#what if my flashlight fell on the floor bulb side down and then i saw how close you were to me when i picked it back up.

[pinkcocoapowder]

"If I kissed you it was because your gayness forced me to your mouth like a magnet!" "man shut the hell up you gay as hell plus lying i bet"

turnabout for human rights fanart again. im debating posting more of my bullshit since um. there is a large amount sitting in my files.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Northern Exposure | Something in the Air

❄ Part 1 of the mini-series ❄

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); violence, creepiness on part of our boys, predatory behaviour, Bucky’s an asshole, they’re all too lonely and too desperate, mistaken identity.

This is dark! fic and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairings: Sam Wilson x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, A Bad Time x Reader

Series Synopsis: You’re a nature photographer stationed up north but the arctic isolation comes to an unexpected and unpleasant end.

Note: I started this ages ago and finally got the energy to finish, it’s four parts and provided my life doesn’t continue to fuck around I should have em all up in the next days. Also as always, cracking away at all the other fics I’ve hooked you into.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The days were short and the nights long. So far north, time seemed not to exist as you chased the fleeting sun with your lens. Your existence was only demarcated by the fortnightly delivery of supplies left at your door as you were often out pursuing an elusive snow fox or wakeful owl. The world seemed small up here and you felt like the only person left alive.

Perched up on a branch precariously, you teetered as you focused your camera at its end. It was the perfect composition, snow blurred in the background as you focus on the scratching along the bark, the remnants of some owl or smaller critter. An abstract in your series, certainly, but interesting nonetheless. Besides, your editor would be happy enough with the close up you’d captured of a reindeer, its antlers the focal point of the shot.

Content, you climbed down, barely keeping yourself from slipping entirely down the trunk to a crash landing. Back on the ground, your boots sank into the snow, halfway up your calf, and you capped the lens of your camera. You tucked it under your parka and glanced around at the sparse grey trees.

Your eyes flew up as you heard a snap in branches not far from those you stood beneath. You held your breath and listened. It might be another opportunity. The early flight of an owl. You followed the sound, your steps muffled by the snowy carpet below. But that natural silence of the arctic returned and you ended up searching for air. Not a noise.

You sighed and turned back to look at the horizon. It was growing dark and you were best to return to your little cabin before long. It would be a moonless night and without the silver guardian above, it would make a nocturnal trek even harder. As you took a step, it seemed to echo and you stopped again. Your ears perked up and you shifted your hat to hear a bit better. 

There was nothing. You frowned and turned. Only the snow and the trees against the greying sky. You shrugged off your unusual paranoia and carried on. You took the treacherous path back to your remote habitat. It was just you and your cameras; you and the north. An assignment you’d loathed at first but come to cherish. Isolation had a keen way of introducing one’s self to them.

You stepped up onto the small porch, the aluminum roofing and the tarnished and dented siding made it seem like little more than a lost shed. There was a single room inside, a small bed with a woven blanket, a wooden counter with an old basin and a stove top run on gas. The out house was further back, hard to find in a storm, but as long as you counted your steps, you rarely got lost.

You pushed through and turned the wooden latch that held the door shut. You untied your boots on the salt-stained rubber mat and left them there as you hung your damp, cold parka and shed your thick snow pants. You took off your hat and gloves and left them on the small shelf beneath the hook.

You took out a can of chili and dumped it in the small scratched pan. You lit the burner and sat on the single chair built of logs as you waited for it to warm. The wind swept up outside the shuttered windows and you shivered. You went to the small woodstove and twisted the iron handle of the door. You carefully built a fire as the smell of your dinner filled the cabin.

You left the door of the stove open to heat up the place and turned off the burner. You moved the pot onto the counter and took a bowl from the cupboard. A distant clatter sounded from outside. You frowned and kept yourself from grabbing the pot. You sighed as the noise repeated.

Several times before the wind had torn open the outhouse door and slammed it back and forth throughout the night. One time, it had been a curious bear. You hoped for the former as you shoved your feet into your boots and haphazardly pulled on your jacket. In and out. You’d secure the door and be back for your dinner before it got cold.

Outside, the sky had almost darkened entirely. You clicked on the flashlight you kept by the door and shut it behind you. You stomped down into the snow and squinted at the circle of light as you rounded the edge of the house. You neared the outhouse and sighed as you found it locked up tight. It couldn’t have been your imagination; you’d heard something.

You huffed and turned back. You swept the flashlight back and forth as you searched for a creature sneaking around or whatever item the wind had tried to carry away. There was nothing. You followed your footprints back to the house and climbed up the steps. 

The door was open and you noticed the much larger puddled footprint on the porch too late. The fire had been snuffed and the single lantern was dead. Your wrist was grabbed as you tried to angle the flashlight around the room and you were drawn inside and pinned against the door. 

A cold barrel pressed to your chin and your eyes widened. Your arm was twisted up until the flashlight blinded you and lit the unfamiliar face before you. You blinked and shook your head helplessly.

“Quite the hiding spot,” The deep voice added to the icy nip of the air.

“What--”

“Don’t try to act dumb. It might’ve worked with Wilson but not me.” He snarled and you released the flashlight as you tried to wriggle free. “Stop!”

The light fell to the floor and bounced as he wrenched your arm up and pushed the gun harder under your chin.

“I have orders to take you alive… if I can,” he sneered, “doesn’t mean I will.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you grunted as he had you on tip toes against the wall, the flash light rolled on the floor and sent shadows around the room, “I’m not… I’m not whoever you think I am.”

“Save it, Ursa,” he hissed and pulled you away from the wall, gun still taut to your skin, “0r should I say Astur.”

“No, no, it’s not me,” you pleaded, confused as he turned you away from him and angled you towards the bed, the muzzle now pressed to the back of your head. “I’m just a photographer. You’ll see. Look through my stuff. It’s just cameras and photos. It’s--”

“Shut up,” he pushed on the back of your knees with his, “on your stomach.”

You got down, barely able to see and unwilling to resist with a bullet waiting behind you. He pushed you into the mattress until you were still. He pulled back the gun and planted his knee on your back as he held you down. He holstered his firearm then pulled your arm back behind you and then the other. He used a zip tie to secure your hands there before he did the same to your ankles.

He carefully stepped back and you turned your head to watch his shadow. He didn’t bother with the flashlight as he closed the door. Then he turned and kicked the light so it cracked and the bulb died. He sat in the chair, it groaned dangerously under him.

You could see little of him as all light was gone but for the sudden glow of a screen before him. You only saw the glint of his blue eyes before he put it against his cheek. You turned onto your side and he growled.

“Don’t even think of moving,” he warned. “Hey,” he spoke into the speaker. “I just sent the coordinates. Target secured.” He listened, “by morning?”

He pulled the phone away and dimmed the screen. You could only hear the wind as he sat there and you sensed his unwavering gaze in the dark. With your jacket undone and your boots untied, you felt the draft that blew through the cabin walls. You shivered and he let out a thick breath. A snarl almost.

“I really don’t know what’s going on,” you said.

“Shut up,” he snapped.

“I mean it. You have to look. Look around, you’ll see,” you pleaded.

He snorted and didn’t move. You rolled your eyes helplessly and another chill ran through you.

“Please--”

“I already looked. When you were out climbing trees,” he intoned. “I saw the photos. Very thorough reconnaissance.”

“What? Pictures of birds and snowflakes?” You uttered. 

“You’re good. That whole innocent ploy is convincing,” you heard his boot drag over the wooden floor, “almost.”

You deflated, your wrists chafed and your teeth chattered.

“You gonna wait all night… for whoever that was?”

“I’m tired of telling you to shut up.”

“You leave me like this, I’ll freeze to death. You too.”

“I won’t,” he said, “you might.”

“You said you had orders.”

“Circumstantial,” he countered.

You exhaled deeply and bent your legs as you tried to curl into yourself. He tutted and stood, the floor creaked. The stove door whined and you heard the iron poker against the kindling. He mumbled as he relit the fire and stirred it until the biggest log caught. He rose and set aside the poker and resumed his seat. 

The fire’s amber haze limned his figure in the dark. His broad shoulders were wider than the back of the chair, his long hair poked out from beneath a wool cap, and his hand formed a tight fist on the arm. He leaned his head back and sniffed.

“There,” he said sharply, “nice and cozy.”

You wiggled on the bed, trying to get comfortable. You pulled on your wrists and ankles and only caused your hands and feet to throb. You grunted and relented, resigning yourself to lay listless atop the thin mattress.

“You’re wasting your time--”

“I’m about to shove your sock in your mouth so I suggest you shut the fuck up,” he barked.

You gulped and closed your eyes in surrender. Well, maybe his friends would realise his mistake. Or maybe they’d just add to your predicament.

❄

You didn’t really sleep, you languished. The man didn’t either. You could tell. He just watched. Frighteningly patient as the night critters made a ruckus outside. He barely even moved as you fidgeted, your shoulders sore and your legs cramping. 

Then there was a sudden change that even you felt. A heavy pair of boots climbed up onto the porch and the handle jiggled, the door stopped by the wooden latch. The man rose and crossed to the door. You heard the subtle brush of fabric and metal as he pulled out his gun. He pulled open the door slowly, at the ready, the slightly lesser dark seeping in.

“Sooner than I thought,” the man greeted his comrade. Your heart froze as another set of footfalls followed. A third man entered behind the second.

“Jesus, why are you sitting here in the dark?” The third man asked, “there a light or something?”

“She’s on the bed.” The first man grumbled. “Only a rifle hidden under there. I already disarmed it.”

The sudden electric glow of the lantern bloomed to life. Your eyes slowly adjusted as you stared at the three men. There were all big, all broad-shouldered, all stood like soldiers as they communed around the only chair. The third, the one who’d clicked the lantern on, neared you.

“She’s putting on a front, but--” the first man began and the third one raised his hand to silence him as he knelt by the bed.

He had a kind face, his brown eyes were warm, and the finely trimmed goatee lent him a sense of lightheartedness. His expression however was hard and turned to confusion then disappointment as he held the lantern close and grabbed your chin, turning your head back and forth.

“Not her,” he released you and stood, “fucking Christ, Bucky. It’s not fucking her.”

The second man snorted, “really?”

“It’s gotta be--” the first insisted, “the gun--”

“For hunting,” you said dully, “not that I do much of that. I use it to scare away the wolves.”

“Shut up.” He snarled and crossed his arms as he turned his back to you, “you’re sure?”

“I wouldn’t forget the woman who nearly slit my throat. Twice.” The other said, “and really? A single rifle? You think that’s all she’d have?”

“She has photos too. The bunker, due north. She’s got dozens.” The first insisted.

“Bunker?” You whispered.

“I’m not going to tell you to shut it again,” the man turned as he raised a hand and the blond, the one who hadn’t said much at all, caught his wrist.

“Hey,” the other man warned, “she’s innocent. She probably has no idea what she was taking pictures of.”

“Yeah, but now she knows our faces. No doubt recognizes you, pretty boy,”tThe third offered, “and idiot here assaulted her and tied her up.”

“All the way up here? Who’s she gonna tell?” The blonde returned.

“She has a radio,” The first, Bucky offered. “It’d be enough to give us away.”

“They’d believe her? If she’s been up here long, they might not.” The blonde glanced over the others shoulder, “you apologize and we can--”

“You really wanna leave another loose end?” Bucky challenged as he blocked his gaze. 

“You should’ve confirmed before you jumped,” the third huffed.

“If we’re not gonna leave her, what do we do?” The blonde asked.

They all went silent. They looked at each other and then you. Bucky raised his gun, still in hand, and the blond caught him again. He shook his head and tisked.

“Are you crazy?” He pushed his hand down, “We’re not killing her. She didn’t do anything.”

“I agree, she shouldn't die because you’re stupid,” the other chuckled.

“Well, Einstein,” Bucky snipped, “what do you suggest?”

The third man’s brows raised slowly and he tilted his head. He glanced at you again then back to his comrades. He shrugged and a grin spread across his face.

“The bunker. It’s empty. Safe.” He said quietly, “How much of a fight did she put up?”

“Enough of one,” Bucky muttered.

“She’s… not bad. She’s all alone up here. Even if someone noticed she went radio silent, it’d have to take a while,” he explained.

“What are you saying?” The blonde frowned.

“If she has the photos, if she knows where the bunker is and this moron’s blurted out some intel, I just know it,” he continued, “we can’t let her go. He’s at least right about that. So… we don’t wanna kill her, we keep her.”

“Keep her? For what?” Bucky scoffed.

The man was silent and winked at them. The blonde peeked over at you and Bucky dropped his head as he gripped his hip. 

“Come on, you guys,” he threw up his hand as the blonde shifted on his feet. “It’s fucking cold up here and it’s been awful lonely everywhere else. We’re running around with no finish line in sight and… well, I’m about to stab one of you and I’ve seen the way you,” he pointed at Bucky, “look at me. I don’t trust that.”

“You can’t mean--” the blonde muttered.

“She’s better off dead,” Bucky insisted.

“Just because you’re a monk, doesn’t mean the rest of us need to be.”

“Hmm,” the blonde tapped his toe.

“You’re not really considering this?” Bucky sneered.

“Well… why not?” He rasped, “She’s… alone and… not too bad on the eyes.”

“And I have ears!” You sat up awkwardly, “You want me to keep my mouth shut. Done. I’m up here trying to catch a few birds on a roll. I’m not here to get mixed up in whatever it is you three--” You blinked as the lantern shone in the blond’s face as the three men turned to you, “shit.”

Captain America’s eyes sparked with recognition as your head did the same. He knew you knew who he was; likely he saw that look every other day. There was no hiding it.

“I told you,” the third man chided, “that mug is hard to forget.”

“No, no, I don’t-- I won’t tell a soul. I swear. Please just whatever you’re thinking, don’t. I’m some dumb photographer they sent up here to document the snow. You really think anyone cares that much--”

“Not so much about you but those photos are pretty interesting,” Bucky neared and shoved you down and you barely kept from hitting your head on the wall, “don’t tell me you didn’t know what you were doing.”

“People go missing up here all the time. That’s why no one’s here,” the brown-eyed man said, “she’ll just be another and we’ll have a nice companion to keep us from killing each other.”

“No,” Bucky turned, “it’s my mistake. I’ll take care of it.”

“Put the gun away, Buck,” Steve Rogers ordered, “it’s not right. We can’t kill her. Even if she isn’t entirely innocent, even if you’re right about those photos. She’s better to us alive.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going along with this--”

“I’m the captain,” Steve insisted. “I’ve made up my mind and I’m giving you an order. Sam’s right. She’s more use alive. If she has information, we’ll get it out of her. And if she doesn’t well, we can find something else to do with her.”

Bucky swore and pushed his gun into his holster. He stepped away from you and shouldered past the one called Sam.

“Yes, captain,” he said dryly. 

“Sergeant,” Steve retorted and nodded to Sam, “get her up. We should leave before the sun rises.”

[smallrainclouds]

Made To Break

Yandere!Hypnos x reader (gender neutral)

Word count: 5k

Warning: Yandere bevaiour, dubcon/noncon, sex in later parts

No beta. Read at your own risk.

A/N: part one of two. Enjoy.

Your father was a fool.

But perhaps You were just as foolish.

💮

When the letter arrived, you couldn't believe that the same man wrote it.

Your father always wrote in neat, tight letters but the letters You got were loopy, large letters that fused together at odd parts.

You sat in your car outside your childhood home. The front yard was nothing but overgrown grass now. You could see the lack of care the home had gotten over the years in the cracks and chipped off paint. The overcast skies and trees with just a few leaves holding on only added to the depressing picture.

You bit your lip as you pulled out your father's letter from your bag.

With shaky hands, you unfolded it again for what must have been hundreds of times.

'My dearest child.

I gave it all up. I have found a way to eternity. But it cost me everything.

Forgive me.

I just wanted to see your mother again.

Father.'

"Madness. Simply mad." You murmured. You could feel the tears welled up in your eyes, you knew your father loved your mom. Her loss had slowly eaten him alive since you were a child.

Now he was just a body in a hospital room. It was unlike any coma the doctors had seen before.

The doctor, an older woman with short gray hair and sharp blue eyes, had felt more like a grandmother than a doctor.

But even with her kind face couldn't soften the blow that your father will likely never wake up again.

You sniffed as you used your hoodie sleeve to rub at your eyes.

"Okay. Okay. You got this. This was your home too." You tried to smooth yourself with little success. With a deep breath for courage, you made your way to the house.

When you got inside the dark house, you stubbed your foot on the piles of books by the door and they promptly fell over into a heap.

"Urg, fuc-owww. Okay, Y/N great start.Just amazing." You pulled out your phone. You could make the numerous texts from your partner-no, now your ex but you just bypass those for the flashlight.

You shone the light around, there was nothing but a big mess. Books and papers had overtaken the house and you can smell the old fast food bags that piled into the corner.

You could see on one wall, writing in wasn't in English and strange markings. A single gold and red eye stared back.

"Fuck."

💮

Hours later, you had made headway in the madness that was now your childhood home.

At least your room had been mostly spared. Only some odd books here and there. And the many, many dried poppies on your floor.

You tossed the broom on the floor as you flop down along with it. You didn't realize how bad it had gotten. You only got your room back to normal, let alone the rest of the house.

Guilt swelled in your chest, you should have been more aware. You knew your dad wasn't the most stable person which isn't good but this was something else.

But…

But...

You had been busy dealing with your 'friends' group, the breakup and the last of your exams.

You covered your face, you already cried three times today and you weren't not about to start again.

Your phone buzzed, and you couldn't stop the laugh. Speak of the devil.

You rolled over to your side and pulled your phone close to you.

You swipe away the message, you were not dealing with any of your former friends right now. Your cheating jerk of an ex could keep them all. You had far more important matters to attend to now.

You opened up the gallery app, you took many photos as you could with the last of the daylight left.

You zoomed in on the writing, you had thought it was nonsense at first but after a few more looks,you could see the repeated words. You just didn't know the language.

There was something deeply wrong in this house. You could swear you could feel something was in there with you. But if friend or foe you weren't sure. You tried not to think about how your only protection was your childhood baseball bat.

But what did your dad do? You normally are able to pick apart what your dad was doing but this was something else unknown. You kept checking the pictures with the creepy red and gold eye in hope of finding something.

Slowly you could feel tiredness sinking in your bones, and before you knew it, your eyes drifted shut.

💮

A warm hand cupped your cheek, and you pressed into it with a sigh. You couldn't remember the last time you were touched so tenderly. You think for a moment it was your ex but they never did that before.

The hand left but then you were lifted up against a warm chest. You heard murmurs as sleep pulled you under again.

💮

Rushing water reached your ears and for a moment, you thought you could hear the sounds of birds.

It took you a moment to notice that you weren't in normal clothes but a tunic that went over one shoulder. You saw a brooch with two wings in its place. You should be more worried but you felt too tired to care.

You turned your head with a yawn. Whose lap were You using as a pillow? Before you could look, a hand covered your eyes.

"Not yet, You still need more time." A man's voice... but You didn't recognize it. You made a questioning sound but he hushed you gently.

"Blood and darkness, you are just as beautiful as I remember."

You reached up and stroked his hand, trying to understand what was going on.

"I don't remember… you." You slurred quietly.

"I know. It's not your fault. All it matters is that I found you again."

His thumb rubbed your cheek, "Now go back to sleep. I will be there soon."

You sighed as you sunk back into sleep.

💮

You stared at your bedroom wall, not able to breathe. There was someone else here and they apparently tucked you in bed, blanket pulled up to your chin and all.

You took a breath and tried to listen to any sounds. You waited, surely you would hear footsteps or something.

But there were no sounds, none at all.

It took all of your nerves to get out of bed. You grabbed your childhood baseball bat, it was small but you could still get a good hit in.

You remembered you left your phone on the ground and turned to look for it. It wasn't there, not on your nightstand or desk.

'Great, some creep definitely got my phone.' you tighten your hold on the bat, and after listening for a moment, you slowly push the door opened.

Without saying a word, you slowly walked out though the house. You were sure you would find out who invited themselves in.

The mess was still the same, the writing on the wall was still there. You went through the house twice and found nothing.

You heard the sound of a single bird singing in the backyard. You followed the sounds, it almost felt like it was calling you.

The bat dropped from your hand and You couldn't stop the tears in your eyes.

The backyard had been overtaken by red poppies, there was almost no grass left. the singing stopped when you stepped outside. But a soft hoot had You stared up into the tree and saw a single little owl stared back at you.

It's eyes were light yellow.

💮

It was late morning now, the overcast skies have darkened and You are sure it will start snowing soon.

You had given up finding your phone. You s out of your bedroom.

"Fine, you can have it! Good luck guessing the password, you jerk!" You shouted into the backyard. There was no response but you didn't expect one. You had already tried to find the owl but it must have flown off.

You couldn't stand the smell of the old food anymore and tossed it. You found some tea that was still good and stood in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil.

You changed out your tight jeans and hoodie for a pair of much more comfortable jeans and an oversize sweater.

Thankfully, like your bedroom, the kitchen was also mostly clean. You found as many candles as you could, which wasn't many. Two kept the kitchen dimly lit.

You checked the light bulbs, nearly all of them had burned out. Just one more thing for you to fix.

You rubbed your face with a sigh, at least all the appliances were working. And you won't have to go without water either.

You flipped through your dad's notebooks in hopes of finding something. It was in the second notebook you finally found a name. It had been underlined and circled.

"Hypnos?" You murmured, "Who the hell is that?" It doesn't sound like a human name you heard of.

You made your tea, tucked the notebook under your arm. After cleaning off the big armchair and side table, You began going through the books in the living room. Nearly all of them were about ancient Greece, which you knew nothing about.

Your eyes went to the wall writings, that would explain why you didn't know any of the words.

Did your dad believe this stuff? You looked down at the open notebook in your lap. You skim some of the pages, the only name that came up was Hypnos.

"The god of sleep, huh?" You looked at the stacks of books. Why would your dad care about some god of sleep?

You keep looking though, and found a basic guide to Greek mythology. You flipped through the pages, "Come on Hypnos babe, where are you…"

You grinned when you saw the name in bold print. You skim past most of the information, but one part caught your eyes.

Despite being considered as a gentle and kind god, he has been known to strike others down. In the death of his lover by a human warrior (whose name had been lost to time) he had caused the world to go into a permanent state of sleep, never to waken again.

Only his mother Nyx, goddess of night, was able to talk him down or fight him depending on the storyteller and restore the world. In oral storytelling that has been recorded, it is said that he still uses dreams in hope of finding his lost love.

"Oh dad. No wonder." Your heart twisted, sad that your dad's last days have been spent on some myth. He must have been so far gone to think any of it was real.

But was he wrong? You stared out the window, knowing there was somehow a field of poppies waiting.

Your gut flipped, and told yourself it was just one of those freakish nature things.

💮

You didn't quite realize when you fell asleep. You sighed when you felt a hand touch your forehead followed by a kiss.

You tried to wake up, but the voice murmured something and you just hummed. Your eyelids are too heavy to open anyway.

When the arms scooped you again, you just sighed and curled against the chest.

💮

You felt soft grass tickle your face. You pushed yourself up quickly. You were in the tunic again and you could see a sea of poppies and other flowers surrounding you.

A thick fog of sleepiness tried to pull you back but you ignored it. Not again, damnit.

You stood up, your legs felt so wobbly like a baby deer. Dispise your best attempt, You fell on your knees, the call to sleep overpowering.

You gasped when a hand covered your eyes. You grabbed his wrist, "No, I don't want to go back to sleep." You could feel the fog of sleep growing stronger. You kicked at his legs but got nothing but air.

"I'm sorry, but not yet." His voice came next to your ear, you could feel his breath on your skin. You tried to move away but you fell against him. Your head lolled upward against a shoulder.

An arm wrapped around your waist and held you firm.

"Soon, I promise. I just have to handle a few more things. I will be here when you wake up." A kiss was pressed against your temple.

You wanted demand for answers but you were already falling back into the darkness.

💮

"Not again." You moaned. You sat up, the blanket pooled in your lap. What in the world was going on?

You were back in the oversize sweater and jeans. You press your fingers against your temple. Those kisses felt so real.

Are you going mad too? Just like your dad? You gulped, feeling so very alone.

An hour later and some crying, You somehow found the willpower to make it out of bed. Snow was falling down now and a healthy inch was already on the ground.

You made it to the living room when you saw him by the window, snow falling down against the glass. His sheer size made the living room seem smaller. He was reading one of your dad's notebooks in one hand, a quill floated around next to him.

Some part of you, deep inside of you knew were looking at Hypnos, God of sleep.

"It's you." Your voice cracked. His shoulders tensed up as he turned. Bright, yellow eyes stared at you. "Oh you were the owl too weren't you?" You said numbly.

He nodded slowly, "You've been crying again." He said concerned, his eyes scanned you up and down. He tossed the notebook to the side as he took a step toward you.

Unable to tear your eyes away, you grabbed for the first thing you could reach, a thick and heavy book. And with all of your strength, you launched it at his head.

"Blood and darkness!" He ducked to the side. You reached for another and hurled it.

"It's you!" You snarled, feeling like a rabid animal. "You did this! What did you do to my dad?! To my fucking phone?!"

The bastard ducked again. "Hey, I didn't do anything he didn't ask for!" He held up his palms, stretched out to show he wasn't a threat.

"I won't hurt you. I would never lay a finger on you, Y/N." His voice was soft, kind like he was dealing with some animal.

You stared for a moment, rage overtaking any sense you had. "You've been the asshole putting me to bed every night." You grabbed another book and hurled it. "How dare you!"

And of course, he sidestepped the book. Which just made you angier.

"I don't care if you're a god. Make my dad go back to normal. Or I will find a way to hurt you somehow!"

"He didn't tell you anything did he?" The god asked, a wry smile on his face. You picked up another book, and he just sighed. "Have you tried aiming? Sounds crazy, I know but maybe you could actually hit me this time?"

"You don't get to be disparaging, not with all the trouble you made for me." You gestured with the book as if it would help make your point.

You stood behind the armchair, using it as a shield. You knew you wouldn't win in a physical fight but you weren't going to make it easy for him.

Hypnos sighed, "No, no you're right. I'm sorry." He ran a hand through his curls, a soft smile on his face.

"I'm happy though, you are still as courageous as you always have been. I wasn't sure what I would find after all this time."

"What are you talking about? I have never seen you before. I think I would remember meeting an ancient god." You snarled, not enjoying whatever game the god was playing with you.

"Most people don't try to fight a god with books, my love. Not even other gods." Hypnos smiled.

"If I had something stronger, I would beat you with that. Be happy that I don't have my bat on me. You still didn't answer anything."

You pointed at the wall with writings. "I want answers and I want them now. You said we met before, when?"

Hypnos was silent, his eyes tracing the words on the wall. He stepped closer to the center of the wall, his fingers traced the words. "So that's where he messed up. I told him to check with me before doing anything." He murmured to himself.

After a moment, he looked at you.

"In your past life, you were going to be my consort. I've been looking for you for a very long time.."

You stared, quiet in your disbelief. He waved a hand toward the wall, "Problem is that the spell got messed up. I think your father was rushing and couldn't finish the spell the proper way. That's why you don't remember anything."

You shook your head, laughing "No, none of this makes sense."

"Y/N, stop hiding behind that ugly chair, and we can talk more about what happened." Hypnos' voice tried to sound calming, but you heard an undercurrent of eagerness. Of hunger to it.

You shook your head, "No, and don't take another step toward me. I can see what you're doing. That lighting thing your fingers are doing, Hypnos." You tighten your grip on the book, cursing yourself for leaving your bat up your bedroom. Not that it would be much better.

Hypnos' fingers abruptly stopped the magic spell. His smile faded and his eyes stayed on you, waiting for your next move.

You eyed him, you haven't been able to land a single hit on him but you didn't see any signs of super speed yet.

You might be able to get out of the house and into the car before he could get you. But what if he just could teleport or something you haven't thought of?

It was a risk you would have to take because since you saw him, he watched you like you were some prey for him and you didn't want to stick around to find out what Hypnos had planned.

The living room front way will be no good but the backdoor was in the kitchen, if you could make that, it would be a longer run but you would have far more chances for escape…

You dropped everything and took off like a shot into the kitchen. You almost sailed into the sink but used the motion for more speed.

You heard Hypnos yelled your name followed by something you were sure was a swear word in Greek.

The yard, full of poppies and snow greeted you, you hissed as your socks got soaked from the snow.

You almost made it to the gate, and past that, you could see your car.

Freedom.

You didn't see the root sticking out of the ground, but you saw it on the way down.

The breath knocked out of you when you slammed into the cold ground and mere seconds afterwards, you felt hands on your shoulders followed by a pressure against your back. Hypnos leaned down, his lips against your ear, and he spoke in must have been Greek.

"No. Nonono." You gasped, fighting for breath but he just shushed you. His fingers brushed against your cheeks almost lovingly.

Your eyelids slided shut.

💮

When you woke up, your fingers were curled against an unfamiliar red blanket. You sighed as your eyes drifted shut, you couldn't remember the last time you felt so….warm and safe.

You heard the sounds of paper moving around and your eyes fluttered open.

Hypnos must have cleared off the sofa and placed you there. You could see the written wall behind him, post-it notes dotted between the words and some of them were covered with lined paper, new words on it.

Hypnos was sitting on the ground, notebooks and paper surrounded him. A quill tip between his teeth, his golden eyes almost glowed in the dim lighting.

It took a moment of staring but you noticed Hypnos's cloak was gone. Your fingers tighten when you realize you were under his cloak. You took a moment to look at him as he kept reading the notebook

While he wasn't the broadest person you've ever seen, there was a solidness to him. You could see the lean muscles in his arms and shoulders. The gold bands he wore only highlighted the muscles.

You tore your eyes away. 'Jerk.' you thought even as your cheeks warmed.

"I don't like you very much." You spoke, voice rough with sleep.

Hypnos looked up to you, not saying anything. He took out the quill and twilled it between his fingers.

You rolled your eyes at him, unmoving your spot under his cloak. He stared, looking thoughtful for a second before he leaned toward you with a wide smile on his lips, "If you don't like me then you should return my cloak."

"No, it's mine now." The words slipped out your mouth before you knew it.

You blinked at his laugh. You thought he would be upset.

Hypnos chuckled fondly, "Word for word."

At your questioning look, he continued.

"You don't remember yet but the first time we met, you were trying to find medicine for humans. I think you were upset at me because you got lost in my cave. I brought you back home and I gave you my cloak so you could get warm."

You sat up against the arm rest, holding on to the cloak. Not ready to give up the feeling of safety yet. You bit your lip, not quite sure what to say.

His eyes glazed over, the quill still spinning between his fingers. His voice turned quiet. "You were so beautiful, so strong, so determined. You fought for humanity, not that they even remember, those worthless animals, the whole lot."

He seemed lost in a memory so you just waited it out, letting him talk.

"You hated the fact I took half of their lives away from them. And that I often took more."

His eyes meet yours, and his whole face softens. You flushed at the realization that you could make him do that, to have that much power over another being let alone a god.

"I couldn't give up the half, it was mine by birthright but I was slower afterward, let them have more time to themselves. And I never took more than half. The only reason I got called a kind god was because of you."

You stood up, still holding on the cloak and walked over to him. His eyes never left you, and you had to tell yourself to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

You kneeled next to him and after a second, you reached out to touch his shoulder. You were surprised at how warm he was, how human-like he felt. Maybe you were wrong about him.

"Hypnos. I-I I'm sorry you lost them. I can hear how much you love them, especially after all this time. But I am not whoever you think I-"

"How much I love you." Hypnos interrupted, his hand covered your own. "I never stopped looking for you. I just need more time to fix this." He waved a hand to the wall.

You shook your head, "I am not then though. You are just like my dad, always looking for a person who isn't there."

"No, your father was. The woman who birthed you died and is in the underworld now. You, however, are here in front of me." Hypnos leaned closer, he tightened his hold but it wasn't painful, it was almost comforting. "You are them, your eyes, your lips, your nose even the way you move and talk. You are them, given life again."

"How?!" You said despairing,surely even he could see what nonsense he was saying? "How could a god become reborn as a human? Or even go back to being a god?"

"There are ways. There is always a way." Hypnos replied darkly. He took your other hand and held them between his own warm hands. "You haven't even let me talk to you, to tell you what happened."

"I don't want to." You whispered, "I don't need to know what happened. I just want to know what it will take for you to understand that I am not them."

Hypnos didn't say anything for a few minutes and the silence grew heavy.

"Did he summon you?" You asked, trying not to feel guilty, looking at the swirls of words on the wall, in the middle of the circle was a single red and gold eye staring back.

Hypnos stared at the wall along with you, "He really didn't tell you anything did he?"

You dug out the letter from your front pocket. "This was the last thing he wrote to me. This isn't his normal writing."

Hypnos read the letter, his eyebrows rose and reread it again. "Blood and darkness, what a damn fool."

"Hey, that's my dad you know." You murmured, "Also you guys are both doing the same thing, you with me, and he with my mom."

"No, not nearly the same thing." Hypnos scoffed. You rolled your eyes at his words. You moved on, tired of this fight for now.

"Where did dad get this information anyway?" You asked.

Hypnos sighed as he rubbed his forehead. "From me. I loaned out the books I have for this kind of stuff. He told me that he could handle the translation since it had to be a two person spell, think of it as a bridge, your dad could visit your mom every time he dreamt. But I had to be on the other side to help build it."

"You trusted him? I mean you seem like you don't like humans."

"I didn't. This whole mess just proved my point. But…" Hypnos shrugged, "I knew you wouldn't let me just take you without making sure your dad wasn't alone. I wanted you to want to come back to me, especially after everything I've done."

You brushed your fingers along the cloak, "Are you talking about when you put the whole world to sleep?"

"And most of the gods." Hypnos added. "I still don't remember much of what I did. My mother or brother still hasn't spoken to me since then."

Hypnos looked so worn down, his brow furrowed and you wanted to smooth the stress away from him but you held back. You already let him touch you even if it made you want to run. Toward him or away from him you couldn't say.

"I've been so blinded by the thought of having you in my arms again, I didn't foresee him going rogue on me." He murmured quietly.

Hypnos fixed his gaze on you, but you looked away, cursing the flush on your cheeks.

"I took care of the stuff he wouldn't have been able to do. With the underworld and stuff. But he fucked up, he changed the spell without telling me. And he did it badly. He tried to bring her from the underworld and you can't do that, and now he has to deal with the punishment."

"Well, can't you just erase it? Or do a new spell? I mean, you are a god right? Do you even need this stuff?"

Hypnos slid his fingers under your chin, making you look at him. "Listen to me." His serious tone kept you from pulling away. "No one can't take the dead from the underworld. Not me, not Hades or even my mother. It's the cost of life. Right now, he is being punished for his pride and when he does die, there is a good chance he won't be able to find your mother."

You swallow, your heart breaking, "Is there nothing you can do?"

"I don't know." Hypnos said. "I was already putting my neck on the line just to let them have a link."

"What if I agree to go with you, to see if I am the one you are looking for? I will do whatever you need me to." You asked.

Hypnos didn't respond, his eyes glazed.

"Hypnos, please." You begged, "I can't just let him die like this-"

He spoke finally, "I will talk to Persephone. I can't promise anything. I'm still banned from the house after the 'Great Sleep'."

"Thank you! Thank you, Hypnos." You felt dizzy with relief and hugged him. You squeezed him, and buried your face in his neck. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet." Hypnos chuckled, his hands on your back,"You might not like what you'll get."

[hailhydra920]

The House With A Murderer In Its Walls Pt. 7

Chapter 7: Fear Rising

Summary: The fear is getting turned up!

Warnings: Scary themes, death

Tags: @dee-vn

"Steve, calm down. Do you have any idea where you are?"

"Does it matter? We have no way to tell where each other is even if we did know."

"Tony and I found a map. We're in a maze. Just tell us where you might be."

"I'm in a room, it has lights, uh, there are three doors. I don't know which one to take. I don't really know where I am."

Sam cursed on the other side of the walkie. "I can't tell where that is on the map. This thing is useless. Have you heard from Clint or Nat?"

"No. Have you?"

"No. I hope they're okay."

"You and Tony stay safe. I'll contact Nat and Clint."

"Copy that Captain."

~~~~~~~

"Clint? Nat? You there?"

"Nat is dead." Clint said with a harshness in his voice.

"Wh-what?" Steve said holding back more tears.

"N-nat is dead." Clint said, as he began to sob again.

~~~~~~~

To say you were scared would be an understatement. You were petrified with fear. He had his metal fingers over your mouth as he walked you into a dark room. You didn't know what this man would do to you, but you had a tiny sliver of hope that Steve would still be coming.

The man uncovered your mouth and grabbed a string. He tugged on it, causing a light bulb to spring to life. He chuckled at your frightened state and walked back over to you. You backed up a few steps, but your back hit a wall, and your hands felt sticky. You brought them to your face and saw that it was blood. Your eyes widened.

The man laughed lowly. "Just the remains of the last girl who didn't comply."

"W-who are you?" You asked looking into his grey eyes. "What do you want with me?"

"I am James Buchanan Barnes. Also known as Bucky."

How was he still alive?

"And you, my sweet little lady, are going to be my wife." He said gingerly caressing your face.

You shivered as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"Let's have some fun, shall we?"

~~~~~~~

Steve looked at the three doors in front of him. All which could quite possibly lead him to his death. He needed to find you though. Nat was dead and he didn't want to lose anyone else. He bent down and retied his shoes. He pulled the strings as tight as he could before tying them together. He checked his pistol, making sure the magazine was full, before clicking it back in his holster.

"I'm coming Y/n. Hang in there."

Taking a few strides toward the doors, Steve eyed them all. Wiping the remaining tears from his eyes, he burst through the left door.

~~~~~~~

Clint grabbed his backpack and clicked it over his chest. He had to keep moving or else he would die. He hated to leave Nat's dead body there, but he really didn't have a choice.

"Sorry, Nat." Clint whispered as he began to walk down the dark tunnel alone.

His flashlight was small, so he couldn't see much in front of him. Drip. Drip. Drip. Clint headed toward the source of the noise. Each of his footfalls echoed throughout the tunnel. As he walked further down the tunnel, the air began to get colder. Clint shivered and went on his way.

The dripping noise got louder and he gasped at what he saw. Hanging from the ceiling were bodies. Hundreds of them. Most were covered in frost from the cold. The dripping noise was coming from the bodies. Blood slowly dripped out of multiple unfortunate souls. Clint held back more sobs. He was going to die here. He didn't want to die. He started to get colder. The chattering of teeth were soon the loudest noise in the tunnel. He had to walk cautiously across the floor, because frozen blood is quite slippery.

"Man up Clint." He shivered. "Man up."

The more he walked, he colder he got. He had pulled out his beanie, and tugged it over his head. Shoving his hands deep inside his pockets, he tried to keep warm. He could see his puffs of breath whirling through the air, and he tried his hardest not to give up and die like the others. Each step was harder than the last.

"I'm sorry guys. I'm so sorry." Clint said as he fell to the floor.

He curled into a ball, his shivering body shaking violently in the cold. Frost began to gather on his coat and he slowly felt his life draining from him.

~~~~~~~

Sam and Tony mindlessly wandered through the tunnels. They had heard about Nat, and that made them more scared than before. What is one of those creatures came after them? It was a scary notion that stayed in their minds.

"Wait! Don't step there!" Tony exclaimed.

Sam's foot hovered over the one area. "Why?"

"Just step back." Tony said as Sam obeyed. "It's pattern tiles. Step on the wrong ones and we die."

"You're worried about that?" Sam laughed. "I got this."

"Sorry, but I don't fancy the idea of my life in your hands." Tony deadpanned.

"That's alright, I'll be using my feet." Sam said as he stepped on the first tile.

Tony stood there in fear. Sam smiled at him and told him everything was going to be fine. Sam grabbed his phone out of his backpack and scrolled through his play list.

"What are you doing?!" Tony exclaimed.

"Obviously these are dance tiles. I gotta find the right song to dance to." Sam said like it was obvious.

"We have no reception down here." Tony said as Sam rolled his eyes.

"I've downloaded songs you know. Ah ha, here it is. Shake It Off."

Tony's eyes widened. "Sam! Don't! The scariness level is enough. If you dance to the horrid song, you will tip the scale of scary!"

"Oh ye of little faith. Watch and learn." Sam said as he hit play.

Stuffing his phone into his pocket, he began to dance. Sam sang along as he danced, stepping on each tile perfectly. Each tile he stepped on lit up, causing the whole room to erupt in rainbow colors. He stepped on the last tile as the song ended and he was on the other side.

"Alright Tony. Now it's your turn."

[strawberriestyles]

Part 5: Ghost Grave

(BANNER BY THE GODDESS HERSELF @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy​)

Harry X Reader (AU)

In which you try to resolve the case of a fraternity’s haunting in a single night.

Read previous parts here.

Word count: 2.6k

Author’s note: Here’s the end!! I think it’s probably the most satisfying conclusion I’ve written to date but you let me know lolol. Please enjoy!

There’s no way to tell how long you’ve been sitting here, dirt caking your hands and staining your fingernails. It could be minutes or hours. The pain in your leg is still thick and pulsing but you have yet to look past your skirt, terrified that you might find bone protruding from flesh. Instead, you sob with your eyes directed toward the concrete ceiling.

The fallen flashlight rests just beside one of your hands, beam illuminating the body which lays crumpled mere feet from you in this pit, this unmarked grave. It is only visible in your periphery.

Your thoughts have slowed, stalled, unable to venture any further back than the memory of your fall. But now your mind races to catch up, to connect the string of individual memories into something coherent. Of course you drew a solid conclusion at the very moment you first saw the skeleton in this room, but you have only now been able to process the truth of your situation.

Harry’s name leaves your lips before you’ve fully formed the idea of him. But nothing answers, only the very distant thump of music. You could almost convince yourself that the bass is all in your head.

“Harry,” you whisper again. The light beside you flickers and you can finally force yourself to lower your gaze, but still you see nothing new. “Please."

“Y/N, I didn’ know.”

The voice is so sudden and strange and close that you shift away from it. Your leg screams in protest and you let out a breathy shriek.

“Don’ move.”

You turn your head in the direction of the words, which sound garbled and thin, nothing more than a movement of air. Harry stands there beside you in the pit, his eyes unblinking and his body stock-still. But neither of these visuals is what unnerves you. It’s the transparency of him, the wispy form through which you can see the very solid skeleton—the very empty shell of what he once was.

You stare through him, see through him, and neither of you speaks for some time.

“Harry, when did you die?” Your voice is hoarse, thick, more real than anything else that surrounds you, or so it feels. Your eyes focus on the blurred outline of him and he stares back at you.

“Halloween of 1986.” He bends down as he speaks until his face is mere inches from yours. This close, you can see dirt smeared along his cheek. He looks just how you remember seeing him throughout the rest of the house, just dirtier and…less. “What year is it?”

“2019.”

There’s a sound like a shocked sigh and you can feel air pass over the edges of your face. It makes you shiver, and suddenly the cold that you’ve felt at random points throughout the night intensifies. Your arms curl around your abdomen. Your stomach is churning. This man in front of you, this ghost, is almost boyish in his confusion. And you are cold to the very center of your being.

“Why did you bring me down here? To find you?”

He shakes his head quickly. “No. I didn’ know. I thought—” He cuts himself off and shakes his head once more. “I didn’ remember any of it. Not until we got in here. Not until I saw my body—or my bones, I guess.” He scoffs. "Love, I didn’ know I was dead.”

You feel like you really could be sick. You almost wish he’d led you here purposely. This way is so much more tragic.

“What happened?”

Harry sighs. “No one was home and I was about to leave for a party. I just—I came downstairs because the power went out and then I found that space in the wall and…I fell. The same way you did."

You try to picture Harry—this man that you’ve known for only a single night but who feels so familiar already—stumbling through the dark alone, falling and suffering here where you currently sit. The fear and pain and loneliness he must have felt. “How long were you here for?”

“I died right away. Must’ve hit my head. Or broken my neck. One or the other.”

It’s a relief, somehow. You ache to touch him, to comfort him or yourself, you’re unsure.

“What even is this place?”

“I dunno. And I doubt the landlord actually knows it’s here. He would’ve said somethin’. Would’ve at least checked when I went missin’.” Harry sighs. “Y/N, ‘m sorry.”

“What?”

“I didn’ mean to drop yeh. ’S just—I was holdin’ on to yeh one second and then I couldn’ hold on to anythin’.”

“How does that even work? You’ve been touching me all night. I—“ Blood rushes to your face as you remember the time you spent in his bedroom. Well, what was once his bedroom. And the hoodie you’ve stolen from a closet that no longer belongs to him. “I could feel you touching me.”

“Could yeh?”

“Yes, I—”

Suddenly, you’re not so sure. Could it all have been in your head? Surely not. No, even when you weren’t looking, he pulled you away from the falling attic ladder and tweaked your shoulder. He broke the rungs of a ladder all on his own. He was solid beneath your fingers, if only a little slippery. It just doesn’t seem possible when he’s here in front of you in a flickering form. You reach your hand forward and it slides through him with little more than a chill. He blinks slowly.

“Can you feel that?”

“Yes,” Harry answers, shifting toward you like he’s chasing your touch.

Perhaps it wasn’t all in your head, but maybe it was a joint effort. A manifestation of your imagination and Harry’s obliviousness to his own death. After all, he only faded after he’d seen his empty body.

“Yeh need to get out of here, love. Can tell yeh’re tryin’ not to look at it, but your leg isn’t in great shape. No one’s gonna find yeh down here. And I don’ think they’ll be able to hear you either.”

He’s right, you’re sure. But the mere thought of trying to get up makes your head spin. Pain still lances needle-sharp through your leg, up from your ankle to your kneecap and back down.

“I don’t think I can.”

“Yeh have to. Now, get up.”

Harry stands again. He watches you expectantly, and despite your reluctance, you press your back into the wall of the pit. The edge from which you fell is above you but it looks incredibly far away. You close your eyes and hold your breath as you press upward. Although you put all of your weight on your good leg, you have to grit your teeth against the jolting agony of your injured limb as your heel drags across the ground. It’s close to unbearable, but you power through. When you’re upright, you tilt your head back and your heart plummets.

“I can’t reach that,” you whisper.

“You need to try,” Harry insists.

With a huff, you spin yourself around. The force of your movement twists your leg so roughly that you cry aloud. Harry is at your side, his hands extended toward you but missing the pressure that his touch should carry. His face is drawn and creased, so human, so life-like. And you reach your fingers up the wall and there are still too many feet between you and the lip of that floor.

“Are yeh okay?”

“No.” You let out a pathetic sob, lower your hands, and lean your forehead to rest against the back of one. Tears leak down your cheeks and leave your face feeling stiff and sticky. “Harry, I need you to help me.”

“How?”

“I’m not gonna be able to pull myself out of here.”

Harry shakes his head. “I can’ lift yeh. I can’ even touch yeh.”

“I know, I know. I need you to tell someone I’m down here.”

“Y/N.” Harry tilts his head like he pities you. That’s not right. He’s the dead one. You’re still alive. You still have a chance, but it depends on him. “No one else can see me.”

“What?”

“I felt like I was drawn to you when yeh got here tonight. Like—like yeh were open somehow. And I didn’ know why, but I guess we know now.”

“Please, Harry. I need you to try.”

“Love, I was just up there tryin’. The whole time yeh’ve been sittin’ here. I was upstairs and I couldn’ get a single person to acknowledge me.”

Your head spins all over again and you sink down to the ground, screaming as you jostle your bad leg. Your eyes finally catch sight of your injury and although there’s no visible bone, the limb is angled strangely. The contents of your stomach threaten to empty but you swallow against rising bile. You yell for help as an overwhelming anxiety, a helplessness overtakes you.

“I’m going to die down here with you,” you choke out between sobs. Harry only watches from above, his lips pressed tightly together, eyebrows drawn low. He waits until you’ve cried yourself out, until you’ve calmed yourself back to the silent, contemplative state you sat in while he was upstairs. Then he crouches down in front of you.

“Yeh’re not gonna die, love. We’re gonna figure somethin’ out, okay? Yeh’re gonna be fine.”

You look into his softened face, contrasted by the determined look in his eyes and the set of his jaw, and you can almost believe him. But the hopelessness of your predicament is overpowering. You let your head rest back against the wall.

“Stop it.” Harry’s hand slides up your wrist, and it shocks you like a bit of static before the sensation fades into nothing again. “I can’ touch yeh and I can’ talk to anyone else, but there’s gotta be somethin’ I can do to help. Think, love. Yeh’re smart enough for this.”

Your cheek lolls onto your shoulder. You let his determination stir your own and you begin to think back through the events of the night. All of the times you felt cold or uncomfortable, the slamming attic door. The darkness of that attic and this basement. The complete loss of power not once but twice tonight, and the flickering of the flashlight bulb when Harry reappeared here beside you.

“The electricity.”

“What?”

You stare down at the light and nod. “You need to short the power again.”

“What?”

“Harry, it’s been you all night. You’re the ghost who’s been causing the power outages. You just need to do it once more so that someone comes downstairs.”

He shakes his head regretfully. “I didn’ do any of that on purpose. It just happened. I didn’ even think it was me doin’ it, love.”

“Well, you know now, and I need you to try. Really hard. Please, Harry.”

He’s frowning, but there’s a look of desperation on his face that you’re sure mirrors your own.

“Please,” you whisper again.

Harry closes his eyes, sighing, threading his fingers together. His face screws up like he’s trying to concentrate, but it’s only a few seconds before he mumbles, “I have no clue what ‘m supposed to be doin’.”

Your head tips forward and you grunt as a muscle in your broken leg twitches.

“Okay, okay,” Harry says as your fist at your hair. He closes his eyes again and this time he stills completely, He stops breathing the air he doesn’t need and ceases the disconcerting flickering at the edges of his form. The flashlight shorts for a quick moment before blinking back to life. Then you’re immersed in darkness again. Your head spins, thoughts circling down a drain, and you hear your name in Harry’s garbled voice before you lose consciousness.

***

When you awake, you can hear voices, distant and urgent and muffled. Dead, you think. I’m dead. An entire army of earth-bound ghosts is parading around you and you’re dead.

“Y/N, you awake?”

When your eyes open, it’s dark as night. There is no flashlight, but you can feel a presence by your shoulder. And then a touch, soft, but very real.

“Harry?”

“Yeah, ’s me.”

“I’m dead.” It’s not a question. If you can feel him, you must be, and somehow the thought doesn’t make you as upset as you thought it might.

He chuckles. “After all that work? No, yeh’re not dead, love.”

“What?”

“There are paramedics here. They’re tryin’ to figure out how to get yeh outta here because your leg is broken. And the bigger guys can’ fit through the gap but the women wouldn’ be able to lift yeh out alone.”

Your mind spins and Harry’s knuckles brush at your cheek. “How are you doing that?”

“I dunno. Just want to really bad. Tha’s how I got the power out. Think it was me that made yeh pass out though, love. ‘M sorry. Was like I needed more energy and yeh just kinda…gave it to me.”

“So, someone came downstairs?”

“Yeah.” You can hear the smile in Harry’s voice. And the sound is so strong, like he was never a diminished version of himself. “And then I threw the flashlight at him.”

“You what?”

“Well, yeh weren’ conscious, and I wasn’ about to just let him turn the power on and go back upstairs. So, I flung it at the little gap and it rolled into the other room. He couldn’ fit in here, but he called the police.”

“Harry,” you begin, shifting toward him. Your leg twists and you let out a guttural scream.

“Hello?” someone shouts from the main basement. “Miss, we’re coming to get you!”

“Look, we don’ have a lot of time before they get in here and if yeh’re just talkin’ to open air, they’re gonna think yeh’ve gone mad.”

“Or that I’m in shock,” you argue.

“Yeh probably are.”

“Shut up.”

Harry’s fingers whisper along your jaw once more before his touch falls away. “Thank you,” he says.

“For what?”

“For finding my body.”

“I didn’t—”

“You did, even if you didn’t mean to, even I didn’t mean for you too.” He sighs, and it sounds exaggerated, especially when you realize that he doesn’t need the air that he's moving. “Will you tell my family?”

There’s a thick silence that falls between you, and in it, you hold your breath. “Tell them what?”

“That I didn’ just run away. That I wasn’ murdered. That I didn’ suffer. They probably have no idea what happened to me. Maybe they didn’ even have a funeral. I dunno. Maybe they’ve all died, but I feel like I would know, right?”

You swallow, though your throat’s dry. Harry lays a palm over the back of your hand.

“Please? Just let them know?”

“Of course I will, Harry.”

Then his lips are pressed to your forehead, light and feathery as cotton, and you can feel him smile against your skin. “Oh,” he mumbles, “and I think yeh’ll do just fine as a paranormal investigator, love. Think yeh picked the right major after all.”

When he pulls away, you can feel him stand up, feel him drifting, somehow. “You’re leaving,” you observe, and your voice is more desperate than you expected. “Where are you going?"

There’s shuffling in the crevice that leads to this place as first responders attempt to reach you. Metal scrapes against the concrete walls and people in the basement are still shouting at each other. But you can hear Harry’s voice over all of the din as he says, “The only place I can go. On.” And then he’s gone.

The End

[bangtan-gal]

Ruin Me (M)

H.hj

Mafia!au

Warnings: smut, angst, not really much fluff, pain kink, corruption kink, dom!hyunjin, sub!reader Mentions of death, drugs (not much), somebody gets burned by a cigar oops 

Word Count: 2.6k

Garrapata.

    The corridor was crepuscular and damp; the walls were made of a rough stone and the few light bulbs cast an orange hue and flickered in and out of existence. You leaned up against the rock, struggling to light a cigarette. You finally managed to connect the flame with the tobacco and watched as the white roll sparked to life. Puffs of smoke curled around you as you picked at your nails. 

Tocado.

Five cigarettes later, there was finally a sign of someone else. A bright white flashlight ran along the walls and you raised a hand to your eyes as it shone over you. You dropped the blunt—barely a third of it gone—and crushed it under your heel. Your brother, Baekhyun, approached you silently with two younger men following behind him. His hair, just recently dyed a sandy blonde, looked like a flame as the light bounced off it. 

His brow raised as he glanced down at the six butts that littered around your feet. He met your bored stare again and then let out a snort. You ignored him as you glanced past to the men with him. One was just barely taller than your brother, his dark brown hair parted down the side. The other was around the same height, his hair a gleaming red. 

“I didn’t know you smoked,” he commented, nose wrinkling at the smell that clung to you. 

You shrugged. “I didn’t know that you were a gang leader until a couple months ago.”

Mentiroso.

    The tall man’s eyebrow raised and his lips quirked into a smirk. He was gorgeous, even in this dim lighting. You could see the outline of a cross that hung from his ear and the sparkles of many other piercings. He wasn’t buff—more tall and lean—but the outline of a gun that hid under his shirt was enough to have you shivering. 

You and your brother didn’t share anymore words as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and guided you down tunnel. You silently counted every time your boot splashed into a puddle or when a drop of frigid water fell onto you. Baekhyun had refused to meet you outside in broad daylight. He’d given you an address, where you met a fake taxi and were driven to this nasty tunnel. You were instructed to take seven hundred medium steps into tunnel and then wait for your brother. 

His cautiousness wasn’t the old sibling you remember. Baekhyun used to be the reckless one; dragging you out at midnight, jumping off cliffs, and getting in fights with anyone that looked at him or you too long. Seeing this side of him was so odd: he was always expected to get into trouble, but this kind of trouble? This trouble where you couldn’t be stupid and had to actually stop and think? Last thing you’d expect.

Demasiado diferente. 

After he graduated from college, you never saw him again. Your father had died when you were six and he was fourteen. Your mother developed lung cancer eight years later and died just a couple months ago. You weren’t sad: you were never close with either of your parents. The most shocking thing of this whole event was your brother willingly taking you under his wing so you could go to college and get a degree. 

Your feet started to ache tremendously as you neared the end of the tunnel. It was dark outside, a complete contrast to the sunshine you’d seen when you entered this hell hole. A sleek, silver BMW waited for the four of you. A man, wearing a low baseball cap, sat in the driver’s seat. Baekhyun sat in the passenger seat and as you slid into the backseat, you found yourself between the two men. Red hair was silent as he laid his head against the window and you noticed a scar that ran through his eyebrow. 

It was Mr. Blacky that was giving you trouble. His hand rested on your thigh, the cold metal of his rings felt even through your jeans. He was looking out the window, pretending like he wasn’t two inches away from your core, but you could see the small smirk. Frustration roiled through you and you couldn’t tell if it was pure or sexual. 

“Is there a reason I had to come live with you, dear brother?” You piped up, shifting your legs so that Mr. Blacky’s hand fell away. “I mean, mom and dad’s house was paid off, couldn’t I just stay there and you pay for college? I love living in that big, scary house all alone.”

Of course you were biting at him. You were glad he allowed you to live with him, but you yearned for answers. Where had he been all these  years? He didn’t even show up at mom’s funeral and didn’t contact you until two months after her death. You’d been alone for all those months. In that huge-ass, dark, creaky house. 

Muy solitario. 

There were probably ghosts that were waiting to feed on your soul.

Baekhyun didn’t give you the honor of his response.

“I was neomu lonely, Bak,” you grumbled, playing with the string bracelet on your wrist. You heard him shift, his expensive-ass leather jacket squeaking against the custom leather seats. 

“Did you keep up with your Korean lessons?” He asked, slowly shifting the subject.

You frowned. “No. I dropped it and took Spanish.”

Silencio. 

“I’ll have you know that I actually got an award on my spanish. Top of my class. My spanish teacher gave a speech at my graduation. I can speak it fluently. I could probably move to Spain or Mexico—never come back,” you rambled. Baekhyun always hated your ranting and how you had this weird ability to go on and on about the most stupid shit. He deserved thirty hours worth of pointless rambling. “I’ve actually been thinking of taking French. Maybe I could become a professional translator; wouldn’t that be cool? I could travel the world, talk to the locals—OOOO I could run, like, a travel critic blog. Muy bien!” 

You clapped your hands.

“You didn’t mention how fucking annoying she was,” Baseball Cap spoke up. His voice was deep and gravelly.

“This is her way of taking her anger out on me.”

You felt like a scolded child as you sat there. That was the one thing you’d always hated about your brother: his ability to make you shut up with some simple statement. He knew you too well, he knew exactly what got under your skin. He knew how to make you feel stupid or childish and as the years went by, he only got better at it. 

And so, you went silent for the rest of the ride.

☁☁☁☁☁☁

It took you less than a week to learn the rules of the house. Baekhyun told everyone what to do and they all listened. It was rough, nearly impossible for you, your inner self always begging to challenge him. But Baekhyun made it clear he wouldn’t treat you any differently just because the same blood pumps through your hearts. You learned that when he dragged you to a windowless room and let you sit there all night without any dinner.

    You also had to sit through the embarrassing “Off Limits” meeting. It was an hour long talk where Baekhyun repeatedly reminded his men and women that you were untouchable. If anyone so dare as look at you for more than a second, their heads would be ripped off and guts shoveled into a meat grinder. You never agreed to it, but here you were, alone and untouched.

Que divertido.

    You poked at your dinner, staring boredly at the wall. Baekhyun was gone, along with almost everybody, so you were left alone with Mr. Blacky. In other words: Hwang-fucking-gorgeous-Hyunjin. The boy with his stupid teasing smiles, little smirks, and eyebrow raises would not leave you alone. He was older than you by barely a month, but you’d never guess by the way he held himself like the king of the world.

He was a more handsome, younger version of Baekhyun.

And it sucked. 

    If you had known the Baekhyun was trying to turn his men into multiple versions of himself, you would’ve thrown yourself out a window. Hell, you would’ve flipped off the mysterious mailman who delivered the letter you got two weeks ago. This wasn’t fun, this was suburban. 

“So, you’re the royal babysitter?” You asked, looking up at Hyunjin. He sat on the counter, scrolling through his phone and not sparing you a single glance as he answered.

“Sure.”

“You’re barely older than me,” you pouted, “I don’t need a babysitter.”

    He held up the pack of cigarettes he had confiscated from you not even five minutes ago. You watched, your mouth watering, as he shook the packet at you. There was the other rule: no smoking. Or at least not for Y/N or around Y/N. Everyone else constantly smelled like weed and tobacco, but you would never see the drugs again in your life.

“Didn’t you try to leave last time you were alone?”

He spoke about the event as if it wasn’t yesterday. 

“I’m the leader’s younger sister! Don’t you think I deserve some form of special treatment?” You cried, shoving your plate away from you. The boy looked up, watching as the china skittered to the other side of the table before peacefully stopping.

Maldita. 

    You stood up, letting the chair clatter around the shiny tiles. Your feet stomped against the floor as you marched towards the boy. A slap ran through the room as you slammed your hands down on his knees, eyes narrowing as you looked up at him. You leaned forward until your faces were mere inches apart.

“I’m not a child.”

“Then why do you act like one?”

    Then he smiled, and there was something about it that was so wrong and so right at the same time. It was sadistic and perfect. Ice shards and fire blazed through your body as a craze lit up his eyes. He tilted his head at you, his hand coming up to run along your cheek and then over your brow bone. 

“You say you want special privileges?” He hummed. His thumb moved down and ran along your lips. Your mouth slowly opened, an ache starting in your core as he slipped the digit in. His knees tightened around your body and he brought your mouth to his.

    You weren’t sure what you were expecting. The taste of weed and addiction? Something bitter? Instead, he tasted like smarties and you could feel his chapped lips pressed against yours. He gripped your chin tightly in his hand as he easily slipped his tongue into your mouth. Your straightened up, moaning into his mouth as his other hand came up to tighten around your throat. 

    He pulled back for barely a second, inhaling sharply before his lips crashed onto yours again. You whimpered, letting your hands slide up his legs and rest on his upper thighs. Your thumbs rubbed circles on his inner thigh and you didn’t miss the way he bucked up into your touch. Hyunjin nipped teasingly at your lips and then pulled back.

    His mouth moved achingly slow along your jaw and then he moved to your ear. Pain laced through your body and pleasure ran to your core as he teeth dug into the upper part of the shell. The soft moan you let out pulled one from him and his grip tightened on your neck. 

“You know,” he whispered into your ear, “you act like such a big, bad girl, but I bet you’ve never had a true taste of danger, hmmm? Do you want it? How badly baby?”

    You panted, eyes slowly meeting his dilated ones as he pulled back and stared at you. It took only one fluid movement for him to hop off the counter, spin you around, and bend you over the marble. Gasps and whimpers of excitement started to leave you. 

Placer y dolor. 

    You felt Hyunjin’s bulge press against your thigh as he ran his hand down your spine. Tingles raced through you and shivered in anticipation. The boy’s desperation bled through as he reached for your yoga pants. He pulled them down quickly, taking your panties with it. He ran his index finger down your folds and then a soft chuckle left him.

“I bet you’re tight too, baby,” he mused. You listen to the sound of him unbuckling his jeans and the sound of them hitting the floor. There’s the soft sound of skin rubbing against skin as he pumps himself out. You lean forward, eyes closing. 

    Hyunjin completely sinks into you in one go. A loud groan escapes you—he stretches you out painfully and deliciously and it’s addicting. His forehead rests against your back and there’s a few moments where he just silently gasps. Then he starts moving.

His thrusts are rough. His fingers dig into your thighs as he hitches you up even higher. Your gasps and his grunts fill the room as his hips smack against your ass. You’re soaked; slurping noises filling the room because of your pussy. His cock continues to hit your g-spot repeatedly and your eyes start to roll into the back of your head.

“Fuck, I could ruin you,” he gasps out, “and no one would ever know. Shit, baby, shit.”

Arruinarme. 

“Just as tight as I thought.”

Arruinarme.

    You felt your high approaching and you unconsciously clenched around him, silently begging for him to finish with  you. And then just as you’re there, just as you feel the beginning of the flashes, he pulled out. You hold still, too shocked to whine or look back. 

Then you hear the all time familiar sound.

Tsssst. 

    You peeked over your shoulder, eyes widening as you watch him light a cigarette. Hyunjin meets your gaze and grins, something broken and psychotic hanging in the depths of his orbs. You watch as he takes a slow puff and then presses a kiss to your neck, the smoke filling the air around the two of you. 

Arruinarme. 

“You can take it baby, whether you want to or not,” he said. 

    Part of you knows what he’s about to do, but the hazy part of your brain refuses to keep up. Then you feel it, a quick jump of pain. You hissed, your head falling against your forearms as the cigarette is pressed to your thigh. You smell it—it’s so subtle, but it’s there—the smell of your own flesh, burning. He pulls it back and you stiffen as you prepare yourself for the next tap. He presses it to your other thigh and this time you let out a loud whimper. Pleasure comes with the pinch this time and your eyes flutter shut. 

“Such a whore, aren’t you?” He laughs.

Then he throws the blunt in the sink and sheaths himself inside you again. His pace picks up, almost as if he never stopped. It barely takes a few seconds for you to finish, your fingers digging into the counter as you tighten around him. Hyunjin grunts and he thrusts harshly through his own orgasm. His seed spills into you and down your legs as he continues to fuck it into you. 

Arruinarme. 

Then he pulls back, letting you breathe. You do, taking in big gulps of air, your legs shaking, and eyes fluttering shut. He lights another cigarette and hands it to you. You accept graciously, puffing on it. The smoke fills the kitchen as the boy helps you back into your pants and then pulls up his own. He runs a hand through his dark hair and then winks at you.

A swirl of smoke surrounds your head as he walks out. 

You hum to yourself.

“Arruinarme.”

[borhapparker]

now you see me |  chapter one

summary: charismatic magician gwilym lee leads a team of talented illusionists called the four horsemen. gwilym and his comrades mesmerize audiences with a pair of amazing magic shows that drain the bank accounts of the corrupt and funnel the money to audience members. a federal agent, agent malek, and an interpol detective, agent boynton, intend to reign in the horsemen before their next caper, and they turn to Thaddeus, a famous debunker for help.

word count: 3.2k

fic masterlist  |  masterlist

Skye stopped at the corner, looking up at the tall building in front of her as she sighed, holding her cup of coffee in her hand and a bag slung over her elbow. She crossed the street, a smile on her face as she reached the building before hearing her name.

“Skye!”

She turned, seeing Gwilym stepping out of a taxi, confusing across his features.

“Gwilym? Hey!”

He closed the door to the taxi, furrowing his eyebrows. “Ah, you got a card, huh?” She nodded, holding it up for him to see. “No, no, no, it’s good for you. Congratulations.” he walked over to her, “Alright, so here’s what I’m going to do, I’m gonna go inside, scope the place out. You wait out here, I will come back and get you, okay? Do not come in.”

“Hey Gwilym,” she caught up to him, smile on her face as she patted his shoulder, “I’m not your assistant anymore.”

They both walked into the building, heading to the floor and door they were instructed to, as Gwilym continued to talk to her. They reached the floor, before they stopped.

“Oh,”

Joe looked up, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked between the two. “Okay.” he paused, “So apparently none of us was the only chosen. Let me be the first one to kick my ego to the curb.”

Gwilym and Skye walked over, as he motioned to the door.

“It’s locked.”

“Is it? I’ll check.” he said, walking over as Joe moved to the side.

Joe turned to Skye, smile on his face. “You, now, hold it, don’t tell me. Uh, Skyla? No, no.. Skye.”

Gwilym turned to them, noticing her coffee cup. “It’s on your coffee cup.”

Joe turned to him, “Thanks for keeping me honest,” before looking back at her as she furrowed his eyebrows at Gwilym. “That wasn't mentalism by the way. That was just an observation. Second observation, you are beautiful.”

She smiled, “Thank you.”

Gwilym walked back to them, holding his card and adjusting the bag over his shoulder. “That’s good. That’s very nice. Very well-polished. Nice bit. Uh, Gwilym Lee, nice to meet you.” he held out his hand as Joe pocketed his card, going for a handshake before flipping Gwilym his middle finger. “Very nice. I know who you are and I just want to say that I’m not interested in you doing your mentalism thing on us. Especially when we don’t know who brought us here or even if it’s real.”

Joe raised his hand, stopping him as he began to read him. “Shh, hold on, I’m sensing… I’m sending you are a control freak.”

“I’m sorry, have we met before?”

Skye spoke up, eyebrows raised, “It doesn’t take a mentalist to figure that out. You are a control freak.”

Gwilym smiled, “Well, I take that as a compliment.”

She scoffed, “Only he would take it as a compliment.”

“Okay, great. Good. Another compliment.”

Joe began, as he looked between both of them, “Okay. So that’s why you’re no longer a couple.”

Gwilym and Skye both shut up, as they parted their lips, turning to Joe.

“No, no, we were never a couple.”

“He used to saw me in half,” she said, as she began the motion with her hand.

“She was a very good assistant.”  Gwilym turned to her.

Skye groaned, before looking at Joe, “Yeah, but I was too fat for Gwilym.”

“Uh, no. I said that one time because of the trap door.”

They began to argue, as Joe watched, smirk on his features before Ben walked up the stairs, turning. His eyes widened, watching the three magicians.

“No, way. Gwilym Lee? Mate, I’ve seen everything that you have ever done. You’re like… I idolize you. Seriously.” Ben held out his hand, smile on his features.

Gwilym shook it, turning to Skye with his eyebrows raised in surprise, “From a true fan. It’s so nice to meet you.”

“I’m Ben, by the way.” he turned to Skye, shaking her hand as well. “Skye Barnes, a big fan as well.”

Skye smiled, “Thank you! Nice to meet you, Ben.”

Joe spoke up, pulling his card from his pocket. “Question. Did you get one of these?”

Ben reached into his satchel, pulling out an identical card. “Yeah. Death.”

All of them held up their cards.

Skye showed her card, “The High Priestess.”

Gwilym held up his, “The Lover.”

Skye coughed out, “Three minutes.”

“Hermit.”

Ben titled his head in confusion, motioning to the door. “So, what are we… Are we waiting for someone? Why are we just..”

The three spoke in inusion, “Door’s locked.”

Ben smirked, “Oh, no, nothing’s ever locked.”

Moving the three aside, he crouched to the door, holding two metal pins in his hand as he clicked the lock open, before turning the knob and opening the door. Gwilym and Skye held up flashlights, aiming them inside the apartment as they walked through. Looking into the various rooms, all empty, they exclaimed in horror as they saw the run-down and dirty bathroom. They continued to the living room, where a card had been propped up on the floor next to a white rose.

“What’s it say?” Skye asked as Gwilym crouched down, grabbing the note. “I don’t know.” he opened the card, reading out to the group. “Now you don’t.”

Skye picked up the rose on the floor, heading to the vase filled with water, “A rose by any other name.”

Dropping the flower into the vase, the water began to drain from the container.

“Woah.”

“Guys, what’s happening?” Ben asked, watching as the water drained into the figure created in the floor, before it triggered a mechanism, vapor coming from the floor. “It’s gas!”

Skye chuckled, “Relax, it’s just dry ice.”

Gwilym looked up, “Wait, what do you guys think this is?”

Joe stopped him, “Hang on, hang on.” He closed his eyes, wanting to read the room, before shaking his head. “I got nothing.”

Gwilym furrowed his eyebrows, “Okay. Thank you. Thank you for the delay.”

“I was just trying to create the space for wisdom.”

“Oh, okay, so you’re like Buddha, if he wasn’t so enlightened.”

Joe titled his head, looking at Gwilym as if he grew three heads, “And you’re like Jesus, if he was arrogant and all of his miracles were fake.”

Skye intervened, hands up, “Okay, get a room, lovebirds. Gwilym, be honest, did you do this?”

Gwilym shook his head, looking at Ben. “No, wait, did you?”

Ben scoffed, “I wish, mate.”

Gwilym tried flicking the switch on the wall, as Ben only frowned, “Electricity's out.”

Joe reached up to the lamp on the ceiling, fingers grabbing the light bulb. “Well, let’s check.” he turned the bulb as it lit up, triggering the cameras connected to the doors on, as they revealed holograms in front of the group. They walked to the holograms, smiles on their faces as Skye chuckled.

“Blueprints.”

“They’re incredible.”

Ben spoke up, “Who do you think did this?”

“I don’t know, but I really want to meet them.” Skye said, watching as the blueprints unfolded before their eyes, “It’s a show.”

Gwilym reached into the hologram, before tapping a symbol in the middle, one representing the same one on the floor. As he tapped it, three words unveiled before their eyes.

The Four Horsemen.

LAS VEGAS - ONE YEAR LATER

The magicians stood on the side of the stage, smiling at each other as they waited for the introductions to begin before walking to the stage.

“Joe Mazzello.” he smiled upon hearing his name.

“Gwilym Lee.” Fiddling with a deck of cards in his hand, he paused at hearing his name.

“Skye Barnes.” she grinned, nudging Gwilym who only nodded.

“Ben Hardy.” he smirked, shifting his weight from one foot to another.

“Arthur Tressler and the MGM Grand proudly presents The Four Horsemen.”

They walked upon the stage, as the crowd clapped and cheered. They each walked along different sides of the circular stage, addressing the crowd as each screen held their symbol.

“Thank you!” Gwilym waved, smiling. “So tonight, we’re going to be pulling a couple tricks out of our sleeves.” he paused, smiling, “Literally.”

All four of them pulled on their sleeve slightly, as a single dove came out from each of them. The crowd cheered.

“Okay, for my trick, I’ll need three volunteers.” Skye smiled, as people raised their hand in the air. She pointed at three different audience members, as they headed up to the stage. A curtain came down, obscuring her section form the rest as three large cards appeared behind her. “Now, each one of you walk behind a card. This is a game I love to play, called Find the Queen.”

They each took their places, as the cards turned. She headed up to two of the cards, tapping them as they switched. “Where’s the Queen?”

The audience pointed to her far left, as she headed there. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you guys, but the Queen isn’t here.” she pulled down the card, as no one was behind. They pointed to the far right as she headed there too. “In fact, you’re all wrong.” pulling down both cards, the audience members that headed there for the trick, were now gone.

The audience gasped. She brought the cards up once more, as they played another time, the audience members back behind the cards. As they cheered when she finished, she waved. “Thank you!”

Pulling the deck of cards from her hand, she flicked the deck up, before being engulfed in the falling cards, the trap door underneath her opening as she fell through, disappearing before her section. They gasped, as the curtains came up.

The rest of the magicians finished their act, each disappearing before walking back out after the short intermission.

“Thank you,” Joe said, waving at the crowd, “Tonight, we would like to try something different that will, well, set us a bit apart.”

“For our final trick, we’re gonna do something never before seen on a Las Vegas stage.”

“Or any stage, for that matter.”

Gwilym stepped upon the middle stage, elevated from the rest, “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight..” he paused, smiling, “We are going to rob a bank.”

The crowd erupted into cheers, clapping and shouting as they realized the impossible feat. The magicians were excited at their reaction, smiling themselves.

“That’s a lot of excitement for a crime.” Gwilym said, chuckling.

Ben and Joe faced each other, as they ran towards each other, smiles on their faces, “One, two, three!” they reached each other and high-fived, now walking opposite of each other, as Gwilym and Skye laughed at their antics.

Gwilym smiled, clapping before waving his arms, “Okay, settle down.” he paused, the crowd lowering their volume, “Now, who here has a bank they would like us to rob?” The crowd waved their arms, wanting to be picked for the act, “That’s a lot of people with a vendetta. So we’ll choose one at random then. My associates will make sure it’s random, right?”

Each of them grabbed a fishbowl with ping pong balls, heading to a different corner in the crowd.

“Elvis, help me out bud.” Ben held out a fishbowl to an Elvis impersonator, as he grabbed a ball and gave it to Ben.

“In Ben’s bowl are section numbers. Ben, could you hand me a section number?” Ben threw the ball in Gwilym’s direction, as he caught it. “Thank you, we are looking at Section B. Where is Section B?” he turned, hearing the cheers coming from his left, as he pointed at them. “Okay, there. It’s gonna be one of you guys. Get ready.” he paused, laughing, “I don’t know why everybody’s happy. It’s only them.”

Joe bent down, handing the bowl to an audience member as they handed him a ping pong ball.

“Merrit, could I get a row please?” he threw the ball, as he caught it, reading the number out. “Thank you, we are looking at row number five. And Skye, could I please have a random seat number?” getting handed another ball, he read out the number once more. “Oh, lucky number 13. B-5-13. Where are you?” he looked at the section, as an older man got up from his seat, surprised expression on his face. “Sir, please stand up. Ah, there you are. Hi. Could you just confirm for me that this is in fact your seat? B-5-13?” Gwilym held up the numbers to the man, the screen projecting them as he nodded, before Gwilym threw the balls to the side. “Okay, wonderful. Now, could you please tell us your name and the name of your bank?”

The man held up the microphone to his lips, “Well, my name is Etienne Forcier. And my bank, it’s Credit Republicain de Paris.” he said, a thick accent coming with his lips as Gwilym tilted his head.

“French, okay. Uh. We were hoping for something a little more local, kind of mom-and-pop credit union with no security. But that’s fine. A promise is a promise. Will you please come up to the stage, and we’ll rob your bank.”

Etienne walked down the steps, heading to the stage as the rest of the Horsemen turned to another section of the audience, thanking their benefactor and the person who helped them. As soon as Etienne reached the stage, all of them turned back to him.

“Etienne, uh what Ben is bring to the stage now, is what we, in the magic world, call a teleportation helmet. You will need to wear this as it will allow you to literally fold through space and time to your bank in the…” he paused, “8th?” Etienne tilted his head as Joe went up a number, “9th.” he nodded, as Joe smiled, “9th arrondissement. Now, once you are there, we will be able to speak with you through this helmet. Now if.. Ah!” Ben placed the helmet over Etienne’s head, as they all smiled, “Oh my god, that’s beautiful. It has the added attraction of being very stylish. It’s about time the French learned from America on that subject.”

The crowd laughed at Joe’s comment, as they finished adjusting the helmet over his head.

Gwilym walked over, Skye close behind, “Now, before you go anywhere, could you please pick a card, any card.” he fanned the deck, Etienne going to grab a card before Gwilym laughed, “Nope, not this one. Ah, that’s an old English joke. You can take that one. Now, show it to your friends in Section B but not to us.” he showed everyone the card. Two of hearts. “Okay, great. Now, if you could just sign your name there. In English if possible.” he handed him a marker, as the rest of them looked away so they wouldn’t see the card. “Now, put it in your pocket.”

“And now, for one tiny detail.” Skye flung the piece of cloth she had in her hand, the air vents carrying the cloth as it spin in a circle, covering the centre of the stage where, as soon as the cloth disappeared, the contraption made for their trick had been revealed

The crowd clapped, everyone grinning in excitement for what was to happen.

Joe led Etienne to the contraption, “Now, Etienne, let’s step into this cockamamie contraption. And I’ll step off of it. Bonne chance.” Gwilym and Ben walked over, each standing in front and back of Etienne, off the device. “It’s 11:50pm here in Vegas, that’s 8:50am in Paris. Your bank opens in less than 10 minutes.” they pulled down the curtain that would protect Etienne from the outsides, before stepping off and next to Joe and Y/n.

“One.”

They each took a side, equally spread apart as the crowds watched.

“Two.”

Etienne waved, with a smile.

“Three.”

Skye pressed the button in her hand, as the contraption closed abruptly, Etienne disappearing from sight. Everyone flinched at the action, gasps spreading throughout the crowd as everyone looked around.

“Wow! Etienne?”

“Woah.”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like that, was it?” Joe asked, confusion spreading across his features as the audience watched. “I liked that little French guy.”

“Etienne?”

There was sound that came from the speakers, as the screens displayed a blurry Etienne. The audience screamed in delight and exploded into applause at seeing him.

Gwilym quieted them down, “No, no, no, no. Please, please, please.” He turned his attention back to Etienne on the screens. “This is Gwilym Lee. Can you hear me? Etienne? Are you okay?”

It took a second, but Etienne replied in a muffled voice, “Yes.”

“Perfect!” Gwilym clapped his hands, “What do you see in there?”

Etienne walked around the stacks of money, eyes widening and smile growing. “Money,” he said, before bending and picking a couple bills up. “Is this real?”

Gwilym nodded, as the rest of the magicians smiled, “Yes. Looks like three million or so euro’s worth. Okay, now here’s what we’re gonna need you to do. I want you to take the card that you signed out of your pocket. And I want you to take the ticket stub from tonight’s show and I want you to put it right there in the middle of the money.” Etienne did as he was told, pulling the card from his jacket pocket and the ticket stub from his slacks’ pocket, before letting them fall between the stacks of money. Gwilym continued, “Now, on the side of the helmet, you should feel a button.” Etienne felt around on the side of his head until his finger located the button. “Don’t press it just yet. That button activates an air duct that connects Paris to Las Vegas.”

Etienne did a thumbs up, smiling, as Gwilym grinned. “Okay, good. Now you can press it.”

He pressed the button, as Ben looked at the screen as well. “All right, now, Etienne, hold on tight. You might feel a bit of a vacuum.” As soon as you heard rumbling, the money began to fly upward into the air duct.

There was silent anticipation through the crowd, as the screens turned black. Suddenly, a low rumble was heard through the theatre. “Wait a second.” Gwilym said, holding up a finger.

Half a minute passed before the three million euros from the bank came raining down on the audience from the ceiling, fluttering onto the floor and into waiting hands. Everyone was on their feet, shouting and exclaiming from glee, or just laughing and marvelling at our brilliant trick. All four of them laughed, smiling, as Skye was embraced by Gwilym, who brought Ben and Joe over for a group hug. They had done it, one of their biggest tricks yet.

They let go, as Gwilym threw out his hands. “Thank you, Etienne!” he called over the noise. “Thank you, everyone!”

Everyone headed to the center stage, as the magicians called out in inusion, “We are the Four Horsemen!”

“And good night!” Skye finished.

“Good night!” Joe echoed her.

Joe and Ben fist bumped, congratulating one another as they headed off stage. Endorphins were coursing through their veins, as they heard the cheering from the audience from the side stage, arms around each other.

“We did it!” Ben said, as everyone laughed.

“Now, the fun’s just beginning.” Joe smirked, as they all nodded. “Let’s head out.”

tags: (add yourself here)

@thebohemianpenguin @will-ptx @itsametaphorbriansblog @misterf4hrenheit @sofarxitsalright @lolabean1998 @sailing-race @hollandroos @desperately-bisexual @desir-ae @cl0ve @theimpossiblehologramtree  @rrrogah-tayluhh @allaroundaddict

[adreamoverlife]

To see if I could.

((So the whole story basically what if Google had a obedience program that was almost like a drug? Like every time google completes a task, his system is flooded with a weird happiness chemical? This was supposed to make Google dependent on humans but eventually after nearly shutting down the program was disabled and Google learned to live without it? And Dark used the Host to find this out? And then Dark reactivated it?))

The library was without a doubt his favorite place in the building.

The sleek exterior of the office was simply a front for the many mix-matched floors and residents of the building. The contrasting floors were a headache to get through on a good day and there were days where the thought of going from the bright pink studio of Wilfords to the simplistic and grim office of Darkiplier was unbearable to the eyes. Even his own offices' antiseptic smell sometimes was too much for him. The messy array of syringes and pill bottles was stressful at most, and unbearable at worst. The Host had told him many times that he would be willing to help him organize it, but he had always declined. Feeling much too embarrassed to say otherwise.

The Hosts library, on the other hand, was a different story. It was a certain organized chaos that the Host seemed to glide through to locate any book he was looking for. It was a maze of tall shelves that only he knew the path. Combined with the low light of the sparsely place light bulbs that hung high above, to say it was enchanting was an understatement.

The Host allowed him to borrow books. a privilege no other ego had earned, and Edward had done everything he could to prove himself worthy of his trust. So when it finally came time to return the book, Edward stepped into the elevator and hit the button for Hosts level.

Edward fidgeted with the book, a small smile beginning to grace his face. He thought about what he would say the other ego. What could he say in order to keep up the conversation? The elevator dinged and he quickly looked up as the doors opened.

"Host?" He called out as stepped through the threshold into the darkened library. A chill ran down his spine, the silence hung heavy in the air. There were no pages turning, no hum of his recording equipment or soft words. The Host could've been asleep, but if he was he would have locked up the library. Host never liked people to wander in when he was away or otherwise unaware.

"Host? Are you alright?" He called again, walking into the near darkness. Footsteps echoed like thunder as he squinted his eyes in order to see. Trying to call the Hosts name again, he was left with no response. There was only one way to go from here, and that the Hosts Desk. Edward paused, feeling ashamed at his stupidity and pulled out his phone, turning on the flashlight. Even with the beam of light, he still managed to bump into two shelves before he reached the center recording room.

The beam of light stuck revealed a form slumped over at the desk, The radio equipment was dark and a display of opened books littered the wooden surface like discarded wrappers. The Host was arms were folded up to rest his head on the desk. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, something was wrong, But he just couldn't place what it was.

"Host! There you are, You had me worried!" Relief flooded through Edwards' bones, making him stumbled slightly as he quickly made his way over to the Host. As he got closer, he realized what had unsettled him.

His mind stalled as his hands shot into action, grabbing the Host by his shoulders to tilt his head up, the unconscious egos arms fell limply to his sides as his head tilted to the back of the chair.

Blood. Blood was everywhere. it tripped thickly from the Hosts half-lidded eye sockets down his face in rivers, then puddled on the table, staining every page it touched. Finally, it ran down the sides of the desk and settled on the floor.

"Host?! Host, can you hear me?" Edward used one hand to grab the Hosts chin and the other to shine a light into his eye sockets. Host had no response, and under Edwards' fingertips, he couldn't feel a pulse. Looking closer at his eye sockets, the darkened bleeding tissues was strangely punctured and bloody, almost like it’d been stabbed. Mumbling curse after curse, Edward unlocked his phone and scrolled til he saw the correct number.

The phone rang as Edward quickly glanced over the rest of the Host. There didn't seem to be any other injury, other than a few rips in the front of his trench coat, there wasn't any sign of a struggle. And definitely no sign of a knife or blade. Finally, the phone stopped ringing.

"Dr. Iplier, to what do I-"

“Red? Where’s Google?”

“Blue was called to a meeting with-“

"You know what- Shut up and get to the Hosts floor. He's bleeding out and I need you to help me get him to the clinic and to stabilize him." Edward was breathing too fast to speak calmly, but Red didn't comment.

"On my way."

Red hung up.

Shaking the radio host shoulders again, the doctor took a second to glance at the desk, and in that second he stopped breathing. On one page there were diagrams of what looked like a torso, but it wasn’t human. It was metal bended and twisted to have a shape of a human with synthetic skin on top of it. Another page had binary filling the blank space with a sketch of a glowing core in the center. another page had what looked like code words and programs all hidden once hidden with the book laid out to see. Broken bloodied pencils lay rolling off to the side. The worst thing however, came from what was on top of the books.

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.’

‘Please I’m so sorry’

‘Darkiplier never finds out what the host has learned and forgets about everything.’

The moment of Confusion was ended by a flash of pain in his chest as Edward turned back to Host, placing a gentle hand on his cheek.

“Oh Isaac…’

The door to the library flew open.

There was nothing better than code.

Simple, effective, coherent, all the things a human mind, at best, couldn't dream to be. His entire memory and mind was build from little numbers that spun and ticked to build thoughts from the sparks of electricity in his core. Although emotions weren't programmed into his internal A.I, when he was able to complete a task correctly, a certain lightness took hold of his chest compartment and just as quickly vanished. A program booting up and then just as quickly shutting down.he told himself that this was most likely a safety feature designed to deter him from disobeying, He was strong enough now to not need the program, even though after all this time, he still had yet to delete it.

This program wouldn't have mattered if he hadn't been so careless. It hadn't even remained in his recent memory banks. And it would have stayed that way if he had just deleted the damn thing.

It was in a meeting in the grim office on the top floor.

"Hello Google, I appreciate you showing up. I know it's technically after hours but I had some concerns I needed to bring up."

"Of course, Darkiplier. Unfortunately for me, it is never truly after hours."

Dark had smiled at that, a tight one-sided smile that revealed some of his teeth.

"Ah, Yes, You are quite overworked, aren't you?"

Despite the little numbers in his head informing him of his usefulness to the head ego, and thus his safety. Something else had his attention, a cold finger of [definition matched: Dread] Dread, ran along the cables in his lower chassis.

"I am essential to this project, I am always working because that's what the project requires. You need me."

"I do. but unfortunately, Google, What you've been giving me isn't what the project requires. And I’ve been informed that there’s a way to fix that.”

At this, Dark had gotten up, suave and smooth, the strange creaking sounds of overworked bones filled with dust echoed fainty like a faraway gunshot and black eyes filled Googles vision. Dark had gotten far too close far too quick, leaving the android to jerk roughly back as his mind spun round like a dreidel.

"You know Google, such a complex machine such as yourself, surely the engineers installed some sort of obedience program."

The honeyed words fazed through his synthetic skin and dripped into his wires and circuits like cold ink that buzzed like insects.

"I-I-"

Opening his mouth, the buzzing creatures filled his throat, rattling his voice box as Blue choked, errors flooding his system.

"Oh, don't worry Google. The Host already told me allllll about it~"

His ventilation system was seized by a shutter, Host? What had happened to-he opened his eyes to a carousel of blue and black, spinning like the numbers in his head. a piercing sound silenced the ticking in his head, and Google fell into a void. Never hitting the ground.

"Let's see what we can make of you."

Dark supposed his office wasn't the friendliest of places. And given his auras habit of lashing out, It certainly wasn't the place for arguments. Which was funny, Dark supposed, because this is where they usually happened.

Darks hands danced across the piano, humming along to the delicate sound, coolant and oil smearing against the keys from his fingers.

The doors slammed open, the sound echoing throughout the room. In the doorway stood a disheveled Dr. Iplier with rage radiating off of his skin so much it was almost tangible. His bright eyes found the head ego and he growled.

"What. The fuck. Did you do." The gritted words were almost amusing. and Dark didn't have to turn away from the piano to know that blood was dripping from the doctors' coat to the floor.

"So you found him in time, What a pity. The Host really had my hopes this time." The ringing began to get louder as if trying to drown the Edward out, but not this time, not when Dark had gone this far.

"What the fuck did you do to him? He almost died!"

"I'm well aware doctor-"

"Did you possess him? Hm? Mess with his visions? Tell me you fucking asshole what you did to him-" Edwards' voice had gotten louder, closer and angrier.

"I haven't touched him-"

"Like hell, you didn't!" He must have been a couple feet behind him now, and a twitch of annoyance ran through the dark ego.

"You've seen the damage, everything he did was self-inflicted. Perhaps he wanted to die." It wasn't entirely false, and moreover, it shocked the other into silence. For a moment, Dark thought he would turn around and storm out, but that moment was shattered Edward quickly took a breath and shouted.

"Fuck you! You made him do it!" The twitch of annoyance turned to calm. The Doctor had laid out his own wound and all Dark had to do was rub salt in it.

"The only thing I did was talk." He didn't even turn around. It was the truth. The simple honest truth. something he rarely gave. It was worth it when he heard Dr. Iplier choke. He could imagine his eyes going wide and his jaw slack.

"...Y-You talked him into killing himself?"

"All I did was talk."

"Why?" Dark smiles, a thin lifeless smile. His tilts his head to side glance at the stunned Doctor.

"...To see if I could.”

Pride filled his husk of a body, and he cracked his neck feeling satisfied as a echo of a uncomfortable feeling snapped into nothing.

“Where’s Google?”

As if on cue, the doctors phone rang. Dark couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped.

“Why don’t you run along now? I’m sure Google will be so happy to answer your questions.”

Two things happened with the next moment. One, With a crash, his desk lamp shattered next to his head. Two, footsteps stomped towards the door and slammed it shut.

[vickypoochoices]

Partner In Crime part 4 (A).

I've had to split it in two again! Second half is NSFW, so if that's not the kind of thing you want to read, then skip the second half! Also, big thank you to @emerald-bijou for reading over this and giving me all of the improvements!

[MASTERLIST.]

CHAPTER THREE.

A look of confusion and panic seemed to pass around the circle of friends.

“That was weird.”

“Right.”

“Uh huh.”

“Pretty much.”

Lyla had seemingly vanished into thin air after her descent downstairs, Dean doing the rounds by himself in her absence. A strong tug at Zig’s shirt sleeve pulled his attention away from his fruitless search.

“I assume my little distraction helped you out. You saw what I saw right?”

Zig took a step backwards, looking at Zack incredulously. “Did you know?”

“I don’t know anything for certain, but i’ve always had my suspicions. And now I have a terrible feeling I’m right.”

“Zack, what do we do?”

Placing a gentle hand to Zig’s shoulder, Zack looked him directly in the eye. “Zig I think this is on you. Go save our girl. Go get your girl.”

Before Zig could formulate any kind of response, Zack had disappeared into the crowd.

Running a hand through his hair, Zig let out a disgruntled sigh as his eyes wandered over the room full of strangers, hoping to fall upon Lyla. As he distractedly meandered through the throng of bodies, his shoulders clipped against someone.

“Ahh Zigmund, I see you made it at last.” Zig’s back straightened at the sound of Dean’s voice.

“Yeah it turns out that driver of yours isn’t all that punctual.” He spoke through gritted teeth, resisting the overwhelming urge to lash out at Dean.

“Really? How strange! Terry has always been outstanding at his job, I’m not sure what could possibly have gotten into him tonight.”

Fucking really?! His fists clenched at his sides, eyeing Dean cautiously as he took a step closer towards Zig, head dipping slightly, lowering his voice.

“Enjoy these last four weeks with her pal, once she’s mine I’ll make sure you never see her again.” Dean smirked, making a show of dusting off Zig’s shirt before swiftly moving on to his next victim.

That sly little... Zig shook his head slightly, knowing he was playing into Dean’s hands. His feet quickened, taking determined strides as he cased the imposing room, taking a few minutes to realise that wherever Lyla was hiding, it wasn’t here.

Zig side glanced the stiff looking man, stood directly in front of a door. That’s just weird, who does this jerk think he is, hiring people to guard a door like he’s that important. How many rooms must there be in this mansion? It would take him ages to search through them all, provided he could even make it out of there without getting caught.

A sudden guttural cry sliced through the loud room, and Zig caught sight of Zack in the middle, clutching fiercely at his chest.

“Is there peanut in this sauce? I’m allergic... Oh God, I can’t feel my lips... HEEELLLPPPPPP!” Zack whirled around for a flicker of a second, searching for Zig and looking pointedly at the now unguarded door, before collapsing in the middle of the floor. Zig took his chance, dashing out the door stealthily, certain everyone was suitably concerned about Zack and not paying any attention to his escape.

A dozen doors lined the hallway Zig now found himself stood in. He sighed, stepping towards the closest one to him, a wave of frustration overcoming him as he found it empty. He made quick work of the rooms, covering half of them in mere seconds, anxious to find Lyla. As he found yet another disappointingly empty room, he stopped to berate himself. If she was going to be anywhere at all she’d be in a main room at the top of that ridiculous staircase Zig you idiot! A small bang, followed by a muffled hiccup caught his attention, his feet already taking the lead, coming to a stop outside the furthest possible door.

The smell of freshly laundered clothes drifted over to Zig the second he peeled the door back, his nose twitching at the overwhelming, clean scent. His hands fumbled at the wall, hoping to find a light switch, but failing. He squinted as the flashlight of his phone illuminated the room, the contrast nearly blinding him in the process. And then his eyes fell on Lyla, crouched down awkwardly with a few empty bottles surrounding her and a towel half draped over her face sloppily. Zig lowered himself onto his knees, gingerly pulling the towel away from her face. Lyla’s eyes, wide with panic, softened the moment they found Zig’s peering back at her.

A tiny exhale of breath escaped her, relief written all over her face. “I thought he’d finally found my hiding place.”

“Lyla what the...” Zig struggled to find the right words as he surveyed their surroundings. A warm, cramped closet. Two neat piles of blindingly white towels were stacked in a corner, and not a lot else.

“No one ever comes in here anymore. The light broke a few weeks ago and they just stopped using it. It was the day of the engagement actually. Dean told his staff there was plenty more rooms to be used. Can you believe that? Like, how hard is it to just change a light bulb? Anyway i’ve been squirrelling expensive bottles of bubbly away since then, just in case. If Dean’s not staying at our place then he’s here, and apparently that means I have to be here too. But anyway, you know how alcohol makes me super chatty? I feel like that’s happening now. Is it? And also, hiiiii! You look cute in those smart clothes of yours.”

Zig chuckled, giving her a quick hug before pulling them both up to their feet, his knees already aching from the brief stint on the floor.

“And you look very...Formal?”

Lyla arched an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with his choice of words.

“I mean...Majestic?”

“Zig, no! What are you saying? Can’t you use normal words?”

“Sorry, okay, yeah. I guess you look...” She swatted at his chest impatiently.

“Wait no, I don’t want to hear it. Whatever terrible excuse of a compliment was coming my way, do me a favour and forget it! Anyway, how do you like my digs?” Lyla raised a hand behind her, gesturing at the tiny closet. “This is where I come. To get away.”

“Why do you need to get away?”

He was almost too afraid to ask, his concern only increasing as she shook her head in response, offering him a half empty bottle of champagne instead. Zig looked her over, taking a second to assess the situation. He needed a clear head tonight, but he wasn’t about to let Lyla drink anymore by herself. And he knew he stood a better chance of getting her to confide in him if he just went along with it.

He took a small swig, before carefully placing it down next to the pile of towels, gently prising her own bottle out of her iron tight grip seconds later. Where did she even get that bottle from?

Taking both her hands in his, Zig pushed past the building rage as he felt her hands trembling against his. What has that prick done to her?

“Come on Princess, you gonna spill?”

Her eyes narrowed, hands roughly extracted from his grip. “Don’t call me that.”

He let out a low whistle of air, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “I just figured that fitted in well with this new life you’ve got yourself here.”

Lyla lunged forward unsteadily, trying and failing to squeeze past Zig, her fingertips barely grazing the champagne bottle. A hand to either side of her shoulders stilled her, as she beat her fists against his chest frantically.

“Zig let go! Give me the bubbles!”

Lyla struggled against him for a few minutes, eventually admitting defeat, forehead slumping against Zig’s chest, and her shoulders heaving as sobs racked through her. She was in his arms, being rocked and shushed gently on the spot within seconds.

Eventually the sobs subsided, and Lyla surfaced from her little cocoon in his chest, eyes red rimmed and a few stray tears dripping off the tip of her nose. Placing his hands either side of her face, his thumb chased away a dark stream of make up, silently willing her to look at him. She nuzzled her cheek against his hand, eyes finally daring to meet his.

“I hate him Zig!”

“This little tiff of yours must be bad if you’re locked up inside a half empty laundry room declaring your hate for him.” Zig chuckled.

“I’m not messing. Everything about him...I fucking despise. He’s a horrible person and not someone I want to marry!”

“Wait, where has this come from?” Zig wondered out loud.

“I’ve always known he was a bit of a dick. You heard the guy out there, he only hired me because he thought I was a pretty face. And I was happy to go along with it at first. I needed the job and I guess in a way I liked the attention. It’s not like I was getting it anywhere else, figured I may as well have a bit of fun.”

His back straightened, suddenly angry with himself for ever letting Lyla feel this way. What a fuck up!

Lyla continued, the alcohol having loosened her tongue, unaware of his inner turmoil. “Somewhere along the way things started to change. I don’t even know when exactly. But recently things have spiralled out of control. And i’ve realised he’s not a nice man. He’s so convincing sometimes, he had me fooled for a long time. But when it’s just me and him behind closed doors...”

“I swear if he’s so much as laid a finger on you..”

“He’s never hit me Zig if that’s what you want to know.”

“But he hurts you?”

She hesitated, then slowly nodded her head. “He can be a little rough. Fingers digging in a little too hard sometimes, arm wrapped around my waist a tad too tight for my liking.”

Zig hissed out the breath he’d been holding. He was seething inside but he tried his hardest to reign in his temper, knowing it would get him nowhere right now. Offering her the previously confiscated bottle, he smirked as she greedily gulped down a mouthful.

“He’s possessive and controlling and I don't want to live my life like that. If I marry him I’ll be miserable for the rest of my life. And now he’s decided this wedding is just four weeks away! What am I going to do?"

“We can figure this out together, you’ll always have me.”

"How? My parents are besotted with him! They think he's the best thing to ever happen to me, to us. He's promised them things Zig, I can't back out of this and let them down."

"So money is more important than your happyness? Lyla, that's not right!"

"You really think Dean will just let me go that easily? He's not the kind of guy to give up, and he always gets what he wants, one way or another. I don't want to do this, but I don't know what other choice I have." Her bottom lip trembled as a fresh wave of tears cascaded down her face.

"I'll find a way Lyla, I promise you. There's no chance in hell I'll let you marry a guy like that."

“Zig you...” She stammered, shaking her head before taking another drawn out sip.

“Go on.” He urged, gently taking the bottle from her once more.

Lyla peeked up at him, the look of determination on his face telling her everything she needed to know. He would get her to talk, one way or another.

“Fine. You’ll only tickle me if I resist.”

Zig shrugged, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

She cleared her throat before restarting, edging a little closer to him. “I feel safe when I’m with you Zig.” Placing her hands flat against his chest, she peered up at him as he twirled a loose strand of her hair around his finger.

“You are safe with me, I promise.” His eyes flicked down to her full lips.

“I know I am.” Her voice came out as a whimper, her face closing in next to his.

Lyla’s eyes never strayed, lost in the depths of his dark brown eyes. Her fingers walked a path up his chest, before tangling into his wavy hair.

“Lyla.” He breathed, his hands resting on her hips, a futile attempt to try and stop her coming any closer, not trusting himself from holding back.

She flinched at the contact, her body involuntarily reacting the way it always did. But instead of the sharp pang of pain she was expecting to follow, she felt soft soothing strokes in it’s place.

“Wait until I get my hands on that prick!” Zig kept his voice low in an attempt to keep his cool, a stark contrast to what he was actually feeling.

Zig's initial efforts of putting distance between the pair quickly forgotten, his fingers traced a line along her spine, their faces edging together painfully slowly, both feeling the same magnetic pull towards each other.

"What are we doing Lyla?" Zig panted, having Lyla here, exactly where he'd always wanted her leaving him breathless and uncertain. There would be no coming back from this.

"You don't feel the same way?" Her bottom lip jutted out, a mixture of embarrassment and pain swimming through her eyes.

And then their lips collided in a frenzy, neither of them sure who made the first move, past the point of caring. Zig’s nose squished against hers repeatedly as their lips smacked together messily, Lyla’s kisses quickly intensifying, her tongue insistently pleading with his, desperate for permission to continue. As her hands tangled further into his hair, Zig abruptly pulled apart, the look on her face nearly breaking his heart in two there and then.

CHAPTER 4 PART B.

Tagging: @zigortega4life @emerald-bijou @littlegreenmoo @krsnlove @choicesthot

[writingisbae]

A Friend Called Aria (excerpt 1)

Chapter 1: A mysterious intruder

It was an unusually stormy night in April. Cici was sitting on her bed, laptop warm on her knees, hacking away at the keyboard, determined to finish her paper before midnight. Suddenly the overhead light started flickering. With an annoyed sigh, Cici shut her laptop and pushed it to the side. She climbed out of the comfort of her warm bed and shivered in the cold evening air. She must have left a window open somewhere. She picked up her favorite over-sized hoodie from her chair and pulled it over her head. Before she could take another step, she was drenched in darkness. The power must have gone out. Great. Good thing she was writing her paper on her laptop and not on a computer. Otherwise she would have been screwed. Barefoot, she tiptoed over to the kitchen, and saw that the little window over the sink wasn’t fully closed. How odd, she was sure she’d closed it all the way after she’d washed the dishes. Nervously, Cici pushed the red curls that were fluttering in the breeze behind her ears as she looked out of the window down onto the alley. It was lit by a single streetlamp. The rain was coming down hard, so she pushed the window shut and turned around. Cici shrieked when she saw something move, only to realize that it was just her black cat jumping off the counter to land gracefully at her feet.

“I guess I’m being a scaredy-cat tonight, huh, Lenny?”, Cici whispered as she bent down to pet the cat. With one last look towards the dark window, Cici went over to the living room where she kept her flashlight. Flashlight in hand, she felt a little braver as she ventured back to her room. But when she saw the laptop on her bed, Cici froze. She was sure she’d closed it. But now it was open, blinking at her, the small screen almost blindingly bright. Slowly, Cici walked closer and narrowed her eyes. There were three words written on a new document.

Don’t be scared.

Cici felt her heart speed up as she backed away from the laptop. At the doorway, she turned and ran. She wasn’t sure what she was running from, but she was definitely not going to stay where she was. She grabbed her keys off the counter and opened the door. Cici kept running. She heard the door shut with a loud noise, but she was too scared to look behind her and see if it had just been the wind or if someone was really following her.

When Cici saw that there were no lights on the elevator, she remembered that the electricity wasn’t working, so she went for the stairs instead. Taking two steps at a time, Cici heard the window rattling on the lower floor, but didn’t see the huge puddle of rainwater until she slipped on it and fell, hitting her head on the stone steps. The last thing Cici saw was a shadowy figure above her. At least Lenny will stay by my side, she thought. Then everything went black.

 When Cici woke up, the first thing she noticed was the smell of coffee and laundry detergent. She kept her eyes closed and listened to someone rummaging around in the kitchen. Someone was humming softly. It was the voice of a child. As soon as Cici opened her eyes, everything went quiet. Confused, she looked around in her room and spotted her laptop, closed and turned off on top of a stack of clothes. On closer inspection, the clothes turned out to be the same ones she last remembered wearing, including her cozy brown hoodie. She sniffed it suspiciously and noted that this was where the smell of laundry detergent originated from. Curious, Cici walked over to the kitchen, where the light was turned on. Apparently the power had come back on sometime during the night. She noticed a full pot of coffee on the counter. It was still warm to the touch. Next to the coffee pot lay a note, written on a sheet from her notebook which was supposed to be buried somewhere in Cici’s backpack. Scrunching up her nose, Cici picked up the note and held it up to the single light bulb above her head.

I told you, you don’t need to be scared. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please enjoy the coffee. Aria

So it hadn’t just been her imagination. Cici touched the bump on the back of her head. Now she had proof that someone had really been in her apartment. She’d never imagined she’d be frightened by someone named Aria, but that didn’t matter. It also didn’t matter that she was still tired and the coffee Aria had made for her smelled delicious. What mattered was that a stranger had entered her apartment without her consent. She needed to call the police at once.

Fifteen minutes later, Cici was sipping coffee (where it had come from was beyond her; she hadn’t bought coffee in years) and answering the police officer’s questions patiently. The warm mug felt wonderful in her cold hands, and it wasn’t until she noticed that she was dressed in her old cut-off shorts and a simple white tank top that she realized that the intruder must have undressed her when she’d put her to bed.

“Sir, how likely do you think it is that the intruder is really female?”, she asked, self-consciously pulling the blanket she kept on the back of the couch around her.

“We can’t know for sure, miss”, the officer answered, pulling on his overgrown mustache. “The note may suggest so, but in reality, most home invasions tend to be committed by men”. Cici swallowed, put down the coffee and wrapped her arms around herself.

“But we’ll do everything in our power to catch the perpetrator, and make sure you’re safe. Don’t worry, Miss. We will double the patrols in this area. Just make sure to keep your door locked at all times”. Cici nodded, knowing that she’d never left a door unlocked in her life. But she was afraid that if she mentioned that to the officer, he’d start questioning her sanity. After all, how could someone have come into her apartment if her door was locked as always?

[harrison-abbott]

LEMSIP MAX

She invited him to the zoo and he didn’t really believe in zoos as he saw them as forms of animal cruelty, but he was really into her … Giraffes, a lynx, a turtle; it was a blazing July day: afterwards in the café they ate ice cream and they went home to her place and he fucked her from behind, gave in to his desires. She said she needed to study, which was the cue for him to leave. … Then she didn’t call him for days. Until he called her and asked if he could come over and he said sure – but she was a bit sick. Oh, was she ill? Yes, she had the flu. Could he bring her some stuff to help out? Yes, please, some orange juice would be nice and maybe a box of Lemsip Max? … He went to the Tesco’s next to her flat, which was just under her flatblock building actually and paid for the items and went upstairs after she buzzed him in and she was in her pyjamas and looked sleepy and he followed her into her bedroom and she got under her covers and lay down and he kissed her on the cheek and asked if she wanted some Lemsip and she said yes and he popped out two pills for her and went into the kitchen to get a glass of water (and orange juice) for her. And he noticed, in the blare of the new bulb light, a pack of cigarettes on the table. Which was strange, because he knew that she didn’t smoke, and nor did her flatmate Sara. He chose to ignore it. And went through to her bedroom with the items and she smiled and took the pills and he asked her if she wanted to watch a movie and she said okay but I might fall asleep and he found this mystery film on Netflix and stuck it on. He was enjoying it. And thought she was. Until she said, “Could you turn it down? Turn the volume down! I’m a bit sick, Robbie.” – “Okay, honey, sorry …” and I was scared that I had offended her and she kept her head away from me on the pillow and I thought about saying something to cheer her but never did. She fell asleep. I was lain on the other side of the bed; the laptop was on her desk. I watched the whole of the film because it was something I enjoyed. She had this nice way of clicking as she slept. As the oxygen clicked through her teeth. Idiosyncrasy. When the movie ended I got out of the bed to turn the laptop off, and, just as its screen was dimming down, I noticed something out of place on her bedroom floor in the corner of her room … Then the screen died and darkness invaded. I could have ignored what I thought I saw, but I was unnerved. Wanted to find out, confirm, though a bile was forming in my innards. So I got my phone and switched the flashlight on and crawled over to the corner, to where she usually kept her dirty clothing. (She was a messy girl; it was her style, to leave lots of shit across her floor as if still in adolescence.) And said clothes usually accumulated here. But there was a different object now which had caught the attention. Amidst those girls’ clothes: a pair of man’s boxer shorts. They weren’t mine. They were definitely not mine and definitely male. And, just from the state of the fabric, I could see they were used. And Sara didn’t have a boyfriend – she was lesbian – so they couldn’t have gotten mixed up in the laundry if it had belonged to a prospective boyfriend (my imagination was ringing, trying to look for an excuse). … Has she been cheating on me? Or two timing me? Whatever you wanna call it … We’d never been officially girlfriend boyfriend but I was still nuts into her and hoped she … Urgh. This proud masculine rage made me get up and put my jeans back on and then my coat. So that pack of cigarettes in the kitchen – that belong to him, right? This other man. Who is he? I thought about waking her up and demanding her to explain, imagined going into the kitchen once more and adopting a kitchen knife from the holder and coming back and shredding her up … But all I did was leave. Though I did give a petulant slam of the front door whence leaving. … I thought about calling her the next day and days following wondering whether I could try and broker with her and see what the real situation was. But the stubborn ego held out. Then she texted me three weeks later without any other communication and told me that she was dating this other boy, and that she did really like me and it was nothing personal and she wished me all the best and that was it.

[salty-dracon]

SECRET Heroes- True Nature

Bridget aims to kill the “vampires” that have been terrorizing Cricket Springs before she searches for Val in Genetika’s fortress.

Bridget wandered out into the field. The young woman followed her, hugging her sides in the cold. At her side, Brid carried her unactivated lance. It was dark out, so dark that the half moon was the only thing casting light on the field. 

“And you’re sure he’s out here, darlin’?“ The woman gripped Brid’s hand.

“He’ll come if we hang out here long enough.“ Brid glanced at the woman, who was still shivering. “Are you doing okay?“

“Do you have any garlic? Any wooden stakes?“

“Stakes, I’ve got, just in case I’m wrong about all this.“ Brid motioned to her side, where two wooden stakes hung from her belt. “Besides, we’re trying to lure him, not scare him away.“

The woman nodded. 

Brid heard a rustling sound. Her heat vision picked up a small rodent running through the grass.

“W-W-What was that?“

“Squirrel. Hey, Mary, can you tell me something?“

“What is it, ma’am?“

“Do you know if our vampire’s cold-blooded?“

“I-I-I think he is... “

“Shit. Well, that rules out any reliance on heat vision. And a bio-scan won’t work either if he’s hiding under the grass. Although... “

“W-What?“

“A cardio scan might prove useful.“ Brid flipped through a series of icons on her hologram visor and selected one. “There. This is going to pick up the heartbeat of anyone in the area.“ Pressing her spear down into the earth, she activated it. A purple light surrounded the sphere like an antenna before emitting two waves of purple radiation. 

“Well?“ the woman asked. 

“Just as I thought.“ Brid’s eyes closed. “Two of them.“

“Two?!“ Mary exclaimed. “Two vampires?!“

“And if I’m right... “ Brid glanced at Mary. “Now’s your time to shine.“

“I just have to cut myself, right?“

“Quickly!“ Brid’s eyes were focused on a point a distance away. She readied her weapon.

Carefully, the woman cut open a small section her arm with the butcher’s knife. Blood poured out, dripping into the grass. 

Brid heard rustling. She stood perfectly still, listening to the sound of grass being parted by a pair of feet. The sound grew closer and closer, forcing Mary to press herself up against Brid. 

“M-Miss?“ the woman’s eyes widened as she stared at two red points of light in the darkness. “Miss, he’s right there.“

“Wait for it... “

“Miss!“ Mary hid behind Brid, but Brid forced her out. 

The shadow in the darkness tensed up and pounced. It held its claws out like a panther mid-strike. 

Before it could reach Mary, Brid spun her lance and knocked it square in the jaw with a BANG. It landed a few yards away, facedown in the dirt. 

“Thana,“ Brid said, motioning for Mary to run, “bad boy.“

Mary stared at the man’s body for a few seconds until it convulsed. She let out a scream and bounded out of the field as the man stood up. 

“You- you know my name?“ Thana spit a mouthful of blood onto the grass. “Who are you?“ His eyes widened. “I know that scent.“

“I knew the moment I saw your brother here that you two were behind the vampire attacks.“ She swung her lance in a circle. “Also, the pattern of your attacks lacked a) a single point source, b) consistency in method, and c) an organically shaped home base. Leading me to conclude that you were both the vampires, and that Genetika’s airship was sitting in this field all along, hidden by a cloaking mechanism. Now, I just need to question the owner of these fields who you so generously attempted to kill, and I should have my conformation.“

“What are you going to gain by killing me?“ Thana’s eyes grew wide as he approached her. “You’ll be this little town’s savior. That’s it, isn’t it?“

“No. I have another reason. Viviel should know why.“

“You’re after my boy toy.“ Thana made a sound like growling. “You want the runt back.“

“Yes.“ Brid watched as Thana circled her, carefully eyeing his prey. “Viviel’s going to try to kill me, isn’t he? I can’t tell where he is exactly, but I can find out.”

Thana smiled and lunged at Brid, unsheathing giant steel claws. 

In response, Brid turned invisible and ducked behind one of her wings. Thana flew completely over her head. One second later, she heard a dink against her wing. In a split second, she grabbed Thana, who had landed behind her, and wrestled him against her body, pinning his claws behind his back. She pressed her lance to his neck and restrained him as he tried to fight. 

“Viviel, take me to Val, and I won’t kill him,“ she said, in Thana’s ear.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?“ Thana asked. 

“I haven’t lied to you before.“

Bridget heard more rustling of grass before a silhouette appeared on the horizon. Viviel ran up to Brid with a stern look on his face. He pointed a sniper rifle at Brid. 

“Release my brother.“ Viviel’s voice was low and serious. 

“Take me to Val first.“

“Release him.“

“Take me to Val.“

“I can’t get in without him.“ Viviel pointed to an object dangling from Thana’s waist. “I need his ID.“

“Fine.“ Brid pulled Thana upright, still gripping his wrists and pressing the lance to his neck. “Let’s go.“

----

The inside of the fortress looked exactly like Brid imagined it to look- a rectangular hallway with its only other features being light bulbs, piping, exposed steel beams, and the door they just entered. Brid couldn’t even see the outside of the fortress- it was cloaked. 

“Let go of him now, please.“ Viviel glared at Brid. 

Brid silently released him. Thana threw himself forward and let out a growl before walking back to Viviel with a scowl on his face. 

“Where’s Val?“ she asked again. 

“We’ll take you. Come on. Thana, don’t do anything reckless.“

“I’ll bite you if you do that again,“ Thana snarled.

“Thana!“ Viviel tugged his arm. Brid followed the two of them down the hallway and through another door. 

“By the way,“ Thana said, cocking his head unnaturally, “I heard you were imprisoned with Typhon... “

“And the other two, yes.“

“Well?“ He clenched his fists. “What happened between you?“

“Nothing of note.“

“Are you suuure? Nothing? Nothing at all?“ Thana laughed like a maniac until Viviel yanked his hair. 

The door they had entered appeared to be some kind of lab. Viviel led her down an aisle of glass cages, in which sat a number of people. Brid’s contact recognized some of them as ordinary people, but a couple were prominent politicians. 

“Who are they?“ she asked. 

“Some are test subjects.” Viviel motioned to a young woman reading a book. “Some are being detained for sample collection.“

“I see... “

“Well, here we are.“ Viviel stopped at a door at the end of the hallway. “Through here is Amplify, the boy you’ve been searching for.“

Thana hissed. 

Carefully, Brid opened the door. 

The entire room was dark, but smelled like rust, silicon and blood. She stepped inside and turned on her flashlight. She found a number of monitors and strange apparatuses, all turned off. At the back of the room, she saw a cell, its iron bars covered in red rust. Peering inside, she saw Val, who appeared to be just waking up. 

“Brid?“ Val muttered. 

“Val!“ Brid ran over to the cell. “Val, it’s okay! I’m here to rescue you!“

“Why the hell... “ Val groaned. “Why are you here?“

“I’m here to rescue you, dumbass.“

“I told you not to rescue me.“

“What?“ Brid’s brows furrowed. 

“I said, ‘I’m calling from a radio station somewhere near Cricket Springs, Kentucky. Genetika is stationed here, along with those twins. Don’t rescue me, just get to SECRET and tell them everything’.“

“Okay, well, the static broke up the ‘don’t’ part.“

“God damn it.“ Val sighed. “Anyway, did you get my memo about those twins you said you met that one time?“

“No, that part I sort of deduced on my own.“

“Dammit.” He groaned and sat up. “Listen, you need to get out of here. Now.”

“Val... “ Brid’s finger traced a mark on his forehead. “What have they done to you?“

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that you get out. Listen, there’s a thing in the computer systems- it’s dangerous. If it takes ahold of your symbots, it’ll kill you.“

“I’m not leaving without you. We had a deal, remember?“

“The deal’s off!“ Val shouted. “Just do whatever you can to get out of here alive! If that thing gets you-“

“Well, Envy?“ Viviel asked. “The deal’s off, isn’t it? Why don’t you leave? We’ll take care of your friend.“

“Because this is more than a deal.“ Brid kicked the cell door. “I don’t know what kind of computer virus is lurking the halls, and I can’t begin to imagine what these two will do to me if I fall, but I’m going to get him out, I promise.“ She activated her weapon. Its tip morphed into a chainsaw. With one swipe, she sliced the hinges keeping the door closed. The door fell off the cage and landed on the ground, scattering rust on the floor. “Come on, Val. I’m breaking you out.“

“Then I guess it’s our duty to stop you.“ Viviel pulled Thana’s collar. “Thana, attack the girl.”

Thana laughed and launched himself at Brid. She raised her lance and shot a bolt of plasma at him, throwing him back into the wall. She quickly grabbed Val and pulled him out of the cage, dragging him out of the room. 

“Dammit.” Viviel pressed a button on the wall. “All personnel, we have escapees heading for an exit in Sector 3. Hold nothing back. I repeat, hold nothing back against them.”

“What are your orders for me, Viviel?” 

Viviel turned around. A hologram of GREY stood behind him. 

“Do what you do best.”

GREY smiled and disappeared. 

[illuminateandrelate]

Fallen: A Newtmas AU Chapter 3

It was him, Thomas had never been more sure about anything in his entire life.

It was him, Thomas had never been more sure about anything in his entire life, and the look on Newts face- an odd mixture of horror and relief just about seemed to prove it. He opened his mouth to respond to Thomas when a daunting shadow blocked out the streaming sunlight. Thomas froze, the sudden darkness seeping into his blood, the hair on the back of his neck stood up as he slowly turned his head up to meet the grimacing face of Mr. Janson.

"Now boys, as much as I appreciate this little reunion here. Truly heartwarming." He leaned in closer, getting down on his knees so he became eye-level with them. "I think it would be best continued somewhere else, say... scraping the gum off the bottom of each and every-one of these desks later this week?" He smirked, his beady eyes now staring directly into Thomas's.

"S- sorry sir," Thomas spoke, turning back to his desk face steaming with shame as he flipped his syllabus over refusing to look anywhere but down at it until the redness that had devoured his face receded. Janson stood for one more beat before Thomas heard him exhale loudly out his nose, and (using their desks as a support) lifted himself from the ground.

Janson began talking again and this time Thomas forced himself to listen. Newt's presence like a persistent light bulb breaking through the darkness next to him, simply humming with energy, it felt similar to the way he felt when he was younger and his father had been showing him how the house's electricity worked. Thomas remembered the crackling of blue, zigzagging in no particular pattern. The way you could just tell it was live, the power it held, and the way he'd wanted to reach out his fingers despite knowing he'd get shocked. It was impeding, Thomas thought, he'd be lucky to get much work done in here this year.

Most of all though he wanted to know where the wings went, maybe he'd imagined them, that was always a possibility. His mother always told him his imagination used to give him so much grief when he was a child. That he'd scare so easy. He was so sure though, so sure they were real. Their soft gossamer-like feathers shimmering beneath the artificial yellow of a flashlight, the soft gasp that had escaped from his mouth, the childhood wonder of something being real. He'd never struggled to accept that ideology like he'd believed it anyway like he hadn't even needed to see it. Now he wasn't so sure. Now he needed proof, nothing intangible was real, nothing unseeable save for perhaps atoms and the like.

For all, he knew the boy next to him thought he was insane. Something in his stomach dipped as if he'd just dropped at the top of a coaster. What if that's all it had been? What if the look of shock Thomas had thought he'd seen was just confusion and now he had detention for nothing? But no- those eyes, those eyes. Like the tender earth, whole and warm, a shelter, but the moment they met yours, you felt as if you'd impacted the very ground they seemed to be colored after. The shock left reverberating up your arms and into your chest.

Thomas's leg shook furiously beneath the table with a sort of anxiety-induced energy as he drifted back into reality from his mental excursion. Janson was talking about linear equations and "review" for the beginning of the semester's plan. A set of worksheets was passed about and Thomas found himself mindlessly plowing through the numbers and variables. He'd always liked math, it was simplistic, logical, and everything made sense in it even when nothing else in life would.

Fifteen minutes had passed and Thomas pushed the now completed worksheets to the end of his desk, slouching down into his desk he began rhythmically tapping his pencil against the side of his leg. He didn't dare try to speak again, already unsure if Janson had been serious about the gum scraping or not; he'd have to ask at the end of class. Instead, he let his eyes freely wander about the room. Some people like Thomas had finished and were now doodling on their papers, others, worked quietly. Janson had seemingly terrified everyone into silence with his earlier remarks and aggression so the room was silent save for the soft scraping of pencils scribbling on paper and the low hum of technology. He could tell Minho was still working by the harsh scribbling sound emitting from behind him.

In an attempt to at least try to maintain some discretion, he flicked his eyes only to where "Issac" worked. His sheets were completely blank, each and every problem either blank or filled with a messy attempt at the numbers. And now, Thomas saw, he was simply doodling on the side margins of the paper. Little drawings of what looked like towers spiraling, their points piercing clouds, stairs, intricate gates of branching out vines. An entire city derived from graphite, completely alien to anything Thomas had ever seen in his life. Thomas wanted to lean closer, the drawings were quite good, hyper-realistic and detailed. Their soft lines like whispers of something more gracefully caressing the paper. He could tell there was more, but that rest was covered by Issac's arm. It was placed almost too carefully in a concealing position as if he were trying to hide whatever else he had drawn.

Thomas was debating fake getting up to grab a tissue just to see what could possibly be behind his arm when the bell rang and Issac quickly flipped the binder shut, completely concealing the sketches. Deflating, Thomas turned back to his own work, placing the syllabus inside his notebook and cramming into his backpack. Minho stood up at the desk behind him, completed worksheets clutched into his fist as he waited for his friend to complete packing up.

"Go on ahead," Thomas stood, swinging the bag over one shoulder, "I have a few things to clear up." Minho raised an eyebrow, eyes flicking to Newt walking out, and then back to Thomas. "Go," He egged him on again, this time waving his hand in a dismissive gesture- then- "I'll explain later."

Minho handed his paper to Harriet walking by as she offered to put it in for him, thanking her, before turning back to Thomas, "you better."

He sighed as his friend walked out the classroom, his own papers still in his hand. How the hell was he supposed to explain this? How do you explain to someone something you don't even fully remember yourself? He wasn't sure if that memory was even real, looking back. In that moment earlier it had felt so real. The way it had existed though was just so... fragmented, just a series of shots and visuals, it felt like a dream. So why was he so sure it hadn't been?

"Do you need something?" Thomas blinked snapping back from his thoughts to turn towards Mr. Janson, the dry paper still stiff in his hands

"I- I was just-" he stuttered, the sudden one-on-one with a teacher causing his mouth to flounder for a minute- a fish out of water- before he found his voice, "I was just going to apologize for earlier, and ask if you actually want me to scrape gum off desks." He fell silent, trying his best to stand calmly as he awaited the teacher's response.

Janson took the paper from his hands, eyes skimming the answers briefly before looking back up at Thomas and responding, "That was a warning," he began walking back towards his desk slowly. "Besides, it the first day, there isn't even any gum to clean off yet," Janson added Thomas's sheets to a stack on top of his desk- then turning back briefly, "Now get out of my classroom." Thomas nodded, stuttering his thanks and hurrying over to the heavy door.

The sudden hallway of humid air was oddly refreshing compared to heavy, weighted stuff he'd just been breathing in that room with Janson. He heard to door close with a soft click behind him and he started down the linoleum tiles towards his locker, sunlight spilling from the large panel of windows making up part of the wall opposite of the lockers. Whoever had designed that had clearly not been taking into account the idea of evaporation mixed with sweaty teens.

As he walked, he noticed the halls were oddly cleared out for the school having just been in session. They seemed bigger without all the students occupying space, more echo-y; he couldn't say he minded the pleasant silence rather than obnoxious screaming. Continuing down his steps rhythmic taps against the blue floor his mind drifted back to Issac.

Say maybe it had happened. Maybe he had found him in his past if that were the case what was he even supposed to do something like that? Did the situation even matter? For the thousandth time in his life, he wished everything had a formula to find the conclusion. It would certainly make life a lot simpler. Just insert the numbers corresponding to a and b to find the slope, he chuckled inwardly. Head now spinning with an odd mix of probability, and memories he couldn't remember he hardly noticed when he was directly in front of his locker.

He sighed, resting his head against the locker and closing his eyes for a moment before pulling back and turning in the combination. He pulled out his English book wanting to get a head start on the story before the rest of his class and shut his locker. A loud clang ringing out of which he jumped at, the sudden sound alien in the dead quiet of the hall. He was just beginning to laugh at himself for his jumpiness when his peripheral vision caught the face.

Hi guys!! Thanks for reading this chapter, if you enjoyed be sure to comment, like, and share. I'm not sure if I mentioned this, but constructive criticism is always welcomed.

ALSO: I will make a taglist so if you want to follow the story you get updates when a new chap comes out. Send an ask if you want on.

Chapter 4 is here:

http://illuminateandrelate.tumblr.com/post/170501700714/fallen-a-newtmas-au-chapter-4

Chapter 1 link:

http://illuminateandrelate.tumblr.com/post/170288546504/fallen-a-newtmas-au-chapter-1

Chapter 2 link:

http://illuminateandrelate.tumblr.com/post/170324575374/fallen-a-newtmas-au-chapter-2

[impartofthesolution]

Sleepover

           Not wanting to be alone tonight, I invited my friends over. Ostensibly, it was just a movie night, but here they were, each with a sleeping bag, pillow, and snacks.  In the past, we would watch horror movies on Halloween night, but I don’t think any of us were in the mood for that tonight.  We settled on the harmless comedy Sisters with Tina Fey and Amy Poehler.  All of the lights were on.  Tonight was a night to chase off the darkness as best possible.  It might not be the Purge, but after the evening we had, it felt like we were as paranoid as any non-participant in that movie.            “I’ve got some blankets.  There’s room for all of us on the couch.  Everyone ready?” I asked.  The smiles from my friends seemed forced, but I accepted them as the best they could do.  We sat on the couch and got comfortable.  It was snug, and it’d likely grow warm under the blanket, but it was secure.  Denise and I had been friends forever.  I met Austin and Ali in college and learned they were from my town.  The adventures the four of us went on were epic.  Hopefully, one day, we’d be able to laugh about this like we laughed about April Fools Day pranks, ziplining misadventures, and quarry explorations.            Right at the part where John Cena was talking about safe words, Denise started squirming next to me.  “Don’t mind me, I’ll be right back.”  She got up, dragging half of our blankets onto the floor.  Ali and I groaned playfully and made a show of having to pick them back up.  Even though I was comfy cozy again, my leg still felt cold with Denise’s absence. The sense of security was slightly lower.            She came back a few minutes later, and it was an entire ordeal to re-assimilate her back into our nest of blankets and legs.  Still, she found a way to wiggle between Ali and me while only kicking me twice in the arm.  I elbowed her back.  She growled at me and then started giggled.  It was nice to have things feel normal.  That’s what we desperately needed tonight.  Uproarious comedy and friendship have a way to settle the most disquiet soul.            We thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the movie. I know I’d seen it before, but I’m not sure about the others.  A movie that good, no one can help but to laugh, no matter how familiar the jokes.  Austin got up as the credits started and took his turn in the bathroom.  Ali, Denise, and I were giggling about our favorite scenes and making jokes about musical ballerinas getting stuck in our butts when all of the lights went out and the television went dark.  My friends yelped in surprise.            A few seconds later, the blue light of our cell phone screens illuminated our faces.  I spoke up, “I’m going to go down to the basement and check the power panel. Stay here, and tell Austin when he comes back.”            “You don’t think it could be that creepy pumpkin man, do you?” asked Ali, fearful.            “No, no, it can’t be.  We saw him being taken into the police car,” Denise was being brave, but it was clear she was also worried.            “Austin probably just flipped too many switches in the bathroom and tripped a circuit.  It’s fine.”            “All of them?” Ali was skeptical.            “I don’t know,” dim light danced around the room from my cell phone screen as I threw my hands in the air.  “It’s an old house.  We all have cell phones.  I’ll be back in two minutes.”  I switched on the flashlight of my phone and made my way across the living room to the basement door.  I sighed, annoyance edging out the fear.  Putting on my flipflops, I went downstairs, finding my way by cell phone light.  The basement was cluttered, a combination of my parents’ junk they left behind when they went downsized to a smaller house and my childhood memories.  In other words, it was all my parents’ junk.  There were a few tools, too.  Somewhere, buried under some pile dusty with disuse.            The path to the power panel was direct and clean of debris, owing to the fact I’ve had to come down her more often than I’d like.  I opened the panel and shone my light on the circuits.  Sure enough, every single one of them had been tripped.  I made a mental note to call my buddy Patrick to come look at the wiring in the house.  He’d done some electrical work before.  I started flipping all of the switches to off and back on.  A few of the annoying one, and I knew which ones to expect, took a few tries before they stayed on.  I hadn’t tried to turn on the basement light when I came down here, so it was still dark when I finished.            “HELP!” a shout came from upstairs.  Thinking maybe Austin fell or tripped, I raced across the basement and bounded up the steps.            “Ooof!” I exclaimed, stumbling backwards and almost tripping back down the wooden steps.  I had run right into somebody.            “Are you okay?” Austin asked me.  “We heard you cry for help.”            Confused, I looked at my friends’ concerned faced. “I’m fine.  But I didn’t cry for help.  I thought you did, Austin.”  He shook his head worriedly.  “I flipped the switches and then heard someone say ‘HELP!’”            “Yeah, the lights turned back on, and that’s when we heard ‘HELP!’ come from the basement,” explained Ali.            “But, that means…” is all Denise got to say.  The door to the basement slammed shut, causing all of us to jump.  Ali ran back up the stairs and tried the door.  The doorknob turned, but she couldn’t get it to budge.  Denise and Austin ran up to help, but they realized quickly it was futile.            “Ugh, it’s so dark down here,” complained Ali. “Where’s your light switch?”            “On the wall, by the doorknob,” I instructed.  I hear the sound of a light switch click. Then, it clicked more, really fast.            “I thought you restored the power to the house,” her rising hysteria came across as an accusation.            “I did.  That light switch is finicky.  Here,” I stepped down the stairs, reached up, and pulled a chain.  The single bare bulb seemed to cast more shadows than actual light. One of those shadows was moving. A man stepped out, wearing a pumpkin on his head.  The dead eyes and wicked grin awoke nightmares too recently put to rest.            “Remember me?” a gravelly voice emanated from that imposing figure.  He’d replaced his gun with an old school hatchet.  My dad had bought me that hatchet when we went camping one day when I was sixteen.  Denise and Ali screamed.            We stepped off the stairs and moved to the opposite side of the basement, trying to put as much junk between us and the killer as possible.  The lightbulb’s light barely reached our corner, and it felt like we were hiding in pure shadows.  Maybe the pumpkin helmet had night vision goggles, because he tracked us perfectly and lumbered lazily in our direction, evidently in no rush.            He stopped eight feet from us, both hands on the hatchet, looking threatening.  “You made my night way harder than it needed to be.  For that, you’ll pay.  No point in calling the cops.  By now, you should be experiencing headaches.  If I were to guess, I’d say it throbs just behind your eyes.”  I had been so worried about things, I hadn’t noticed, but my head did hurt.  We looked at each other.  The fear I could see in my friends’ shadowed eyes told me it was the same for them. “You’re experiencing acute carbon monoxide poisoning.  You’ll be dead before the cops show up.”  That was why he wasn’t making any move to kill us.            Austin charged at the pumpkin man with a metal shovel. The man swung the hatchet, hooked the shovel’s shaft, and knocked it to the side.  He swung the hatchet again, and Austin had to hop back to avoid it. He wobbled and almost lost his balance before I pulled him back to us.            Though our time was running out due to the carbon monoxide, our first problem was still the psycho killer in my basement.  We continued to circle around the basement, keeping those piles of junk between us.  I tossed an old middle school trophy at the man, and he batted it aside like it was made out of plastic (it was).  We finally made our way over to where I keep my hammer.  It was an awful matchup against a hatchet, but it made me feel somewhere better.            “I bet I could get my door open with this hammer, if we can get over there,” I whispered.  If the pumpkin man heard, he didn’t show it.  I threw a screwdriver at him.  It spun through the air like a throwing knife and managed to connect with his shoulder.  Unfortunately, it was the back end.  The only thing it did was make him angrier.  Still, it gave us enough time to get to the stairs.  At some point, Austin had picked up the rake I couldn’t find for weeks.  Denise found a saw that seemed useful in principle but couldn’t actually help us.            The headache was getting worse, and it was a struggle to get up the stairs.  Austin kept jabbing the back of the rake at the intruder, but he couldn’t keep this up. I heard a commotion upstairs. Uncertain what it was, I just knew I couldn’t stay downstairs anymore.  I swung my hammer at the door.  It made a solid THUNK but otherwise, nothing happened.  I needed to hit it harder.            Then, the door opened and real light shone into the basement.  In front of me stood two police officers.  “FREEZE” they called.            “How’d you get here so quick?” I asked, my head dizzy.            “I called them as soon as the power went out,” responded Austin.  He gave a final shove with the rake and backed up the steps.  We retreated behind the cops.  There were another two in my living room.            “Are you kids alright?” one asked us.            “It’s that pumpkin man we saw earlier tonight!  He’s in the basement.  And he said something about carbon monoxide.            “Get the EMTs in here and get these kids some oxygen,” a police officer told his partner.  Two gunshots echoed into the basement.  I hoped the nightmare had finally ended. Back to Table of Contents (x)

[your-kris-is-in-another-castle]

Live Until Love - Prologue

Contains coarse language, blood, and scenes of abuse

The midnight moon floated above the highrises of downtown Sacramento, California. Clouds obscured its light, casting long shadows across the city. Down below many were sound asleep in their beds, deep in slumber, and not to be disturbed until morning’s arrival a few hours away. In one house sitting besides others like it in a cul de sac, a young family lay like others still, soundly at rest. They were a mother and a father on the upper level, and a young boy no more than the age of four on the ground floor with the name of Victor.

Though for many others, tonight would be a night not unlike others they would see during their lives, for this family tonight was soon to become the night that defined them for the rest of their lives. For young Victor, nothing was going to be the same ever again.

The sound of glass shattering somewhere in the house shook the boy from his slumber. Slowly, Victor’s eyes fluttered open, still a bit heavy from the sleep only moments ago. With a yawn he turned around to return to dreamland, figuring that he must have dreamt the sound. However, fate would not allow him any more sleep that night; there came another sound from upstairs. Victor could hear footsteps shuffling across the ceiling, no doubt one of his parents investigating what just went bump in the night. Suddenly something heavy fell to the floor, making Victor jump. The footsteps above became frantic, wild. A series of crashes made Victor jump pull the covers over himself as a cacophonous symphony erupted from the upstairs; if this really was a nightmare, Victor wanted to wake up now.

Then, as quickly as it began, the noisec eased, and the whole house became eerily silent. It felt like an eternity to Victor before he lowered the covers to peek out around his room. It seemed so dark now, as if the blackness would swallow Victor whole if he wasn’t careful. Slowly but surely, Victor found the courage to step out of his bed, slipped on his slippers, and walked across his room. Opening the door to the hallway, everything down looked perfectly normal to Victor. Maybe it was a dream, and there was nothing to worry about. But Victor knew, despite being no more than the age of four, that what he’d heard was no dream.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Victor made his way up the stairs, clutching the railing tightly with each step. As he arrived at the top, a crunch beneath his feet drew his attention downwards; he’d stepped on a picture frame, and in it was a photo of himself in a suit, his parents at his sides. Victor looked around, and he saw what a chaotic mess the second story was in; more shattered picture frames lay on the ground, likely knocked off the walls in the scuffle he’d heard earlier. Tables were knocked over too, and there was even a jagged hole in the drywall.

Victor tired turning on the lights, but then he saw that the bulbs had been shattered somehow. He could feel himself beginning to tremble, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible had happened here.

“Momma?” Victor meekly called out “Daddy?”

Silence.

Victor’s hair stood on end as a door down the hallway creaked open. Moonlight spilled in from the window, cutting through the darkness like the light of heaven, and a slight breeze blew through the house through the room.

Though his feet felt as if they were made of iron, Victor made his way towards the room. Stepping inside, the sudden moonlight blinded him a moment, and he covered his eyes before they readjusted. Once they had, he saw that the large window across the room had been shattered. The room itself was in an even greater state of disarray than the hallway; some kind of struggle had clearly taken place there.

“Victor…”

A weak voice, barely above a whisper, called out to Victor from the darkness. He spun round back in fright, scanning the room for the source of the voice, but the darkness of night was all consuming in the rays of moonlight. He spotted another lightswitch, but this one lit up the room once it was flicked on. “Victor…” The voice came again, sounding fainter this time. It came from Victor’s left, and when he turned, he beheld a most horrible sight. His mother lay slumped against the wall, breathing raggedly. Her hair was a disheveled mess, and a stream of blood trickled down a corner of her mouth.

“Victor…”

“M-MOMMA!” Victor ran over to his mother, tripping over himself and falling before her. He crawled over to her, and saw her hand resting on her stomach. It was covered in blood. “M-M-Momma, wh-what happened to yo-you?! Wh-why are you bleeding?!”

“Victor...I’m so sorry...Momma is so sorry…” “Wh-what do you mean?! Wh-where’s Daddy?!”

“”Gone...Daddy...is gone…”

Victor could not stop the tears from running down his face as he beheld his mother. With every word she spoke, she seemed to lose strength. Blood continued to trickle out of her mouth, and her hand was slowly slipping away from her stomach.

And that was when Victor saw it. The knife, stuck tip-first in the floor only a short ways away from where his mother sat. There was red on the blade.

“Victor...Momma loves you...so much...be good…...be…….good…”

As the light faded from her eyes, her breathing came to a stop, and her hand fell to the ground in a silent, awful thud. Victor sat unmoving, too shocked to move, before grief overcame him and he latched onto his mother in a tight embrace. He exploded into tears, unable to stop the emotions erupting from him.

It was only when he could cry no more that Victor became aware of a new sound within the room.

The sound of heavy breathing.

Victor tore himself away from his mother, hoping, praying she’d come back. But no, her eyes remained lifeless, and her body cold. But then...where was the breathing coming from..? Realization dawned on Victor. Dreadful realization.

Behind him.

As he turned to look behind him, Victor saw him; the man. He was impossibly huge, his eyes wide. Bulging. Evil. He was dressed head to toe in black, heaving audibly as he sucked in air. He paralyzed Victor on the spot as his icy gaze bore through him and into the depths of his soul.

For a second he tore his sight off the boy and onto the knife, and in that instant, he lurched for the weapon. But impossibly as it may seem, Victor was faster, and he shoved the man to the ground. Victor took the opportunity to bolt from the room. He lept down the stairs and, thinking quickly, dove under the living room couch. No sooner had he done so, the man came storming down the stairs, though the knife was not in his hand. Victor cowered back as far as he could, holding his hands over his mouth.

“Come out, kid!” His voice was low and guttural, more of a beastly growl than the voice of a man. “I won’t hurt you!”

The man noticed the door to Victor’s room ajar, and stomped over. Throwing the door open he began tearing the room apart when he froze. Something caught his attention, something Victor couldn’t be sure of, but it was something that sent the man into a panic. He rushed into the living room and peered out the window before cursing and making a mad dash for the front door, trying desperately to get it open. That was when Victor heard police sirens in the distance, and they were getting closer.

With an enraged roar the man abandoned the front door and disappeared into the back room. Victor heard nothing more, and so remained hidden under the couch in case the man was still inside somewhere. It was then that he noticed his lips feeling strangely...sticky.

The sirens, now almost deafening, came to a stop as red and blue lights flashed around the room. Tires squealed outside the house, and a second later a banging came from outside the door. “Sacramento police! Open the door now!” When the order went unanswered, a kick flung the door open. A large yellow dot appeared inside the hallway as the officer in the doorway, a redheaded young man, shone his flashlight around the premises. He made his way inside, weapon drawn, while his partner followed close behind.

“Check the upper level.”

“On it.” The second officer took out his flashlight and made his way upstairs. The redheaded officer made his way around the ground level, searching for any signs of trouble. He reached for his radio, and with a crackle of static it came to life. “Dispatch, this is officer Davies, responding to a distress call. Possible need for back-up, do you copy?”

“That’s a 10-4, officer. What’s your situation?” “Residents called in about loud noises coming from their neighbor’s house. Residents did not respond and premises were entered. Officer Tanner is currently investigating the upper level-” “Davies, I got two bodies and a knife up here! Male, female, multiple stab wounds!”

“Fuck…” Officer Davies sighed before continuing. “Scratch that, dispatch. This just became a crime scene. Murder weapon possibly on site. I’m gonna need CSI, stat.” Officer Davies walked into the back room, and saw that the sliding door open. “Suspect possibly on foot.” “Copy that. Officers enroute now.”

With that  took his hands away from the radio and continued prowling through the house when he noticed the open door at the end of the hallway. Officer Davies made his way over, and investigated the ransacked bedroom. “Del, you’ve only got two bodies up there?”

“Yeah, why?”

“There’s another around here somewhere. A kid’s.”

“A kid’s?! How do you know?!” “Just found their room.” Officer Davies swallowed. “It looks just like the ones my daughters have…”

“Christ alive...all right, I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”

No sooner had Officer Delroy said so, a blood curdling scream rang out through the house, drawing Officer Davies’s attention back to the living room, gun at the ready. Tanner appeared at the bottom of the stairs - weapon also drawn - looking bewildered. “Jesus in heaven, what in the unholy fuck is that?!”

“I dunno! I’m gonna check it out. Cover me!” Delroy nodded, and Officer Davies made his way back to the living room, peeking around every corner as he did. He realized the screaming was coming from under the couch, so he dropped to a knee and shined his flashlight underneath. It was then he saw Victor, face and torso covered in blood. The light in his eyes snapped the small boy out of his screaming fit, and he stared at the officer, seemingly about to burst into tears again, but by this point, he had none left to shed.

“My God.” “What is it?” Delroy called out from the hallway.

“It’s the kid…” Officer Davies turned his flashlight off, lying down on his stomach and reaching a hand out to Victor. “C’mon, buddy, take my hand. You’re safe now. Delroy, get me some water and towels!”

Tanner wordless hurried out to their cruiser to fulfil the request. Officer Davies turned his attention back to the boy under the couch, trembling in fear and shock over the events of the night. “It’s okay, kid, you can come out. The good guys are here to help you now.” He smiled at Victor, but the boy would not move. “My name is Nathan. What’s yours?”

Victor hesitated a moment, struggling to find his voice again. “V-V-Victor…”

“Hi Victor.” Nathan tried to make his voice as warm and comforting as he could. “Everything is going to be okay now. I promise.” He held out his hand again. “Will you take my hand, so I can help you?”

Tentatively, Victor took Nathan’s hand, and was gently pulled out from under the couch. “Atta boy.” Nathan said as he pulled Victor into his arms. The little boy was shaking so much Nathan might have thought he had hypothermia. Delroy returned with the water and towels, and Nathan used it to wash the drying blood off Victor’s face.

Nathan had never seen anyone look so afraid before. In fact this was the first time he’d ever stumbled across a murder. He knew it was an inevitability, being a cop in a major city, but something like this...he knew he’d never forget tonight. Still, he had a duty to make sure that the kid was okay. “Is there anything I can get you, Victor? Something to drink, maybe a blanket?”

Victor continued to shake violently, “S-S-Scarf… Momma’s s-s-scarf…” He stammered out.

Nathan nodded and stood up, “Delroy, keep an eye on him. I’m gonna grab what he asked for.”

“You sure?”, Delroy asked, “This is a crime scene, you can’t just take things.”

“You saw how much blood there was. What’re we going to learn from a scarf that’s any different from everything else in here?” Nathan asked. “Just let me do this for him.”

Delroy sighed and gave a reluctant nod, turning his attention back to Victor. Nathan went upstairs, the coppery smell in the air burning the insides of his nose. It wasn’t long before he caught sight of the mother’s body. He did his best to keep his eyes off her as he looked around for the scarf. It was in the bedroom that he saw the body of the father.

Nate’s eyes began to well up with tears at the whole situation when he noticed what it was the young boy had asked for laying on a nearby table; a bright red scarf, lovingly folded with a golden pendent on top of it. Strange, Victor didn’t mention anything about that. But anything that nice was bound to be important to the young boy, so he picked them both up and made his way back down to the living room, pocketing the pendant.

Delroy had finished cleaning the blood off Victor, but the damage was done. Nathan could see it in the boy’s eyes. He knelt down and handed Victor the scarf “This is what you wanted, right?” Victor immediately grabbed the scarf, wrapping it tightly around his neck. The scent of his mother’s perfume permeated it, but it did little to comfort him.

By daybreak, the house had been taped off and CSI got to work, searching for anything that would help them catch the intruder. Victor, meanwhile, was sitting on a stretcher outside an ambulance, having his vitals checked by a paramedic. Nathan stood closeby - Delroy had been picked up and brought to the station to get a start on filing their report - and he was keeping a close eye on the boy; he hadn’t said or made so much as a sound since Nathan brought him the scarf.

The paramedic finished what she was doing and turned her attention to Nathan. He stood at attention. “I’ve checked everything on him. He’s stable, just in shock. I think he’ll need some rest before he’s okay.” “Okay?” Nathan repeated with disbelief. “What the hell is ‘okay’? He just-” He dropped his voice to a whisper so Victor couldn’t hear. “He just saw his parents get killed but some nutjob, and you think a bit of sleep is gonna make that okay for him?”

“Nate, you know what I meant-” “Do I? Because I’m not so sure I do.” Nathan’s voice was beginning to escalate in volume. “He is never going to be the same again. No one would be after that! So now why don’t you explain to me-” “That’s enough, Davies.” Nathan and the paramedic turned to find the police chief had arrived at the scene. “Ms. Boltan was speaking in as professional a manner as she could on the subject.” Nate sighed, the beginnings of a headache fast approaching. “Sorry, Chief. Long night.”

“I know. You should go home, get some sleep. I can wait for your report until tomorrow.” Nate turned back to Victor, still sitting quietly on the stretcher with his gaze cast downwards, not moving, not speaking. “What about the kid?” The chief pursed his lips. “It’s out of your hands. Best not to worry about it.”

“But-”

“Nate…” The chief put a hand on Nathan’s shoulder. “I know how you must feel about this, but believe me when I say that you need to let it go. This boy, his entire world’s just been turned on its head. We have people who will take care of him.” He gave Nathan a gentle shake to draw his attention from Victor and back to him. “And you need to take care of yourself, understand? There are people that need you.” Nathan sighed dejectedly. “I understand, sir.”

“Good.” The chief clapped Nathan on the shoulder approvingly. “Now, go home and be with your girls. That’s an order. Tomorrow we’ll worry about the paperwork.”

Nathan nodded his head without a word. Once the chief had left Nate spotted his cruiser and made his way over. Hoping inside, he chanced one last look at Victor. He felt his heart ache for the boy, but it was like the chief said; he couldn’t let it become his problem. So he put the keys in the ignition, turned the engine over, pulled out, and drove off home.

Nathan had pulled out onto the highway and was well on his way home when he felt something in his pocket pressing up against his leg. All of a sudden he was aware of the gold pendant still on his person.

He ripped the trinket from the pocket, cursing himself; the next exit was a few miles away, and the morning traffic was starting to pick up. But Nathan wouldn’t be deterred. Tossing the pendant into the passenger seat and pressing down onto the gas, the cruiser sharply accelerated, weaving through the other cars on the road. He was going to get the pendant back to that kid, no matter what.

Back in the ambulance, the paramedic was storing the medical equipment from, while Victor remained on the stretcher.

“I-I-Is O-Officer Davies coming back?”, Victor asked the paramedic as she closed the ambulance door.  She spared him an apologetic, if slightly impersonal smile, “No, he won’t be. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“O-Oh…”, Victor said, deflated, “I-I… I wanted t-to-”

“I understand. I’ll tell him the next time I see him. Now sit back, and try not to move around much.” She rapped her knuckles against the driver’s side wall, and It wasn’t long before the ambulance began to move.

“Wh-What’s gonna happen to me…?” Victor asked, but the paramedic kept her attention on the instruments measuring the boy’s vitals. “M-m-miss doctor lady?”

But no matter what he said, she wouldn’t turn her attention back to him, so for the rest of the trip Victor said nothing, pulling the red scarf tighter around himself. The simple answer was that the paramedic didn’t have any clue of what could be next for the little boy.

A few short minutes later, Nathan’s cruiser came to a squealing stop at the house. He flew out of the driver’s seat, pendant in hand, and whipped around in search of the ambulance, or some sign of Victor, but it was too late. With a heavy heart, he got back into the car. “Dammit!” Nathan punched the steering wheel in anguish. Now he would never get the pendant back to the kid. With his outburst sapping the last of his energy, Nathan made his way home, and into bed, dreaming of the scared little boy he found under a couch.

The next few days were a blur for Victor; he stayed at the hospital, where adults he’d never met before came to see him. They asked him all sorts of questions, some he answered and others he didn’t. They never stayed long, though, leaving as soon as they got what they came for. The only thing he would remember from that time was the persistent feeling of cold. For the first few days Victor hoped that Officer Davies would come to visit him, but he never appeared once in Victor’s time there.

On what would be his last day in the hospital, only the police chief came to see him. He took a seat beside Victor’s bed, taking his hat off to reveal a slightly balding head of greying hair, and leaned in to speak with the boy. “How’re you feeling, son?” His voice was kind, grandfatherly. “Are the doctors here treating you well?” Victor said nothing, keeping his face buried in the red scarf to stay warm in the frigid room. “I see.” The chief sat back with a knowing look. “I won’t keep you long, I just wanted to stop by with some good news. Would you like to hear it?” Victor looked over, nodding a second later silently.

“We caught him. The man that...broke into your house. He’s going to go away for a very long time. You don’t have to worry about him bothering you ever again.”

Victor made not a single sound, nor made any indication he’d heard the chief.

“Son?”

“C-can I...g-g-go home then?”

The chief looked down solemnly. “I’m afraid not. There’s no one there to look after you, and the officers still have work to do.”

“Wh-what’s gonna h-happen to m-m-me then?” Victor trembled, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. The chief swallowed, struggling to maintain his composure at the sight of the young boy. “There are people that take care of little boys and girls like you. We’re going to find some that will take care of you. They’ll be like a new mommy and daddy. That sounds nice, right?”

Victor fell silent once more, and he wouldn’t speak again for the rest of the day. The chief left, and the next day, Victor was taken to a building, where he met a man and woman with a little boy of their own that took Victor back to their home. There Victor lived, growing into a shy, quiet boy that never spoke unless spoken to. Wherever he went he was never seen without his red scarf wrapped around his neck. Though his memory slowly began to blur as time went on, he would never forget the wild, awful face of the man, and the kindness that Officer Davies had showed him that night four years ago.

But it was only the beginning of his many misfortunes.

“Now Victor, stay here and don’t run off.” His foster mother, Olivia, readjusted her purse. “I’m going to get a few things, and you’d better be right here when I get out, understand?” Victor nod his head, keeping his gaze downward. He felt a hand under his chin pull him upwards so he looking Olivia in the eyes “Look at me when I’m talking to you. I’m your mother, and you’re going to respect me, understand?”

“Y-yes.” Victor mumbled meekly.

“Yes what?”

“Ye-yes, m-m-ma’am.”

Olivia let go of Victor and went into the store, satisfied with that answer. Once she was gone Victor took a seat on the curb. It was a hot Sunday afternoon in August, and the sun was shining right in his face, but still Victor kept the scarf on, which earned him a few odd looks from store goers coming and going. A black haired woman with an ink-scrawled arm walked past, and trailing behind her were two children about his age; one was a boy with muddy brown eyes and a head of curly brown hair. The other was a girl wearing thick glasses, with hair a bright, fiery orange that seemed to be going in every which way it chose. Though they were roughly the same height, Victor felt much shorter when he looked at both children.

The boy leaned in to whisper something in the girl’s ear. She nod her head and hurried to catch up with the woman. “Mom, can we stay out here while you shop? It’s so boring in the store.” The bespectacled girl whined while her mother pulled a grocery cart free from a row.

The woman gave a little grin and rolled her eyes before saying, “Hmmm. I dunno, honey. I could use a hand in there. Besides, how else am I gonna keep my eye on you two?”

The boy stepped up behind the bespectacled girl. “What if we promised to stay out here, in front of the store? That way you could see us through these big windows and make sure nothing bad happens!” He flashed her a confident smile as he finished.

The woman hummed a moment before shrugging. “Aren’t you Mr. Persuasive. All right, I guess there’s nothing wrong with that, but just make sure you stay where I can see you. I might need your help. Deal?” The pair nodded enthusiastically in agreement, and with that the woman went inside.

“All right, it worked!” The bespectacled girl pumped her arm triumphantly. “Good thinking.” “Thanks. So, what do you wanna do while we wait for your mom to get out?”

The girl put her knuckles to her chin in thought. “Oh! How about hide and seek!” The boy gave his friend a quizzical look in response. “Er- expert edition!” She elaborated once she noticed the distinct lack of hiding places. “Y’know, for a challenge.”

The boy’s eyes lit up, liking the sound of that. “Ooooh, yeah okay. Just one thing. C’mere.” The girl leaned in, but as soon as she did the boy took off. “Not it!”

The bespecalled girl’s cheeks indignantly puffed out, but she covered her eyes under her glasses and started counting back from ten nonetheless. Once she was done she scanned around for Kyle, but with a sigh found no trace of him. It was then she noticed Victor, sitting on his own. She made her way over to him.

“Hi!” Victor flinched, completely oblivious to the girl’s approach. “Oh, I’m sorry if I scared you, I didn’t mean to!”

Victor said nothing, hiding his face under his scarf.

“How come you’re not saying anything?” The girl’s head tilt in confusion. “Oh, wait I know! You’re not supposed to talk to strangers, right?” She didn’t wait long for an answer before continuing. “Yeah, that must be it. My mom and dad always tell me that you should never talk to strangers. But if we introduce ourselves, then we won’t be strangers and it’ll be fine, right?” She grabbed Victor’s hand without hesitation, shaking it with gusto. “Well I’m Kat, and it’s nice to meet you! What’s your name?”

“V-Vi-Victor!” The boy stammered out once she had let go of his hand.

“That’s a cool name!” She beamed. “So Victor, do you wanna play hide and seek with me and my friend?”

Victor shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “W-well...mom t-told me to wait f-f-for her here...I d-don’t wanna make her a-a-angry.”

“Aw, she can’t have meant for you to be right here, could she?” Kat asked rhetorically, though Victor knew better. “Besides, if she is angry, I’ll just tell her it was my idea. Promise!” Kat held a hand out to Victor, still smiling. “So c’mon, let’s play!”

Victor seemed to hesitate a moment, before slowly taking Kat’s hand with his own. With a grunt she hoist him off his behind, and the two started walking across the storefront. “I-I um, don’t know h-h-how to play actually.” Victor admitted, rubbing his head in embarrassment.

Kat gasped. “You don’t know how to play hide and seek?! But don’t you ever play with your mom and dad?”

Victor just shook his head. “Th-they don’t r-really like games.” He said quietly.

“Huh. Okay, well I’ll explain it to you, but first! I wanna know why you’re wearing that scarf.” Kat pointed directly at the scarf around Victor’s neck “It’s crazy hot out!”

“M-my scarf?” Kat nod her head vigorously. “I-it’s my m-momma’s.”

“Your mom’s? I don’t get it. She makes you wear it during summer?” Kat shrugged before Victor could respond. “Oh well. So, here’s how you play hide and seek. First, someone starts counting-”

“Kat!”

Kat and Victor looked over to see her friend walking over to the two of them, looking a bit annoyed. “I was hiding forever! Why didn’t you come find me?” He then noticed Victor behind Kat. “Who’s that?”

Kat immediately pulled Victor’s hand out, slapping it into the other boy’s. “Kyle, this is Victor, and Victor, this is Kyle, my best friend! I was just explaining to Victor how to play hide and seek. Can you believe he doesn’t know how to play? Isn’t that crazy?”

Victor said nothing as Kyle stared at him with hard eyes. He could feel resentful fire burning behind them, and he shrunk under the other boy’s gaze. Just as soon as they had been brought together Kyle wrenched his hand out of Victor’s, placing it around Kat’s shoulder and leading her away from Victor.

“C’mon, Kat! We should stay away from him!”

“Huh? Why should we do that?” Kat looked back at Victor in confusion.

“I heard someone telling my mom and dad that they saw him push a girl off the playground at his school last week.” Kyle kept his eyes forward. “He’s a bad guy, so we shouldn’t play with him.”

“Really?”, Kat asked with a gasp. Kyle nod his head, continuing to lead Kat away from Victor. The shy boy was about to say something in defence, when he was jerked back around by a tug at his sleeve. It was Olivia, and she was red in the face.

“I told you to stay where you were! I’ve just spent the last five minutes, running around this parking lot trying to find you!” Victor knew that couldn’t be true, he’d only gotten up just a moment ago. “B-b-but-”

Victor suddenly cried out in pain as Olivia slapped him across the face. “Don’t you give me attitude! When we get home you’re going straight to your room, and you’re going to stay there until your father gets home. Understand me?” Victor fell silent, trembling as he rubbed his cheek, fighting back tears. The thought of what might await him once his foster father came home that night made his stomach ball up, and so he said nothing else for the day for fear of making the situation worse.

Now a young man tossed and turned in his bed, sweating an icy sweat as he was beset by his nightmares of that night, that man, and the terrible thing he did. He awoke with a start, screaming momentarily as he gained his bearings. Victor sat there, panting in his room. He was nearly a man now, one you could call handsome. The sun outside had began to rise, and it’s light inched onto the foot of the bed ever so slightly. Victor had nearly calmed himself when a pounding at his door sent him tumbling out and onto the floor.

“Keep it down in there, boy! It’s five in the morning!”

“S-s-sorry dad.” He stammered out, hoping he hadn’t caught his foster father, Conrad, in too foul a mood in the early morning.

“Get breakfast started. School’s gonna be starting soon.”, he heard Conrad say on the other side flatly before his footsteps began to shuffle away

Victor heaved a sigh of relief. “Y-yes, sir.” And with that, Victor heard his foster father’s footsteps retreat down the hallway.

The rest of the morning progressed without incident as Victor went about his usual routine; eggs and bacon for breakfast, while he made himself some toast with strawberry jam. Afterwards he took a shower, the last in the house to do so which meant that it ran out of hot water about halfway through. After brushing his teeth he dressed himself, saving his scarf for last, as bright red as it had ever been. He put on his backpack, and made his way for the door.

Before he left, he checked the calendar. If one thing was for sure, this year seemed to go by pretty fast. It was only 9 short months ago when Conrad was certain that the world was going to end, and he had stocked up on various survival kits emblazoned with the letters “Y2K”, which were now gathering dust in a corner of the living room. The whole craze meant nothing to Victor as it happened. Really, this year was no different than any other, and he really wasn’t seeing that changing anytime soon.

How wrong he was.

[someobscurereference]

(Flashback to that time I said I wanted to write some horror FFXV fic and got sad about how the Lakshmi quest let me down. Here’s a snippet I found in my drafts of something I’ll hopefully finish one day, though maybe not anytime soon. @ Square Enix, let Prompto use his camera Fatal Frame style.)

“You’re here to deal with the haunting?” the guard said. “Go on. The Lakshmi is through there.”

He stepped aside, but his partner—a younger man, clearly more inexperienced—didn’t look nearly as sure.

“You boys can’t be serious!” The look on his face suggested nobody could have paid him to go within a hundred yards of the painting. “I wouldn’t step a foot in that building if I were you. Spirits, voices—“

The older guard gave the younger one a look. “Quiet, you.”

“—The stories about this place are enough to make a man go mad!” The younger guard shivered as though the mere mention of the painting sent a chill through his spine. It was all very dramatic, Ignis observed. Not unlike a theater show. “The closest I’ve ever been to going inside is standing on these steps every day, keeping fools like you out of here, and it’s nearly driven me mad!”

Privately, Ignis thought the guard looked half mad already.

Gladio crossed his arms. “’Spirits’ as in plural? I thought it was just the painting that was haunted?”

The tone in Gladio’s voice suggested he didn’t believe in hauntings after all. Which was rather good, all things considered. It was one thing to summon the gods, and it was another thing entirely to have a Shield who believed in spirits.

“No!” The younger guard shook his head emphatically. “The painting is the worst of it, but it practically taints the ground of the very buildings it resides in. It—“

“Clark!” the older guard barked. “That’s enough!”

He had grown visibly agitated as the younger guard—Clark—had continued to speak, and the snapping tone of his voice was enough to shut Clark right up.

“Sorry about that,” the older guard said, frowning. “There shouldn’t be anything inside that hunters like yourselves can’t handle.” He glanced at Noctis and paused, considering. “Just—be careful in there.”

Somewhere in the back, Prompto made a noise of protest.

“Will do,” Noctis said, cutting off whatever Prompto had been about to say and leaving the rest of them to follow. Ignis wanted to pause for a moment and question the guards a little more, but one glance at the erratic guard’s face told him he wasn’t going to get much coherent information out of him. So he did what he always did and followed his prince instead.

The moment they were out of earshot, Prompto jogged a few steps forward to fall into step with Ignis and asked, “Are you guys sure we should be doing this?”

Noctis looked over his shoulder at him but didn’t slow down. He wore a teasing smile. “What’s up? I thought you wanted your photos to be published.”

“I do!” Prompto protested.

Gladio fell back to Prompto’s other side, boxing the photographer between Ignis and himself. He elbowed Prompto’s side.

Prompto yelped. Gladio and Noctis did nothing to hide their snorts of laughter. Ignis adjusted his glasses and smothered his smile with his hand.

“Don’t tell me you believe in ghosts,” Gladio said, incredulous. “You seriously think you’re going to photograph a spirit?”

“I don’t know about that,” Prompto rebuffed. “But I do know that I’ve seen enough weird stuff on this trip already that I can’t rule anything out.”

Ignis spared him a glance. “I can personally assure you that spirits aren’t real.”

“How do you know? Have you ever seen one?”

“I could not have, considering there is no such thing as ghosts.”

Prompto shuddered. “Maybe that’s just what they want you to think.”

Gladio snorted. He said something along the lines of You can’t be serious under his breath. It was difficult to make out the words, but his skepticism was clear.

Prompto frowned. Ignis made it a point to brush his arm against Prompto’s. He flashed Ignis a quick smile.

“Prom, it’s fine,” Noctis said, not looking back at them. “It’s probably just a daemon that people are mistaking for a ghost.”

Prompto tensed. “Not helping!”

“Here we are,” Ignis announced. They all stopped.

Before them stood a door. It looked fairly normal and relatively identical to the other doors they had seen on other apartments and homes around Altissia.

Noctis reached for the handle. The door swung open. The interior of the building looked also looked normal. A little dark, but Ignis thought the apparent lack of electricity explained that. There were a few lamps along the wall, but none of the bulbs were lit. When Noctis flipped on his flashlight, the others followed in suit.

Prompto’s mouth twisted. He shifted uncomfortably. “Anybody else feel weird about the door being unlocked?”

“The painting’s reputation probably keeps out any unwanted visitors,” Gladio suggested.

“Not helping,” Prompto repeated.

“All things considered, it doesn’t seem that unusual,” Ignis said.

In that same moment, Noctis walked through the doorway and stood in the shadowy interior of the hallway. Prompto squeaked.

Nothing happened.

Noctis turned back, looking cocky. “Yep. Totally haunted.”

“Come on,” Prompto whined. “You guys aren’t even a tiny bit nervous?”

“Not in the least,” Ignis said.

“Nope,” Gladio said.

“No,” Noctis said.

Prompto sniffed. “You guys have no imagination.”

The hallway was only wide enough for two of them to walk side by side. Gladio and Noctis took to the front while Prompto and Ignis followed behind.

Ignis noted how strange it was that the front door led to a long hallway with no other branching off points or open space. No living room, no bedroom, no kitchen. The hallway led further into the house, but to what end, Ignis didn’t know. It was a rather unusual architectural design for any structure. Where was the painting?

From outside the building, there had appeared to be multiple floors. Perhaps they had not entered through the front door after all. Perhaps this was some form of back entrance, unusual as it may be.

But only exploration would yield the answers they sought.

They were a third of the way down the hallway when Prompto said, “You know, I’m actually starting to feel better about this.”

It was a very uncommon comment from Prompto, who, when Noctis ventured off the main paths and into the wilderness and dark places, was more often than not apt to jump at every shadow and shuffle of feet until they were well within the bounds of “comfortable.” For Prompto to be feeling anything remotely close to “good” about any abnormal venture was surely a bad omen indeed.

Even Noctis checked over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at Prompto. “Seriously?”

Prompto shrugged. He was still closer to Ignis than propriety would demand, but Ignis was willing to pretend it was the slanted tilt of the hallways that made it so.

“Yeah,” Prompto said. “Maybe this place isn’t so bad after all.”

Later, Ignis would reflect that it was only fitting that this was the exact moment the floor gave way beneath their feet. Even later than that, he would make it a point to insist it was Gladio’s bulk that had weakened the floorboards in preparation for the next poor unfortunate souls who tested their strength, i.e. Ignis’ left foot.

There was an ominous crack, and Prompto yelped. Ignis felt the air leave his lungs as he went weightless, and Gladio’s startled turn was the last thing he saw before he was plunged into darkness.