, eyes tracing your hips and ass and thighs without even a hint of remorse, as if it’s his god-given right to look upon you like this even though you’ve barely ever spoken more than a cursory polite; ‘I brought you this, Sir’. That’s what you’ve been taught to do.

Be respectful, stick to the shadows, do what you’re told. It’s an honour to serve the Zenin clan, it’s an honour to be here in the estate – it’s an honour to get a brief moment of any of their time, even if they’re just making demands on you. You sometimes hate yourself, for not being born one of them - you want, you want, you want, like a physical ache. The luxury. The nice treatment. People to think that you merely blessing them with a look is an honour--

It’s an especial honour to be worth Naoya’s time – everybody knows that he’s going to be the next leader. There are always rumours buzzing around the grounds about him; about his power, about his temper, about his personality . . . about which pretty young woman he’ll make his wife and have beside him to rule the clan.

You’re brought back to what’s currently happening by his hands sliding down from where he is clinging onto your hips, generously tracing the curve, admiring just how broad they are.

“Pity you have to hide beneath that,” he says, smirking. Your cheeks are hot. “You’re pretty, you know. At least. . .” One hand moves from your hip, thumb and forefinger squeezing your cheeks to turn them more thoroughly towards him. He looks entirely unruffled by the situation, every inch of him at ease that you will bend to what he wants. “Your body is pretty.” Eyes scan over your face, and you’re suddenly aware of every imperfection, every feature you’ve ever scrutinised. “Hm. Not bad either.”

“I . . . I don’t understand,” You find yourself breathing. He raises one elegant eyebrow. The hand that’s on your hip moves, tracing the plush of your ass through fabric, his lip curling into a smirk. He presses a little bit forward and you feel something stiff press against your other cheek (the one not occupied by his hand) – and your throat goes dry as you realise precisely what he means.

Oh.

Oh.

You should run. Good girls do not do what Naoya wants you to do. You have duties to attend to! You have things that must be done, lest your seniors sigh and tut at you and punish you for neglecting your work. But your throat is very dry and your heart is pounding and there is suddenly a strange twist of heat low in your gut, as Naoya Zenin looks down at you with the air of a man who will devour you if you let him.

You can’t deny it’s thrilling to be wanted – more thrilling to be wanted by someone like him.

“I’ll give you ten seconds,” he says, and his tone is patronising. “If you don’t want me to take you to bed and fuck you, I suggest you make yourself scarce.”

He says it so openly, so brazenly – you suppose that’s what comes of being born into this family. He has nothing to fear in these walls. Not like you.

You imagine yourself underneath him for a second, his hair in disarray, hakama abandoned, his perfectly composed face twisted in pleasure. You should not go to his bed. But . . . you want to. And don’t you deserve something you want, when you’ve spent your entire life watching other people enjoy it?

“You don’t need to,” you breathe, swallowing. Naoya pulls back in amusement, his eyes darkening. He seems so much taller and stronger than you. Even swathed in fabric, it’s clear that there is muscle and strength beneath the clothes. He has been trained to within an inch of his life since the day he was born. He makes a considering noise in the back of his throat. A thumb trails over your cheek.

“Are you sure about that?” The smirk in his voice says that he knows you are. “I won’t be gentle with you, you know. I don’t have all day to romance you. I just want to get you on your back . . .” His thumb slides over your jawline, past your earlobe, until he’s taken a hank of your hair and yanks it back roughly, exposing your throat and making you gasp. “And fuck a son into you.”

He must see the look on your face, because he laughs, the sound cruel even to your ears. He’s still pressed so close to you. Nobody who walked down this hallway would mistake the embrace the two of you were currently in for anything clandestine. You suppose he has nothing to worry about – but your reputation? He’d ruin you for marriage.

“Come on,” he murmurs, chuckling. “Have you seen yourself? You’re made for bearing a child, sweetheart.” The pet name is almost mocking, but your heart skips a beat anyway. “Don’t worry too much. You don’t think I could take care of you, if you carried my heir? You’re a servant, right? You already know how to behave.” His smile is like a wolf. “So, I give you my word that if it takes, I’ll take care of you. Sounds fair, huh?” He jerks on your hair again. “Ten seconds,” he reminds you. “If you want to get out of it. You don’t think there are girls lining up around the block to have me?”

(Judging by the whispers about him, you actually don’t think there are – but judging from Naoya’s eyes, he certainly thinks so.)

He lets go. He steps back. His eyes are still on you, but he raises his arms either side of him as if to show you that you’re free to go. And you do consider it – you let the possibility of running flicker through your head. It’s quickly replaced by the thought of Naoya on top of you, an end to the aching between your legs, and the knowledge of just how you might be treated if Naoya did succeed in his mission.

It’s fine to want nice things, every once in a while.

“Five,” he says, warningly, but his eyes are dark with hunger. “Four. Three.”

You turn towards his bedroom door and grasp the handle, and he laughs, the sound very loud.

“Oh,” he says, “so you’re going to be fun.”

The minute his bedroom door clicks behind him, Naoya wastes no time on being on you. He’s full throttle, immediately – hands pulling at your clothes, rough, his mouth on your neck. He avoids your mouth, like he doesn’t quite want to kiss you – but as you bite back a moan as he nips at your throat and he groans in response at the noise, you realise that he wants to hear you.

Figures a man like that wants the reassurance that you’re enjoying yourself. Figures he wants to crow over every whimper that drops from your lips. Hands pull at your kimono, almost ripping it in his hurry to have the fabric out of his way and on the floor. You barely even notice he’s been pushing you across the room until you’re pushed hard down, and your back meets pillows and sheets instead of the floor.

The way you fall makes a perfect tableaux; the material of your outfit pooling around you, your body in the middle of it, clad in only your underwear. His light eyes rake over you hungrily.

“Fuck,” he says. His hands immediately go to your hips, thumbs pressing hard into the soft flesh. You barely fit in his hands, the curve of you dramatic. “You’re going to be perfect for this, huh? Look at you. It’s a fucking shame you’re not knocked up right now--”

Your body reacts to his touch and his look, though you can’t help but be embarrassed by it – it’s one thing to be entranced by someone pretty, you think, but it’s another thing to be entranced by the idea of how pretty someone will look when their stomach is swollen and their breasts have swelled and their hips have filled out because they’re bearing your child.

He doesn’t bother with unclipping your bra. He reaches into his hakama and panic flashes before your eyes when he pulls out a knife, but he uses it merely to slice the gore between your bra cups, right between the cute bow adorning them.

“I—I liked that,” you say, but your voice sounds very wobbly in the room, under Naoya’s gaze, under his hands. He snorts.

“I like you better without it,” he says shortly, as if your likes and dislikes are not a consideration to be taken into account. For him, you suppose they’re not. “Besides.” Hands travel from your hips to cup your breasts, squeezing the meat of the mounds so that you groan and arch your back, desire pooling between your legs. “I wanted to see these. I wanted to touch them.” He grins. “I wanted to imagine how nice they’re going to look when they get bigger.”

He squeezes the point of each of your nipples, so hard that the pleasure almost becomes pain.

“I think I’ll leave marks on you,” he says, conversationally. He pulls an arm back and suddenly has slapped you, your breast stinging, a brief imprint of his hand showing on your skin. He admires how your breast moves with the force – you’re too surprised to even make a noise of pain. “Good girl. I want you to remember how I feel when we’re done.”

You don’t think you could forget. You definitely can’t forget the sting of the second slap, this one making you moan – it hurts, but part of it feels good to be marked by him. You definitely can’t forget his thumbs hooking into your underwear, dragging it past your thighs – the way that he drinks in the wet patch on the fabric. You definitely don’t think you’ll be able to forget the chuckle that leaves his mouth as he spreads your thighs and sees your sex for the first time, already slick.

“You like being treated rough, huh?” He asks you. There’s that grin again; a predator, a man who has never been told no, a man who doesn’t know what it’s like to not have everything he has ever wanted at his fingertips. “Good. I like playing rough.”

He still doesn’t kiss you. He dives his head down, though, his teeth once more nipping at your neck, at your breast, tongue lathing across your nipples. One of his hand delves between your legs, spreading the plump labia, fingers briefly stroking your clit and sending a hot bolt of lightning all through you.

“That’s right,” he murmurs, as he pushes a finger inside of you. You’re slick and tight around his digits, hot and silky – one of his fingers alone is like a vice. You’re going to feel so good. He doesn’t much care whether his cock hurts you or not – but he wants you to be so fucked out by the time he’s come inside you that you don’t care about him leaving your legs propped up so not a single trickle of come leaks out of you. He doesn’t want a whimpering little bitch in his bed – he wants someone who’ll lie there, patiently, prettily, and let him make sure it takes.

You’re going to be good for that, he knows it. With a body like that, and eyes like that, and a clear longing for something better than the shitty hand you’ve been dealt? Oh, yes. You might not know it, but Naoya likes you immensely.

That you’re a servant, who’s been taught your place - that you’ll look at the ground respectfully and walk behind him and agree to whatever he says, like women should? Even better. Perfect. Fuck any of those snooty young women of a clan who think that just because they were born with a name, they were somehow more than a cunt for breeding--

Two fingers. This one gets a cry from you, almost too full – Naoya clicks his tongue against his teeth. He’s not patient, but he slows down, scissoring you open. One of your hands seems to flex out as if going to grab his bicep – but thinks better of it, clutching for purchase on the bed instead. Cute.

He can’t help but watch his fingers dive in and out of you, already coated in your liberal slick. They already look so good – he can’t even imagine how good his cock will look, hilted so deep in you he’s all you can feel.

Three fingers. You’re making soft little noises, circling your hips – there’s a coil in your belly that Naoya’s fingers are stoking in a way you didn’t expect, one that you feel like you’re so close to getting to spring forth – he slides his fingers out of you as he feels you tightening and tensing around him. If you’re close enough to come on his fingers, he reasons, you’re close enough to take his cock.

He didn’t expect to be so entranced by how pretty you looked, all curves and soft on his bed – but there’s time for that later. Right now, his cock is driving a hole through his own underwear. The thought of fucking his seed into you, of having you coming around his cock . . . you moan in frustration at the lack of stimulation as his hands busy themselves peeling off his own clothes.

“What’s the matter?” He asks you, a little breathless. You don’t notice that – good. He hates people witnessing weakness. “You need to be filled up?”

“I—” your teeth dig into your bottom lip, and Naoya has the urge to kiss you that he pushes back.

Not now. Not yet. Not while you’re still scum. He can transform you, and maybe you’ll be worthy of that – but right now, you’re an empty shell, and Naoya needs to mould you into something fuller and better before he’ll lower himself to brush his lips over your own. That’s too intimate. That’s too much.

“You don’t need to use your words,” he purrs. “You’re soaking wet.”

You urge your thighs further apart as Naoya’s clothes slip off of him and you see his cock jutting proud against his stomach. You haven’t had much experience to know whether it’s a nice cock, whether he’s big – but Naoya grins when he sees you looking, ferocity sparking in his expression.

“You may as well look at it,” he tells you, “because it’s going to be buried inside you in just a moment--”

He’s on the bed, his body on top of yours. His hands are clinging to the hips he’s admired so much, his grip tight enough to mark. His face is close enough that you can see the sculpt of his lips and the fan of his eyelashes, the dark pupils. The wet head of his cock smears precome on your thigh as he positions himself at your entrance – and as he sinks inside, your body welcomes him.

He hisses in fluid pleasure as his cock descends inside of you inch by slow, inexorable inch – the stretch, the burn, the slick fluid pleasure. This time, one of your hands does find purchase on his shoulder – but Naoya is enjoying the feeling of your walls kissing his cock, embracing him tight and deep, too much to snap at you for being such an insolent thing. Your nails leave little crescent moon marks in his shoulder that he decides to forgive. After all – you’ll have bruises in the shape of his handprints tomorrow, he knows it. He doesn’t have a single crumb of shame about it.

If he gets his way, you’ll have more than just those as a mark of tonight. He hilts inside you, his skin pressing hot against yours. You’re so full – he feels so very deep, buried as far as he can go. All of your breath has been knocked out of you.

Your eyes meet his for just a moment.

“Better hold on,” he tells you. “I told you I wouldn’t be gentle.”

The first pull out is swift, immediately thrusting back inside you with such force that your body rocks on the bed. He wasn’t lying about not being gentle; his hips quickly establish a punishing rhythm, helped along by the slick glide of your channel, the wetness leaking around his cock. He pulls you a little with every thrust, the hands on his hips assisting him being able to watch his cock drive in and out of your sex. It’s a mark of the strength he has that the only sign that you weigh anything at all is a huff of breath in between his thrusts – you’ve never exactly felt delicate  in your life, but something about Naoya’s way of handling you makes you think that he could break you in half if he tried.

That is, if his rough thrusts in and out of you don’t split you in two first. You give up trying to do anything other than hold onto him, your mouth dropping open in a series of wordless wails and moans.

(Naoya prefers quiet women, he has to admit – but there’s something endearing about you giving up in bed, giving yourself to him in voice as well as body. Perhaps he doesn’t mind a loud woman, as long as the reason she’s loud is because he’s fucking her silly).

His skin slaps against your skin. The sound mixes with your own whimpers and gasps, Naoya’s quieter breathing, the embarrassingly wet sounds of his cock plunging in and out of you. The release that was denied to you earlier with his fingers is creeping back up on you again, all hot pleasure and tight tension. With every thrust, Naoya is hitting a spot amongst your plush walls that has your eyes rolling back in your head and your body all hot and needy. He doesn’t care if you come, really – this isn’t about you – but . . . just another of those things he supposes he could get used to, as the ball of pleasure inside of you finally unravels and you feel yourself come.

And oh, he could get used to that feeling too – how your walls pulsate around him, pulling his cock tighter inside of you, practically milking him. His hips just get faster, snapping against you like a man possessed – heh. Isn’t that funny?

Your chest is heaving, but he’s enjoying the feel of your hips too much to play with your tits again. When they’re all swollen with milk and bigger and rounder, he’ll probably fuck you again, slower . . . and then, he’ll get his feel of touching them. Just like he’ll get his feel of your thighs even plusher, your stomach rounder, your hips even better in his grip--

It’s those thoughts that push him over the edge. Your body softened and rounded with his child – his son, his heir. You’re fucking perfect for it. He groans, his hips snapping and driving so deep inside you that you think he’ll break – and then, he’s groaning, and his cock is pulsing inside you as the sensation of his come painting your walls hot and thick overtakes your senses.

He pumps his cock a few more times inside of you after the initial release, as if he’s trying to push his seed even further within you. You’re shuddering, exhausted, your body aching – and so, you don’t argue beyond a soft noise of pain at the unpleasant prickle as he pulls his cock out of you. You don’t argue when he slides a pillow beneath your hips and says;

“Keep your legs bent like that.”

Naoya takes a moment to admire you. Your pretty cunt is darkened from his aggressive fucking, clit swollen, slick with your own desire-- he frowns as he notices a drop of something whiter and thicker. That won’t do. Two fingers roughly push his come back into you, pressing it deeply, making you groan and your hips weakly thrust against them.

It’s cute that you’re still welcoming to his fingers; that your sex still sucks them in as if it’s greedy to be fucked again. Your eyes are half-lidded, glassy – your lips bitten dark. He thinks he could fuck you again and you wouldn’t even complain.

Yes. He grins at you. Give it a little while, to make sure his come takes – and then, he thinks, he will fuck you again. There’s no harm in being thorough, right?

[bratano]

Working for the Knife - Billy Loomis X Fem!Reader

Author’s note: sooo excited to write for these two. I made this fairly Billy centered sorry Stu fans which was different for me because I’ve only really written for Stu in the past, so I hope I did billy justice! They’re both such boyfriends though ahhh I love them. Shoutout to the anon who gave this such a cool concept, love ya mwah mwah also i don’t hate gale at all it just made for an easy plot device thanks bye

Word count: 2001

CW: Knives, mentions of murder, getting tied up lol, near death scenarios, lots of swearing, billy being a total dick, slightly spicy, you get the drill

After you spent the week ruining Billy and Stu’s plans, they’ve decided they have had enough. You’re not getting away with it this time.

You sat on the steps outside Stu’s party, head swimming from intoxication and the stress of the week. Shit was starting to get weird. There’s no way all of the incidents you witnessed were a coincidence. You started thinking back to all the sketchy situations...

“Sid, you feeling okay?” You called from the front door of the bathroom you just watched your close friend barrel through.

“I’m fine, leave me alone.” Sidney sobbed, obviously trying to console herself. 

You took a few steps into the bathroom, checking under the stalls to make sure you were alone. Suddenly you noticed two large, mansized boots poking out from one of the stalls.

“Hey perv, wrong bathroom. Get out of here!” You called out, knocking on the door.

It swung open quickly, ungracefully hitting you in the face. You cried out, the man running out of the bathroom. You hardly caught a glimpse of him, but you could’ve sworn you saw a cape…

You took a drink from the cup in your hand, vodka dripping down your throat with a familiar, gentle burn. God, boys were so stupid. But what happened today was totally unreal.

“Principal Himbry, can I talk to you?” You asked, poking your head out of his office door. 

“Ah, Miss Y/N. Aren’t you supposed to be heading home with all your friends?” He questioned nervously, his hands fiddling with pencils on his desk.

“Yes, but wanted to talk about the- Uh, what’s in your closet?” 

You pointed at his closet where black cloth seemed to be pooling out. Principal Himbry sat perplexed, standing up and going to reach for the door. 

The closet door burst open and someone or something in that same damn costume from before burst out, trying to slash at Principal Himbry. You quickly pulled him out of the way, kicking his assailant before he ran off down the hallway and out the door. You tried to chase him but he moved too fast, almost like a ghost. And just like that he was gone. You and Principal Himbry tried to report it to the police, but without any evidence they couldn’t do anything.

You took another swig from your cup. God, if I hadn’t been there-

Your train of thought was interrupted by the arrival of Sidney and Tatum, who you stood up to greet.

“Hey! We heard about what happened in Himbry’s office today, totally wicked.” Tatum said, her mouth agape in shock.

“I know! His knife was literally two inches from going right into Himbry’s chest. That guy is lucky he escaped.”

“Yeah, and I owe you one for getting that creep out of the bathroom the other day. What kind of guy gets off on being in the girl’s bathroom?” Sidney added.

Your conversation was interrupted by Stu entering the door frame behind you. 

“Hey hey ladies! Sid, Tatum, Y/N.” Stu looked right at you with giddiness. He was probably just excited to make you watch scary movies with him again, knowing how painful it was for you last time.

You all turned and went to walk into the house, Tatum running up to Stu and giving him a kiss. You and Sid looked at each other and rolled your eyes, laughing at their intimacy. You hated to admit it, but they were the perfect couple. Even if you did have feelings for Stu, it’s not like you would do anything. Well, unless he wanted to of course. High school couples always fail, right?

You all walked in and sat together on Stu’s couch, mingling and trying to relax after such a hellish week. It was hard to talk about anything other than the Woodsboro Killer, especially when every insensitive guy came up to Sid to ask if she was back together with Billy now that he was cleared to see if they had a shot with her. You just glared at them, making sure they knew how rude they were being and to leave her alone for the rest of the night.

Stu was sitting next to you with Tatum, and the way he kept looking at you made you a little nervous. Not only because you found him attractive, but also because he seemed to be trying to… you couldn’t believe you were saying this, but intimidate you. His hands were on a uncomfortably tight grip around Tatum and he constantly leaned down to tell you every minute detail about the cheesy flick that was flashing on the screen in front of you. You felt his eyes trying desperately to meet yours but you just ignored him, talking to Sidney about Tom Cruise and other heartthrobs.

Eventually Gale Weathers and Dewey showed up and you took that as an excuse to get some time alone. You hated Gale Weathers probably more than Sidney did. The constant harassment of Sidney, the way she would do anything to get more viewers- God it made your blood boil. You went into the garage to cool off, grabbing another beer for your already churning stomach full of a cocktail of hard liquor and soda.  You were standing there collecting yourself when Tatum came through the door.

“Ugh I can’t fucking believe Dewey showed up, can you?” She rolled her eyes. “God, he’s always trying to babysit me, I’m fucking capable-” 

Your ears drifted from Tatum’s rant as you noticed a shadowy figure standing in the doorway of the garage. You could’ve recognized what it was with your eyes closed. It was that same fucking mask and costume that Sidney saw. The same one from Principal Himbry’s office. Before you could react, Tatum went to walk towards the door when the figure stepped through and closed the door behind him, blocking your one exit.

“Tatum, watch out!” You shouted, throwing your beer at the figure, watching as it shattered against its body. 

Tatum gasped, pushing the costumed figure over and hitting the garage door opener. You ran over and did your best to pin the killer down while Tatum ran through the slow opening door to escape. She left, not even looking behind her, leaving you stuck holding the killer. Both of you were grunting and wiggling against each other, him desperate to escape your grasp. Suddenly your struggles were drowned out by the sound of the garage door closing. You looked up to see Stu with his hand on the button to close the door, and a malicious smirk plastered over his face. 

He walked towards you, grabbing you off the killer and pinning you against his chest with your arms being held tightly by his large hands. 

“Stu, get off me! This guy just tried to kill us!”

Stu laughed. “Well duh. That’s kinda like, the whole point.”

You looked up at him confused, struggling to break free from his grasp, when the killer finally got up from his once compromising position.

“Gah! That really fucking hurt!” A familiar muffled voice said behind the mask. A gloved hand grabbed the back of the mask and ripped it off. “Fuck this mask, man.”

In front of you now stood a sweating, exasperated Billy. Your friend’s boyfriend, who you truly thought was innocent, now caught red handed. He ran his fingers through his hair and smirked at you, stepping closer to get in your face.

“Did you really think we’d let you get away a third time, huh? You’ve been ruining our plans all fucking week, and now we finally have you right where we want to.” He grunted, squeezing your arm tightly.

“Alright man, y’know I almost had her in Himbry’s-”

“Shut up, Stu. This little problem is gonna be dealt with right here, right now.” He took the knife in his hand and ran it along your jaw, causing a squeak to escape your chest. He laughed at your pathetic sounds, unable to contain the excitement he felt watching you now trapped between him and his accomplice.

“You. It was- it was you guys trying to get Sidney… Himbry... You killed Casey…”

Billy rolled his eyes. “Thank you for spelling out the obvious, dear. None of that matters right now because now you’re going to pay for disrupting our plan.” 

“You- You don’t have to do this Billy… Please, please let me go…” You whimpered, tears streaming down your cheeks as he gently pushed the knife into your neck, causing your skin to contort around the cold blade.

“Aw look, now she’s begging. C’mon Billy don’t be so mean, let the poor girl go.” Stu said, mocking your pleas.

“Ah yes, the poor little thing who has been nothing but a thorn in my side. Y’know, if she wasn’t so whiny and desperate, she’d almost be cute like this.”

Billy and Stu both laughed deep, cruel laughs and began to get to work. Billy walked across the garage to grab a chair as Stu led you down the stairs and forcibly planted you onto the cold, flat metal. Stu continued to hold you as Billy grabbed a rope and tied you to the back of the chair. He made sure it was tight, the coarse material digging into your soft wrists. He was sure you weren’t going to escape this time. 

“Now, here’s what’s going to happen my love.” Billy whispered behind you, his breath against your ear causing you to shiver. “We’re going to kill you. You’re not a final girl, missy. You’re just another pathetic little bitch who is constantly ruining the real heroes- that’s us- and our plans.”

You started to become delirious with fear, struggling against your confines. Billy and Stu both stepped back, watching you struggle in admiration. Billy couldn’t help but smirk at your incessant squirming and the fearful sounds involuntarily leaving your chest. 

“Help! Tatum! Sidney! Anybody! They’re going to kill me!” You sobbed, screaming your lungs out trying to get somebody to hear you. Anger overwhelmed Billy at the thought of you creating attention, causing him to roughly place a kiss on your lips to get you to shut up. You screamed into his mouth, trying not to enjoy the way his tongue felt against yours and his large hand engulfing one half of your face. He let go of you, spit gently connecting your lips for a moment before he wiped it away and looked up at Stu.

“Go. Keep people from coming in here. I want to have some time with this one.” Stu smirked and nodded, going back up the stairs and through the door back out to the party. You heard him reassure people your screams were nothing but some cheesy Halloween decorations his mom kept out in the garage, and it was nothing to worry about. Nobody was coming to help you.

Billy circled you like a shark, his demeanor now somewhat softer without the presence of Stu. He kneeled in front of you, smiling as you tried to move away from him.

“Y/N, you look so pretty when you cry. You know that? Huh?” He cooed, his hand brushing hair behind your ear. 

You tried to collect yourself. You’d known Billy for years, there had to be some part of him that wasn’t a monster and wanted to keep you around. You smiled, trying to pretend like your eyes weren’t puffy from tears. “Do you think so, Billy? I always thought you were pretty…”

He smiled for a moment, allowing himself to enjoy the compliment, but it quickly faded into anger. He swiftly stood up, baring his teeth. “Don’t. Don’t try to be sweet to me now. You’re the- the whore who ruined our perfect plans. You and fucking Sidney.” The knife returned to your throat, causing you to stiffen. You gasped as his other hand grabbed your hair and forced your head up to look at him. He smirked and let go of it, hungrily shoving his index and middle finger in your mouth.

“You’re mine for the rest of the night, bitch.” He growled as he backed away, twirling the knife in his hand. It was about to be a long, long night.

[celestial-fucking-weeb]

NAGĀ!SERO

Hey y’all! This is a part of the Citrus Server Hybrid!AU Collab! The masterlist is HERE, please please please go check everyone’s pieces out!

A/N: I am fully aware that this is all over the place, ya girl is off her meds and will edit later. Please don’t tell me it sucks, I already know and I hate it, too.

SERO HANTA X F!READER

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, angst, smut, double penetration, aphrodisiac, interspecies miscommunication, size kink, breeding kink, mating, idk tell me if i missed anything

You had always heard stories about creatures in the forest; ones that eat humans, ones kidnap children, ones that would hurt you if you ever ran off by yourself. You didn’t believe them… Or maybe you did, but either way, the creatures could never be as scary as the life you already lived.

You had been taken prisoner when your coastal village was raided by pirates. Your clan’s viking warriors were off on a journey, leaving all of you oh so vulnerable with depleted numbers. They were going to kill you, like they did most of the others, but the pirate setting fire to everything in his path halted when he found you trembling under the rubble.

“Tomura, come see the new toy I found. Don’t you wanna keep her?”

“You sadistic bastard, how you get off to them crying like that never fails to make me sick. I don’t care what you do with her, Dabi, but I’m not cleaning up after you this time.”

They hauled you back to their ship, stripped you of everything and chained you in the hull. People came in and out, always different but always vile. You never spoke, you knew they wanted your screams. Overhaul, the captain, was the worst. You never knew when he was coming, and once he was there, you wondered what he wanted from you at all. Chained up, never touching you with anything but knives and his boots, not looking for your reactions… You wondered if he’d even notice if you stopped breathing. You dissociated for most of it, choosing instead to safeguard your mind, plan an escape.

About a year later, you found an opportunity in the carelessness of one of your captors. You docked someplace warm, someplace humid, maybe tropical? Toga had left your chains too loose after your last “date”, and had tossed the keys just a bit too close. As soon as she left, you had slipped your wrists out of the restraints, strained for the keys, and unlocked the shackles around your ankles. Not taking a moment to revel in the surreal feeling of being unchained, you listened until the heavy footsteps above you all faded into nothing, leaving the ship and most importantly: leaving you alone.

You ran. You ran so steadily, somehow comforted by the sounds of destruction getting further and further away. You found yourself blindly sprinting into a forest that looked nothing like your own, so damp and bright and warm. You kept running until you heard shuffling behind you, causing you to find the first thick vine hanging in your vicinity and clung to it as you climbed. Looking back, you see a simple boar grazing the forest floor. Sighing in relief, you relaxed a bit too soon, as the vine you had wrapped yourself around began to move.

Before you could react, you were wrapped up tightly in bands of muscle and brought towards the head of the- wait…- man? You had heard of nagā before, but the ones from your village’s stories were never described as so… tan, muscular, handsome. He didn’t look all that mean from the waist up, just the black, orange, and yellow scales trailing down his massive, strong tail seemed intimidating. He looked confused, concerned even, by your nakedness and panic stricken silence. Forked tongue flicking out to taste the air, smelling the blood and the abuse on your skin, seeing your quickly defeated body give up, and your mind resign itself to the comfort that at least you died free of your captors.

“Are you… okay?” The giant snake rumbles, human hand reaching towards your face and recoiling when you flinch.

You haven't spoken in months, your silence having been a security blanket, and you’re not ready to give that up. You do nothing, just look into his eyes and search for any sort of indication as to what he’s going to do. He loosens his grip a bit, just enough to slip down from his tree and head towards his hide- an old cave covered in ivy, moss, and little orange blossoms. He brings you in, and places you down on the ground before turning away to rummage through his things. He brings out water and bandages, along with some kind of salve that looks like a mixture of plants. You don’t reach for the water when he sets it near you, so he resorts to using the tip of his tail to bring it to your lips while his hands are busy tending to your wounds and gently rubbing the salve over your poorly healed scars. He offers you food, very confused when you don't seem to know what to do with the forest rodent he’s brought you, and decides on fruits he’s found. You don’t seem to want to do anything, not even going to sunbathe even though you’re obviously shivering.

THAT’S IT!!! SHE’S COLD! He thinks to himself, before wrapping his tail around you once more and bringing you outside to the rock where he typically warms himself. He gently places you down, uncoils you from his grasp, and gives you enough space to move as you please. You blink a few times, slowly realizing you’re free. He helped you? For no reason? He doesn’t know you…

“H-Hi… Thank… Thank you.” You mutter, looking away and blushing.

Cute… He thinks. “YOU TALK!!! What’s your name? I’m Sero, but you can call me Hanta! I was worried about you! Who are you? Why are you here? How did you get here?”

The line of questioning makes your head spin, and you try your best to answer before looking down and realizing you never found clothes. Blushing once again, you meekly gesture to your body and ask, “C-Clothes. I need clothes.” Hanta looks confused, but retreats to the cave and returns, bringing you a large piece of cloth that somewhat resembles a hemp blanket. It smells like oranges and spice, and you unconsciously snuggle into its comfort. Sero notices your calmed reaction to his scent and approaches you, gingerly grasps your ankle and picks up your leg, never having been so close to a human, and explores the strange angles your appendages bend.

“What are you doing?” You seem embarrassed, despite the number of people who've touched you before. This is too familiar, too intimate, almost too gentle.

“Tiny… Humans are… Small…”

You let him bend your limbs and play with your squish, strangely calm and trusting in his presence. He seems so enthralled by your body and how you move, so intrigued. That is, until he makes his way to massaging your plush thighs, causing a rush of arousal you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. He prys opens your legs to continue his ministrations, not knowing the smell of your lust would have him flicking his tongue out and his eyes turning to hyper-focused slits. He suddenly releases your legs, slithers around your back, and presses against you. He taps the top of your head with his chin and waits for your response. Not knowing what this means, but wanting him to continue his exploration, you lean back into him and whine quietly.

You have no idea what you’ve started.

Hanta leans down, pressing sweet kisses down the column of your throat and leaving scathing bites in all the right places. Aphrodisiac venom coursing through your veins, you don’t even register his muscular arms wrapping around your body and lifting you, carrying you back into his cave and up into his hammock. He wraps his strong tail completely around your torso and takes his time kissing and groping your soft body, mumbling “mate, mate, mate” into your heated flesh. He finally makes his way down to your mound, prying your thighs apart and diving straight in before you could question his reverent gaze.

“HANTAAA~” You practically screamed as his long tongue slipped between your folds, running along your clit and down to your clenching hole, his saliva increasing the heat coursing through your core. “M-More, please… More~”

“More, what?” He smirks against your heat. “Say it. Tell me I’m your mate and I’ll make sure you’re fucked dumb, yeah? My pretty little mate.”

You stutter for a moment, getting more desperate the longer his fingers drag along your wetness. “Mate… Please! I need you… I’m yours!”

“Good mate~” His tongue wriggles back into your cunt, and his fingers slowly move further down to stretch your tight ass, making you squeal in surprise. Your orgasm takes you by surprise, all thoughts abandoning your mind as you ride out your high on his face and fingers.

“Are you ready, little one?” He growls lowly, lining up two long, thick cocks with each hole. Your eyes widen in surprise, head clearing for a moment after your climax.

“T-two?! Wait wait wait, I’ve never… I can’t! Two?!”

“Oh, little mate, but you can and you will!” He punctuates his statement by spitting down onto your cunt, thick venom slipping down to your tight rim. You moan and grind against his cocks, aphrodisiac leading your body into a blissed out state of submission. “Gonna fill you up so good. I promise you’ll be so full, feel so good, little mate. Trust me?”

“Y-yes! Wanna be full, want my mate!” You beg and plead for him to push into you, hips bucking against him, trying to get him to satiate the burning want he’d created. It isn’t until you thread your fingers through his hair and wrap your legs around his waist that he thrusts into you completely.

“That’s it, wrap around me like that. So tight, so warm… Fuuuck!~” Sero pants, chest pressed tightly to yours and face tucked into the crook of your neck, licking and sucking deep marks over your pulse point.

You’ve never felt so full, your body strangely welcoming the pleasurable stretch of your holes, pulling him deeper and deeper until you can feel him in your belly with every roll of his powerful hips. Your whimpers and tears only seem to spur him on, drawing orgasm after orgasm from your body.

“S-Shit, keep squeezing around me like that. Come on, little one, I know you have one more for me. Cum with me, I wanna feel you cum one more time. Gonna breed you, gonna fill you so good. Come on, pretty mate- fuck- cum for me~” He reaches down and pinches your overstimulated clit between two fingers and bites down on your neck one last time, sending you over the edge with a cry of “breed me, breed me, breed me!” and nails digging into his back.

“Mine! My mate, pretty little mate. Breed mate, all mine!! Gonna- gonna… Ah~” Hanta’s words steadily fell from his lips as he released deep inside your holes, belly bulging from the sheer amount of seed he spilled into you.

Utterly exhausted and dreamily floating off, you cling to him. Sero wraps you up in his tail and lays back into his hammock, keeping you as close as he can. When you snuggle into him, he whispers little praises into your hairline, a constant stream of “so good, pretty mate, all mine, i love you, so perfect, did so well, took me so well, such a good mate”.

The next day, you wake up surrounded by soft cloth, feathers, fruits, fluffy furs, a dozen shiny objects and pretty dried flowers. You sit up, looking around frantically for your mate before your eyes settle on a sheepish-looking Sero, wiggling nervously around the cave.

“Um… Do you… like it? I made it for you… I just- please tell me you like it!” He shrinks himself a bit, arm coming up to palm the back of his neck.

“Oh, is this a… nest? It’s- It’s very nice. Thank you, Hanta!” You smile softly at him, curling up into your nest and reaching out for him.

“MATE!!! I’m so happy you like it, I was so nervous!!! My mate. You can stay here all the time, so I can protect you, forever! My pretty little mate.~” He climbs into the nest and coils himself around you, content to guard you.

Maybe this time, being kept isn’t so bad.

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Infected/Undead Boyfriend (Ryan Chen) 3 (FINALE)

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Part 1  -  Part 2

Warning: some language. Long chapter ahead!

When It Rains, It Pours Part 3 (FINALE)

It was always raining in November-– or was it now December?

It was hard to tell: the rain had turned harder and harsher, solid ice and snow fell across what was desolate and overgrown lands, where the city life grew smaller, a distant reminder that they still hung in an area. The coating of snow grew harsher the more the days passed, and bitter was its storms and winds to you and your surroundings.

How you managed to get out before losing yourself was an amazement to you and those of your rescuers.

"Hey, five minutes before we depart—you good?"

You blinked lazily, back to the surrounding sounds that were not of the dead crawling and walking on the grounds, of laughter and joy that you had missed and forgotten the sounds of. You remembered where you were: the warmth of the fire spreading across your limbs as you looked up from the floor, a hand in reach for you to take.

Justin was the first and the only one you had really spoken and befriended who wasn't a relative to you, a friend you shared rum and morbid chats with when the two of you were on night duties, staring up at nothing by the sky. He was cute: brown hair and eyes, pretty smile, but he was just another hole filled.

'Okay, okay, humour me with this,' He asked you when the blizzard was raging outside of your camp, the howling winds rattling against the iron doors. 'If you could take anyone with you, in the world, where would you go and with who?'

There was only one name that came to mind that night, the lines of your face creasing as you smiled sadly. 'You'll have to let me think about that one.'

"You good, tiger?" You took his hand as he hauled you up to your feet, dusting away the snow from your worn jeans. "You seem... out of it. You can tell me, I can get someone else to do this if you're not feeling up to it."

"No, it's fine, I'll be out in five." There was a haunting, dreadful pause from Justin, observing you silently when time didn't seem to go any faster, before he nodded, heading out of the hall, his distant figure fading through the groups of crowds waiting.

You gathered your things slowly, fumbling with the leather jacket, dipping your fingers into the deep pockets, fumbling with the smooth edge of the card still occupying it. Never did it seem to lose its feel, thankfully. Get a grip on yourself. You sighed, securing your knife into your boot. Three years... three fucking years and you still mourn.

The snow had settled once you had been brave to face it, crunching satisfyingly under your boots each step you took to the stables, waiting there was Justin and a few others you didn't take time in memorising their names.

"You ready?" Justin asked, strapping more ammo into his backpack. "Help yourself to some more. Heard there's infected up north from here roaming. Potentially they could come down."

"Yeah, thanks." You grabbed a large bar, stuffing it away before paying attention to the black stead you had named Diamond. "Hey, girl. Ready to stretch those legs?"

The beauty snorted almost in reply, a genuine smile gracing your features when you had clamoured up, mentally and physically preparing yourself for the arduous journey that would take place. An hour away from the Jackson base was the Crow's Nest: the barren hub used to scout the area, to keep eye on roaming hordes.  

"The snow has settled, but with it, the dead grow. Watch out for yourselves, keep close to the path and don't stray." Justin gave final warnings before you all set off, the large electric gates of the once well-known powerplant creaked open, a vast, vicious cold greeted you the moment you stepped out.

The journey left you frozen and missing the heat from indoors, reminding yourself why you had gone out in the first place was to get away from everyone, but now you had dearly missed the sweet sight of civilisation creeping back to normal. I can be back and everything will be fine. You told yourself, and you foolishly believed it.

When you finally arrived, there were little dead who had managed to get through the other side of the pen, and taking them out was no issue. The base on top was all but a cosy place: desolate, reeking of decay and too cold. When you finally reached the windows that showcased the cast white outside, did you finally breathe out in somewhat respite.

"See that out there, that's the city you came from, right?" Justin pointed out to what looked like nowhere, but even where the sky and snow met with vast starkness, there was still an outline of a desolate and barren city, broken and crumbling skyscrapers still reaching to the chilling sky.

It was miles out, you realised, but the routes out were like a maze on its own.

"Don't tell me you're thinking of going in there for fun?" You asked, the man beside you rolling his eyes exasperatedly. "You would have to be fucking insane to want to go back in there."

"Even so, what kept you sane?"

The name you so missed to say was on the tip of your tongue, memories that swept through your mind nearly brought you to tears. Maybe, in some reality, the two of you could've been that couple, living out your days in a decaying city, filled with dead, going down as the world would never miss you. But in some ways, it was for the good. You blinked the tears away before any could fall.

"Faith, a hell of a lot of it." The winter sun was dead as well as the last of those memories. "I'm done with it, done for good."

In the distance, when the snow settled quietly, a dull, thunderous cry, followed with the faint sounds of bangs going off, a chorus that never seemed to quieten, only did its cries grow louder and louder, until-

"Infected have made their way into the bunker!"

You turned with Justin in surprise, the thuds of gunshots and its chambers thudded in time with your heartbeat, rousing the adrenaline as you moved like clockwork to make your way back down, back into the darkened, gloomy hallways so narrow it barely fitted enough, but now stood with both humans and dead.

Even war has never looked like this. There were bodies already, a mixture of dead taken down and those who had fallen, bleeding to the ground in puddles, eyes frozen and bodies stiff. "Come with me down to the east wing." Justin guided you away from the onslaught, away from the crowded corridors as the two of you run further away from the noises.

"You know how many they'll be?" You rasped, trying to steady your breathing, the grip on your knife straining your fingers.

"I don't know," Justin answered. "But whatever you do, don't think recklessly. You're a strong fighter, so don't think about dying."

"I could say the same with you." You stopped when you stopped outside the double doors, slightly ajar and smeared blood wiped across the handles and door. "You ready?"

No. You thought. I don't even want to be here. "Yes."

The door was opening wider before you could realise: the noise loud and shrilled, as were the following, inhumane cries and shrieks that followed. Through the darkness of the room: the boiler room, you could see, maybe four or five dead, twitching and grotesque.

And two of them charging towards you both.

Justin made light work of the largest one, leaving you to deal with the other, all snarling and baring its mangled, blackened teeth. You reared back as it did too, causing you to collapse into the wall but not fall, supporting yourself and keeping its head from coming any closer to the flesh of your face or neck.

You struggled for what felt like forever, until you kicked it as far away from you, shoving it into Justin's grip as you charged, using your knife to lodge it into the jellied head, one final cry came before its head slumped, black blood seeping through.

"Good job," Justin let it drop against the wall. "A bit quieter would've been better though."

"Yeah, thanks though." You caught your breath, iron in your throat when you exhaled, feeling like knives stabbing you a thousand times, not helping with the cold of the room. "Shall we continue onwards?"

"We could take down the rest of these- Hey, watch out!"

You turned in time to hear the raucous grunt of something collide into the side of you, causing you to stumble, crashing into the boiler behind you, the wind knocked from you with such force, your vision dotted. "Shit!" Justin shouted from the darkness, and you could hear the struggle, gunshots and more animalistic roars. "Justin! Are you okay?"

"Go! I'll distract it!" You heard his retreating voice, the heavy footsteps follow before you had time to catch the large creature leave, a dreadful smell of mildew and rotting flesh filled your nostrils, almost making you gag.

"Fuck." You grunted to stand, head dizzy, aware that the noises and clicks were coming from the rest of the dead in the surrounding area you shared with them. "Shit!" Quickly, you picked up the blade fallen, dodging the remaining dead as you continued in a haze through to the back of the room, hopping over the wall to get through to the bunker. The sounds of the dead never faltered, sounding all around you and nowhere at all, limbs shaking, clothes drenched not with water.

I'm going to die, I'm going to die—I'm fucked, I'm fucked. You tried to keep moving, but you kept running into dead ends and parts cornered off, leading you to believe that there would be no way of escaping.

Something scampered in your peripheral, large and skinny, you braced for the worst when its shadowed body crawled around in the dark, closer and closer. You pulled your gun out, trying to steady your breathing and keep an eye on it. It didn't move like any of the other dead—perhaps a new one you weren't aware of.

You decided to try and take a shot, the bullet ricocheting off a pipe and exploding with gas, letting out and creating a thick, never-ending mist that you found hard in trying to see through. There was the sound of shoes scraping against the floor, someone running towards you and grabbing you, and you screamed, their face guarded as you tried fighting them off you, away from the floor so they wouldn't have full control over you.

Your fingers gripped the gun, reminding yourself to not let go of it, and you finally- after some struggle- kicked the creature in the stomach, letting it stumble back as you finally tried to take another shot.

In the mist that was fading slowly as you tried to focus, the legs of the figure finally appeared, a full body appearing like someone of a horror film, head turned from you as you squinted to whatever was standing in front of you, your time to take the shot faltering.

"Ryan?"

The lithe humanoid figure was as dishevelled as you could recall once he twisted his torso to look back on you. A distant memory that floated in your mind, of peace and tranquillity, it now stood in front of you as some bitter, warped illusion. He was everything you remembered of him, the same clothes but now wearing a different jacket to the one you still wore in honour, his hair seemed longer, more messy and unkempt, strands pulled out from the bun, guarding his soft, unsteady dark eyes. He looked thinner from the last, a walking apparition whose skin was washed pale and bruised black and blue, his cheeks hollowed and eyebags darkened.

"Oh, god," the grip on the trigger loosened shakily, eyes dotting with sudden tears. "It's you, isn't it? I'm not fucking dream, am I?"

The man didn't seem responsive at first, playing into the belief he was some sort of hallucination after all, but his mouth opened, a quiet voice answering. "Yes, it's me."

The noise that left your parted lips was shaky and warbled, a string of tears flowing down your cheeks when everything slowly fell apart. "Why," your words were twisted and you fumbled clumsily. "Why... why did you leave?"

He was silent, the hard struggle in understanding what he was thinking. He seems… ashamed. You thought, watching his shifting eyes. You watched the pain that didn’t seem to be hidden beyond his eyes, even when he spoke. “… You belonged with them, not me.”

“How would you know that? I—you could’ve come with me, Ryan. We’re an open community, we can help you-”

“No,” his voice was strained, his eyes more red than usual. “I can’t be fixed.” He lifted his black t-shirt, the skin bruised as his face had been, inflamed and almost maimed. “I was bitten.”

“But you didn’t turn.”

“No,” his smile was soft, downturned. “Perhaps turning would’ve been the better option. But I live with these decisions. You need people, not me.”

“Ryan,” you took a hesitant step towards him, still, the tears fell. “Do you know I still think about you? Even after all these years.”

“No,” he laughed silently, his eyes glassy and cold. “I did too. A lot.”

“Please, please come with me. I promise you, we can help you—we could fix you.”

Ryan watched, not showing signs of moving away from you as you slowly made your way to him, outreaching your hand for him to hold. Just… just to hold once more, to feel him again. How you craved it like it was a lifeline.

“I—I can’t describe how I’m feeling right now.” His words were hushed when you were close to him, feeling his breath fan against your wet cheeks. “You don’t have to describe anything,” you murmured. “Just… let it happen.”

He leant into you first, his lips were warm and memories swarmed in your mind like you were drowning. His being, his smell: so sweet and inviting, your memories were swelling and rising, bringing a feeling of levitating, back to a time when you felt loved and needed. Back in his arms in an excluded room, forgotten altogether but in each other’s arms.

When you pulled away, he leant his forehead against yours, warm and damp from cold. “I missed you so.” He muttered softly. You had so many thoughts, too many emotions that everyone argued with things they wanted to say before the other. But the same thing was in your mind, replaying over and over again.

It plagued you, as you took his hand into your own, squeezing as if your life depended on it. “Ryan, I-”

Your words were there, masked and clipped from the noise that came from in front of you, a large reverberating noise that was sharp and rung, smoke appearing as Ryan stumbled forward, allowing you to catch him. He was limp, colder than usual and not from the cold. He was shaking, muttering something in a quiet, weak voice, but you couldn’t hear him, even when you flipped him carefully, seeing his mouth open and close, you looked up in time to witness the devastated eyes of someone you wanted to forget.

“Get away from it,” Justin’s words were followed by him stepping closer between the two of you, gripping your shoulder. “You’re lucky I came in time. I heard gunshots, I got worried-”

“You shot him.” You weakly said, frozen and still holding Ryan, the grip on him still tight and there for him to know you were still holding onto him, keeping him safe.

Justin seemed as confused as he tried lifting you off the ground, “I’m trying to help you, that thing-”

“Stop it. Stop it!” You swatted his hand away sharply, reaching around to hold and stabilise Ryan, the shot to his stomach was bleeding profusely, soaking through your fingertips. “He’s dying, he’s fucking dying.”

“Hey, hey, what—” he said your name, shaking you out of the breakdown. “It’s infected—look at me, what do you mean?”

“I love him, Justin! I know him, I know him! Ryan Chen, he’s not one of them!” You were blubbering and muttering constantly before your eyes landed on Justin’s, wild and red and sore. “Help me, please, I can’t lose him again.”

Justin hesitated once more, before he urged himself forward, peeling the heavy bag from his back to bring out the gauze and wrappings, whilst you sat and remained rigid, and you wished you could’ve stayed where you had been, to begin with.

-

You noticed now, how quiet things could be when you were left with just your thoughts, alone in the world when you pushed so many away. Your fingers were knotted together tightly, wrung together in a tangle when you fidgeted, nothing to distract you from the unknown time ticking.

“Hey, you’re the girlfriend of “Ryan”?”

You looked up to the woman who had come through to greet you in the small waiting room, blinking away your thoughts to be back with the present. “Yeah, yes… how is he doing?”

“He just came out of surgery and is in a stable condition.” Relief was one of the emotions you were feeling, but it was hard to explain anything else at that moment. “You can go in to see him shortly.”

“Thank you.” A gentle hand pressed into your shoulder, squeezing encouragingly. “Hey, he’s gonna be okay. He seems strong.”

“He is,” you uttered sadly. “He’s a fighter.”

-

“Ryan! Take it easy! We’ve got all night!”

Your laughter was bubbling, easy and light, as you were led down the long path, where the trees grew in size and foliage, grew thickest, hiding your bodies as you ran beneath the moonlight. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“We’re almost there.” He was not as out of breath as you had been, but his smile was bright and blooming, skin radiant as if he was reborn. “I’m not dragging you back to get more stitches.” The two of you stopped eventually, continuing at a brisk pace until you reached the end of the hill, watching over the once city the two of you had resided in, distant yet glooming.

“It… it still looks like shit as I remember it to be.” You exhaled, looking over Ryan from your right side. “That place still holds a lot to remember, don’t you think? The outbreak, the deaths, the burning of bodies.”

“I got to meet you.”

“You did,” you squeezed his hand encouragingly. “After I fell through the ceiling. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You shared a laugh, all thoughts aside when you stared across the distance. That city did hold some darkness and pain to you, but you knew that you would get out of there, not as one, but as two.

[loving-all-for-loki]

Can you write one where the Rogers is assigning a new recruit to each avenger for training? Loki gets the new girl and he’s irritated thinking she’s just some normal human that hasn’t a clue how to fight properly because of her petite size. When it comes time for them to spar, she gives him hell. She fights with swords and is very skilled in the art. He says something to piss her off and she ends up blasting him away with powers she never told anyone about. Loki realizes what she is since he knows the magic she used. She’s part light elf but being half human she was abandoned and left to die just like Loki was. They end up bonding and work together on the team.

A/N: I hope you like it! I didn't focus a whole ton of them working together, but I feel like you get the point. It's a bit longer than my other one shots.

The Moon And Her Darkness

Summary: Y/N, the newest avenger, starts her first day of training. An unimpressed Loki’s doubts are proved to be wrong when she reveals herself to be stronger than he knew.

Word count: 2744

Warnings: angst, dick Loki

Forever Tags: @mm2305

-

Your blood pumps fast through your body as you stare at the raven haired god. Ever since you joined the team, he’s been giving you dirty looks and eye rolls. You tried to not pay attention to it since you know of his past (and have been warned by Tony), but as the newest Avenger trying to prove herself, you find yourself longing for his approval.

It has been a week since Nicky Fury showed up at your home, extracting you from it, and throwing you into the lion's den you called the Avengers. You never signed up for it, but given that you were on the government’s radar for a long time, you’re not surprised. A couple mishaps here and there made them take you on their own terms. They’ve decided that having super powers is not something to be normalized and that you couldn’t live like a normal civilian.

Although you want to be home, the Avengers have already shown to be a great family. Nat and Wanda have already taken you shopping while Steve gave you a tour of the tower. As far as the others, they have been out of sight. Bucky avoids everyone, Sam with him because they’re glued to the hip, and Tony is somewhere else working on new technology with Bruce. Clint? Thor? Who even knows. You’ve been thankful for the attention they have given you.

Except for Loki.

You remember the attack in New York and you won’t lie when saying that approaching the god is intimidating. He stands with great pride and power, it’s hard not to feel small, but when he stares at you the way he does, it’s harder. He doesn’t stop looking at you as if you were a rat he found in a sandwich. Disposable. Replaceable. Disgusting. You don’t expect much from the God being that he’s only staying here out of punishment for the attacks, but you had hoped for a little something more. Even a prank or two.

When Steve told you that you were going to start training, you expected hand to hand combat like the rest, not whatever involves Loki being in the gym at the same time as the two of you. He hasn’t said a word, but just stared at you as Steve goes over some basic disabling techniques and defense. Most of it is already burned in your brain from your childhood, being a warrior and all, but you still manage to learn some new things.

But learning as to why Loki is there, that still remains unclear. Everytime you throw a punch or try to block one of Steve’s, Loki scoffs at you and rolls his eyes. He looks completely relaxed on a bench in the room, yet he could not be looking at you with a more tense gaze. He looks worried, as if you’re going to get beaten to a pulp.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” You yell at him.

Panting, you block Steve’s last hit and turn to the younger Odinson.

“Sorry?”

“Oh, don’t sorry me. Cut the crap, Loki. What’s up?”

“I believe the sky is.”

You grab a knife off the wall and aim it in his direction, startling him slightly but not even shocking Steve.

“You stare at me with daggers in your eyes and judge my every move. You have yet to even talk to me since I joined the team. What do you have against me, you ass?”

“Y/N-”

“Shut it, Steve!” You yell, quickly aiming the dagger at him before returning to Loki, “You. Talk.”

“It’s just pathetic, that’s all.”

“Pathetic? You’re calling me pathetic?”

You start to charge at Loki, but Steve quickly wraps his arm around your waist, holding you back from gutting the god.

“Y/N, I wanted you to spar with him after me,” he cuts in.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because he's a skilled fighter who matches your level.”

“Oh, so I spar with the tricker who decides I’m too pathetic to fight. He’s going to teleport or some shit and stab me like he does with Thor.” Loki’s eyebrows raise at the mention of Thor getting stabbed. “Yes, I’ve heard the stories. I’m not that naive, Steve.”

“I won’t leave you alone with him. I’ll be here to watch and guide.”

“What do you know about fighting with me? I have magic beyond belief” Loki asks the both of you.

“I know more than you think,” I spit, turning back to Steve, “Can we do something else?”

“Well, you coud-”

“I am not sparing with Loki.”

“Okay, then how about weapons? Whatever one you want to start with?”

Loki scoffs again at the mention of you fighting any other way than hand to hand combat. He’s lucky you’re on the same team as him or else you would have decapitated him by now just because of annoyance. How can a man so attractive be so obnoxious?

You walk over to the wall of weapons were Steve and quietly discuss which ones you’ll practice with. He recommends knives so you can spar with Natasha when he’s gone, but the swords are more up your alley. They remind you of your childhood, the weapon of your people. Some days, you miss them, but you know they are fighting their own battle that is too dangerous for you.

Picking up the swords, Steve warns you he is not good which makes Loki laugh again. He has the right to this time because how do you practice with a man who doesn’t know what he’s doing. You can’t last ten minutes with Cap before you’re tired of his flailing. He’s really not good.

“Loki, you wouldn’t happen to know how to use swords would you?”

“I have some experience. Asgard knights and Valkyrie used them, we were forced to learn.”

He stands and takes Steve’s sword from him. Turning to you, he smirks, taking you in. Your frame looks so small compared to his, nothing but a mortal. He’s never admit it, but he finds you slightly adorable, in a helpless baby sort of way. You take proper stance and stare at Loki dead in the eye, determined to prove him wrong.

The two of you run at each other, swinging at any unblocked area you can, yet never hitting. He blocks your swing, pushing you back but not down. Looking up at him, you scream and run, thrusting your sword towards his neck and legs. He blocks you again, but not without stumbling. Before he’s able to get up, you land a blow right to his chest, knocking the air out of him. He hooks his foot around your leg and flips the two of you over so he hovers above you, sword to throat.

“I’ll admit it, you are good, but not great,” he laughs.

He stands up and walks off, setting the swords back on their holder on the wall. You gradually stand up, fury in your bones for the way he speaks to you.

“You… are irritable!” You yell.

Right before Loki gets to the door, he turns to face you. Steve rushes to your side.

“Y/N, stop. He’s not worth it.”

“Oh, he’s not worth it, alright,” you mutter to Steve, “He’s not worth the pride. The praise. Whatever the ‘glorious purpose’ he thinks he has. He’s just an insecure little boy who needs to prove himself over others, make them feel small so he feels superior. Just a bully.”

“I’d watch your tongue,” Loki warns.

“Or else what? You’ll challenge me to a words competition? See who has the best insults or can sound like the biggest douche because I think we all know who would win! Another check mark for your book of things you’re better at than ‘midgardians’ or ‘mortals’ or whatever degrading nickname you think of next.”

Loki’s chest heaves in anger. You’ve never seen someone so angry or heard anyone yelling at you with concern like Steve. Nothing he says registers in your head as Loki’s daring looks fill your mind. You’d almost be scared if you didn’t know he’s full of empty threats. Just a scared little god boy.

“You imbecile, think you can scare me?”

“Actually, I think anything can.”

“I can take words from someone who does not know me, but to be called a coward is not something I take lightly.”

“So what are you going to do about it? Huh?”

“Nothing, I don’t waste my time on people like you.”

“Oh, people like me? Because the great Frost Giant Asgardian is sooo superior.”

“Don’t you ever say that.”

Loki rushes to your side, grabbing you by the throat and lifting you up against the wall.

“Loki, stop it!” Steve yells.

“This is not about you, Rodgers. I suggest you leave before getting in the crossfire.”

“I can’t do that. The safety of this team-”

“Is your priority. I know you are honorable, but I highly suggest you leave.”

Steve hesitates at the sound of you gasping for air. You cling onto Loki’s hand, tightly wound around your throat. His veins pop out of his hand like a dehydrated man. Steve looks back at you, eyes now closed to focus on your breathing.

“Put her down first,” Steve orders.

“Fine, always have to be the hero.”

Loki sets you down and your body goes numb. Everything hurts, your throat swelling. You gasp for all the air you can, feeling it go down your throat and enter your lungs. It’s fresh, comforting, healing. Leaning your head back against the wall, you barely open your eyes to see Steve by your side.

“Are you okay?”

Not energized enough to speak yet, you nod your head and place your hand on his shoulder. Steve looks over at you with worry before turning back to Loki.

“Leave, now.”

“Gladly.”

Loki turns to walk away, but doesn’t. He stands there to listen to you and Steve. At this point, neither of you care. You’re too focused on not dying.

“Can you breathe?” Steve asks.

You nod your head.

“I can get you help. We have a hospital room.”

“No,” you choke, “I’m fine. I just need a moment.”

Steve nods, but doesn’t listen. He gets up and leaves the room, rushing down the hallways to get a nurse, leaving you alone with Loki.

“Why haven’t you left?”

“No reason.”

“Please, just go. I’m tired of fighting. You’ve done enough.”

Loki turns to look at you. You look weak, but actually weak this time. The purple tint to your skin is fading as your lungs self regenerate as you keep breathing. Gripping onto the wall behind you, you stand up. Your knees are weak, making you wobble as you do. You’re not lying. You’re tired of Loki. You’ve barely spoken to the man and he’s made two attempts on your life in ten minutes. Sure, you teased him, but doesn’t he deserve it for being an ass.

“Weak.” He mutters.

That was the last straw. You look up at him. He stares at you as if the devil himself has entered you and your eyes glow bright red, but you know what is wrong. Holding out your hand towards Loki. A glow erupts from behind you, bright yet dark. It’s dark blue like the night sky and Loki watches it in awe. In seconds, Loki’s body is flung through the training room doors, blasting him into the wall of the hallways. He feels his rib breaking, his head hitting the wall. He yells out in pain as you slowly approach him, the anger seeping through.

“Never call me weak.”

Loki flips his head up to look at you, shock running through his body. At the sound of his body collapsing, the other Avengers come running forward. They look upon the sight of you towering over the trickster god with a look they’ve never seen before. Ethereal. Godly. You look as if you’re a queen staring at her peasant handmaid. Anger. Controlling. Power.

“What the-” Bucky mutters.

“You,” Loki gasps.

He struggles to stand as the team tries to help but he refuses. You two locked eyes but nothing was said. “You’re an elf.”

Everyone looks back at you with confused faces, but you don’t say anything. Your body goes hot at the mention of the word ‘elf’. The fire inside you fades out as anxiety places it, waiting for Loki to continue.

“I knew if someone was here to figure it out it’d be you,” you whisper.

“Light elf yes?”

“Yes, moon elf to be exact.”

“How are you here? Aren’t the-”

“Yes, they’re away. I was left to die. Our town got ransacked, everyone fled. No one stopped for me.”

“Then how are you here?”

“The Air elves. They got word of what happened and came. Found me. Took me back, but-”

“You weren’t suited. They found out.”

“Yes.”

There’s a moment of silence between you and the god. His eyes shine with sadness, tears coming to the corners. He looks at you with great pity as the wall inside you breaks.

“Can someone explain what’s happening?” Steve asks.

“Can you tell?” You ask Loki.

He nods, “Yes. Y/N is a moon elf, a tribe of light elves. They’re as high up as Asgard in the nine realms, powerful warriors. They’ve been at the center of every creature out there. People have been after them for their weapons, gems, and wealth. A landmark for every thief and warrior in the universe.”

“My town was destroyed when I was a little girl. Nobody wanted me because I was a child. I was a burden to them.”

“She was left for dead to be found by the Air Elves. Another tribe. Not as powerful. But they didn’t want her and there’s only one reason why they wouldn’t want a moon elf. She’s a half-breed.”

“Moon elves are the only ones who tolerate them. Half human, half elf. Considering many of them come from moon elves, they’re not despised, but Air Elves.”

“They dropped you off on Midgard to be picked up by someone else. I assume you hid your powers?” “I had to. I acted out once when I was little and my parents freaked out. They sent me away. I lived in a orphanage before some group took me, trained me, helped me hone in my powers. They saved me.”

“Until you got to old and left.”

“Didn’t know where to go. I became a waitress at some back alley bar, lived above it in an apartment with my manager. Lived paycheck to paycheck.”

“Then?”

“Nicky Fury came to me. I was on SHIELD’s radar and they wanted me on the Avengers.”

The room goes silent. Throughout your talking you missed the way Loki got considerably closer to you. You practically stand right under his nose. Loki raises his hands and places them on your shoulders, getting your attention. You two look each other in the eye for a long moment.

“I am… so sorry.”

You feel the tears forming in your eyes as Loki pulls you into his chest, holding you by your waist. The team watches in awe as the closed off god embraces you. Slowly, everyone leaves you two in the hallway. An hour goes by as you cry in Loki’s eyes.

Eventually, Loki picks you up bridal style and brings you to your bedroom. He helps you get dressed for the night and settled in bed before you grab his hand, making him turn back to face you. His eyes are no longer riddled with anger or hatred, but kindness and pity. He looks at you like you’re a little lamb to be protected.

“Yes, darling?”

“Stay with me?”

He nods before undressing and getting in bed with you. He pulls you close, your head leaning on his chest, and places an arm around your waist.

Every night goes on like this. No matter what happened in the day, even if you two got into an argument, Loki always found his way back by your side in your bed. You would have never expect it from how he treated you at first, but after the last few months since you met him, you find yourself growing closer to the god.

Loki slips into your bed for what feels like the 1482nd time. Resting your head on his chest, Loki pulls you close to his body.

“Goodnight, darling.”

[corpsebasil]

Easily Replaced | Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You’d let Pekka Rollins live.

    After years of planning, of seeing his face in dark corners and cobwebs and in your worst nightmares you’d finally, finally had a knife to his throat. And you’d let him go.

"This is bullshit." You grumbled, pacing around the entrance to the Slat with a frown on your face.

The guards refused to let you in and your window had been bolted shut. Kaz was serious—he wanted you out and you still knew nothing about the heist, nothing about how you were going to cross the Fold, and nothing about how your mental health was going to stay well during the kind of stress Kaz was putting you through.

"Mrs. (Y/L/N)," a voice murmured and you whirled, one knife clutched tightly in your fingers as you glared at the messenger boy across from you. To his credit, he hardly flinched. "Vivi has a job for you—"

"Tell Vivi to kiss my ass." You grumbled, kicking dirt at the Slat once more before spinning on your heel and walking away. The messenger scrambled after you, tugging his hood higher over his hair as you both crossed under lamplight.

"She said it's important. It's about someone who can get you across the Fold.

You paused and the messenger almost knocked into you.

"Cross the Fold?" You asked, looking at him, and he nodded once, shoving a paper towards you.

"This is the address. She said you might have some...competition. You ought to hurry."

     You thought you ought to strangle the messenger boy if he wanted to rush you, but you turned away and slipped into the shadows anyways.

~

This had to be a joke.

You eyed the paper in your hands and then glanced back up at the house, raising an eyebrow. This was the home of the elusive 'Conductor', the man Vivi swore would take you across the Fold to get...whatever you were supposed to be getting?

Should you knock, or—

"Hello?" A male voice called out and you ducked, practically diving into the rose bushes to avoid his stare out the front windows.

After a moment he disappeared from view and you huffed, taking a quieter window route to sneak in the house. You’d been expecting something grander for a criminal mastermind that had crossed the Fold too many times to count. Maybe a manor, or a small castle, but this—you sniffed and wrinkled your nose as you slid the window shut behind you, slinking your way through the darkened hallways.

Was that mold in the corner?

You adjusted your mask and pulled out a knife, wondering absently how you were going to play this one. You could see him in a parlor-like area, counting papers and skimming book logs with an awkward humming tendency. The whole house smelled like stew—you thought that maybe he'd share if you were nice.

"Seventeen, twelve, uh...thirteen-point-five," the man continued. He was stout and resembled a librarian with a horrific mustache, but you didn't think that was anything you couldn't fix. "Nope, sorry Anatov, no room for you."

You stepped forward, rolling your wrist to stretch, when a figure streaked out of the darkness and socked Conductor in the face. You crouched, eyes widened, and stared at the cloaked figure. Competition.

"I need him too," you called out, tightening your grip on your knife, and seconds later the figure whirled.

You heard the zing of a knife seconds before it hit you and you gasped, lurching to the left. A snarl left your throat and your cheek was on fire. That bitch.

"I don't want to kill—" the figure, the girl, started, but you were already on top of her.

The two of you rolled, knives and teeth and shouting, both of you highly trained fighters and both of you abandoning all sense of reason. The girl managed to get a good grip on you and straddle you, pinning you to the floor with one hand on your throat.

"Who are you?" The girl demanded, glaring down at you, and you realized two things:

One, the Suli girl on top of you was absolutely stunning.

Two, it was a shame you had to kill her.

"I was just wondering the same thing." You gritted out, slipping a knife from your waistband and aiming it for the girl's thigh. All it would take was one deep cut to the femoral artery and—

"Don't." A voice broke through the tension and two knives went sailing for the doorframe. Kaz froze in surprise and the girl jolted, whirling to face him. "She's just here for him." He pressed, stepping cautiously over to you both, and you briskly knocked the shorter girl off of you.

"What the Saints is going on, Brekker?" You demanded as you leapt to your feet, rolling another throwing blade over your fingers just in case the Suli girl wanted to straddle you again. You weren’t sure you’d be entirely opposed.

"She's—"

"Oh my god. This is—" your head whipped around and you glared daggers at the girl, the dots connecting faster and faster. "sweet Saints, I'm going to murder you."

"Try me—"

"No one is killing anyone." Kaz spat, stepping forward between you two. You thought he looked a bit worse for wear, his eyes gathering shadows underneath them like greedy wraiths. "You two are the best spies I have—" you snorted, "—and I'd like to keep you both in one piece."

"Not an hour ago you wanted me gone. Now I'm the best spy you—"

"You're Sankta Riipka." The girl interrupted, Inej, apparently, and you shot her an annoyed glance. "How can you allow yourself to be called that? You're not a Saint."

"Do you think I asked for that title, ma'am?"

"What is going on?" A voice huffed and Inej and you both whirled, irritated glares on your faces.

"Can you shut up—" you started, at the same time Inej began with, "You sold children to brothels—"

"He's the Conductor, Inej." Kaz seemed unusually ruffled and you ignored him, casting a surprised look in Inej's direction.

"He sold children to brothels?"

"He sold people to the White Rose."

"I liberate families fleeing the war—!"

"Inej, (Y/N), stop." Kaz strode further and smacked the tip of his cane onto the Conductor's chest, a sneer on his handsome face. "This man is our way to Alina Starkov. Inej, Heleen was using you to sabotage our mission. (Y/N), I'm assuming Vivi was doing the same. But this man is worth more to us alive—and you both are worth more alive than at each other's throats."

"You'd choose him over my freedom?" Inej demanded, and your heart-rate sped at the implication.

"You assume it's one or the other." Kaz said, severe gaze on hers, and you felt a sliver of something green and cold run down your spine.

"Party's over." You snapped and slipped past them both, yanking the conductor to his feet. "Sir, I've got a job for you. Get me across the Fold."

"You'll go with us." Kaz said, eyeing you, and you wanted to say no.

     You should've said no—all he'd been doing the past several hours had been him begging you to leave. Now, he wanted you to stay. But if this meant you’d get across the Fold on his coin, searching for Alina Starkov—whoever she was—then you were just that much closer to buying your own freedom.

Freedom Inej was clearly being promised over your own.

"Fine." You mumbled, eyeing the Conductor with a feral grin. "Let's cross."

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